Secrets of Arkana Fortress Read Online Free Page A

Come on it’s never too early for another one.’
                  The man said nothing and kept hauling Kelken along.
                  ‘Another drink it is then. Where’s the next pub… tavern… thing… place?’
                  The street was deserted apart from a few scavenging dogs and cats. The smell of rotting faeces permeated the air around them adding to their constant nausea. The buildings on the sides of the street were mostly abandoned; having been boarded up with haste, the previous occupants scampering away to better places.
    This was the one part of Donnol that had been neglected; mainly because of the city’s ever increasing cash-flow crisis. Times were grim, and the politicians were stuck with the issue of what to do about money. Many of them had blown it on tackling the plague; and the threat of raids and skirmishes from outsiders… all to no avail. An enormous rain cloud hung over the city with distress and despair; and nobody had a solution.
    Kelken slammed onto the ground with a disconcerting thump as the blonde man dropped him, the weight finally being too much for his narrow shoulders. He panted heavily as he arched his back and cracked his spine back into place. ‘You heavy fucker,’ he mumbled dryly with much disdain.
                  Kelken snorted from the cobbles, old rainwater sucking itself up into his nose. He choked before clearing his throat from the gritty taste. ‘I’m no heavy bugger – you’re just a weak little shit,’ he retorted as his freshly dirtied face lifted up to assess the surroundings. ‘You still gonna pour coffee down my gullet?’
                  ‘That’ll be the day old timer… the shop is gone.’ The blonde man palmed his face. ‘It was open yesterday… what the hell?’
                  ‘Oh, you know how it goes in the low-towns – people either get chucked out or killed for being in the way of the gangs and their ‘ reign ’ of damned terror.’ Kelken trailed off and grumbled a little before resting his head on the floor again.
                  The blonde man gently kicked him.
    Kelken grunted disapprovingly.
    He kicked him again, this time with more force.
    Kelken flailed his arm feebly as if batting away an annoying moth.
                  ‘For the love of the gods get the hell up, you stupid old git,’ the blonde man urged.
                  Kelken leaned his head to one side and watched the blonde man shuffling backwards toward him, the boarded shop front now adorned with shadowy figures. He lifted himself up partially and spat into a small puddle.
    ‘Who the fuck are them geezers?’
                  ‘I assume they’re the ones who closed the store,’ the blonde man said, hazarding a guess. He bent down and wrapped a hand around Kelken’s arm to lift him up.
    He batted it away. ‘I’m quite capable of… lifting myself up, y’know? What do you think I am – drunk or summat?’
    ‘Get up old man… quickly .’
    ‘Stop calling me old, you little sod; I’m only 52, y’know?’ he scorned, the slurring becoming less frequent. He dusted his outfit off and swayed as he stood, noting the three men slowly lumbering their way towards him. He assumed they were part of the local Vildilim gang who were something to be feared as they were high in number, always fought dirty, and never took on anything or anyone alone.
    The thugs stopped a few feet away from the two intoxicated men and, in unison, produced long knives from each of their sleeves. They wore sleeveless black hooded coats with long-sleeve brown tops underneath along with shabby leather belts across their chests.
    Kelken looked them up and down, his eyes fixing on their lack of footwear; and ripped, knee-length trousers. He inspected their faces; if there was one thing he still knew in his hazardous state of mind was that making eye contact with an opposition was to