The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Read online

  ‘No way, I just saved you.’

  ‘I always have to clean up the mess.’

  ‘Yes, that’s because you’re the squirt.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Coinin, and pulled a face.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Marrok laughed and then swaggered from the room.

  Coinin wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned, and only then contemplated the clean-up job.

  A minute later as he finished, Draken stormed through the open doorway to find Coinin on his knees.

  ‘What are you doing on the floor, boy?’ he asked grumpily.

  ‘I’m cleaning, sir.’

  ‘Yes, well, no time for that, we have things to do. Get your equipment and come outside,’ Draken ordered.

  Coinin quickly finished his task and threw aside his cloth. He raced to his cot and heaved a heavy package wrapped in linen from beneath, which he unwrapped energetically.

  Inside was a set of leathers with plated armour sections accompanied by a long sword. Underneath lay a small dagger, and wrapped separately was a quiver of arrows and a short bow. The boy swiftly donned the leathers and attached a cowhide belt around his waist. On this, he hung the dagger and sword, and finally, he slung the bow, complete with quiver, across his body and stepped outside into the sunlight. He squinted at the low morning sun and saw Marrok stood several feet away.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Marrok demanded impatiently. He was dressed in similar garb to Coinin. The only difference was that Marrok carried a crossbow and his father’s sword.

  Draken had not set up the usually roped training arena in the yard as he had so many times before. Instead, the compound was empty. Coinin raised an eyebrow to his brother who shrugged and mouthed that he did not know why the training ring was missing.

  ‘We are doing something different today.’ Draken spoke softly behind them.

  Both boys whirled around in surprise, and each promptly received a smack to the side of the head with the flat of a blade.

  ‘First lesson, use your ears. I am old and not so light on my feet. Imagine how silent a trained assassin would be. Honestly, why do I bother sometimes?’

  ‘I wonder the same thing,’ Marrok quipped.

  ‘What was that?’ Draken thundered.

  ‘Nothing, Uncle,’ Coinin jumped in. ‘He just wondered what today’s task is.’

  ‘For that, boys, you’ll have to follow me.’

  Draken motioned and headed outside of the compound with his charges in tow.

  Coinin stopped and turned, and then whistled for Jip. A moment later, the huge hound joined them from behind the house.

  ‘Are you quite finished?’ Draken asked.

  ‘Yes, Uncle, I couldn’t forget Jip,’ Coinin replied.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Draken sneered. ‘This way.’

  They headed into the forest that surrounded the homestead. It was dark and ominous the moment they stepped inside. Huge trees stretched high, and the canopy let little light onto the forest floor. Every so often a strange animal cry startled the boys and made Draken chuckle. At each new sound, he would explain the animal that had made it and how best to catch it.

  ‘What you need to remember about the forest is that almost everything is a potential enemy and what remains must surely be an ally,’ said Draken darkly.

  Draken led them deeper and deeper, and after many more miles the forest began to thin slightly and became less oppressive. Before long, Draken indicated that they should be silent. He dropped to his knees and examined the dirt from the ground between his finger and thumb. He brought the mud to his nose and took a long sniff, and then encouraged the boys to sit quietly within the fronds of a leafy bush.

  After a few minutes, a wondrous spectacle cantered almost silently past the hiding place. The white body of the creature glowed softly, as did its single horn that protruded delicately from its forehead. It glinted in a shaft of light that penetrated through the forest canopy. The small group felt at peace as they watched the magnificent animal make its way into the distance.

  ‘What was that?’ Coinin asked after a few moments.

  ‘That was a Unicorn, a beautiful and rare creature imbued with ancient magic. This is only the second time I have seen one. They do say that they are the favourite of the gods and to harm one would incur their wrath.’

  ‘I don’t think I could ever hurt such a creature, it was magnificent,’ said Coinin, and attempted to quiet Jip who had begun to growl in a low rumble with his hackles raised.

  ‘I should think not unless you want to displease the gods. Well, boys, the animal is gone, and it’s time we did some practice before bed.’

  ‘I’d hoped we could take a break for once,’ Marrok grumbled.

  ‘Our enemies do not take a break,’ Draken growled.

  ‘Enemies? What enemies?’ Coinin whispered. ‘He’s crazy; he jumps at his own shadow.’

  Marrok chuckled and nudged Coinin to shut him up.

  ‘Today we’re going to concentrate on Coinin’s favourite, the mind swap.’

  Coinin looked indifferent and too tired to care.

  ‘Marrok, you go and collect some firewood,’ Draken ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘And take that damned dog with you.’

  Marrok huffed off into the tree line to gather wood and glanced sideways at his uncle with such a dark look that Coinin was surprised he had not dropped dead there and then.

  ‘Now that the brawn has departed, we can focus on the brains,’ Draken smirked. ‘What do you think is the most prevalent creature in these woods?’

  Coinin was lost for a moment before he answered.

  ‘Birds.’

  ‘No, let’s try again. What is this forest called?’

  ‘White Stallion?’

  ‘Correct,’ Draken smiled. ‘Why is it called that?’

  ‘Because there’s a white horse here?’

  ‘Yes, though not just one, there are literally hundreds, all living here,’ Draken replied with a grand sweep of the arms.

  Coinin made a face; he did not much care that there were hundreds of horses in the forest. He was exhausted and wanted sleep.

  ‘Your task today will be to take over the mind of a horse and become the animal for a time,’ Draken announced.

  ‘I’ve never gone that big before, we’ve only ever done beavers and squirrels. I don’t know if I can do it,’ he said uneasily.

  ‘Nonsense, boy, you are by far the most intelligent young man I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. I believe here,’ Draken struck his chest, where his heart was, ‘that you can do this.’

  ‘If you say so, Uncle, I will try it.’

  ‘Good. Now, it is important to let yourself go and focus all your energy into becoming the horse. Let the moment wash over you. Allow your conscious self to explore its new home.’

  Coinin closed his eyes and focused on being the horse. He imagined the long silken mane flapping in the breeze and the wind in his face as he galloped alongside the herd, the breath steaming from his nostrils. Then it happened like a sudden rush of water that engulfed him. He was the horse, powerful and majestic. He was galloping at top speed, free and content.

  Draken restrained the small boy who kicked and flailed and smiled at the successful transition.

  The horse that Coinin became, as it happened, was a horse not too far away that had been enjoying an evening gallop with the herd. He was the new temporary resident of this horse’s mind and could control its actions. The horse itself now inhabited Coinin’s mind, and he felt certain the animal was utterly bewildered or, at the very least, terrified.

  This was by far the biggest animal Coinin had controlled, and he felt its power surge through him along with its great strength.

  He left the herd and galloped through the woods in search of his uncle. It was not too long before he saw him sitting on top of the body he had left behind. It struggled to get away and made odd whinnies of fear, and he was quite overcome at the sight.

  Marrok app
eared out of the trees with a bundle of twigs and wood. He stopped short and looked from the horse to his uncle sitting upon Coinin. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Restraining your brother’s body.’ Draken pointed to the large white stallion that puffed great clouds of breath into the twilight air. ‘There’s your brother. Coinin, why don’t you give Marrok a ride?’

  Coinin, the horse, hoofed the ground and raised his powerful head in a whinny of delight. He enjoyed this new adventure immensely.

  Marrok smiled and rushed forward, and then leapt onto the large horse. He held tight onto the mane as Coinin reared and took off like lightning.

  The hair whipped around Marrok’s head, and the wind stung his eyes. Although, none of that mattered now; he was content to enjoy the moment and the exhilaration of the ride.

  A few minutes later the horse bucked and reared and threatened to throw him off.

  ‘Whoa! Coinin, what’re you doing?’ Marrok yelled.

  The horse turned its majestic head and looked at him, only to buck fiercer than ever. Marrok held on for dear life as the horse tried even harder to eject him, and as a final desperate measure the terrified animal galloped into the forest and wove around trees and bushes.

  Marrok sat up a few moments later with a pain that blazed across his chest and an egg-sized lump on the back of his head. He groaned and rubbed gingerly at his swollen crown.

  The horse had done its job. It had careened Marrok into the nearest low-slung branch and had knocked him clean into the dirt. The horse stood some distance away and panted, with what Marrok would swear later was a haughty expression upon its face. Or was it satisfaction? Either way, the horse had won.

  ‘Nice job, horse.’

  The horse snorted and took off into the undergrowth to join its herd.

  ‘Shall we make camp?’ Draken asked and leant against a tree. ‘That is if you are quite finished playing in the dirt.’

  Coinin stepped out from behind Draken and looked sheepish.

  ‘What happened, runt?’ Marrok demanded as he stiffly stood up.

  ‘I’m sorry, Marrok, the connection broke. I lost my concentration, I couldn’t hold it.’

  ‘No harm done, I suppose. Though next time, Uncle rides the horse.’ Marrok smiled and ruffled his younger brother’s hair.

  The small group made camp and then settled down for the night. Draken told them stories by the dancing light of a campfire. He told of ancient peoples who were said to inhabit the forest thousands of years ago, and how they had destroyed themselves in a civil war. He also showed Marrok how to make a snare to catch rabbits, and once he had mastered the trap, he and Draken set several around the camp while Coinin slept.

  The next morning, Coinin awoke to Marrok standing over him.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that!’

  ‘What? I brought breakfast.’ Marrok held up a pair of rabbits and threw them on his brother’s lap. ‘Now you clean them.’

  ‘Thanks, much appreciated.’ Coinin wrinkled his nose in disgust as blood and bodily fluids leaked over his hands.

  Coinin skinned and gutted the rabbits while Marrok built a fire and Draken watched lazily from his bed of heather.

  After breakfast had finished, Draken led the boys deeper still into the forest and slowed only to ford a river that teemed with fish as they headed for spawning grounds.

  They had weaved in and out of endless trees for several hours when Draken finally stopped to check his bearings. ‘We are almost there. I warn you not to make any sudden moves, and you will be quiet until spoken to directly,’ he said sternly.

  ‘Almost where?’ Marrok asked.

  ‘Did I not just say to be quiet?’

  Marrok and Coinin looked at each other and then nodded.

  ‘Then shut up and follow me.’

  After a few minutes, they approached a clearing deep in the forest. Draken stopped at its edge, and his eyes flicked sharply left and right.

  ‘Trenobin, it is I, Draken. Show yourself, you mangy excuse for a rat’s tail,’ he called to the air.

  ‘I wondered when you would turn up, you foul-smelling dung heap,’ a deep, throaty voice piped. ‘Although I heard you coming five miles hence.’ The newcomer chuckled.

  A figure formed in front of them like a morning mist in the air.

  One moment Draken was alone and the next, a short, stout fellow stood in front of him, barely coming up to his waist. He wore a green tunic and carried an axe nearly as tall as he. His face was ruddy and lined with age and dirt, and his forearms bulged muscle, born through hard work. He carried a drove of rabbits slung over his back, a considerable catch by any standards.

  ‘Welcome to my humble home. I am Trenobin.’ He bowed slightly.

  ‘You live here?’ said Coinin with a puzzled expression. ‘There’s nothing but trees.’

  ‘Coinin!’ Draken roared and clipped his lug smartly.

  ‘Let the boy be, Draken, he asks a fair question,’ Trenobin interjected. ‘I see you boys have a lot to learn. First, you must learn to open your eyes and see what cannot be seen.’

  Trenobin raised his hand, and in the same manner, in which he arrived, a small dwelling began to form before their eyes. It was as if a mist had descended, and then a chimney appeared and belched wood smoke that filled the air. Next, log-by-log, a cabin began to take shape, until finally, in all its splendour, stood a woodsman’s home. It was a single storey with two small windows and a tiny door in its side. The house had stood for many years, judging by the moss that clung to its timbers. Outside, a vegetable patch grew varied and delicious fare.

  ‘I see that you are hungry,’ Trenobin smiled, as the boys eyed the rows of carrots and potatoes. ‘My vegetables are the best in the forest. Come inside, and I shall let you try my broth.’

  The boys cheered at this, for they had travelled for hours with no food or rest.

  The inside of the cabin was wondrous. All manner of curiosities adorned the walls, including animal traps, and even the hides of the trapped. An alcove built into the wall opposite the door held a bed with storage underneath. Also incorporated into the wall were a hundred or more small wooden drawers that held hidden items. Two tallow candles either side of the bed lit the cosy room, and a small fire warmed the room, over which a blackened iron pot hung full of simmering broth.

  Marrok spied a large sword above the fireplace, oddly thin and encrusted with green gems, and with what appeared to be a golden hilt that held strange markings in a language unfamiliar to him. ‘I have never seen such a sword, Master Trenobin.’

  ‘Nor shall you again. This is the last of a family of swords made for our ancestors long ago. Four were cast for four ancient sovereigns, mirroring the Sword of Unity. This is held in the palace of Rostha. Sadly, the others are perhaps destroyed, I do not know.’

  ‘Have you looked for them?’ Coinin asked.

  ‘Of course. Forty years I have looked. It is a considerable task when you don’t know where to look, and I grow too old to search now. But enough about this, I promised you broth, did I not?’ Trenobin smiled.

  Never had a meal tasted so fine to Coinin and Marrok. The broth was so thick you could have stood a spoon up in it, and Trenobin had provided them all with thick wedges of bread that served well for dunking. Even Jip, the hound, contented himself with a large bowl set down for him. They sat around a small oak table and enjoyed the meal, though Draken complained bitterly that he could not stretch his legs in the cramped quarters.

  Draken had refused the broth and merely contented himself to drink wine, which Trenobin regularly topped up from a leather flagon he kept in his alcove.

  ‘Boys,’ Draken began, ‘today begins a new day in your tutelage. I need you to open your minds and follow Trenobin’s instructions exactly. Do you understand?’

  Coinin and Marrok nodded without question.

  ‘What will we learn?’ Coinin asked.

  ‘What I will say is you will find out the reason why you have trained so hard
all your lives. So let’s not spoil the surprise, shall we, and put that enquiring mind aside.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  Draken growled. ‘How simple can I make this? You will find out in a timely manner if you do what our friendly dwarf here tells you to do.’

  Coinin began to object, except Marrok grabbed his arm to silence him.

  ‘We will, Uncle,’ Marrok intervened.

  Satisfied, Draken returned to his drink and pulled out his pipe, and after he had filled it with tobacco, he lit it with a long match and puffed away.

  Trenobin was quite animated during the meal and regaled them with stories of battles where he had fought against giants. It seemed unbelievable to the boys, nevertheless, Draken reassured them all that what was said was true.

  It was not long before Draken’s head had fallen to his chest and long, drawn-out snores erupted.

  ‘Ah, about time,’ Trenobin said. ‘I thought he’d never drop off.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Marrok enquired.

  ‘Your uncle will not be coming with us. He should sleep for an hour. That wine is my finest batch.’

  ‘But why can’t he come?’ Coinin asked worriedly.

  Trenobin sensed Coinin’s fear and clasped an arm around his shoulder. ‘Because, young sir, your uncle is a man of advancing age and we have much to accomplish. He will only slow us down. Moreover, he has not been invited to our destination. Don’t worry, I have waited for this day to arrive since your birth. Rest assured you are safe with me.’ Trenobin shook his head and walked to the door of the cabin, a strange twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Somehow I trust him,’ Coinin began. ‘Besides, Uncle Draken has ordered us to do as he asks.’

  ‘If you make one false move I’ll run you through,’ Marrok threatened the dwarf.

  Trenobin merely laughed. ‘Boys, if I wanted to hurt you, you would have been sorry a few hours ago,’ he called over his shoulder.

  ‘Fine, but if this is some trick we will see who will hurt whom,’ Marrok grumbled.

  Outside, Trenobin smelled the air and noted a stiff breeze. He faced downwind and whistled a long note. Marrok looked at Coinin and signalled that Trenobin seemed to be a couple of arrows short of a quiver.