Secrets of Arkana Fortress (46 page)

              ‘No. You said to them that I had the potential to be a threat to their plans. You only told them that to get your hands on my powers.’

              ‘Get over yourself,’ Blaigen scoffed. He winced again from a surge of pain.

              ‘You bullshitted them and they will realise that soon enough.’

              ‘Oh sure… and when might that be?’

              ‘When? When you fail of course.’

Chapter 31

There was nothing, not a single, tangible form that walked the blackness of the exiled realm. Swirls of magical essence roamed aimlessly through the void, pulsating with sentience and subdued powers that had once been forces to be reckoned with. Of course, these essences could take on a form if they wanted to… or needed to.

              A darkened figure stood dressed in an ethereal blue mage’s robe, a finely chiselled face looking over the conjured throne that lay before it. It raised a bony set of fingers and stroked its chin thoughtfully. A guttural mumbling was all that could be heard.

              ‘Blaigen is losing control,’ a second figure said in a deep, wobbly voice as it materialised a few metres away from the other one. ‘We cannot let him fail so miserably, Sire.’

              The figure in the blue robes screamed out of frustration and torment, the sound blood curdling. ‘He is a fool to be trifling with our powers; the powers we bestowed upon his pathetic form.’

              The second figure bowed dutifully, swinging its translucent green cape around its feet. ‘With respect, Sire, his form is not his own, remember?’

              ‘He was a moron to request such a thing in the first place.’

              ‘Blaigen was adamant that the mage posed a great threat to our plans.’

              The blue robed mage swung a skeletal arm across the base of the throne, twisting to face his subordinate. ‘That man was no threat whatsoever,’ he boomed. ‘Blaigen is not deserving of being in our employ. He is on his last chance.’

              The blackness of their surroundings began to pulse with a red glow that fluctuated into oranges, yellows and blues constantly.

              ‘Sire you must calm yourself. We will return sooner than we planned anyway, spire or no spire.’

              ‘Tarros, you appeal to my sense of preservation like nobody else.’ For once, the mage smiled.

              ‘My lord Ji’Keth, you are a great and powerful man who has been done a great injustice. We are set to return by the next eclipse of the moons; we have gained sufficient power to bridge the gap of our exile.’

              Ji’Keth sighed, taking in the falsehood of his surroundings. ‘I will look into the world and they will know what they have done to us.’

              ‘Yes, my lord, they will see our vengeance in its fullest.’

              ‘The caster scum will pay for aiding the Lupians and their kin in banishing us from the land.’

              ‘The Lupians are no more, Sire – we have succeeded in that respect.’ Tarros glanced around the dark, noticing other magical essences collecting as if they were listening in on the conversation.

              ‘There are casters left – two of them, although Blaigen and his comrade are yet unaware of the other’s heritage I believe.’

              ‘Should we not tell him about it, sire?’

              Ji’Keth shook his thin face firmly. ‘Whether or not he knows about it, he cannot stop what is about to happen.’

              ‘What about sending in more Faceless to aid him in his plight?’ There was a tone of desperation in Tarros’s voice; some sort of urgency.

              ‘A waste of resources, Tarros, my friend; the spire has done more than we need it to do. It is hereby expendable, as are Blaigen and the woman, Vicana.’

              ‘As you say, Lord Ji’Keth.’

              ‘We are to make ready for the return.’ With that statement Ji’Keth bellowed with laughter of the utmost malevolence and bane, his entire body and soul glowing with black light. He knew the world was not ready for the return of the Providence, and he wallowed in that fact.

Chapter 32

‘Are you sure about this?’ Carlo asked with a look of hesitation on his face.

              Evie waved her hand at him dismissively. ‘I need to find my uncle to make sure he’s alright.’ She looked at him hard, a steely determination in her eyes accompanied with a raging current of worry.

              The night sky was overcast with thick, grey clouds that looked set to burst at any moment. A soft howl sounded from the distance, a woman’s screaming following shortly afterwards. Something had changed since Evie’s last visit – the air had been filled with a greater madness. All she and Carlo could hear were distant shouts, screams, cries, and clashes of sword on sword. The city, at first thought, sounded like a battle ground, but it soon became apparent that it was nothing more than a collection of mad individuals.

              Carlo looked down a dark street, squinting cautiously as he tried to make out a group of soldiers highlighted in the light of a fire, their armour shining; the glint of their swords reflecting in his eyes. He rubbed his temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

              Evie leaned over to him. ‘You OK?’ she asked, concerned.

              ‘Yeah… just a headache is all. Must be a lack of sleep, y’know?’

              ‘I know what you mean. I could use a decent night’s sleep for once in my life.’ She sighed and her eyes fell to the floor thoughtfully. ‘What if uncle Dedrick’s gone?’ She was suddenly feeling very vulnerable; alone.

              Carlo placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. ‘You know the old man – a tough old attack dog he is.’

              She smiled back, reassured. ‘Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Nothing will have gotten him down.’ She took a step past Carlo into the street and rushed across to an adjacent alleyway, hugging the wall to avoid the soldiers spotting her. She beckoned Carlo across.

              He obliged her signal, keeping his head low and moving quickly in a crouch like a hunting animal sighting its prey. He buried his back into the wall and checked around the corner. The soldiers had not seen them cross. ‘We’re clear,’ he whispered to Evie. He turned to look at her and saw an empty alley in front of him. ‘Evie? Where’ve you gone? Evie!’

              ‘Over here,’ came her voice before she popped her head from a side passage a few yards away. ‘This way. There should be an entrance through the sewer system… I think.’

              Carlo breathed a sigh of relief and palmed the wall, feeling the wetness of it. He recoiled with a look of disgust. ‘Don’t disappear like that,’ he grumbled as he wiped his hand down his jacket. ‘It’s you and me in here, so we need to stick together.’

              Evie rolled her eyes. ‘OK, fine.’ She nodded before motioning her hand for him to follow. ‘Hurry it up then. We’ll stick together… if you can keep up.’ She giggled childishly and moved off.

              ‘Wait…’ Carlo shook his head, accepting the futility of saying anything, and followed her at a speedy enough pace.

              He struggled to keep up as she hopped over obstacles and skipped across the streets like she had no care in the world. ‘How long we got?’ he puffed as she came to a halt to allow a patrol to go past.

              She rested her hand on his without thinking and looked at the team of four guards stroll past haughtily; their swords sheathed, yet ever ready to be revealed at first provocation. She turned her bright eyes to Carlo and then to where their hands were interlocked. She paused, her mouth opening and closing before she retracted it quickly. She cleared her throat and looked away without a word.

              Carlo touched his hand and gaped at Evie, glad that she wasn’t looking at his dumbfounded expression. He watched from the corner of his eye as she darted through a pile of rubbish blocking an alleyway opposite, causing it to cascade to the sides. Silence crept across the street. He could not see where she had gone.

              He took a step out.

              Sounds of metal boots pushed him back against the wall.

              The four guards hurried back, surrounding the opening to the alleyway in an arc, debating in low, hush tones about how to proceed.

              Carlo felt his heart quicken and he found his hands clenching. Was Evie cornered? Were they going to kill her? What could he do to save her? He looked around the area; a quietened corridor of closed businesses and a distinct, but unsurprising, lack of activity. What had gone on here recently?

              A sharp scream echoed through the night, shrill and piercing like a banshee’s call. The soldiers staggered back as a crazed looking woman charged out with a metal bar, swinging it with animalistic lust. Her matted blonde hair; caked with dirt, damp and death, stuck to her face like lichen on a ship’s hull. Her mouth was permanently open from the shouting and screaming. This woman was an extreme example of what Psyloss could do to someone.

              Two of the soldiers froze on the spot, their swords quivering in the shades of the street, while the other two poised themselves like the professionals they were supposed to be. The woman swung the bar at one of them, but was pushed back by a resolute sword. However, the crazed lady was sufficiently stronger than she looked. She kicked the soldier square in the groin, following with a stout whack from her weapon. There was something peculiar about her – unlike most other Psyloss victims there was a strange logic about her movements, tactically striking at weak points.

              Carlo, through fuzzy thoughts, picked up on this as he watched the altercation. His mind wandered still – where had Evie gone to? His eyes whirled about the dark street, desperately trying to find some other way into the alley she had disappeared into. There was nothing but stone walls, closed windows, and an endless futility.

              What was he supposed to do?

***

She had not wanted to do that. The last thing she needed right now was publicity, especially when she was a wanted woman.

              Evie had counted her blessings that the crazy Psyloss lady had been roaming around in the filth and rubbish of the shadows. She had narrowly avoided the woman’s loony advances by jumping up onto some bins and launching herself toward a barred window, her hands grabbing the bars firmly, keeping her from safety. She hung there for a few minutes before letting go, clumsily landing among the piles of soggy rubbish. She recoiled from the smells of rotting meat, soiled clothing, and urine.

              ‘Oh man, what the hell have I just landed in?’ she growled in disbelief. She flicked whatever it was off her hands and quickly jumped out, cleaning her clothes as best she could. She glanced towards the entrance of the alley, vaguely making out the silhouettes of battling soldiers, as well as the Psyloss victim, whose movements were erratic and wild.

              If anything were to happen to either her or Carlo in way of being parted, the plan had been to meet up at her uncle’s place. She stood solidly, her head trained on where the fighting was. The last thing she wanted was to leave Carlo behind; for him to leave her behind, but they had a plan B all sorted out. She told herself over and over again until she felt her legs move in the opposite direction, her athletic figure darting off into the dark… albeit reluctantly.

***

The door was open – the hidden door.

              Evie barged in; her heart was pounding, echoing in the depths of the cavernous stone room inside. There was an ungodly silence that seemed to pierce her mind. She felt a deep worry crawling across her skin; it was permeating into her body like poison, her entire form beginning to shake. She rubbed the palms of her hands down the sides of her black trousers, and tried her hardest to steady her breathing. A flood of emotions hit her like a rockslide, something from her past that had been locked up. She felt vulnerable again, like she used to feel when her mother had vanished. It had been her uncle who had protected her from the horrid reality and brought her up when she had been at her weakest. But with the possibility of something having happened to him, she was suddenly thrown back to those trying days yet again.

              With childish hesitation she moved forward through the room and into the dim corridor where only a single torch lit its entire length. Her footsteps were soft with anxiety and fear, her hair dampened with sweat as she carried on.

              What was she going to find? Her uncle’s dead body? Nothing? Maybe he was alive – she always could count on his ability to overcome terrible odds no matter what they were. She remembered how many assassination attempts he had survived over the years, one of them where he personally killed the assassin with his bare hands, dumping the body in the streets as a sign to all who dared to hunt him down and attempt to kill him.

              It was the thoughts of Orlanna that turned her stomach as well. As much as she had despised the woman, she knew that she made her uncle happy, and in a strange way complete. The more Evie thought about it, Orlanna was not the sort of woman who was after power and money – she had stuck by her uncle’s side through thick and thin, almost like a faithful hound. Evie had never grown warm to the possibility of her uncle being taken away from her by a woman who was considerably younger than he was; not even old enough to be her mother either.