Secrets of Arkana Fortress (48 page)

              ‘Anything interesting, Franlet?’ he asked casually.

              Franlet continued speaking the words without acknowledging her companion’s question.

              ‘Fran? You awake over there?’

              She looked up and snorted a heavy breath of hot air from her nose. ‘Sorry… what?’

              ‘I asked if you’d found anything interesting in there; something more?’

              ‘Oh.’ Franlet looked from the pages to San Kiln, and then back again. ‘A few things about the history of the casters. This book is probably the only true account, and preservation, of who and what they were.’

              ‘Are,’ corrected San Kiln. ‘There maybe one or two left, remember?’

              ‘Do you realise how long ago this book was etched out?’

              There was a silence that made the crackling of the fire even louder.

              ‘I estimate not even 150 years or so.’

              San Kiln’s and Breena’s ear pricked up.

              ‘Seriously?’ asked Breena as she placed a fresh arrow at her side. ‘I was always taught that it was many centuries ago.’

              ‘It would seem not,’ snorted Franlet.

              ‘Then what the hell?’ San Kiln remarked, raising a single claw into the warm air. ‘Every text states a time gap of at least four or five hundred years… why would the caster tome tell otherwise?’

              The Bullwark mulled over the question, resting the book onto her hairy knee. ‘I would only guess at magic.’

              ‘A magic that affects time?’ Breena scoffed. ‘There is no such magic, no record of anything of that power…’

              ‘Exactly.’ Franlet looked at San Kiln with a dreary glare in her eyes. ‘Something like this not being recorded doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.’

              ‘But… are you serious?’ Breena’s voice had quickly become hesitant and full of disbelief.

              ‘I can only be as serious as the logic and deductive reasoning that led me to this conclusion.’

              There was another crackling silence.

              ‘Those are big words for you, Fran,’ Kelken’s voice said with a chuckle, hidden within the darkness behind the fire.

              Franlet groaned and closed the tome before placing it back into San Kiln’s backpack carefully. ‘Always with the condescending answers.’

              Kelken stepped into view, his arms folded, cape dangling around his ankles. ‘Time to be going; we need to move on.’

              Yet another silence fell upon the campfire. Breena and San Kiln glanced at each other with instant regret in their faces.

              ‘We can wait a little longer, surely?’ Breena asked desperately.

              Her father shook his head, a dejected look creasing across his expression. ‘We made an agreement and she insisted that we move on if she wasn’t back by midnight.’

              ‘You sure it’s midnight?’

              ‘No… I think it’s past that, so we’ve waited long enough.’ Kelken picked up his sword and sheath from where they were against a tree, and wrapped it around his waist, buckling it up firmly. ‘We head east.’

              San Kiln hissed sharply and bounced up to his feet. ‘Are you just going to leave her in Donnol? What if she’s in trouble?’

              ‘Maybe you should look at the bigger picture,’ explained Kelken as he adjusted his tunic and gloves. ‘What the tome has told us about affects us all and threatens the lives of everyone in Salarias. We need to pick up the pace, San.’

              The agitated feline threw his paws into the air in defiance, his throat breaking from the angry purrs. ‘She’s only what? 17? 18? And you’re perfectly willing to leave her to what maybe her death?’

              ‘It is what she instructed, and made me swear to,’ Kelken stated slowly, emphasising every word with reasoning. ‘I am not about to go back on my word.’

              Breena dropped her knife onto the floor along with the half-carved arrow. ‘But dad, are you OK with that? Leaving her behind I mean?’

              Kelken huffed and looked at Franlet’s hulky form. ‘Are you ready, Fran?’

              The Bullwark heaved her body upright and picked up the backpack with the tome in it. ‘Your father’s right, Breena, we should get going. If the tome’s words are correct, and I highly suspect they are, then we have little time.’

              ‘What? To find out about this supposed warrior who’s in exile, or whatever it is?’

              Franlet waggled a prosthetic finger in her direction. ‘A person from a thought-to-be mythical race of warriors and magic wielders – to me it is well worth finding out about. Something like this could change the world’s view of its very own history.’

              Breena clutched the back of her head with both her hands and screeched with frustration. ‘But, Evie… that girl cannot survive with the way things are in the city. We’re chasing a fantasy for fuck’s sake.’

              Kelken raised his hand commandingly. ‘That girl can definitely watch her own back, now stop disobeying me and going against what we all agreed to do.’ He looked at San Kiln and Breena in turn, nodding when they said nothing, their faces saying it all for them. ‘Right then, let’s get a move on, shall we?’

              As they collected their belongings there was a much shared feeling of guilt that hung over each of their heads like a rain cloud. Kelken looked within his own heart and soul for guidance; a desperate search going on for his former self.

              ‘May the gods guide our path and keep us true.’

Chapter 34

It was the final stretch; Mikos knew it deep down. He and Byde were deep within this fortress, deeper than they should have been, and against all the odds. The maze of corridors and small rooms had thinned out as they had ventured further down into the depths, and they found themselves moving through grand looking halls carved into the stone. Wider and higher hallways were all they had come across. However, along with this change in layout came an increased sense of danger.

              They had finally met opposition, apart from the lone Faceless assassin back in the tiny corridor, in the form of mages; powerful mages that were all dressed the same and all looked the same, but were nonetheless formidable foes.

              Byde’s chest heaved as he propelled a jet of water at two who had jumped out from a doorway in a long, winding corridor. Both wore the same orange robes and had the same shaven heads like all the others. He felt like he was fighting the same mage over and over again… and it was starting to get tiresome.

              Mikos had had the brilliant plan of investigating one hallway while Byde carried on down his own path. Now was the time for his friend to catch up and help him.

              One of the robed assailants was slammed into the wall where the stream of water grew in power, crushing the bones in his body; perforating his insides with broken ribs, and ripping his limbs from their sockets. Unbelievably the mage did not scream or yell from the sheer agony, but instead just went down without a whimper of deathly defeat.

              The other one had dived to one side and scrambled to his feet, his face a constant picture of composure and collected resolve. The mage’s hands glowed with sparks which shot out in jagged lines, meeting a parry of watery spouts from Byde’s free hand. The two elements mixed with a fierce force that sent shockwaves back at both of them.

              Byde felt his arms and legs jolt with energy, the resultant pain too much for him to combat. His body stiffened as he fell backwards onto the hardened floor.

              ‘Damn… it,’ he uttered through clenched teeth. He stared at the other mage who had received the same effect, but who was recovering a lot quicker.

              He closed his eyes and focused on his pain in an attempt to overcome it.

              A roar came from behind him followed by a series of hastened footsteps. He managed to glance to one side to see Mikos bounding past him, sword glinting in the light from the braziers on the walls. The tainted blade pierced the mage’s chest, taking what breath the man had had out of him. The body slumped to the ground as Mikos withdrew his weapon, ignoring the blood that was covering it.

              ‘Where the… hell have you been?’ Byde stammered, wincing from the stiffness in his back.

              Mikos wiped his brow with the sleeve of his tunic and spat onto the floor. He puffed hot air from his mouth. ‘Had a devil of a job following your trail. Bloody tiring running after you, you know?’

              Byde tried to laugh, but recoiled from sudden shots of discomfort. He reached his hand out for his friend to take. ‘Give me a… hand.’

              ‘What happened then?’ Mikos asked as he carefully lifted Byde to his feet, wobbling as he rose up before resting against the wall.

              ‘A mixture of opposites, I’m afraid. Bit of a shock for both of us… me more than him.’ He pointed at the mage’s corpse.

              ‘Are you fit enough to carry on, Byde?’ There was concern in Mikos’s voice.

              ‘I… think so,’ Byde replied, fatigue echoing in his.

              Mikos nodded and looked down the passageway. ‘I’ll take point until you’re feeling more able to fight. That OK?’

              Byde forced a nod. He dropped his eyes to the floor and thought for a moment. ‘Wait,’ he blurted as he gripped Mikos’s arm, pulling him back. ‘There’s no going back from here… you know that, right?’

              Mikos knew this, of course, and he was certain his friend knew as well. ‘I know. Why you asking?’

              ‘I… you know when we find the spire it’s going to be difficult to destroy… and that we may not survive? We both need to be at our best.’

              ‘Byde… what is it? What you getting at?’

              ‘Your abilities are still undeveloped, uncontrolled so to speak.’

              ‘I know that. Don’t you think I’ve been worrying about it?’

              ‘So you do still have feelings…’

              ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Mikos growled, taken aback.

              ‘Since we went back to that alleyway in Donnol, you started acting differently.’

              Mikos frowned. ‘How?’

              ‘You became…’ Byde scrunched his mouth up. ‘… cold, so to speak.’

              Silence.

              ‘You’re acting as if you’ve detached yourself from the world.’

              ‘So what if I have?’

              Byde sighed. ‘It’s fucking dangerous, for a start.’

              ‘Why?’

              ‘You need to be connected to your magic, not the opposite. You cannot stay away from what lies inside you otherwise you could end up in an incredibly dark place.’

              ‘Is this the right time for this conversation, Byde?’ Mikos was visibly growing tired.

              ‘Mikos, for the love of the gods will you just listen to me? This is the only time to have this conversation.’ He calmed himself down. ‘If you don’t connect to your powers they’ll act randomly. Uncontrolled magic is potentially lethal. You could kill innocent people, let alone yourself.’

              ‘I haven’t so far.’

              ‘You’ve been lucky, Mikos. It only takes one moment of uncertainty to result in death.’ He gazed into his friend’s eyes, analysing what was glinting behind the veil of his irises. ‘What is it that’s holding you back?’

              Mikos screwed up his nose and huffed. ‘What the fuck do you think, eh?’

              Byde laughed softly. ‘Fear is what I suspect.’

              ‘Wouldn’t you be afraid?’

              ‘I understand your reservations about your magic, but you’ve got to bond with it, not keep it at a distance.’

              ‘How the hell am I supposed to relate to this thing?’ Mikos protested hysterically.

              ‘I can help you, Mikos,’ insisted Byde as he rested his weary head against the wall behind him.

              ‘You’ve taught me a lot already. What else
can
you do?’

              Byde exhaled heavily through his nose and licked his lips. ‘There is an incantation we casters used to use to help free the mind.’

              ‘Another incantation? How many do you lot have?’

              ‘Well… not so much an incantation, more of a set of words that are designed to stick to the mind of the wielder.’

              ‘This all sounds good, but what
good
will it do? They’re just words.’

              ‘Words can be more powerful than you realise.’

              Mikos shrugged during the ensuing moment of silence. ‘I’m willing to let you give it a try… at least.’

              ‘But?’ Byde knew there was a ‘but’ somewhere.