Secrets of Arkana Fortress (5 page)

              The ‘Don’t Be Such A Fool, Mikos’ slap to his head usually knocked him back into the here and now with surprising efficiency and, for the most part, it had worked… but not this time.

***

A hearty cod stew with dumplings and potatoes hit the spot in Mikos’s stomach just like the wonders of a magic-based pain relief.

              He patted his belly and leaned back with a small half full glass of some brown spirit-based drink. He had taken a corner table in the lounge of the tavern away from the rest of the crowds and savoured his evening meal. He sipped the drink and tried to relax.

              The lounge was a beautifully laid out series of tables, chairs and lighting fixtures that always gleamed with a hearty emotion, sending rays of soft orange light dancing through the room like a bunch of well-wishing fairies. Being lit by small magical devices, they fluctuated and would change their shades of colour dependant on the time of day.

              An elderly human couple sat a few cubicles down from him trying to recapture the romance by feeding each other forkfuls of their dinners, whispering and giggling at stories. Mikos didn’t know whether to feel amused, endeared or sickened. He looked around again. Not many people were in the lounge this night. A reptilian manned the bar and was vigorously polishing a stubborn set of decanter glasses with a tatty rag. He couldn’t tell whether the reptile was male or female as they all looked the same straight off; the only way of telling was by a method most people refused to do – an examination of the lower regions.

              As he continued his thoughtful gazing, Mikos finished off his drink and sat back. He preferred the solitude in the evenings rather than the crowds of inns, pubs and some low-key taverns in the city. The nightly scene in Donnol was known for its offers on alcohol, usually reduced prices at certain times of the year, and was therefore a typically violent setting with only the toughest and most experienced of people surviving it on a regular basis. He, however, was not one to risk it even though he knew he could look after himself.

              A sudden sharp gust of wind blew through the room as the door was opened from outside. A darkened figure dressed in a long brown hooded cape stepped in, the sound of their boots clopping on the wooden floor. The cape flowed in the breeze as the person shut the door behind them. A small, flattened nose poked out a short distance from within the hooded refuge, a compliment of white fur beneath its moistened textures. A set of narrow blue eyes scanned the room and stopped at the one corner.

              Mikos had certainly noticed the mysterious entrance this figure had made, and was even more wary as it moved in his direction. ‘Is there anything you want, stranger?’ he asked, barely looking up at the shadowy presence as it stood over him. There was a soft, yet deep purring emanating from within.

              ‘Mikos Valdera?’ the hood asked in a husky voice.

              He looked up at the figure, now seeing the variety of coloured hairs on the face and the few pointy whiskers around the nose. ‘A feline… what do you want, sir?’

              ‘There was an incident earlier in the marketplace where a young girl was captured thanks to your apprehension of her.’

              ‘I was merely in the wrong place at the right time, that’s all.’

              The feline flexed his narrow shoulders. ‘Nonetheless, the captain of the Donnol guard requests your presence.’

              Mikos laughed softly. ‘So that’s how you know my name… looked it up on the official lists?’

              ‘Indeed we did.’

              He stood up sluggishly and faced the feline. ‘And what, pray tell, does the captain of the guard want me for?’ he asked before rubbing his head.

              ‘He has not only his personal thanks to give, but a small gift for you. Don’t ask me what it is because I don’t know; I am only the messenger.’

              ‘Well I was going to settle down with a good book I bought earlier,’ said Mikos with a reluctant stare.

              The cat scoffed and chuckled to himself. ‘The captain is not a man to be refused.’

              ‘Is that a threat or a warning?’

              ‘It is a matter of fact, Mr Valdera.’

              Mikos sighed and angled his eyes to the floor. ‘Very well then, lead the way.’

              ‘Oh, I’m sorry, but I have other messages to deliver before the moons reach their peak tonight. I’m sure you know the way… just head back to the central market ward and follow the main road north – you can’t miss it.’ With that, the feline bowed and ventured back into the night, leaving Mikos somewhat irritated at the lack of an escort. There was something not quite right about the situation, but he decided to shrug it off nonetheless.

              ‘Typical,’ he grunted before picking up his jacket. ‘Do it yourself, Mikos, go over there, Mikos; three bags fucking full, Mikos.’

***

He kicked a loose stone across the floor as he carried on down the road, fulfilling the captain’s request for an audience. It was cold and he really didn’t want to be out amongst the blackened nooks and crannies of the city, but he decided that it would be in his best interests to indulge the man.

              The sky was clear, and the stars shimmered up above in the deep blue blanket like moon beams on crisp, clear waters. The twin moons themselves stood high over the horizon, their majestic presence watching over the land with a caring gaze.

              Lanterns and magi-lights illuminated the windows of the buildings along the street, the gleam from their warming rays highlighting the outer walls. Most of these homes were made of a sturdy mixture of steel-laced concrete blocks, treated wood, and wattle and daub mixtures. These were a typical reflection of the mid-town residents and their wealth.

              The high-town, on the other hand, was the very depiction of what glamorous splendour and deep, gold-lined pockets could produce. With its vast sea of estate houses, each with their own acre of land, it was hard not to be in awe of how much money there actually was in the world; albeit most of the wealth was lying in the security of the land rather than gold, silver, and rubos. The whitewashed exteriors were decorated with interlocking oak beams that gave a regal-like appearance to them, as well as the expensively tiled roofs and purposely placed green ivy.

              The wind suddenly shifted, causing Mikos to freeze on the spot. As he attempted to rub his hands into a warmer state, the sound of clinking bottles was carried along the ferocious gusts from one of the side streets that ran in between a couple of the empty homes. He diverted his eyes from his hands to the void of the passageway. It was as if he was staring into the gaping mouth of nothingness – no sound, no light; no feeling. There was only the strong smell; it was lurid, and had the odour of something complex and unclean… maybe even decaying. He turned slightly on the balls of his feet, adjusting his stance to face the gaping darkness.

              It all happened in a flash.

              His face was squashed up against the nearby wall with a force that nearly broke his jaw in half. A couple of swift, sharp jabs to his kidneys rendered him dazed and unable to contain his cries of surprised pain. He was slammed against the wall again. What was going on? He could feel the warm waterfall of blood now oozing from his face, and the stinging to go with it.

              He swung his elbow out quickly and caught somebody in the chest. A low grunt came from the attacker before a fist replied into his lower back. Mikos grimaced then pushed his body backwards, using his entire weight as a weapon; not that he weighed that much. Another set of hands grabbed him, and another; and another… just how many of them were there? He could maybe make out three or four shaded people, but it was hard to tell with a now blackened eye and a lack of street lighting.

‘Get the fuck off me, you bastards,’ he grumbled angrily.

              Before he could compose himself for another show of defiance, a stifling cloth bag was forced over his head and held tight, restricting his breathing. He lashed about and managed to kick someone with his swinging right leg. He deduced from the frantic yelps that he had hit a soft spot, and hopefully caused some damage.

The gang of attackers, after more relentless blows, shuffled him out of the street and into the stench-filled alley. What was that smell? One of the attackers gave him a couple of stout whacks with the hilt of a sword for good measure before sliding the bag off his head.

Mikos’s head swirled around in a disoriented circle, his vision flickering in and out of focus. A gruff voice breathed heavily in his ear; something inaudible even at this unbearable closeness.

He groaned. ‘What… do you want?’

The figure raised a club-like weapon in the air and bashed him into unconsciousness.

Chapter 4

There was a rush of something that he couldn’t make out in the distance – probably another anomaly from one of the islands. The ground was hard and uneven, his feet taking a long time to adjust to the hills and mountains of dirt underneath him.

              Another vibrant whoosh, this time a lot closer to Byde’s ears, sounded from the distance again. Where was that coming from? He strained to see through the thick choking fog that had settled over the central Dinsk Island. It was hanging on the back of his throat like a manifesting cold, scraping against it like sandpaper. Wind assaulted his face without relent or feeling.

              He stopped abruptly as a larger mound of earth tripped him up. He smacked onto the muddy ground, wrenching his shoulder as he tried to take his own weight. A clumsy roll around in the muck and he was up once more, ignoring the dark brown splats on his black and white robes.

              The sword at his side batted against his thigh as he started to hobble over some torn down walls of what used to be a civilisation from ages past. Byde had always known that he was probably the last inhabitant of the Isles of Dinsk – the mist shrouded islands east of Cryldis Island – but, as of the day before, that had not been the case.

Life as a hermit on a set of islands that were deemed too dangerous to go anywhere near had been long and boring. He had spent the past four decades whiling away the days with meditation, sword training, research (both scientific and magical), experiments, and other varied tasks. His diet consisted of whatever the magical device in his cellar spat out day by day – usually a plate of magically balanced vitamins, minerals, and other vital nutrients. It was not that great as the taste was questionable, but if he wanted to live then getting used to it was necessary. At least his body was healthy for the trial now ahead of him.

              The fog grew thicker and thicker – his plan was working to a degree.

Another relentless whoosh flew past his ears. The ground exploded, shaking the area into submission. Pieces of stone, slabs of dirt, and sods of grass flew all around Byde’s head like converging arrow fire. An oversized chunk of soil thumped itself into his side, vibrating his entire body. He gritted his teeth while he staggered onwards, winded once again.

              Another explosion.

              Some sort of artillery was being used, most probably magical in nature, and undoubtedly deadly. Meteor-like missiles of matter were being launched at him from the distance. His home had been crushed as if it had been made of paper, his small garden upturned, and his only boat had been sunk to the bottom of the shallow harbour. Now it was a race for life.

              Something pushed from behind and tossed him forward through the air. The fog was beginning to lose its effectiveness, patches of clarity rupturing through its veil. He may have caused this fog, but he was starting to find it more of a hindrance than a help now.

             
Boom. Boom. Boom
.

Everything was shaking.

Byde caught his foot in a freshly formed crack in the floor. How many more falls was he going to have? His chest heaved with stinted breath as he got up again. He felt his face – it was overly hot. He patted his chest – his torso was rampant with out of control shivers, but he had to press on.

              ‘Holy hell.’

              Crackling fires erupted from the demonic ground, hurtling chunks of molten rock into the sky and raining complete chaos back down. The Isles of Dinsk were extremely unstable, with many unknown magical pockets hidden all over the place. Why there were magical properties in the islands nobody knew; the forces of nature just seemed to be aggressively tangible here.

              ‘Damn magical anomalies.’ Byde cursed and swung to one side as a heated lump landed in front of him. The fog was dissipating quicker than before; soon he would be an easy target for whoever was attacking him.

              He wiped his sweat ridden brown hair out of his face and tucked it into the neck of his robe. A sudden jolt of energy and the hill beneath him slid downwards, taking him along with it. The thickened muddy medium was now a flowing mass of forceful nature. As Byde reached the bottom of the newly created hillside he rolled forwards, landing on his front. He spat out remnants of mud from his mouth and achingly carried on with much trouble; his arms and legs were burning with hellfire.