Secrets of Arkana Fortress (24 page)

              ‘What the fuck was that?’ cried the dignitary, a short, high-voiced human male with thick tabby-coloured hair. It looked like he had had multiple failed attempts at colouring it.

              ‘They were a couple of hired muscle set out to stab you in the back. Don’t think they expected us to be ‘ere waitin’ for you.’

              Breena trotted forward, another arrow nocked. She aimed it at the two men lying lifeless on the floor. There was no twitching indicating that either was still alive in any way. She relaxed and turned to the cowering dignitary. ‘Don’t worry about the mess, there’s a clean-up crew not far.’ She waved her arm high in the air from side to side.

              ‘What the hell do you mean a clean-up…?’ The dignitary stopped talking when he saw three hooded shapes appear from in between a large stack of crates. ‘Wow you mercs are professionals aren’t you?’

              Kelken rose up to his feet hastily, his weathered hand hoisting up the tabby-haired man by his tunic.

              ‘Hey, what the hell…?’

              ‘No time for dawdling, Mr Dignitary.’

              ‘It’s Pakros.’

              Kelken sniffed the air as he pulled him along. ‘Whatever, Mr Pakros; if we stay here there might be more unfriendly bastards around soon.’

              Pakros arched his blonde eyebrows. ‘Ah, I see your point.’ He glanced at Breena who was keeping a vigil at the rear. ‘And who’s this then?’ he asked as the three of them slipped in between a couple of buildings.

              Breena looked at him with a dismissing glance. ‘Not a time for names… and it’s best if you don’t know ours for the moment.’

              ‘But who am I supposed to make out the gold to?’ Pakros smiled; a sickeningly sweet creasing of the lips that made Breena nauseous.

              Kelken yanked him around a corner. ‘Let’s keep you alive first.’

***

The journey to Yingtzo was surprisingly quiet by horseback. One attempted ambush had failed before it had even started – a small group of four assassins had appeared from the woodland undergrowth, and each had rapidly received a bladed arrow in the face for their troubles. Even Breena was impressed with her accuracy.

              ‘You know when we get to Yingtzo,’ Pakros began, fiddling about with the reins of his steed. ‘There’s going to be a lot more danger in store.’

              Kelken scoffed then spat onto the muddy floor. ‘No shit.’

              Pakros’s face screwed up at the old man’s apparent lack of respect for his client. ‘You know what, Mr Mercenary?’

              Breena reached over from her saddle and grabbed the now enraged man by the arm. He looked over to see her shaking her head knowingly. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you, mister. My dad doesn’t take well to aggressive lectures.’

              ‘Ah I see… you’re a father-daughter team eh?’

              A scolding look from Kelken was enough for Breena to shut her mouth. ‘Big mouth.’

***

Yingtzo was aptly named the technological city of splendour. Its perimeters were walled and the only ways in and out were via gear-controlled gates that were guarded day and night by the Yingtzo Sentinels, the elite guard that was the produce of the standard, high-end training that all military went through in the city.

              The Sentinels, however, were handpicked at the end of each training period and put forward for the advanced scheme. All this, of course, was dependent on their attributes in terms of physique, mentality, and their skillset. There were plenty of people who yearned to go higher than the standard level, but many were insufficient. Resultant bitterness had caused a select few to quit and use their newly obtained abilities to become mercenaries for hire, go into employment for local businesses as security, and some even degraded down to criminal activities.

              To have an ex-soldier turn into a criminal incurred a lot more lawful wrath than any other lawbreaker. The punishment was severe. It wasn’t exactly death, but it was certainly a strain on the prisoner both physically and emotionally. In the eyes of the law, a soldier turning their back on what they originally swore to fight for – the city and its safety – was the ultimate insult.

              Two well-toned sentinels crossed their pikes to bar the passage of the three travellers as they reached the western gate. The Sentinels were kitted out in articulated steel armour that rested over a royal blue tunic, plated black pants, and boots. The crest of Yingtzo, a brown machine gear with a silver shield in the centre, clung to their chests over where their hearts were, as if the very essence of the city was their life force. Neither of them wore helms, indicating the extent of their fearless expertise.

              The senior sentinel, a blond-haired human male with a wide jaw and prominent nose, spoke first. ‘State your business in Yingtzo, please.’

              Kelken looked sideways to Pakros, and then back to the sentinel. ‘Um.’ His face creased as his limited improvisation skills scrambled about in his brain like soldiers in a warzone.

              Pakros trotted forward on his horse and produced a scroll that he threw onto the floor in front of the two men. The second sentinel, an equally rugged man with long brown hair and striking blue eyes, stared at it as it lay on the stone slabs. He looked at his superior who nodded for him to pick it up.

              The scroll unrolled in his hands; he muttered what it said. After a short moment of contemplation the sentinels stood to the sides to hit the switches, opening the geared gates.

              Kelken and Breena stared upwards at the humungous gates that must have been about 50 metres tall. They were a pair of solid metal constructs that seemed mismatched in colour, more than likely due to the mixture of metals in it. The expectant eardrum bursting sounds of the gates as they parted open never happened. Instead they opened casually with nothing but a hissing sound.

              ‘How the heck is something like this so bloody quiet?’ Kelken exclaimed.

              Pakros chuckled to himself and rubbed the back of his slender neck. ‘As technologically advanced as this city is, none of it can run without magic.’

              Breena hummed a little. ‘There’re still a lot of things we can never hope to understand I suppose.’

              ‘Indeed,’ replied Pakros in a superior, monotone voice.

              The horses edged forward, through the gates, and into what was like a reception area for the city. Colourful bunting hung from every building in an array of morale-boosting colours, a troupe of entertainers danced and sang their way across the massive square, and locals mingled around telling stories to one another. The square itself, like all the other entrances, was centred around a statue of machinist art – a mishmash entity of gears, bolts, nails, screws, and metal plating done out in an impressive collection of coloured materials. Undoubtedly the artist was paid well for such a twisted piece of work. The floor was paved with granite slabs, highlighted with steel lines in between each one.

              ‘I’ve never been here before.’ Breena blinked her eyes and turned her head with wondrous amazement.

              Pakros beamed heartily, the newcomer’s child-like interest a source of predictable pride for his city. ‘It is a marvel of technological construction. A hundred years ago this city was a much different sight.’

              A couple of sentinels hovered at one corner of the square, their gazes fixing on the three figures on horseback. Kelken followed another sentinel crossing the clearing with his eyes, the armoured figure turning into a jog. ‘I think we should get a move on,’ he mumbled.

              Breena and Pakros eyed the sentinels as well, both of them eventually nodding in agreement.

              ‘With how much people want me out of the way, it wouldn’t shock me if I had been named an outlaw while being absent,’ he mused, running his hand through his tabby hair. ‘We need to head to the central sector.’

              The horses weaved through numerous side streets, steering their riders safely away from sentinel patrols and crowded areas. The less they were seen the better.

              Things had grown thick since entering the city – the atmosphere was dense with the sounds of mechanical churning from factories and hefty businesses. There was, however, a stark contrast between the houses and business buildings. As advanced as half of the places of commerce were, the residential areas were still rustic and simple. Houses boasted straw roofs whilst the more expensive ones were topped with elaborate tiling and decorative chimneys that obviously cost a lot of rubos to make.

              As the steeds drew nearer to the central sector, Breena admired the colourful air – a mix of children playing aimlessly, housewives chatting while doing the laundry and some local nobles playing a card game in a well-kept sun garden.

              ‘I must say… the fact that nobility is willing to hang out with the locals is endearing,’ she said with a smile.

              Pakros hummed sceptically. ‘I’ll tell you this now, miss – those nobles may look like they’re mucking in with the locals, but they are absolutely hating being anywhere near them.’

              ‘So why are they there then?’ she asked with a slight shock.

              He chuckled awkwardly. ‘Erm… one of the reasons I am despised around here. I aggressively helped pass a bill that stipulated that hierarchal differences were to be minimised. The nobility was inclined to start being more accessible to the lower classes, hence what you see there in that garden.’ He pointed to the two elderly men who were still embroiled in an intense game. ‘They would rather be up in their penthouse suites right now sipping high priced imported tea and eating all they can. I think it’s better for them to be seen by the masses; it gives them more popularity, but guys like that don’t give a shit.’ Pakros gripped his reins tightly as if the mere thought of nobility was blood-boiling. ‘The people prefer it.’

              Breena listened, fascinated by the revolutionary act of such a law being passed. ‘That’s unbelievable.’

              Kelken snorted with contempt. ‘Noblility… a bunch of morons most of ‘em.’

              Pakros’s face squirmed with enjoyment; the smoothness of his finely looked after skin disappearing into the depths of another smile. ‘That’s exactly my opinion if I’m to be honest… yet another reason why I’m disliked.’

***

‘Pakros! It’s so nice to see you home safe and sound.’ A perky little female feline charged her way out of the door of what was the dignitary’s home in the central sector of Yingtzo. ‘Was the trip successful?’ The short cat had slicked-back ginger and white fur, and wore a kitchen servant’s outfit.

              Greeting the grinning creature with open arms and a small peck on the forehead, Pakros laughed, this time with a much more feminine tone. ‘It was remotely successful, but not entirely.’

              Kelken and Breena had both tied up their horses at the gates to the estate home Pakros had guided them to. The house was a grey-stoned structure fronted with painted wooden beams, giving it that aged feeling. The doorway was an elaborately carved set of hardwood arches with vine-like patterns etched into them. The doors were made of a solid metal framework with oak panelling set into each gap. This was certainly not what they had expected from someone who was supposed to be in tune with the people.

              Expectations in the world of today were usually fulfilled, but the obvious exception stood before them both. Kelken didn’t hinder the innocent look of amazement in his deep brown eyes.

              ‘Impressive, eh?’ Pakros gleamed with a warming smile.

              ‘Definitely,’ Breena said with a slight stammer.

              ‘Come inside and I’ll show you how hospitable it is. It’s the least I can do considering you ensured my safety.’

              Despite his curiosity, Kelken shook his head with a brief reluctance. ‘Sorry, Mr Pakros, but we’ll just take the money if that’s a’right with you?’

              The look of hurt was obvious.

              ‘Oh, well, if that’s what you want. I’ll have to cancel the little spread I had ordered for you.’

              ‘Ordered for us?’

              He laughed. ‘I left instructions to have a small feast prepared on my safe arrival.’

              Kelken hummed then shook his head again. ‘Sorry, but we’ve got…’

              ‘What foods you got?’ Breena interrupted anxiously.

              Her father gave her a fierce look that told her to shut her mouth.

              ‘Oh what haven’t I got? Roasted chickens, spiced lamb shanks, pork roasts with crackling, steamed veg, et cetera, et cetera.’

              ‘That all sounds very nice,’ replied Kelken who was visibly teased by such a selection, ‘but…’

              ‘… All served with hot mulled ciders, dusky mead, and some of the purest ales you’ll ever find.’

              That had done it.