Secrets of Arkana Fortress (15 page)

              ‘
So much for that diversion
’, Kelken thought to himself as he reached up to the nearest lantern. The once shapeless cell suddenly took form – a rounded granite-wall room that had been crudely carved out of the foundations of the city. This was the deepest part of the entire place he guessed. The stench of the waste was overpowering and hard to get used to – no person should have to be kept in a place like this.

              A sudden whimper from one of the dankest corners caught his attentions as his eyes strained to make out any sort of shape in the cell. ‘Miss Ranliss?’ he uttered softly, letting the spacious room carry his voice in an echo.

              No reply came back from her.

              Kelken moved closer to her, nearly stumbling upon her faintly silhouetted figure. He kneeled down, watching her body shiver as he came close to her. She was so timid and frightened, not that it was surprising really. He reached out a hand and stroked her mucked-up black hair away from her eyes. She expectedly lashed out with a half-strength fist and caught him in the face, causing him to fall backwards onto his ass. ‘Damn it, you pack a punch, girl,’ he exclaimed as he removed the stifling helmet to rub his cheek.

              ‘Get away from me, you bastard, I’ve put too many of you lot in the infirmary already. No-one’s sticking their manhood in me.’ Her voice was strained and weak, but still had that steely resolve he had been told to expect from her.

              ‘Cool your chops, sweetheart,’ Kelken began after he picked himself up and kneeled back down again, his face still stinging. ‘I’m not here to hurt you… far from it actually.’ He sniffed the air then coughed disgustedly. ‘Your uncle sent me to get you out.’

              Evie’s eyes, a mere set of green shadows, darted up to meet his. ‘Uncle Dedrick?’ She carefully pursed her lips then scowled, lashing out again with her fist. ‘Fucking liar; you’re just trying to make me talk.’

This time she swung and missed Kelken’s face, he having learned to be on his guard with her. ‘I’m not lying. He and that Orlanna woman set this up. Your rebel friends should be engaging the Donnol guard right at this minute.’ He lifted himself up and then fiddled with his belt. ‘Here, take this knife.’

Evie looked up at him with a cautious gaze, her apprehension understandably strong. After a moment’s pause, her slender hand rose up and wrapped itself around the hilt of the small blade.

‘Good girl,’ Kelken said softly. ‘Now we’ve gotta wait for the commotion to start.’

***

‘Where’s the girl? Is she safely locked up still?’ urged the night watch commander as he came barrelling through the entryway to the prison.

              The two guards looked at each other with wondering expressions. ‘She’s safely locked up, commander,’ said the guard whom Kelken had paid off. ‘What’s the problem?’

              The commander glared at them both in turn. ‘I’ll tell you what the damn problem is – there is a rebel force outside engaging our men quite efficiently. This is no doubt an attempt to rescue that little bitch in there.’

              The other guard stepped from one foot to the other, his face awkward.

              ‘Is there a problem, soldier?’ asked the commander sharply.

              ‘What about that new sergeant in there questioning her?’

              The commander’s harsh features fired up even more, his red hair seemingly catching on fire. ‘What new sergeant? There is no new fucking sergeant!’

              Exchanging looks, the two guards hastily fumbled with the door’s heavy bolts.

              ‘I’ll deal with you both after this bastard is strung up by his bollocks,’ the commander stated forcefully as he charged past them to open up the second door.

              There was nothing, not even a flicker from the lantern on the ceiling.

              ‘No point in hiding in the dark, asshole,’ the commander bellowed out. ‘Come on and give yourself up. We’ll be nice and give you a quick dea…’ The watch commander suddenly grabbed his throat and emitted a pathetic gargle before crumpling to the floor in a heap, his armour clanking heavily on the stone floor. The two guards looked down, then at each other. He was dead, nothing but a small throwing knife protruding from his muscular neck while the blood seeped out quickly.

              Kelken shot forward with surprising speed and impaled his longsword through the neck of one of the guards as he kicked the other one in the gut. His foot found the metal plating of armour and the shocked guard staggered back, his hands flailing above him. The now dead guard fell as Kelken withdrew his sword quickly and thrust it at his other target, the blade slicing open the features of the man’s face, leaving him in a gaping mess.

              ‘Come on, Evie,’ he called back into the cell.

              The young girl crept out of the darkness and into the much needed light. She looked like she had lost quite a bit of weight over the past few days, and her dirt-ridden face seemed to hide her understandable fear. Her clothes were ragged and barely covered her.

              ‘Where to now?’ she asked with a croaky voice.

              ‘We get the fuck out of here that’s where to.’

              She looked at him.

              ‘What’s that look for, girl?’

              ‘Are you here on your own?’

              Kelken laughed softly. ‘Oh lord no. My daughter should be thinning the prison guards out as we speak.’

              Evie coughed. ‘Your daughter?’

***

The screams and yells of the guards as they were engaged in the night-time skirmish was deafening, enough to wake the corpses at the bottom of the harbour.

              Breena had used the opportunity to slip into the prison relatively unnoticed, passing soldier after soldier pouring out of the small doorway. The diversion wasn’t going to last much longer as reinforcements from outside the building were heard to be incoming.

              As she brushed past a few more hot-headed men, her arm was grabbed by one of the sergeants.

‘You, archer,’ he barked clearly, no helmet on his middle-aged head. ‘Come with me down to the security cells – we have someone trying to break that Ranliss girl out of here.’

She muttered a ‘
yes
’ and followed the tall sergeant into the depths of the complex. They passed doorways of rooms filled with beds that were obviously the barracks, and each and every time the same fetid smell wafted out from them. Breena’s stomach turned into a tight knot of nausea.

She suddenly stopped, causing the sergeant to turn and look at her.

‘What the fuck ya doin?’ he snapped.

‘I think I saw some suspicious movement in one of the barrack rooms, sir,’ she said in her best manly voice.

‘OK then, stand back and let me handle it.’ He unsheathed his shortsword and darted into the room without hesitation. He met nothing but the smell of unclean air. ‘Nothing in here; are you seeing things soldier?’ He turned just in time to see the point of an arrow hurtling towards him at a magical pace. His body jerked backwards and landed on the floor.

Breena leaned in and pulled the door shut making sure the lock on the outside was sealed. ‘Moron.’

If there was one thing she had figured out over the years, it was that her father could look after himself in times like these. She remained calm and collected as she always did during missions. There had only ever been one time when she had completely lost it, and the situation had been 10 times as bad as now.

Where was he? As much of a maze as this place was, he couldn’t have gotten lost that easily could he?

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing man?’

Breena whirled around and was face-to-face with a heavily muscular man in drab red robes wearing a sash tied loosely around his waist. His aged face was something of a shock to her.

‘Excuse me, sir?’ she stuttered.

‘What the hell? You’re a woman! There’re no girls in the prison detachment.’ His glowering eyes grew fierce. ‘Intruder!’ he screeched, his voice almost supersonic that it hurt Breena’s ears. She staggered back to the wall as she saw his right arm light up in a spectacular show of magic. Holy hell… it was an executioner.

Her chest heaved faster as the old man’s hand began to circle in front of her. She could feel the ebbing fright grip her mind and body like the tinge of something supernatural. This magic froze a person on the spot, then went to work slowly and painfully.

‘Get the fuck off me,’ she wheezed, the sharp rush of pain in her head growing exponentially. She had no way out other than to beg.

The executioner leered and laughed, obviously sick and twisted enough to enjoy submitting people to pure torture.

His rough face screwed up.

The pain subsided as fast as it had grabbed Breena. With her eyes shut tight, and her hands ripping the helmet from her head, there was nothing but a loud, garbled growl. She opened her eyes and stared at the executioner, who now had a long blade jutting out of his chest like a monster’s claw.

‘Finally found you,’ said Kelken as he pushed the limp figure to the floor. ‘You were nearly brain mush then.’

‘Well this is a first,’ Breena replied. ‘A plan of ours actually going to plan… makes a change from me being left in the lurch.’ She wobbled as she strained to get upright.

‘No time for this playful chat, Breena, we’ve gotta get moving.’

She glanced at the poorly dressed girl and gestured toward her. ‘Is this Evie Ranliss?’

Kelken nodded.

Breena smiled at Evie and then walked over to her. ‘We’ll get you out of here safely, kid.’

‘I’m not a kid,’ Evie snapped, the strength of her character seeping back through.

‘I’m sorry,’ Breena replied blankly. ‘Anyway, we’ve gotta move.’

The three of them charged through the passageways, felling guards and prison workers alike without hesitation – anyone who got in their way was on the opposite side. Evie kept close to Breena, her eyes remaining watchful for anybody sneaking up behind them.

They finally reached the doorway to the prison and saw the chaotic fighting still happening in the alleyway. The rebel fighters were lasting considerably well considering the environment was enclosed and claustrophobic.

‘Where the fuck do we go from here?’ Breena grunted as she fired a few arrows at the Donnol soldiers, taking them down decisively.

Kelken looked from one end of the alley to the other. ‘Let’s take the eastern alleyway, there should be a smaller path leading off it; we can squeeze down there.’ He shifted Evie over to one side by the arm and then looked at his daughter. ‘Breena you take her that way, I’ll cover you.’

Breena laughed and waggled a knowing finger at him. ‘Best if I cover you seeing as I’m the bow expert, eh?’

Kelken frowned then nodded. ‘Good point, love. Let’s move.’

With that the three of them strafed their way along the nearside wall, arrows firing from Breena’s bow with speed, power, and precision. The air was growing thicker as the fighting ensued, the stench of desperate metal on metal getting more and more intolerable. The once dead of night was now alive with fervent blood boiling over like a cooking pot left to overheat. Hooded figures brandishing an array of long, short, and broad swords locked with the Donnol lawmen, all of them fighting for something only they could understand – duty and honour.

The side alley was much narrower than the previous one, with barely enough room for Kelken to swing his longsword around.

‘Fuck me I hope we don’t get cornered in here,’ he remarked as he led the girls past piles of debris, waste, and personal affects that had been discarded in some sort of haste. The belongings varied from clothing, to toys, to old furniture, most of it still in some sort of favourable condition.

The smell of the passageway was rife with faeces, chronic damp, and urine – not so much of a pleasant change from the prison cell for Evie. Her throat dried out even more as she coughed heavily. She stumbled forward, continuing to try and grind her legs into a jog as best she could.

Breena slipped her hand around the girl’s shaking arm and urged her along. ‘I know it stinks like a shit house down here, but try to get past it.’ Her tone was soothing and its almost healing ambience was enough to stop Evie from hacking.

‘Oh fuck it all to heaven and hell.’ Kelken gripped his sword with both hands, keeping the hilt close to his hip so that the blade would remain in front of him. ‘Two of them coming this way.’

Breena held up her bow, but was suddenly pounced on from behind by an eager soldier who had caught them up with surprising speed. ‘Fuck it,’ she screamed as she saw Kelken meet the oncoming soldiers. She lashed out with her feet in an effort to kick the man somewhere vulnerable, but all she hit was solid armour. Her shoulders were wrenched from one side to the next as she violently tangled with her attacker. ‘Hurry it up will you, dad, I can’t keep dancing with this guy forever.’

Kelken thrust his sword forward multiple times, each lunge being deflected until he managed to smack a soldier’s sword from his hand. His longsword jammed into the exposed neck of the armour and blood rampaged over the plain grey chest of the twitching figure. A swing of a second sword came forth. Kelken grabbed the second attacker’s armed hand and wrestled as best he could. He toppled onto his back as the guard’s free hand clotheslined him across the chest.

‘Gonna be a while,’ he shouted back at Breena who was faltering rapidly.

The soldier attacking her fearlessly pushed her forward, tripping her. She landed with a heavy clatter onto the piss-stained ground. He held his sword up and paused for a second, his eyes scanning the back of her head. ‘A shame to get rid of such beauty,’ he grumbled. ‘Shit happens.’

His neck was sliced open easily like a soft fruit as Evie used the knife Kelken had given her to good effect. She had overcome the rationality of hiding amongst the pile of debris and had jumped out at the right moment. She repeated the slice again, this time cutting deeper into the man’s gurgling jugular. Her slender hands pushed the body to one side, the sword landing next to Breena with a loud clank. For a moment things fell quiet, and then the defeated red-head shot up, grabbing her bow from the floor. She reached for an arrow from her belt quiver and released it as fast as she could manage.

Kelken soon breathed a sigh of relief as the arrow pierced the remaining guard’s eyeball; it would’ve split open the skull if it wasn’t for the helmet. He shoved the lifeless figure to one side and creaked upwards to his feet, all the while massaging his back.

‘I hate being thrown over the floor like that,’ he grunted as he cracked his spine relentlessly.

Breena placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Less moaning, more running.’ She looked at Evie and blinked her dual eyelids at her. ‘Come on, Evie, your uncle is waiting.’

***

Even though he couldn’t hear, smell, or see the bloodshed, there was something uncertain in the air, almost tangibly present. Mikos stepped from one foot to the other as he tried to keep warm in the cold night. He was still dressed in his trader attire, but had been given the benefit of a small metal chest plate strapped around his upper torso as well as a sword.

              Things were feeling unnatural somewhat, as if all this was a dream, and a bad one at that. How he wished he was back at his home in northern Cryldis by a roaring fire, coupled with a hot meal and a flagon of ale. He would probably be nearly back by now if it wasn’t for all this drama.

              A shift in the wind brought about the clatter of armoured footsteps on the cobbled street. He had been told to stay on the main street out of the way and observe whatever came around, but was that all? No action? Not that he was bothered by a lack of combat, but all this seemed illogical. As long as he kept to the dark spots along the street he would be out of here as soon as possible.

He trotted backwards and pressed himself up against the stone wall of some unmarked building, his eyes carefully scanning, focusing on whoever came past. The metallic jogging got louder and louder before a section of about a dozen armoured soldiers moved past with the urgency Mikos had expected there to be. He waited for a few minutes before sliding out from the shadows, his sword in his hand.

              ‘Terrorist!’ shouted a voice suddenly from nowhere.

              Mikos darted his head round and saw a hooded figure pointing a long finger at him from across the way. The person repeated the accusations, alerting a small band of four guards that were hastily moving to catch up with their comrades, before vanishing into the darkness like an apparition. The unexpected words seemed to beat into Mikos a drum of hidden feelings, he wasn’t sure what.

              Without question, the soldiers closed in on him at an alarming rate, swords drawn, and snarls of anger vibrating from beneath their helms. This wasn’t good… the last time Mikos had fought with swords was two years ago against a very angry feline trader who had visited his establishment and not liked the agreed prices. His sword suddenly became as heavy as a cast iron bar, and his hand slippery as if it had been covered in oil.

              The first strike came seemingly out of nowhere, but missed his shoulder by the length of a gnat’s leg. The air split next to his head as the second swipe missed as well. He tumbled back against the wall and caught the thrust of a sword with his own, knocking it sideways. Before all four of them converged in for one valiant strike, Mikos charged to one side and gambolled across the floor. It hardly took a few seconds before the soldiers were on him again, swords arcing at him from all directions and missing as he flexed his body freely. He had no idea how he managed to narrowly avoid being injured, but he was glad of his sudden agility nonetheless.

              A fresh scent of incoming rain whirled through the air as the blades spun, slashed, thrust, and sliced their way at every possible opportunity. It was then, and most unexpectedly, that things seemed to slow to a snail’s pace, the adrenaline kicking in. Each swing of the guards’ arms moved in slow motion. Mikos swallowed dryly as he stumbled backwards.

He made a strike.

              His sword weaved into action and sought out the neck of one of the men, spilling blood mercilessly onto the floor with a sharp stab. The other soldiers hesitated for a split second, suddenly taken aback at the felling of their colleague. One of them charged forward, his face torn with anger and immediate hatred for the man before him. He went down quickly as well, a gash neatly cut across his exposed stomach.

              ‘Where d’ya learn moves like this, mate?’ grunted one of the two remaining men. It was hard to tell which one was talking from underneath their thick helms. Without waiting for an answer, the guard on the right struck out with quick swipes and thrusts. The other guard, however, circled Mikos like a preying animal, bloodthirsty and alert.

              He had seen this attempt at a pincer, but continued to deflect and parry, choosing to ignore the tactic temporarily.

              ‘Now, impale the bastard!’

              As the steel thrust at his back, Mikos jumped to his side and watched with remorseful gratification as the guard stabbed his friend violently in the gut.

              ‘What the fuck have I done?’ he cried softly from beneath his helmet. He released his grip on the weapon, allowing it to remain in his friend’s torso as the body fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. He gulped heavily as the cold edge of Mikos’s blade rested against his throat.

              ‘Now,’ said Mikos as he angled his sword. ‘You can either scamper away, or try what your friends just tried.’

              The now whimpering man nodded silently and backed off, hastily turning on his heels and fleeing like a frightened mouse in a thunder storm, his figure disappearing around a far corner.

              Mikos shook his head and sheathed the sword into his belt. What the hell had just happened? He had managed, with great difficulty, to fend off four trained soldiers of the Donnol guard. As much as this was a time for elation, something twisted his gut and turned his stomach. Whatever it was, it did not feel right.

Chapter 12

‘Uncle Dedrick!’ Evie jumped as she ran into his arms, her heart glad to finally see a familiar face at last.

              He wrapped his arms around her tight, and kissed the top of her head softly like a loving uncle should. ‘My darling Evie, it’s so good to see you safe and sound.’ He closed his eyes and rested his weary head on hers.

              ‘It was awful, uncle, absolutely awful. That prison smelled like shit and every time a guard came in they tried to… y’know…’ She balled up a fist and shook it at him.

              ‘Did you show ‘em otherwise?’ Dedrick smiled.

              Evie laughed, her sweet chuckle brightening up the gloomy air. ‘Damn straight I did. Those bastards don’t know what hit them, or their groins.’