Secrets of Arkana Fortress (23 page)

              ‘Only? Was he a Bullwark or something?’

              Byde smirked, his toughened skin creasing at the sides. ‘He’s a normal human being just like you and me, but with the heart of a Bullwark. Apparently his was damaged, and his dying Bullwark friend offered his in the hopes of saving him. A grand gesture if you ask me.’ He sat back in his chair.

              Rubbing his chin lightly, Mikos rolled a thought around his mouth. ‘Well you’re not a normal human being. You must be about that age as well, considering casters were supposed to be able to stand the tests of time.’ Mikos’s extensive readings over the years had given him a great knowledge on many aspects of the world and its history. If there was one thing he valued highly along with his reputation it was knowledge, because it was from knowledge that he made his decisions in life.

              Byde angled his head into a nod, complimenting Mikos silently. ‘You know a fair number of things about Salarias and its intricacies. I lost count ages ago about how many years old I am.’

              Mikos lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, paranoid at their conversation being overheard. ‘You must have seen many things, been involved in a lot of them too. Who’d you suspect is behind these things? You mentioned about the Psyloss plague being wsome form of magic?’

              Byde tucked his long brown hair behind his ears and cleared his throat subtly. ‘Yes.’ He looked at the book about ancient forms and lost magic, and tapped a lone finger on its cover. ‘This book was the most valuable of reads. It told me about the types of magical forms that were fabled to exist years ago, both good and evil. Psychic magic is an extremely rare, and supposedly extinct type of magic. It’s one of those things that can be used for good intentions, or bad ones.’

              Mikos’s mind rattled like a caged animal desperate for freedom. The thought of such a large-scale magical attack was completely un-nerving. ‘But… how? How can a single form of magic be so widespread?’

              What Byde explained to him next turned his stomach into a knotted mess. He told him all he knew about the devices known as spires. His knowledge on them was limited as nobody on record had ever seen one. Even though there was no definite information on them, someone must have come across a spire at some point in time – tales tended to come from some form of truth.

              Mikos had never heard about these constructs, let alone seen one. He took the statement as truth – he liked to keep his mind open to new things and concepts instead of disproving them on the spot like most sceptics would. ‘And you suspect this?’

              ‘I do. It’s the most logical conclusion, regardless of the slim chances.’

              ‘That would explain the worldwide influence of this disease. The effects are debilitating to say the least.’

              Byde closed his eyes and stilled his heart, anxiety beginning to get the better of him. ‘You understand my concern with this situation, considering who I am, but I don’t know why you’re so intrigued by it.’

              The words echoed in his ears for a minute. Mikos opened and closed his mouth. Anna had asked him the same question, and he couldn’t answer it then, just like he had no answer to it now. He blinked as he moved his gaze around the tabletop. ‘I… I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. I’d assumed it was the bigger picture of what was happening and how it’s affecting people, but I’m still confused as to why.’

              ‘That missive you showed me would make anyone laugh… except you. Have you shown it to anyone else?’

              ‘My groundskeeper, Anna, and the head of some underground resistance in Donnol, Dedrick.’

              ‘And their reactions were…?’

              Mikos scoffed with a sarcastic laugh. ‘Sceptical would be an understatement – neither of them considered it worth pursuing.’

              Byde’s finger, long and pinpointing, directed itself at Mikos. ‘And there, I’m afraid, is the influence of the magic.’

              That was a line he didn’t expect to hear.

              Leaning forward, elbows resting on the book, he assessed Byde’s sincerity. There was no falsehood in his face. He came to that conclusion as he was unable to read the man sitting opposite him. ‘But the Psyloss hasn’t made them mad.’

              The air of age-old wisdom shone through. ‘The weak minded succumb to the madness and the ramblings, and the animal instincts. The stronger minds are more resistant, but the spire’s influence doesn’t just cause the psychosis, it can affect people’s judgement and rational thinking.’

              ‘Are there any minds out there that are immune you reckon?’

              Byde considered this idea for a few minutes. The silence was soul-eating, able to send someone into madness quicker than any magical plague. He hummed at last and looked up at the majestic library ceiling, admiring the grand chandelier aimlessly. ‘It isn’t outside the realms of possibility. You seem to be unaffected by its power.’

              ‘I didn’t think about myself. Some people have called me selfish throughout the years. Wouldn’t such a powerful magic play on someone’s negative traits?’ His own words fazed him out. That wasn’t a line he had thought out before uttering.

              The caster arched forward a little. ‘Unless your selfishness is a barrier your mind has put up to protect itself with. There is no magic that is more powerful than the mind’s own capacities.’

              Their banter went on for another hour, numerous thoughts and theories coming out from the depths of their combined knowledge. What if it was this? What if this was that? What if so-and-so was doing this? What if that magic was acting alongside this magic? The questions went on.

              Finally Mikos bit the bullet and asked the necessary question. ‘What would we do next? We’re only two men with a few unbelievable theories.’

              The caster sat still, his eyes fixed on the book as if in a day dream. He finally looked up and pursed his lips. ‘We need to convince people that they aren’t so unbelievable.’

Chapter 18

The sun shone overhead with a surprising defiance, its rays of glimmering hope bouncing across the fishing village of Yaodil. Seagulls cried repetitively as they circled in search of food scraps from the occasional vessel that returned with its daily catch.

              Being one of the few fishing villages left in the east, Yaodil had a steady trade for its local Piscean delights. Rough captains took skeleton crews out into the seas, no matter what the conditions, in order to catch sufficient numbers for their clients as well as their own families. The village had its family-orientated infrastructure which prospective buyers had to respect – if there was any sort of crisis then the feeding of the fishermen’s loved ones would come first.

              In the nearby capital of Yingtzo, a city renowned for its technological superiority, there was a deep respect for these sailors and fishermen because of the risks involved with fishing in high seas using such basic equipment. Yaodil had seen its fair share of arrogant people come in from the city with big ideas to improve things with their technological marvels. At first, chances were given, but the turbulent waters seemed to be a common hindrance for the inventive methods. It got to the point where the cost of technology to help improve the fishing experience was proving to be a strain on the coffers. The trading officials decided to stop interfering with a method that worked so successfully, disregarding the proposals for advancement.

              The village had become wealthy, and it showed – professionally refurbished houses with tiled and thatched roofing were lined up along a well-paved road cutting its way through the centre like a knife. The small fishing pier was solidly built with eastern oak wood that had a reputation for being the sturdiest type of oak in Salarias. Trawlers crawled in and out of the harbour simultaneously, bringing in catch after catch and immediately venturing out for another load.

              The horses huffed and puffed as the father-daughter duo pulled up next to the only stable in the coastal location. Another day always brought another mission.

              Kelken tied up the reins around a post and helped Breena off her mount, tying up hers as well. He adjusted his sword and took a small bag from the saddle of his horse, opening it up to double check the contents.

              ‘What kind of silly sod requests a gift as an indicator of who we’re supposed to be?’ he mused, eyes glancing to his daughter who was wrestling her bow from the horse’s saddle.

              She flicked her wavy red hair out of her face and pouted her lips slowly as she thought of an answer. ‘I suppose the sort of sod who we’re here to escort. What ya reckon?’

              ‘The smart answer… I like it,’ he barked sarcastically. He tied the bag shut and wrapped the cord around his belt to keep it near. ‘Well whoever it is I hope they like it, coz if not I’m going to go to the nearest tavern and get sloshed.’

              ‘Don’t you think you ought’a give it a rest, dad?’ Her face was statue-like with concern.

              Kelken engaged her stare, if only for a moment, and saw the sincerity pulsing from her. Was he really that bad with his drink? Breena certainly seemed adamant when questioning whether or not he was having too much.

              ‘Possibly,’ he said.

              She rolled her eyes and blinked both her eyelids profusely. ‘Well… I suppose that’s a start,’ she remarked in her lispy voice.

              ‘What is?’

              ‘You actually admitting there’s a problem, even if it’s only a little bit.’

              The wind changed and whipped past their feet like a pack of greyhounds, with a blinding speed that nearly took Breena’s feet from underneath her. She grabbed onto the horse and steadied herself.

              ‘Hey, you OK?’ Kelken asked urgently as he hurried over to her. With her mother having been of a reptilian background, and her father a full human, the genetic consequences to her were varied. The biggest problem was her sense of balance ever so often when she walked, the limp she had being a bit too obvious – it was definitely hell when she tried to run if she was not prepared. Using a bow was no issue, and the pain she could just push herself through – it was something she had learnt throughout the years.

              ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, waving him off. ‘Come on let’s get a move on… don’t want to keep this dignitary waiting now do we?’

***

A lone fishing boat edged its way into the deserted harbour. All of the other vessels were out doing their business whereas this one had a much more vital cargo that needed to get to Yingtzo unharmed.

              Sea spray sloshed up the sides of the piers, spitting its froth at anyone walking down the length of the wooden platform. The salty waters seemed to have come alive as if the sea gods themselves were trying to grab people and take them down to the murky depths.

              The wind picked up again suddenly and lifted Breena’s hair up behind her head. She stood still like a carved image of sheer beauty, her two-toned eyes blinking rhythmically as she observed from a safe distance. Her father, on the other hand, stood boldly on the end of the pier, a black hooded cloak hiding his figure from the harshness of the atmosphere. She, also, had taken refuge underneath a hood, but coloured in a naturally deep green.

              Her lengthy fingers laced themselves around her winged recurve bow as she stood in the shadows between two rickety old shacks just inland from the edge of the harbour. Finding a decent hiding place in the midst of all the sunshine had proven difficult, but not impossible. The sky had begun to turn to its stereotypical grey colour with rain clouds threatening to break into a moisture-ridden song at a moment’s call.

              Breena removed a single arrow from the quiver on her belt and rested it on the shaft of her bow carefully in preparation for a quick release. Her reptilian eyelids blinked slowly while her human ones remained wide apart. Her breath grew intermittent as she watched her father walk up to the regal-looking figure who had departed from the boat along with a couple of what she assumed to be bodyguards. According to the information they had been given this dignitary no doubt needed protecting, but orders were definitely orders.

              As the four of them made their way inland, Kelken and the dignitary leading the way, she slipped out of hiding, her recurve bow rising in front of her, arrow nocked, and pointing straight for them. ‘Down!’

              The arrow hurtled through the air, splitting it into a hundred pieces with its intricately bladed shaft. The
whoosh
of the projectile reverberated through Kelken’s ears as he grabbed their client and pulled him to the ground. With a singular motion he brought a short sword from within his cloak and spun round fluidly, bringing the blade across a bodyguard’s gut. The man squealed, his pig-like screech a stark comparison to his comrade’s sudden lack of a voice box. The other bodyguard lay strewn on the hard-soil floor, the bladed arrow jutting out from his throat, blood flooding out from the wound. Kelken’s rhythm continued as he sliced his sword upwards and split the gutted man’s chest open. The chunky male crumpled to the floor, joining his friend quickly.