Secrets of Arkana Fortress (53 page)

              Mikos blinked and opened his mouth like a fish out of water. ‘So…’

              Byde nodded at his friend. ‘Why not him?’

              ‘But how come we’ve only noticed it now?’ Mikos grunted as he tried to stretch out.

              ‘I imagine the spire’s destruction meant that the magic had become unstable, meaning that it was noticeable.’

              ‘I vote we have a rest first before going anywhere.’ Mikos swiftly fell back onto the ground and huffed. To say he was tired was an understatement.

Chapter 35

Time is a precious thing – cannot be sold, bought, created, or borrowed; regardless of the saying ‘living on borrowed time’. Unbeknownst to the people of Salarias, a powerful magic had been covering the land for too long – for longer than anyone, other than the mage responsible, knew.

              But now the shroud had been lifted and the effects of the time displacements were becoming apparent if you knew what to look for. The presence of the Psyloss plague was diminishing almost instantly, with only the long-standing sufferers still affected by its debilitating powers. Madness turned to sudden fear as people seemingly woke up from an eternal nightmare; headaches that had lasted for a lifetime were gone, murderous urges turned into peaceful smiles, and sleepless nights were now a thing of the past.

              Down a murky alley in Donnol, one person fell to the floor, hands gripping his head. There were yelps of pain as his mind twisted from pure psychosis and back into some form of sanity. Carlo gasped as he lifted his head up from a puddle of mud, his face contorted in agony and distress. His gaze darted up and down the length of the alley, assessing what had happened and where he had ended up. He had no idea what had happened to him and no memory of whatever he had done. His first thought was about Evie.

***

A twinkling glint in her green eyes was the realisation that something had changed in the air; in the people. Men, women, and children of all races had collapsed across over the city before regaining consciousness after what had seemed a turbulent slumber.

              She wondered what had changed to cause such a widespread occurrence, but was soon shocked to see that the plague sufferers were once again back to some form of normality – awareness of their surroundings, panic at the apparent loss of memories and the tears of remorse when they found out what had happened to them and their loved ones. Some people had even gone one step further and taken their own lives after they found out they had been responsible for someone else’s death. Humiliation and regret, for some it was just blind hatred at their own being, caused a citywide atmosphere of sadness and, most of all, fear – fear of whatever it had been that caused such horrors in the first place.

              Evie sat atop one of the shops near the central marketplace watching people stumble about crying for help or their loved ones; their children, but most of all she witnessed a newfound sense of community as people supported strangers in their hour of need, calling on each other’s unique experiences with the plague to help one another through such a hard time. She smiled… for the first time in a long, long time.

***

Not far from Donnol the troop of four – Kelken, Breena, Franlet, and San Kiln – had stopped for the night, setting up camp in a small copse of birch trees.

              As they ate their rations of dried meat and pickled vegetables, a harsh wave of wind brushed through their camp sending dried leaves and brushwood scuttling across the grass. Each of them paused, looking each other in the eyes with bewilderment, desperately hoping that someone would provide a reasonable answer.

              ‘That was just the wind,’ Kelken said dismissively.

              San Kiln rolled a husky purr off of his tongue, his ear pricked upright like mountains on the horizon. ‘That was not wind,’ he uttered as he smoothed his whiskers out with a slender paw. ‘That didn’t feel right – all my hairs are standing on end.’

              Breena stood up and looked out through the tree line. ‘Something’s… different,’ she said. ‘The air tastes…’ She flicked her forked tongue out a few times. ‘Fresher.’

              ‘What you mean fresher?’ asked her father.

              Breena sighed. ‘I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It just feels different – lighter even.’

              Kelken glanced over to Franlet who was snorting out her hot breath steadily; contemplative. ‘Fran?’

              She moved a large brown eye toward him and glared.

              ‘What is it?’ he asked.

              ‘I… I felt that.’

              Kelken smirked. ‘Yeah, we all did.’

              ‘No, I mean inside me.’ Her large hand was nursing her prosthetic arm underneath the cloak. ‘All of my implanted body parts went cold and tingly… I can’t explain it.’ For once in her life she looked shocked.

              ‘Can’t explain it?’ remarked Kelken with genuine disbelief. ‘The amount of books you’ve read over the years I would’ve thought you’d have an explanation for everything.’

              The giant Bullwark snorted with disapproval and flicked a branch of wood into the fire casually. ‘Maybe it was just me…’

***

Deep within the Forest of Mutilation a heavy-set figure in green armour grunted as he tore into a hunk of cooked chicken, his aged fangs tearing into the white flesh with a youthful energy. His ravaged ear twitched as he felt the twisted black trees around him groan as if they were in pain.

              He twisted his head to one side, his scarred eyes glancing at the unit of female mercenaries under his command. They were idly cleaning their armour and weapons; eating, some sleeping, some chatting. They seemed to be unaware of the change that had just happened.

              The feline dropped his food onto the floor and walked over towards the small marsh near the camp. Not many ventured into the Forest of Mutilation due to the disturbing nature of its appearance and the unknown magical elements surrounding it. However, the armoured feline felt at ease most of all in this place as he knew exactly what it was. He was on the same side as the ones who cursed the forest in the first place – he had no reason to worry.

              As he watched his surroundings he could not help but feel the change; the transformation. He knew it was not right at all. The marsh waters rippled lightly from a dormant breeze as the shrubs and tree canopies waned and cried.

              This was not right.

              His gut twisted as he thought about the Providence’s reaction.

              For the first time that he could remember, he was worried.

***

The black mist that had shrouded the bridge from their world into the real world had finally lifted, wisps of veil magic swirling away before Ji’Keth’s feet as he stepped royally forward, mentally preening himself at his success in bridging the gap and ending his people’s imprisonment in the exiled realms.

              For the first time in centuries he felt a fresh, crisp air against his body. He smiled a bony smile before looking at his hands and arms, outstretched and uncovered. He crossed into Salarias atop the magical walkway and watched as flesh and skin gradually covered his limbs once more, his human appearance returning to him again. He bellowed with delight, his voice growing deeper and deeper as the rest of his body was restored to its former state.

              ‘We’ve done it!’ he shouted triumphantly.

              He marvelled at the success of his work, which had taken decades of planning and execution – his patience had paid off. He longed to see his face, to remind himself of whom he had been and who he was again. He had lungs and he used them, breathing in real air longingly; intoxicated by the smells it brought with it – dew-ridden grass, a salty sea air and a taste of oaky wood.

              Tarros loomed up quickly behind him, his figure a stark contrast to his lord – wide-shouldered, barely six foot tall with a more powerful gait. Ji’Keth on the other hand was tall; towering at nearly six and a half feet, and moved with a grace that was remnant of an apparition – almost ghost-like. His arms flowed as he walked forward, swinging elegantly at his sides.

              ‘My lord we must hurry everyone through – the faster the better.’ Tarros adjusted his dark green cape, tucking it behind his arms as he held his hands on his hips to reveal an intimidating muscular figure. Compared with his superior, he was prepared to wait a little bit longer before he could enjoy his freedom again.

              Ji’Keth frowned and lowered his arms to his sides. With a sigh he nodded to Tarros. ‘Get our people through as fast as possible. We will make camp nearby.’

              With that, his right hand signalled behind him to two hooded figures in dark grey. The veil between the realms rippled as steady lines of mages emerged, their features reforming into a variety of races from humans to felines to reptilians. They passed either side of Ji’Keth uniformly and without question.

              He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes. His people were finally free to enact their revenge and practice their magic without hindrance from the Lupians and a mere two casters. As he stood there, people passing either side of him, droplets of rain splashed onto his face; at first lightly, then heavier. Ji’Keth smiled broadly across his slender face, his midnight blue robe waving around him as a small, but strong wind picked up.

              He had returned and nothing was there to stand in his way anymore.

Epilogue

And so it was that the spire had been destroyed by the last two casters in existence. However, unbeknownst to them, their efforts had come too late and the High Lord Mage Ji’Keth had once again set foot in Salarias after his attempt at ending his people’s exile had succeeded. Regardless of Byde’s and Mikos’s powers and whatever Lupian relics they possessed, they were no match for a mage of Ji’Keth’s magical prowess and strength – the high lord knew this. He had timed his return just right.

***

An underground cave lay beneath the ruins far to the east of Donnol. Above, the guardians roamed, ever watching; ever protecting. They stood watch over the ruins of a lost and forgotten castle, long destroyed by war nearly two centuries ago. No one had ever been able to get near its territories – there was something other than the guardians at work.

              Inside the vast expanse of granite rock in a deep corner, shrouded by darkness, there lay a shield. It was covered with dust and debris, but underneath it was pristine; untouchable by the malice of nature. The shield had been cast aside, deliberately forgotten about.

              Even within the walls of the cave, a wind blew through it; a magical release from the exiled mages. The cave grew cold, the chill of something darker than darkness itself drifting through as if to announce its presence.

              It had been nearly two centuries, but there was life again.

              The shield glowed dim white before growing in intensity. It ebbed with ancient magic; restricted. Something cried out to return to the world again.

              Through the dust and debris, the face on the metal was clear – the head of a wolf – the emblem of the Lupians.

TO BE CONTINUED…