Secrets of Arkana Fortress (36 page)

              There was a distant thudding of heavy-set feet from somewhere in the room. Out of a corner at the far end of the room came a hulking figure in a black hood. It walked forward with a prominent limp toward them.

              ‘Why are you bringing visitors to me now, Rolden? I have things to be doing.’ From beneath the hood came a loud snort from Franlet’s large nostrils.

              Kelken leaned into Rolden’s ear. ‘Why is she wearing a hood?’

              Franlet stomped her foot onto the floor. ‘I can hear you perfectly well you know… Kelken?’ There was another snort, this time a sight more cheerful. ‘Didn’t think we’d see you back here again.’ Her deep voice trailed off into a splutter.

              ‘And you, Franlet. We’re here to…’

              She cut him off with a wave of a large, brown haired hand that whipped out from beneath the black shroud she was wearing. ‘Pleasantries are over. I have work to get on with. You should leave and take your friends with you – you’re trespassing on restricted grounds.’

              There was a stunned silence as Kelken’s face twisted in confusion. ‘We’ve got something we need you to…’

              ‘I said go,’ Franlet snapped, her sharp voice making Breena and San Kiln jump.

              Rolden put a hand on Kelken’s shoulder. ‘Just leave her be for a moment.’

              He brushed the hand off of him and walked forward. ‘Look, whatever’s happened I need you to put it aside for the time being and help us. Please, Franlet?’

              With a quick step Rolden moved to one side and away from Kelken.

              There was a startling swiftness about the Bullwark as she lunged at Kelken, a chunky metal hand gripping his tunic tightly and bringing him near to her hooded face. ‘You want me to put it aside, do you?’ Her other arm came out, completely normal in appearance, and pulled the hood from her head.

              Kelken’s face attempted not to contort in horror at what he saw. Her face was half covered with dark metal plates that seemed to patch up some obvious craters where something horrific had happened to her. Her eyes were bloodshot and he could feel her hot breath against him, which had begun to bring him out in a sweat.

              ‘Drop him, now.’

              Franlet averted her gaze and saw a readied bow pointing at her from a few feet away, Breena giving her a scornful look. The Bullwark seethed as she stared the young woman out. Suddenly her eyes caught the tabby feline and the book he was clutching. She promptly dropped Kelken to the floor where he staggered before landing on his back.

              ‘Is that what I think it is?’ she asked, pointing at San Kiln with a metallic digit. ‘A Lupian tome?’

              San Kiln looked about nervously and then nodded slowly. ‘It… it is, yes. I found it in an old village on Xenoc. How did you know it was a…?’

              Franlet let out what could only be thought of as a laugh of approval. ‘The village of Lupana,’ she interrupted in a quietened voice. ‘Come… sit and tell me about it.’

              San Kiln saw Rolden give him a nod and gesture with his hand to go with her. He walked with the old Bullwark over to a small table with some patchy padded chairs and sat down, placing the tome down on the tabletop.

              Breena put the bow back over her shoulder and helped her father up from the floor. ‘I cannot believe you’ve had your ass kicked twice in such a short space of time.’

              ‘Oh shut it, you,’ Kelken scowled as he brushed himself off. He looked up at Rolden who stood resting his chin on his fist, gazing intently at Franlet and San Kiln. ‘Tell me what happened to Franlet to make her end up like that.’

              Rolden shot him a warning glare. ‘It’s not a story I wish to tell.’

              ‘Well tough shit coz you’re going to tell it to me… right now.’

              With a sigh, Rolden reluctantly began the tale.

              ‘It happened about eight years ago when the streets were not so vile and dangerous. Franlet went to the old western library, just to collect a handful of books about Traseken history and architecture. It was there she was ambushed by some street thugs. Two of my men had gone with her, but we found them dead not far from her mangled body. If she had been anything other than a Bullwark she would’ve died pretty quickly, but Franlet was still holding on.’ Rolden paused as his eyes wandered to the floor in reflection. ‘We… we had nobody to help her except some kind of experimentalist surgeon who was involved in mechanical grafting using magic.’ He looked at Kelken imploringly. ‘We had no choice if we were to save her.’

              Kelken put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘What was the extent of the injuries?’

              ‘Half her face was caved in, her left arm was crushed and had to be amputated along with her right leg, the surgeon put in a magically imbued metal breastbone, a few ribs, and a false hip of some kind I think.’

              ‘She lives… and that’s what’s most important, Rolden.’

              ‘But is it a life worth living?’

              ‘If she didn’t deem it a life worth living, deep down, then she wouldn’t have held on for so long. I mean, yes, the visual aspects of her surgery must be hell to bear, but how often does she see people?’

              ‘That isn’t the point. She has to look in the mirror and see what she’s become. I don’t think either of us can imagine what that’s like at all.’ Rolden flicked his cape from around his shins as he walked over to a bookcase on his left and ran his gloved forefinger along them, eyes scanning for a certain title. ‘Have you ever read the tale of Thormanis?’ he asked as he found the text he was after.

              Kelken looked at his feet. ‘I have, yes, but I don’t think Breena knows of it.’

              Breena placed a single hand on her curvaceous hips and screwed her lips up. ‘No, don’t know that one.’

                            Rolden extracted a large book with a dark red cover, and flicked through the gold leaf pages. ‘Here we are,’ he announced triumphantly. ‘Thormanis.’ He handed the open pages to Kelken and Breena. ‘The tale of a prince who was heir to the throne of a kingdom that existed many centuries ago, maybe near a millennium ago, who was scarred and mutilated in some sort of fire at the palace. Of course, he being a member of the royal family meant he received the best treatment out there, but even the mages at the time couldn’t reform his appearance. His beloved looked at him differently. Oh yes, she told him she still loved him no matter what he looked like, but he could see through that guise easily. Even his parents, the king and queen, saw him in a different light.’ He took a moment to glance at Franlet, who was moving her arms about in some explanatory way. ‘Deep down he was a broken man. He tried to hang himself from the chandelier, allegedly, and failed. Whatever he used to hang himself with snapped and he fell quite a distance to the floor below. He ended up a great cripple.’

              ‘I bet that made him feel better,’ remarked Breena sarcastically.

              Rolden smirked. ‘He was treated with even more underlying rejection.’ He looked up at Kelken who was following the text on the pages with his forefinger. ‘The woman who was ordered to care for him took pity after seeing how much of a broken man he was. His final request was that she aid him take his own life. To this end she took him to the roof of the palace and allowed him to fall to his death.’

              Kelken looked up. ‘His last words were: ‘You are the only one who has made me feel cared for. Helping me like this is the best way of showing it. I thank you.’ He shot a look from the corner of his eye to Franlet. ‘She isn’t suicidal is she?’

              Rolden shrugged. ‘Who knows? You know what she was like – stubborn as a… a Bullwark.’ He allowed himself a small laugh.

              A steady thudding of giant feet alerted them to the keeper’s upcoming presence. She snorted as she saw the book in Kelken’s hands. ‘Ah, the tragedy omnibus. Which story in particular?’ she asked gruffly.

              ‘Erm… Thormanis, was it?’ Breena looked at Rolden.

              Franlet sniffed and sighed heavily. ‘Not the most enthralling of tales, but it’s better than most.’ She grabbed the book and slotted it back into the bookcase it had come from. ‘Since when were you one for mythology and tragedy stories, Kelk?’

              ‘Rolden picked it up,’ he explained.

              ‘Ah, I see. Always one for tales aren’t you, Rolden?’

              He laughed.

              ‘But anyway… I’ve had a nice chat with the cat over there and examined the book he bought me.’

              Breena folded her arms casually. ‘And?’

              ‘I’m going to get onto it right away. I’ll need some assistance in getting a couple of other books, though.’

              ‘Since when do you need help in finding books in here?’ remarked Rolden, amused.

              Franlet snorted at him, annoyed. ‘I said help in getting them, not finding them. I know where they are I just need you lot to fetch them while I prepare the tome for unlocking.’

***

A series of books were neatly laid out in front of Franlet, the titles ranging from ‘Magic Seals and Their Keys’ to ‘Secrets of Lupian Lore and Magic’, and ‘Turmoil of Evil and Hidden Knowledge’. The giant Bullwark breathed steady and thick, a hot air drifting from beneath her hood. One of her giant hands held the tome that had had brought to her while the other scanned through the pages of the books seemingly at random.

              ‘It seems to be quite a sophisticated magical lock,’ she mused as one page caught her interest. With swift precision she took up a small, thin metal instrument and jammed it into the top of the sealed lock. Her clumsy-looking digits were shockingly delicate and smooth, which was unlike most other Bullwarks who tended to specialise in trades and hobbies which didn’t require such small-scale finesse and intimate attention all of the time.

              ‘Now… let’s try this one, shall we?’ She read out a line of words that seemed alien to the others. A sudden vibration ran through the book then faded quickly. ‘Oh shit on a reptilian’s tail,’ Franlet grunted angrily. ‘That one didn’t work.’

              She went through half a dozen lines of chants and incantations until one worked – an old saying from the book on Lupian lore… figured. The sound of ancient, but magically preserved pages was the only thing to be heard. She turned the pages slowly, enthralled by the mere sight of the old words and diagrams that lay inside the aged covers.

              ‘Fascinating.’

              San Kiln slid up to her side and looked at the tome’s secreted interior. ‘This is fascinating indeed,’ he purred. ‘What does it say?’

              Franlet fell silent, nothing but her rhythmic breathing coming from her giant hulk. ‘From what I actually recall of this language, this bit tells of the history of the Fenrir warriors.’ She pointed to a large portion of text that was off-set by a wolf’s head. ‘Ever heard of them?’

              San Kiln shook his head.

              Franlet looked up at the others, who in turn started to shake their heads. She snorted again. ‘You people are deprived of the wonders of history.’ She chuckled, taking Rolden by surprise – she had not found anything genuinely funny in years. ‘Give me a moment or two to have a flick through the pages.’

              After about five minutes she started to speak again. ‘By the souls of the gods… I don’t believe it.’

              Rolden stepped forward and peered at the text. ‘What is it?’ he asked urgently. He smoothed his hair back from his forehead and nudged up beside Franlet who stood a sight taller than he did, even though she was seated.

              ‘Let me explain – these warriors of the Lupian race were the best – the cream of the crop, so to speak. History records that they went extinct many generations ago after something, or someone, started to purge the world of them – a great evil it was. This particular section defies what history has recorded, telling us of a warrior who was put into some kind of exile by this force – banished into his own shield and buried away in a subterranean place in the northern territories.’

              Kelken took a forceful pace toward them. ‘Where in the north?’

              Franlet hummed. ‘East of the new town of Donnol, it says. Well… it was new back then I suppose.’

              Breena let out a small laugh. ‘I imagine back then it was fairly small and unimportant, probably not even a city in the slightest.’

              San Kiln slapped his paw onto the table triumphantly. ‘Well then – we know where we…’ He stopped suddenly and darted his head around. His fur stood on end as he hissed loudly, claws shooting out of his paws like multiple swords unsheathing. ‘It’s here… he’s here – the one in the green armour.’

              ‘I suggest you get that sword of yours out,’ Kelken nodded to Rolden as he drew his blade and turned.

              Breena readied her bow, licking the flight one of her arrows as she whipped it out from her back, and scanned the room frantically. Her flattened chest heaved steadily, calmly.