Secrets of Arkana Fortress (28 page)

              Breena grunted and turned on her heels, annoyingly unable to occupy her clenched hands with the cat’s face.

              ‘Let me handle her, Breena.’ Kelken walked to one side as if sizing Pakros up in a fighting ring. ‘You like to play games? All you felines do, right?’

              Sitting back in her chair, Pakros had a glint in her eye that signalled some hidden motive behind her bold move. ‘A special task – something the guild initially turned down to be honest… hence this little bit of leverage.’

              ‘And you think that by us refusing this special task it would force you to pass out all the information you have on us to anyone who wants it, and would therefore put our very lives at risk?’ Kelken breathed slowly inwards.

              Pakros said nothing, but instead nodded knowingly.

              ‘What is this special task?’

              ‘It isn’t definite as of yet, my friends.’ Pakros leaned over the desk and opened a small, intricate box. She placed something in her mouth and began purring.

              ‘So when is it
definite
then?’ asked Breena, irritated.

              The purring subsided. ‘You’ve seen how much the people love me. I have to appear good in their eyes; do the things that they don’t want to make a decision over; the nitty-gritty. Have you two ever had that kind of responsibility?’ She looked at Kelken, then to Breena.

              Breena flicked her tongue on the inside of her mouth. ‘We stay out of politics when we can.’

              Kelken stayed silent, tapping his foot repeatedly and looking at the floor. The whole room went quiet with him.

              Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. A young boy entered dressed in a plain black tunic and grey trousers. ‘Umm… s’cuse me, Miss Pakros. Your husband’s back; he wants t’see you.’

              Pakros started purring again. ‘Thank you, Toby. Let him through.’

              The boy disappeared, leaving the door ajar.

              ‘Good lad he is. I took him in off the street after his parents were executed unjustly for theft.’ She paused. ‘Now to find out if that special task is to go ahead.’

              A sleek-looking male cat wearing a mixture of green and brown travelling gear marched into the room, shutting the door behind him before locking it with some urgency. He glanced at the two mercenaries and then to his wife. He took a satchel from his back and placed it onto the desk, a husky purr emanating from his throat – one of delight. ‘Mission successful, my love,’ he remarked.

              ‘You found it? No-one who’s been there has come back,’ Pakros stammered.

              ‘It was difficult, but I prevailed.’ Her husband lowered his head with a sigh.

              ‘What’s wrong?’

              ‘I saw… things; horrible things, but wondrous at the same time, Pakros. It was harder to see the failings of previous individuals than what it took to obtain this.’

              Pakros placed a paw on his. ‘San… are you alright? Was it too much to get this? We don’t have to go on with this if you’re uncomfortable.’

              He looked up and smacked his paw onto the desk lightly. ‘We have no choice… I made a promise to use this tome for honest good.’

              ‘Promise to who?’

              Kelken coughed roughly.

              Pakros looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry. Kelken, Breena… this is my husband San Kiln the Fourth.’

              San Kiln straightened up, sniffed, and then turned to them both. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you two.’ He grunted, looking back down again. Something had obviously gotten to him, but what?

              Kelken nodded softly. ‘Where did you go to get… that thing?’ He pointed at the tome on the table.

              ‘Somewhere north of here,’ he mumbled. This feline was agitated, and his fur showed it more than his facial expression.

              ‘San, take a seat will ya?’ said Pakros assertively. ‘Let me do the talking.’

              With a huff he took the seat behind the desk from his wife and held his paws up to his forehead, trying to hide from the world.

              ‘Now… this special task.’ Pakros moved around to the front of the desk and sat on its edge. ‘Just out of interest, how are you both on your history?’

              ‘We know enough about it to get by,’ Breena answered.

              ‘Ever heard of the Lupian’s? The race of wolf humans from ages past?’

              Breena hummed. ‘I’ve heard of them, but don’t know much about them to be honest.’ Her demeanour had become more relaxed. She looked curiously at her father who was standing with is arms folded, biting his bottom lip obsessively.

              ‘Dad?’

              He looked off to one side and paced a couple of steps.

              Another purr rippled the air. Pakros glanced to Kelken. ‘It seems your father has. There’s only one civilisation still in Salarias that was around when the Lupians still existed.’

              A chill filled the air. It was like a winter frost had raped the room violently.

              There was a moment’s pause.

              ‘Traseken…’ Kelken mumbled something else incoherently.

              Breena froze, her face screwing up. ‘I know our home city is old, but if I remember my history there’re no records of that race… only stories and unofficial accounts.’

              ‘There are records.’

              Pakros and Breena averted their eyes to Kelken who was still turned away from them.

              ‘What?’ Breena slowly slid her forked tongue in and out of her mouth.

              Kelken muttered something under his breath.

              ‘Dad? What do you mean there’re records? The rumour was that any records of those people were lost or destroyed.’

              He turned slowly, his eyes a glazed mist. ‘In truth and honour we fight. For the people we serve. And it is for the grace of all that is good we take up this servitude. Honour our fallen and smite our foes with all we have, for we fear no death and uphold our oath.’

              A still silence fell again.

              ‘What was that?’ Breena stepped over to her father carefully and with caution.

              ‘I do believe that was the
age-old
oath of the Traseken Templars,’ San Kiln said through his paws.

              A sudden rage came over Kelken. ‘I know exactly what you want me to do,’ he growled at Pakros. ‘And I tell you right now that I ain’t going back there.’

              The cat kept her cool, composing her stance. ‘Do you? Do you know who we’re after then?’

              The anger waned momentarily, a wash of reflection going over his face. ‘You’re after Franlet Teal, aren’t you?’

              ‘The records keeper of the Traseken Templars? Yes I am.’

              Kelken took a deeper breath and held it for a few seconds. ‘I don’t even know if she’s still alive. She’s got to be getting on by now.’

              Breena looked from Pakros to Kelken with bewilderment. ‘Franlet Teal? You mean that doddering old Bullwark who used to sit in the old library every day militarising my education when I had to use that place for homework?’

              There was a small smile that crept over her father’s face. ‘Yeah that’s her,’ he chuckled weakly.

              ‘Is there something else you could tell me, dad?’ she asked with a tinge of sarcastic expectancy.

              ‘Depends.’

              Pakros leaned forward. ‘Were you a Traseken Templar?’

              The rage billowed out again. ‘Shut…’ He raised a forefinger into the air, a stern glare towards the feline, ‘… the fuck up.’

              San Kiln removed his paws from his face. ‘Keep your nose out of it, Pakros. Let them talk.’

              ‘But I…’ Pakros grunted. ‘We’ll give you two a moment alone shall we?’ She headed to the door and unlocked it. She looked expectedly at her husband who raised a palm to her.

              ‘I’m staying here,’ he mumbled.

              Giving up before she even started, Pakros rolled her head back and groaned. The door shut behind her.

              San Kiln leaned forward. ‘And stop listening at the door woman!’

              There was loud hiss from the other side of the door followed by the resounding thump of angry footsteps.

              ‘Sorry about my wife – she’s an inquisitive one.’ He assessed the tension in the air then sat back with an exhausted sigh. ‘Do you wish me to leave too?’

              He was ignored.

              Kelken stared at his daughter. ‘I was a Templar many years ago before you were born.’

              ‘I thought you were just a Knight of the old order? I thought the Templars were just a myth used to scare the enemies of the city off…’ She glanced away and bunched her fists up.

              ‘The Templars were secret; of course they were going to be mythical, just a rumour. I was only a part of them for a few years.’

              ‘Everyone thought that the Knights did all the dirty work for the city.’

              ‘My position in the Knights was just a front.’ His face wrinkled up in thought. ‘Why is this pissing you off anyway?’

              ‘It is yet another fucking secret you’ve kept from me, dad,’ Breena screeched.

              ‘I was under the oath of secrecy, and I still am… even though I’m no Templar anymore. It is a lifelong thing. Even your mother didn’t know about my past when I met her.’

              ‘But still! I’m your daughter for hell’s sake. Surely you could have told me even after all this time?’

              ‘You know, upholding this oath so many years on says something about your father that you should be proud of.’ San Kiln stood up, rubbing his temples.

              They both glared at him.

              He closed his eyes and licked his lips. ‘Your father is a man of honour who remains loyal to the things that matter. Truth and honour, I suspect, are the two traits each Templar is moulded around.’

              ‘Keep ya whiskers out o’ this, pussy cat,’ Kelken snapped, pointing an angry forefinger at him.

              Breena held up her palm at her father. ‘Excuse me, Mr Kiln, could you leave us alone for a moment?’

              Without a word of protest San Kiln exited the study with a stagger, one of his paws still massaging his aching head.

              The room echoed softly as the two of them seethed in silence.

              ‘You know, I think I might have this all sussed?’ Breena stood more solidly as if suddenly made of stone.

              ‘Oh is that right, Breena? Think you got it all figured out, do ya?’

              ‘All this hiding of what you were – living by this code, or oath, or whatever – is this your attempt to give your own life a sense of meaning? Your liking for booze really says a lot about things too, y’know?’

              ‘Hey, I like my ales… so what?’

              ‘You more than
like
the damn stuff, dad.’ She flopped to her right and perched on the desk, her face quickly soothing. ‘Want to know what I think?’ She looked at him expectantly. ‘I think your own feeling of worthlessness is what’s driving you down the road. You’re unreliable when it comes to me, but not when it comes to doing your duty as a fighter. This oath thing, you can still recite it word for word even after so long. Without your past, and I hate to say this, but you’d be nothing in your own eyes. Is this what mother would’ve wanted of you?’

              Kelken raised his face to her, his eyes glazed and quivering. ‘I left the Traseken service to go find her, but where did that get me, eh? I lost those precious first years of your life and still came back with no wife. How d’ya think that felt?’

              She shook her head.

              ‘No, go on… have a guess.’

              Breena blinked her inner eyelids awkwardly.

              ‘I’ll tell ya… fucking heartbreaking, that’s what it was.’

              ‘You left me alone in Traseken.’

              ‘Because I knew you would be safe. Your mother had disappeared, so I didn’t know if she was or not.’

              ‘I understand that, but…’ She huffed and shook her head, looking down at her feet. ‘Are we going to Traseken or not?’

              ‘No… we’re not!’

              ‘Dad? How long are you going to avoid going back there for?’

Chapter 21

There was something unnatural about the dark sky – it was almost ghost-like with its wispy clouds streaking across the deep blue shroud.

              Three hooded figures slinked down the main street in Traseken dressed like night time assassins making their way to a target. One of them stopped and adjusted something underneath their cloak, grunting as they did so. One of the others stopped and turned; a slight hiss in their voice.

              ‘What’s wrong now?’ Breena whispered harshly, her tongue flicking aimlessly around her lips.

              San Kiln grunted again, reaching his paws into his cloak and up to his back. ‘This damn satchel,’ he stated with a hack in his voice.

              ‘For the love of the gods why do you insist on putting it underneath your fucking cloak?’ snapped Kelken as he turned around. ‘Just put the damned thing over your back.’

              San Kiln purred with annoyance then dropped the satchel onto the floor from underneath his cloak. ‘Fine, fine, but if it gets snatched it’s on your head; nobody else’s.’

              ‘Oh stop dramatising.’

              The fur rose on San Kiln’s head and down his spine and tail. ‘This is, without a doubt, the most vital find of our lifetime… probably anyone’s lifetime. Don’t belittle this as some sort of expendable trinket that can be replaced.’

              Breena’s eyes slid to one side as shadows darted about on the other side of the road, something catching the corner of her eye for a brief moment.

              ‘Can we continue this debate somewhere a bit more safe? We’re being watched by some undesirables.’

              Kelken shifted his gaze to the other side of the broken down road. The wind shrouded his face, pushing a thin blanket of dust across his view as his darkened eyes squinted to make out the figures in the adjacent darkness of the decaying buildings. Three distinct outlines shuffled from the broken corner of an old house over to a large pile of discarded furniture.

              The city had become a virtual graveyard since Kelken and Breena had last been here, maybe ten years or so ago, and it was even more dilapidated than they remembered. The grey stone houses nearby were now a series of broken walls, burning rubbish piles, and splatters of dried blood from the gods only knew what. In the distance the once great white and gold spires, iconic of Traseken throughout the ages, were half crumbling; some were even missing their tops. The majestic whitewashed walls of the surrounding structures were stained with the black stains of past fires, greyed at their edges.

              The streets were in an abysmal state – lawlessness ran wild, death stalked their lengths, and criminals inhabited them. The civilians had disappeared; some of them most likely having turned to crime to get by and stay alive, while the rest had fled or been killed in the turmoil. The echoes of the bloodshed still reverberated around the city, chilling the air with its deathly fury.

              ‘Time to move,’ Kelken breathed before grabbing San Kiln’s arm and pulling him alongside with urgency.

              Their footsteps rhythmically plodded across the broken cobbles and concrete slabs. Rats skittered from corner to corner, investigating morsels of waste in search for food. There was something primal about the streets in Traseken, as if an element of it had been lost – the sense of order had given way to the baser instincts and ravaging of peoples’ desire to survive. Listening closely to the whipping of the occasional wind brought the distant sounds of screaming, swordplay, crashing, and plenty of weeping. Where was the order? Was there anything left in the way of government? Armed forces?

              Kelken didn’t know how to react. As he guided Breena and San Kiln along from corner to corner his mind wandered to the big questions surrounding his old home. As far as he was concerned this place was nothing… it wasn’t his home city of Traseken – the pinnacle of honour, justice, and martial prowess of its time. The downfall, no matter how quickly it had come, had changed the city; the infrastructure; the government, the army, and its power over the people.

              ‘This place… does anyone police it anymore?’ San Kiln adjusted his hood as a pair of deep eyes followed his movements.

              Breena snorted sceptically.

              ‘Take that as a “Why did you just ask that?” then?’ he purred gruffly.

              Kelken raised his hand to quiet them. He stood, back pressed against the corner of a broken house, his head peering around.

              The other two exchanged a quick look, huddling closely to him. It was strange to San Kiln – this remnant of a powerful city crumbling so far into the gutter, and seeing the man who had been one of the elite soldiers moving around it like some sort of intruder – it was all so surreal.

              What was so interesting around this corner anyway?

              ‘Keep quiet,’ Kelken murmured; his eyes still fixated on whatever he was looking at.

              A few more moments passed and nothing. There was a faint sound of crackling fires and low muttering, but what was being said and done remained a mystery too all but Kelken. Breena tapped San Kiln on the shoulder and motioned for him to stay against the wall. She breathed in slowly then sidled up to her father before glancing in the same direction.

              ‘What’s going on there?’ she asked slowly.

              Her father remained mute. There was a gathering of a dozen or so men and women dressed in tatty clothes of various colours and materials. They were crowding around a couple of reptilians, hurling abuse; brandishing makeshift weapons and creeping ever closer towards them. The couple held each other closely, the female of the two shaking violently, her tongue hardly darting out of her mouth. The male angled her head away from the barking horde, his scales seemingly standing on end like a cat’s fur would. This soon got him a blow from one of the burley-looking men.

              ‘Aren’t we going to do something?’ Breena asked softly, but urgently.

              San Kiln turned his head and purred from underneath his hood steadily. ‘Is someone in trouble?’ he asked, uncertain.

              Silence.

              ‘Dad? Say something for crying out loud.’

              Kelken cleared his throat and stopped looking at the potentially violent scene. ‘Wait for them to pass.’

              A blunt knife could have cut the air for the next few seconds as Breena glared at her father with utter disbelief. What did he think he was doing?

              ‘Are you seriously going to leave that couple to die?’

              Kelken flashed a warning glance at her. ‘It ain’t our fight, girl.’

              ‘Oh? So what was all that Traseken Templar bollocks you spouted yesterday? Remember that oath do you?’

              ‘I am not acting on the past. End of.’

              Breena growled and flung her hands into the air. ‘Fine.’ Her hand reached into her cloak and pulled out a knife from her belt and her bow was removed from her back. ‘Can you fight, San?’ She blinked repeatedly at him, a coolness stilling her face.

              San Kiln stared back at her before licking his lips, his tongue resting on one of his fangs. ‘I have to be able to handle myself out there in the big wide world, y’know.’ He let off a throaty laugh.

              She nodded approvingly and readied herself.

              Just as she was about to emerge from their corner, Kelken pushed her back with one strong hand. ‘Hold on.’ The reptilian couple darted past them, not noticing their presence as they tried to find some measure of safety amidst the surrounding chaos.

              ‘They let them go,’ remarked Breena.

              Kelken peeked around the corner again then quickly retreated back. ‘Oh fuck.’

              Breena pursed her lips, looking at her father, concern written all over her face. ‘What’s wrong now? Are they coming this way?’

              He shook his head sluggishly.

              ‘Who the hell is that?’ she asked as she craned her head round.

              San Kiln strafed over to her side and looked. ‘I believe that’s a Traseken Templar.’ He paused, cocking his head slightly to one side. ‘A fairly young one at that.’

              ‘I thought they were a secretive bunch of operatives… you know; not for policing the populous?’

              ‘Hardly surprising they’re using them for policing considering the state of this place now.’ San Kiln scanned the surroundings and purred deeply, thoughtfully.

              The Templar couldn’t have been more than 25 years of age, but was dressed as intimidating as possible – murky white chainmail underneath a grey cloth tunic with the old Traseken symbol of a sword piercing a kite shield, chainmail gloves, steel greaves, and topped off with a dark grey hood and cape. Regardless of this lad’s age he was still a figure to be feared. However, the mob didn’t think so. He was steadily being encroached upon in a wide semi-circle, weapons swinging wildly at him as if they were alive, accompanied by more fervent abuse this time around.

              San Kiln screwed his eyes up. ‘Taking on this rabble by himself… brave’

              Breena nodded, averting any gaze toward her father. ‘He won’t last on his own.’

              ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’

              They both looked at Kelken who was adjusting his hood. His face was lost in the shadow, nothing showing apart from the greying stubble on his chin. His firm stature was still apparent as he walked past San Kiln and Breena, and towards the rear of the angry crowd.

              ‘Dad? What are you doing?’ Breena called after him in a harsh whisper. She held her eyes shut then looked at San Kiln. ‘Ready yourself.’

***

‘Do none of you have homes to go to?’ Leskin barked with false confidence. On the inside he was scared of what he had to do in the streets of Traseken. His superiors had been quick to put him into the Templars, and he had undoubtedly been proud of such an honorary position. It had later dawned on him that the Traseken officials were desperate, that they were taking on anybody they could get their hands on and throwing them in at the deep end. He’d certainly fallen victim to that little trick.

              He stood opposite the dozen-strong rabble, all of them armed with any weaponry they could salvage. Some held swords, some brandished maces, while the rest were armed with pipes and pieces of sturdy looking wood.

              He swallowed hard as he assessed each opponent from underneath his hood. A lone Templar against 12 aggravated civilians was not a good set of odds. He questioned himself – was he really prepared to hurt these people? Traseken’s people? The very notion went against what his position stood for. He was supposed to protect the civilians, not hurt them, let alone slay them needlessly.

              They were angry.

              ‘I suggest you all lay down your weapons and return to your homes.’ He calmed his breath.