Secrets of Arkana Fortress (35 page)

              Breena and San Kiln peered in with a bit more caution. A stony grating sound from behind made them jump as the outside entrance sealed itself up.

              ‘I suppose there’s no way out of here now is there?’ San Kiln asked aimlessly with a sigh of disappointment.

              ‘The only way left is forward, San,’ Breena commented as she stepped after her father’s advances.

              The three of them wandered along the corridor, which was now ever so slightly wider. The air was stale after many years of inactivity, but the walls themselves were still in immaculate condition as if freshly carved that very day.

              ‘How long does this path run, dad?’ asked Breena as she shuffled along.

              Kelken sniffed sharply. ‘Not for too long actually.’ He looked around. ‘It runs for a few hundred yards in a straight line and then bends to the right a little if I remember rightly.’ He sighed softly. ‘We should be there in a few minutes.’

              Eventually they came to another sealed doorway and Kelken spoke the same words again. The giant stone tablet of a door edged sideways slowly, billowing dust into their faces. Breena and Kelken coughed harshly, trying to stifle the sound with their hands. San Kiln sniffed desperately at the air then batted his nose with one of his paw-like hands.

              ‘Damnation,’ he exclaimed in a hushed voice. ‘All this dust is going to irritate my nose now.’

              ‘Yeah, I think it will ours too,’ Kelken muttered.

              San Kiln hissed. ‘I can’t smell a bastard thing.’

              ‘Just keep moving.’

              Kelken led the way up a set of pale stone steps. The cavernous room they entered was an impressive example of Traseken architecture – tall, sky-reaching archways set into the creamy walls, high ceilings that would have taken many tiring months to construct, and then there was the mosaic floor with its colourful picture depicting some kind of mythological battle between the gods.

              Breena eased her red hair behind her ears as she gazed upward. ‘Amazing,’ she whispered in awe.

              ‘We don’t have time for sightseeing, Breena.’ Her father grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

              San Kiln followed hurriedly. ‘I wonder… when was the last time anyone set eyes on this place?’

              Something from the darkness stirred. ‘Not for a long, long time, my friend.’

              The three of them swung around sharply in the direction of the deep voice. It spoke to them once more from the dark of a corner.

              ‘Actually, no person outside of the city has ever set foot in these chambers. You, Mr Feline, are the first.’ There was a shuffling of feet and a figure emerged cautiously, albeit commandingly, into the light. ‘I knew you would use this passage.’ Whoever the person was, he was hooded in a majestic red and white cape that flowed elegantly around his feet. The glint of silver chainmail appeared alongside the golden hilt of a sword as the figure brushed his arm to one side, resting his hand on the weapon. ‘I must say that to have the Lexos family back in the city is an absolute treat for me.’

              Kelken put his hand on his sword and flexed his grip. ‘If I had to guess…’

              The man laughed. ‘It’s nice to know your memory is still sound after all this time away from home. How long has it been?’

              ‘Not long enough. I still feel the cold of your sword against my neck.’

              Rolden pulled his hood down and peered at the trio. ‘A memento to take with you… a parting gift, shall we say?’

              ‘We both know exactly what that was.’ Kelken looked at Breena briefly then back to Rolden. ‘But I’m not here for a catch-up. If you allow me to do what I came to do then we can both be happy.’

              ‘Happy?’ Rolden remarked as he stepped forward, hindering Kelken’s move to carry on. ‘When was the last time anyone in Traseken was happy?’ His old comrade shuffled back a few paces, easing his companions along with him using his arms.

              ‘Rolden I’ve got a job to do and I don’t need this shit right now.’

              ‘Ah yes, of course. Another contract is it? You see… I know what it is you do for a living these days, my old friend.’ Rolden began to pace around in front of them. ‘Kelken Lexos – mercenary extraordinaire for hire, followed by his cracking bow mistress daughter who, I might add, was trained by a Traseken arrow master.’

              As tight-lipped as Breena knew she should be at moments like this, she could not help but join in. ‘So what? What’s that got to do with anything?’

              ‘Breena be quiet, I’ll handle it,’ Kelken snapped quietly.

              She huffed and folded her arms.

              ‘Still the feisty little girl you used to be, Breena.’ Rolden took a step back, blocking the passageway with his mighty presence. ‘But whatever it is you want from here, I’m afraid I am not in a position to let you pass – these chambers are for authorised personnel only.’ He rested his hand onto the hilt of his sword again. ‘And you lot are neither Templars nor Traseken royalty.’

              Kelken sighed heavily. ‘Are we to go through this again?’

              San Kiln glanced between the two of them and furrowed his tabby brow. ‘Dare I ask what that is?’

              The scrape of sharpened metal reverberated off the walls as Kelken’s sword was drawn from its sheath, swiftly followed by Rolden’s. There was a silence that split into the conversation like the shot of an arrow through thin glass.

              ‘Don’t even think about it,’ growled Kelken as Breena brought her bow forward.

              She stared at the back of her father’s head in disbelief. ‘Are you serious, dad?’

              He grunted. ‘A challenge to single combat by a Templar is an honorary thing and is not to be interrupted.’

              Rolden let out a booming laugh that filled the air like a storm. ‘You gave up being a Templar over a decade ago, Kelken. I challenged you then and I challenge you now.’ He edged forward, sword held up in front of him with both hands. Kelken followed suit until their blades kissed lightly. They stood there for what seemed like an age, eyes locked. Rolden was slightly taller and had the advantage of range, Breena and San Kiln could see that, but whatever advantage Kelken had was yet to be seen.

              The swords bounced off each other as Rolden took the first move, the resultant clash of steel against steel causing a high-pitched din that echoed around the ceilings. The Templar moved with shocking speed and precision, but Kelken was managing to fend off the first wave of strikes. Breena had never seen her father move like this before – he seemed a lot more focused and moved a lot closer to the ground like a cat on the defensive.

              The tide of the swordplay changed as Kelken took an opportunity to go on the offensive, swiftly changing his stance and driving his opponent back. He was much more upright and sturdy as he attacked; his swings and thrusts remaining narrow and fast as he progressed. He deflected one of Rolden’s counters and booted him in the leg causing him to stumble to one side. Rolden, however, was quick to recover and thrust out at Kelken.

              He caught his arm, but was unable to draw any blood.

              With a grimace Kelken backed away, giving him time to prepare himself for another clash. A stomping of boots followed and the swords met again in another angered embrace. This time the two of them were at a standstill as they attempted to parry, thrust, and cut their way into each other. Rolden received a kick to his ankle causing him to tumble again, but not before he smacked his fist into Kelken’s jaw. They were both beginning to pant heavily.

              Kelken charged forward in one final attempt.

              He locked swords with Rolden – they struggled to shove each other away. He brought his knee upwards, but caught the Templar’s armour – it hurt like hell. As he yelped in pain his sword was batted aside and an elbow met his face with unimaginable force. He was sent keeling over onto the cold floor, his lip split open and pouring with dark red blood.

              ‘Ah fuck,’ he groaned as he scrabbled backwards.

              Rolden strode over, sword held in front of him as if pointing an accusing finger. He squinted at his old friend coolly. ‘Do you yield?’ he asked blankly.

              With a reluctant sigh, Kelken nodded and glanced at his sword on the floor.

              ‘Good man.’ Rolden sheathed his sword and held out his hand. ‘Come on, take it.’

              There was a moment when Kelken thought about what had happened the last time he and Rolden fought, but quickly shook it out of his mind. He reached up and was helped to his feet. ‘A bit different to last time,’ he grumbled.

              Rolden smirked. ‘You still fought well, albeit not as well as you would’ve done if you’d stayed in your position as a Templar. And of course you’ve settled for a lower quality blade as well – not as strong as Traseken steel.’ He patted Kelken’s chest. ‘Although I’m glad to hear that you kept the medallion.’

              Kelken shoved the hand away. ‘So that kid told you about me being here, did he?’

              ‘He did, although he had no idea who you were until I fitted the pieces together. Logically I assumed that you were going to be coming into the central fortification, and would do so through the old escape route.’ He raised a knowing eyebrow and scratched his white goatee. ‘Now what is it you’re here for anyway?’

              ‘This.’ San Kiln suddenly stepped forward and took off his backpack. He placed it onto the floor and opened it up, his paws slipping the tome out into the gloomy light. He stood up and held it in his arms like a precious newborn child. ‘We need to see the records keeper, Franlet Teal, in order to open it and see its contents – it’s in an old language you see.’

              ‘If you need it opened how do you know it’s written in an old language?’ Rolden asked, his face a picture of mock fascination.

              San Kiln held the tome up with the spine in front. ‘Look at the emblem on it.’

              Rolden peered at the wolf head emblem. He rolled his eyes upwards and looked at Kelken’s expression, one that said: ‘
Now you know we mean business
’. He stood up straight and held out his hands. ‘May I take a closer look?’

              A look was given to Kelken questioningly.

              He nodded, knowing Rolden better than the others did. Even though they had just battled fervently, he knew that he could trust the old Templar.

              San Kiln handed the book to Rolden and watched cautiously as he turned it over and examined it a bit more closely. ‘Interesting,’ he muttered to himself before looking at the others. ‘I recall reading about the Lupians, but was under the impression that everything about them had been lost.’

              Kelken adjusted his gloves and cleared his throat. ‘You know that Franlet is one of the few people in Salarias that could decipher texts like this.’ He paused, engaging Rolden’s eyes firmly. ‘Will you take us to her or not?’

              Rolden looked away to one side and breathed in sharply. ‘Franlet is… not the Bullwark she once was. She’s changed – I warn you now before you meet her.’

              ‘In what way?’

              ‘I’ll show you.’

***

There was a large set of doors in between them and the records room. Rolden pressed his medallion into a neatly shaped slot in the wall where it began to glow a dim green before unlocking the seal. The doors reached all the way up to the echoing ceiling above, but, surprisingly, parted silently with only the shift in the air causing any noise.

              Breena whistled as she walked in, gazing at the sight of so many books and scrolls lining the many bookcases that ran all the way around the room. There must have been about 50 shelves in each of them and they reached all the way to the cavernous roof.

              ‘This place is an absolute treasure trove,’ remarked San Kiln gleefully as he glided over to the nearest shelf, purring.

              Rolden held up a hand. ‘I wouldn’t touch the books if I were you, feline,’ he warned. ‘Franlet gets very angry if anything is disturbed without her permission.’

              Kelken sniffed the air. ‘I didn’t think Franlet was the angry sort.’

              ‘As I said… she’s changed.’

              They walked through a sea of tables strewn with open scrolls that were written in an assortment of languages, new and old. The floor was partly carpeted with a thick, sky blue material that seemed to bounce when they walked along. Large flames were dotted around the room on braziers that glowed with a deep, yellow-white that left unusual shadows around the room. There was also a musty smell that was typical of a place laden with books and old papers and parchments.

              Rolden coughed. ‘Franlet? You have some visitors.’ The air was deathly still and continued to be after his voice stopped echoing. ‘Come out and greet them – one is an old friend of ours.’