Ten Silver Coins: The Battle For Acchora

By Andrew Kooman

The highly anticipated second novel in Andrew Kooman's Ten Silver Coin series.

The world's on fire and Jill strong set it aflame when she obeyed King Eckwith's dying wish to trigger the volcano. As she escapes with the Drylings from their hiding place into the land of Acchora, she's about to go from one dangerous realm into another.

With Juria now Queen over a divided nation, to survive above ground the Drylings must unite against the Rashtakar's armies that begin to fill the land. But Ama's discovery of wingless refugees on the slope of the burning mountain and a mysterious visitor from a far-away land threaten to further divide the Drylings into factions.

The battle for Acchora is a fight not only for survival but for the future. Even though Jill and Simon are outsiders caught up in the middle of the drama, without them, the battle for Acchora could be lost.

What readers are saying:

"Refreshingly original!" — Red Deer Express

"I have a 13 year old who's dying to read the next book in the Ten Silver Coins series. He's literally squirming out of his skin with the emotion of it all! It's captured my non-reading son!" — Deja, Happy Parent to reader of Ten Silver Coins

"An excellent tale of second chances and acceptance, no matter where you come from or what your past may be."— Associated Content

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Kooman
• Release date: Nov 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781775058045

Andrew Kooman

Andrew Kooman is an award-winning writer and producer. His critically acclaimed work has been produced around the world and translated into more than 10 languages. Andrew writers for the page stage and screen.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Escape from the Mountain

Drylings keep moving!

Ama’s voice ripped through the noise of wind rushing over wings, the roaring sound of the volcano, the panicked murmur of Drylings fleeing for their lives in the deep and dark passage of the mountain’s rock.

The mountain will soon erupt. Fly! Fly! Jill was astonished at the power and clarity of the beautiful Queen’s voice in the midst of all the madness, sure it, like the volcano dormant and silent for years, could be stopped or silenced by no power now that its time to be heard had come.

Jill looked above from where she was held secure, tucked under Ama’s arm. She could see a rim of light in the distance slowly growing bigger like a shining orb slowly eclipsing the surrounding darkness. Behind her the sound of the other Drylings and the volcano.

We’re nearly there. Quickly!

And suddenly all went white. Jill squinted her eyes shut at the sudden blinding light. They were out of the mountain! The fresh air of Acchora hit her lungs and she drank in air violently.

Higher! Higher Drylings! Out of the volcano’s reach!

They climbed higher and higher in the sky. The pressure of the ascent forced Jill’s head downward against her chest. Black spots interrupted her vision of a spectacular sight: hundreds—even thousands—of Drylings, some holding their young closely to their chests pumping their wings in strong, determined movements, higher and higher above the sunken dome of the volcano. Still other Drylings were emerging out of the different tunnelled lava tubes, desperately willing themselves and their loved ones against the force of gravity in fear of the liquid fire.

Jill suddenly felt weightless as her upward movement toward the sky ceased, though her heart and stomach seemed to keep moving. She looked up to see Ama’s wings arched across the sky like an enormous leathery parachute.

We’ve climbed far enough, Ama yelled so all around her could hear. We should be out of danger now. Use the current from the sea to stay at this height.

All around them other Drylings unfurled their wings against the sky, ending their desperate climb to catch the warm wind Jill could feel against her skin. Everyone around Jill and Ama looked toward the volcano, watching, willing the other Drylings toward them.

Before Jill could join in their urgent calls for the others the air all around Jill was filled with a hot rush. Her skin burned with a sudden onslaught of heat as though she had been thrown into an invisible fire. The earth seemed to howl with the rage. The afternoon sky lit up with an orange flash.

The volcano!

The Drylings around her screamed at the shock of it. The heat seared against Jill’s skin as the sky lit up with terrible orange fire. And the sound. Jill covered her ears at the sound, a deep rumbling growl as the volcano spewed, like some deep sinister evil were laughing and yelling in a chorus of fury.

And then, just as suddenly there was a great hush. For a moment, after all the frantic flying and the desperate climb to the sky, the noise and shrieks through the mountain, everything was quiet. The terrible belch of lava seemed to stop its orange arc against the sky. Jill and the Drylings were caught in a moment of silent horror.

Jill had felt this sensation before. For a moment she felt as though she were in the Music Room again, the earth-shaking tremor of the bass woofer charging through her heart like a stampede, suddenly suspended in the air. Caught by surprise, completely out of control. But as the heavy cloud of ash started to ascend toward her and the creatures around her, Jill was all too aware that this was not some beautiful chorus being played somehow in the far reaches of her girlish imagination. This was a symphony of destruction and it was very likely Drylings had been swallowed by the mountain.

Jill, look at me, look away from the fire. It will blind you, Ama shouted over the sound into Jill’s ear.

Ama, it burns!

I know. We must all leave. The mountain will not rest until it has purged itself of all its rage.

Jill looked at her friend, terrified.

We’ll be safe, Ama said, but not here. We must move.

Jill pressed her face into Ama’s shoulder.

Queen Ama! Jill recognized Juria’s voice before she could see her. The female Dryling flew toward them. Queen Ama, are you alright?

I’m fine, Juria.

Jill?

I’m okay, Jill replied.

We must move. The cloud of ash will only darken. We are safe while the volcano continues to unleash its anger upon the island, but we can’t stay here long, Juria advised. We must move, quickly. If there’s an enemy presence on the island we must stay out of its sight.

Below them the volcano howled and belched out another fiery plume of lava. An enormous black cloud curled and mushroomed up higher than the molten discharge and covered the sky in its shroud. The day suddenly turned to night. Drylings disappeared in the smoke and ash. All around her Jill could hear the creatures coughing violently.

Gather what members of the King’s guard that you can, Ama said. Organize Drylings by their clans and set commanders to their charge. Send the Greywings to the North of the Island, the Windwiths can fly to the South, send the Lightwings East and the Brightclaws, let them go to the West. They must stay among the treetops.

Jill was amazed at how quickly and calmly Ama came to her decisions and wondered just how Juria would find anyone in the dark and ashy cloud.

And then? Juria asked.

When the clans are safely hidden among the trees, we will meet with all the elders.

Where? Juria asked.

Ama raised her eyebrow and smiled. Where else?

Juria looked at Queen Ama as she unsheathed the sword at her side. You have your brother’s audacity and your father’s mind.

Is that so? Ama asked.

Yes. It almost frightens me.

Acchora belongs to the Drylings. The enemy’s day here is done. With violence it has ended. We will hide now only as a precaution, and not long after.

Tears filled Juria’s eyes. Ama grabbed her by the shoulder. The day has come. Remain strong, Juria. There will be time to soak in this glorious moment, but now you must fly.

And with a nod of her head, Juria was gone.

Where will we go? Jill asked.

Ama wiped off some of the black ash that collected on Jill’s brow. A smear of skin was exposed below the grey flaked silt from the mountain.

The two of us, Jill, we have an adventure ahead. We must travel beyond Acchora to a land I little know. But before that, we will make sure the Drylings are safe on this island.

Is it safe here, Ama?

Safer than ever before. The enemy is on the move, far away from here. Those minions of his that do remain we will quickly remove from the island, by force if we must. Their ruler is gone, they will be afraid, and their fear will only increase when they see us, swords unsheathed, wings unfurled. An army of Drylings will be an awesome sight to behold.

Jill believed her. Ama started to speak, but then caught herself. She looked at Jill for a moment.

What is it, Ama? Jill asked.

Ama turned Jill as she spun in the sky.

There. That’s where we’ll go for now. Ama pointed in the distance.

Jill couldn’t tell what she looked at or how far away it was. The sky was so darkened by the ash she could barely make out any shapes. All she could make out was a faint white shape, like a hand reaching toward the sky out of a cloud of dust.

CHAPTER TWO

Acchora on Fire

This isn’t air, Jill thought to herself, it’s molasses.

Even as she thought the words she smiled at the memory of Salma standing in the kitchen of her caretaker’s home, pretending she didn’t notice Jill watching her through the spindles of the staircase.  She used the thick, tar-like syrup in so much of her food: breads, cakes, beans, and Jill’s favourite: gingerbread cookies.

It’s a real art, Jill, she could hear Salma saying the words even now as she mixed ingredients at the sink, talking over the sounds her wrinkled hands made as they followed familiar rhythms, ritual movements that would create some of the only happiness Jill experienced in her day.  Real molasses is taken from the juice that’s pulled from the sugar cane. You boil it, let it crystallize then spin it so fast to separate the sugar crystals from the juice.  That’s where you get molasses from. You gotta take care and time with things to really enjoy them.

Where is Salma now? Jill wondered.  Did she survive the fires in Vendor?

The sudden thoughts of Vendor that flashed into her mind disoriented Jill.  She sat high in a tree, her back pressed into the trunk, legs dangling from the branch where Ama placed her after their frantic flight from the mountain.

Far in the distance, and far below, fires burned near the mountain’s base.  She could make out the orange flames through the thick, ashy air.  Three tributaries of lava flowed from the top of the volcano and down the mountain, creating three orange-red rivers that glowed in the darkness.  Burning up trees and brush and anything else in their path.

She shivered at the thought.  I wonder where those rivers of fire lead?  It was a strange thought, she admitted to herself.  Perhaps to the sea.  She imagined the orange rivers meeting the water near the beach where she first arrived as orange fire and blue water met to create billowing clouds of steam.  When the steam clouds settled, there would be black snake-like tendrils slipping from sand into sea.

Jill coughed through the cloth she held over her mouth, a swath of the fabric she had ripped from the bottom of her own shirt to try to limit the amount of ash she breathed into her lungs.

She had flown with Ama far enough from the blast of the mountain to the East where she awaited the rest of the Lightwings. The air was clearer here, but the warm wind blew traces of ash through the tree branches.

In nearby branches Drylings quieted and consoled their young, whispering as they settled for the night.  Jill watched amazed as the adult creatures quickly worked to pull smaller branches apart, dropped out of sight and returned with clumps of dirt to create makeshift nests for the little ones so they could be more comfortable and sleep.

Secretly, Jill wished for a nest of her own.  Not afraid of heights, she had respect for the force of gravity that would quickly usher her to a terrible fate if she didn’t watch carefully how she moved in the tree.  From where she was perched she was sure she was as high as the highest building in Vendor.

If only I had wings, she said out loud.

I would give mine to you if I could.

Ama’s sweet, strong voice again.  Jill believed her.   Queen Ama floated from where she had appeared just behind Jill onto a nearby branch.  The wind created a gentle, welcome rush of air.  It’s a long way down, isn’t it?

Trees are a lot bigger here than where I come from, said Jill.  No one would believe me if I told them just how high.

There will be even greater things for them to believe, Jill.  Even more incredible things you will tell, stories that will seem taller than these trees.

Do you think I’ll ever return home, to Vendor? Jill asked.

I do. Why else would you have come here in the first place?

To escape! Jill nearly shouted. She was surprised at herself.  Just like you and your people did, from the mountain.  The city where I’m from was burning, too, when I left it.

Then you must return and put out the fire, Ama said quietly, her words almost lost to the breeze.

Jill looked down from their perch toward the volcano.  The collapsed ridge of the dome could still be seen in the night. The whole mountain seemed to protrude from the ground like a jagged tooth.  Better to let the fires die out on their own, she thought. Even if I wanted to return to Vendor, I wouldn’t know the way back, she mumbled to Ama.

The Dryling Queen smiled.  I wonder where those rivers of fire lead. She held out her hand to Jill.  Imagine how the waters might steam if they ever were to funnel into the sea.

That’s funny, Jill said, I was just sorta thinking the same thing.

Jill took Ama’s hand and was pulled up into her mighty arms. Hold on, Ama said.

Where are we going?

Up higher still.

Ama slapped her wings against the air and they thrust upwards like a rocket.  Do you like flying, Jill?

I love it!  I think I was meant to be a Dryling.

The two laughed.  You can be an honourary one.

Ama, what’s this? They had made it to a high branch, nearer to the top of the tree.  Under the leafy canopy sat a large nest.

It’s your temporary home, for now. I had it made for you so that you can rest and don’t have to keep hanging on for dear life to the branch.  You need to sleep.

Where will you be? Jill asked.

Ama placed Jill in the nest.  There were a few blankets and a bowl of seeds, and a jar filled with water.

I need to meet the clan leaders, visit the wounded and organize scouts to survey where the enemy is throughout Acchora.

Sounds like it will be a long night. Can I help you? Jill asked.

Ama laughed, then touched Jill on the cheek.  You must rest, Ms. Strong.  I will need you in the coming days. We must find our way to Terador together.

Jill frowned at this.

Talla! Before Jill could tell Ama she had no clue how to get to Terador or where it even was, Ama had called the Dryling, an impressive female with a tall, colourful plume of feathers that spiked from her head.  She dropped from an unseen branch and landed without a sound next to Jill’s nest.

This is Talla, said the Queen.  The Dryling reached both hands behind her shoulders and withdrew two curved blades hidden behind her wings.  Talla had spun each blade in a full arc in her hands and dropped to one knee, stopping both blades before they touched the branch. The sound of the metal blades sliding from their sheaths still rang through the treetop when the Dryling bowed her head to Jill.

At your service, little one, said Talla.

Talla will be your personal guard all the while we are in Acchora, Jill. She is a trusted member of the Royal Guard and has protected hatchlings for more than a century. If you need anything, ask her.  At ease, Talla.

The guard stood to her feet, spun the two blades upwards and over her shoulders, sheathing the weapons in a single motion. Jill stood astonished. Talla nodded her head and with one flap of her wings was out of sight, back to her unseen branch.

Whoa, was all Jill could muster.  I think I’ll sleep easy tonight.

Now I must go, Ama said.  There are Drylings that need my help.

CHAPTER THREE

Rescuing the Hatchlings

It had been less than three hours since Ama and Jill had fled with all the other Drylings from the cataclysmic blast that destroyed their secret home in Acchora.  Like all the other leaders of the clans, her first responsibility had been to find safe shelter, far and high enough away to remain hidden from their enemies.

She still had to meet the other clans, but something pulled her back toward the mountain where the destruction still raged.  She feared, as did all the other Drylings, that there was loss of life. Olmander, certainly, was dead.  But how many others?

It was crucial for the Drylings to get organized and to coordinate in their new environment. They were so recently and suddenly changed, visible again in a world after so many decades since their disappearing.  The trauma of the lost home, the comforts and routines of daily life hidden away in the mountain, only added to their vulnerability. It was a time to rebuild their whole nation, and heal.

But there might be war to wage first, and before that, Drylings to rescue. Ama rushed alone toward the mountain to survey the damage. It was a picture of carnage.  Its base was encircled in fire as lava, gathering around the volcano, pooled into a moat and flowed in three directions into the surrounding forest.  Trees on fire burned brightly, alive in orange and yellow flame.

The dome of the volcano billowed, chortling and huffing out hot ash and smoke.  Ama flew just under the cloud of ash where it trailed away into the night sky, moving in closer to the volcano.

She could feel the presence of Dryling life, a sense that pulled her toward the fiery mountain.  How could anyone have lived? she wondered, even as she tried to push from her mind the image of burnt and scarred flesh, what she imagined would be the fate for any living creature that she might find.

Ama shot like an arrow through the night sky. Even in such dire circumstances she felt exhilarated and alive.  The quiet years of waiting in devout silence were suddenly replaced by the howling anger of the mountain.  With each stroke of her strong wings all those years seemed to flake from her body and fall away like so many pieces of floating ash. As the acrid air stung her lungs, a sense of purpose long dormant coursed through her being.

She circled the mountain from the height, gliding as close to the pillar of smoke as she could.  A hot draft of air streamed from the gaping hole in the volcano like some ancient angry kettle, nearly boiling the air.  All around her smoke roiled.

There!  Drylings!

On the mountain below, between two molten rivers she saw a slight movement. A wide clearing of stone and small brush cropped out from the side of the volcano about half way up its slope to form a plateau. The flat rock cut off into a sheer steep drop.  Were a creature to walk off the plateau, they would fall into lava.

Ama dove toward the spot, pressing her wings flat against her back.  She could see that the plateau would soon be surrounded by lava and the Drylings would be swallowed alive. As she descended, the heat from the mountain seemed to cut into her like a knife, excruciating in its intensity.

Drylings, can you fly? But she didn’t need an answer when she touched down to the plateau.  Oh! Dear little ones.

Two young hatchlings lay under the wings of a fallen adult Dryling, a male whose outstretched wings nearly covered the width of the plateau from end to end.  Their feathered heads poked out from under the massive beast, only one had its eyes open.

We called for help, she said.  We kept calling.

You’ll be safe, said Ama as she pulled back the wing of the Dryling.  He sighed in pain when she did.  He was barely conscious, but alive.

When his wing was pulled back she understood the Dryling’s act of bravery.  Both  of the hatchlings were wingless.  He had carried them from the volcano.  But couldn’t get them to safety in time.

Are you hurt? Ama asked, as calmly as she could.

My insides feel like they’re on fire, said the she-hatchling, the older of the two.  Trill stopped talking, she said as she patted her little companion on the head.  The male hatchling, smaller than the other, moaned at her touch. We were in his arms when he fell from the sky.  We were the last two that he came back for.

A hot streak of lava flared into the air from one of the red-hot rivers below. The air seared with heat.  The little Dryling screamed.

Little one, we must go! Ama urged.

But we can’t fly.

I’ll take you, said Ama drawing the hatchling into her arms first.

We can’t leave him! the older one screamed, the sound of her distress rousing the Dryling.  Ama only just missed the dangerous arc of his sword as he levelled it toward her.  She jumped from the ground and threw her wings into the air holding the hatchlings close to her chest.

Be at peace! she commanded as quickly as she took flight.  The Dryling grabbed his side and doubled over in pain.  His sword fell to the ground.

He’s hurt real bad! shouted the hatchling.

Brave unto the end, Ama said.  I will take these two hatchlings to safety, and I will come back to get you.  Even as she said it, the whole mountain shook.  Although Ama was in the air, she felt the tremor rumble through her body.

Leave me! the Dryling yelled over the roar of the mountain. Save the little ones.

Ama was already moving into the night, trying to fly as high and far from the river of lava as she could while gaining the most distance from the mountain.  If the volcano sputtered again as it did when it first erupted, there was no telling how far and wide the fire would fall.

The mountain would rend the night again with violence, and she hoped to save three lives, not just two.

We must find the Queen.  Juria looked across the night sky toward the mountain.  My heart tells me she’s in trouble.

A small group of Drylings gathered in the high branches, a tightly forested area.  The whole area was on a slope that created a natural vantage point from which to survey Acchora.  Their talons, covered in shining metal armour, reflected the starlight from where they perched in the high branches.

Juria had flown with her clan west as Ama had commanded, certain the Queen knew that it would be a likely place the Dark Prince’s minions might congregate and that if any Drylings were to meet them on the way, the Brightclaws would be best suited to fight even as they fled.

I see her, said a voice behind her.

Where? Juria turned.

A male Dryling stood proudly, a head taller than Juria. A long braid of blue and grey feathers fell from his chin.  He held a large staff in his right hand that he planted at his feet.  He leaned against it. I’m looking at her.

Jordyn! she said and embraced him, unfurling her right wing so that it wrapped along his back and touched his left shoulder.

Don’t you dare embrace me! Juria said before he could return the gesture. I might not survive.

Jordyn smiled and extended his wings. Even in the darkness it was clear, the wings weren’t thin and leathery but metallic, thick with bright gold and silver feathers. His outer web of primary feathers were covered with metal blades, sharp as knives at the tips. He was a warrior among warriors, a glorious sight to behold.

How you will terrify your enemy in battle.  Brother, you look more yourself than ever! Juria said, overcome at the sight of him, the first time she had seen her beloved sibling in decades.

And look at you.  Where is your armour?

Better fighters need less armour and fly lightly, Juria said.

Jordyn laughed.  You devil!

There was little need for it in the chamber of the Queen, said Juria.

She was not a Queen when you were called to guard her, nor is she one now.  At this, Jordyn bowed to one knee and held out his staff, the other Drylings nearby followed suit.

Hail Juria, Queen of Acchora. Hail Juria Queen!  The others joined Jordyn in the chorus of honour.  Only death can separate us from your will and your command.

Juria was taken aback.  The Drylings remained on their knees with their wings in the air, heads bowed, awaiting her response.  Jordyn looked up after a moment and nodded for