Blood and Fire (Book 3)

by Marcus Alexander

  Contents

  1. Rude Awakenings

  2. Debris and Hangovers

  3. Dark Paths

  4. Outnumbered

  5. Loyalties

  6. Messages and Tall Tails

  7. Wings

  8. Words of Warning

  9. New Horizons

  10. A Hasty Reunion

  11. A New Direction

  12. Temples

  13. A Study of Shadows

  14. Up the Ante

  15. Shared Stories

  16. Screams in the Night

  17. Red Eyes and More Coffee

  18. The Chancellor

  19. Howly-Howly Monsters

  20. Menacing Skies

  21. Clipped Wings

  22. Challenges Given, Challenges Met

  23. Shadow Play

  24. The Serpent’s Tail

  25. Hummingbird

  26. The Last Dinner

  27. Beacons of Light

  28. Winged Delight

  29. One Last Push

  30. Last-minute Plans

  31. Talk of the Future

  32. The Calm Before the Storm

  33. Mosaics

  34. The Gateway

  35. Hotstepper

  36. Dragonsblood

  37. Torn Moon

  38. The Winged Realm

  39. Rumbling Hunger

  40. Wisdom

  41. Verraverry Berry

  42. Fluttercarp

  43. Indigo Sky

  44. The Golden Mountain

  45. The Return

  46. First Taste of Victory

  47. Sylvaris

  48. Brokering the Peace

  49. Dark Wings Over Deepforest

  50. Black Orchids

  51. A Division of Forces

  52. The Jade Tower

  53. Goodbyes

  54. The Western Mountains

  55. Falling in the Dark

  56. Fear

  57. Anger

  58. The Horror

  59. Appetite

  60. Fallen Wings

  61. Stone Bishops

  62. The Throne Room

  63. Bane

  64. Lost

  65. Bane’s Tapestry

  66. Crow

  67. Judgement

  68. Crow’s Revenge

  69. The Day After

  70. Nibbler

  71. Celebrations

  After several incident-filled years of travelling the world, Marcus Alexander decided to pack in all serious attempts at reaching maturity, and instead embraced the much more suitable world of parchment scribbling for a living.

  Marcus has a fondness for causing mischief, knows how to run really, really fast when he’s in trouble and knows how to duck out of sight when someone points the long, bony finger of blame.

  Find out more about him and Charlie’s adventures at

  www.keeperoftherealms.com

  Books by Marcus Alexander

  The Keeper of the Realms series

  CROW’S REVENGE

  THE DARK ARMY

  BLOOD AND FIRE

  Oh, my Sweet Adrenalin Days!

  It’s the looooooooooongest Shout-Out ever!!

  For my paaaaaarty peeps: Marisa, Veronica, Macalicious, Leafy, Dee, Nui, Nat, Dalal, Gavin & Seanie-Boy, you rooooock (for real!)

  For my boarding brothers & sisters: Pea, Fat Tone, Darren, David, Emma & Caroline

  For my gym brethren: Dara, Steve, Saaina, Ilan, Maria, Luke, Obie, Marc, Valentino, Hose, Anna, Gabby, Shelley, Eddie-ninja, Kim, Phoebe, Adam, Erol, Rashid, Basil, Silje, Helen, Frank, Dan, Rocky, Alex, Alfie, Katherine, Chris, Nikhol, Daniel, Akos, Alex, Felix, Andrei, Ryan, Zoe, Poyaaaa, Simon, Alex, Ash, K, Kay, Toni, Adrian & Danny

  For my polymath dudes of zen: Dan, Vanessa & Joey (you guys are too inspiring!)

  For my homegrown peoples: Tommy, Daniel, David, Gautam, Dylan, Kelly, Abi, Christiane, Anette, Bernie, Tolu, Dionne, Andrea & Cheeky Ruth, Rusty, Gabbie, Ellie, Tommy, Paula, Monica, Kitch, Claire, Richard, Emma, Charlotte, Lyria, Kate, Paul, Darren, Kenye, Simon, Riff-Rafia, Anjali, Goksel, Cress, Laurie, D, Richard, Rohini, Allyson, Seasalt, Alex, Larissa, Scarlet, Su-Yin, Sarai, Raj, Andy, Kerry, Ed, Khadine, Claudette, Ant, Jonny, Les Pieroux, Larissa, Anne, Jada, Veronica, Kiko, the Four-L’s, Alice, Helen, Tracy, Nisha & Veronica

  For my PK peeps: John, Naomi, Andy, Yao, Abdu, Ronnie, Shi, Blaine, Alex & James

  For the writers that I aspire to be like: Chris, Andy, Adisa & Dillon

  For my talented dancers: Shelley, Maria, G, Matthew, Sabrina & Theoharis

  For my dare-all-wins self-employed peoples: Pi-Joe, Lisa, Boyarde, Pi-Neung, Tim & Julie (y’all braver than most!)

  For those across the pond: Jeff, Jeff & Ana & always for A, J & Sheenie x

  Thank you all. You’ve bettered my life & fired my imagination.

  Let’s party.

  Marcus x

  1

  Rude Awakenings

  An insistent hand shook Charlie’s shoulder.

  Roused from her dreams, she opened her eyes to find Marsila Keeper leaning over her. For some reason the woman had chosen not to remove the ribbon of yesterday’s red warpaint from across her eyes. ‘What is it, Marsila?’

  ‘Lady Dridif has summoned us. Get up, get dressed and meet me outside in the corridor.’

  As tired as Charlie was, it wasn’t hard to guess what the leader of the Jade Circle wished to discuss.

  The pendant.

  ‘’K,’ mumbled Charlie. Covering a yawn, she sat up and swung her legs out of bed.

  ‘Good. Be outside in five,’ instructed Marsila before heading out the door.

  With only a limited time in which to prepare, Charlie staggered around the room desperately trying to tidy her messy blonde hair into some semblance of a topknot while also searching for fresh water with which to fill the washbasin. This was not, after all, Charlie’s usual room of residence. Yesterday’s battle for Sylvaris had left the city war-torn and in a state of near ruin. Safe dwellings were in short supply, which was why Lady Dridif had insisted that Charlie and her companions spend the night in the Jade Tower.

  As she went through the automatic motions of washing and dressing, she mulled over recent events.

  Since being forced from London to the realm of Bellania, Charlie had discovered many secrets, the most important of which was that her parents, missing since she was seven, had been captured by Bane, lord of the Stoman people. The relief of finally knowing that they were still alive and had not intentionally abandoned her had been tempered when she was informed that her parents had been placed in Bane’s Tapestry. It was a gruesome fate that left them displayed, like trophies, in an amber-like substance that kept them neither alive nor dead, but in a state of suspended animation.

  And ever since Charlie had learned this, Bane had continued to be a deep and bloody wound in her side. He was a festering malady that would not heal. It was his actions that had caused all the spite and misery in her world and until he was dethroned from his seat of power he would continue to rip and tear at Charlie’s life, never allowing her the chance to recover, never allowing her the chance to mend her family. She paused to pull a bitter face as she tugged on her boots. ‘Stupid giant,’ she muttered. The thought of him instantly soured her mood. ‘I’m going to rip that hood off his head and stuff it in his ears if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Suddenly furious, she clenched her hands into tight fists.

  Monstrously cruel and infinitely ambitious, Bane had set his sights on conquering all of Bellania. And while her parents, as Keepers of the Realms, had been among the first to fall, countless others had suffered too.

  Bane had united all the Stoman tribes beneath him, then raised thr
ee of the largest armies that Bellania had ever seen. Certain of his superiority, he had promptly waged war against all the free lands. He had also prevented the mighty dragons, known as the Winged Ones, from returning from their seven-year cycle of absence. And without the possibility of the Winged Ones returning to restore balance Bane had been free to pursue his dreams of power.

  It was a time of blood, chaos and war.

  Two of Bane’s armies had conquered the twin cities of Alavis and Alacorn, defeating the Human forces and bringing their land under Stoman control. And while everyone was focused on the events in Alavis and Alacorn, the largest of Bane’s armies, known as the ‘First’, had snuck across the Great Plains to strike against the Treman capital, Sylvaris.

  The Treman army had been torn to shreds and the city nearly destroyed. Charlie’s triumphant return with her own dark army had saved what was left of the city and defeated Bane’s First. But it had come at a cost: the gargoyle-like soldiers that she controlled had eventually been crushed, leaving the city defenceless.

  ‘And Bane’s still got two more armies …’ said Charlie out loud, finishing the thoughts rippling through her head.

  Hoping that this was a problem the Jade Circle would be able to deal with, she slipped her arms into a black jacket, checked her hair in the large mirror hanging slightly crookedly on the wall, then hastened out the door.

  She found Marsila seated on a bench. The woman sheathed the knife she had been using to clean her nails, then uncoiled upward in an elegant tangle of long limbs and dark clothing. Everything she wore, from the reinforced boots to the tight Trellisweave trousers and the long-sleeved Skysilk shirt, gave the strong indication that she was prepared for action, perhaps even thirsted for it. And if the clothes weren’t message enough, the many knives strapped to her person underlined her deadly potential. Which was odd, thought Charlie, because when you looked past all the knives and warpaint to the person beneath you could see that this green-eyed, black-haired Keeper was beautiful. But after Charlie’s turbulent experiences in Bellania she had swiftly learned to look past someone’s appearance and to judge them only by their actions. Having fought by Marsila’s side in the battle to save Sylvaris, she knew the Keeper was one of the few people she could trust.

  ‘Good,’ said Marsila once she had checked that Charlie was indeed fully dressed and ready to move. ‘Let’s go and see what task Lady Dridif has in store for us.’

  Far to the south, Jensen too was waking from his slumber. But unlike Charlie, he was sleeping rough. The sky was his roof and the hard ground his mattress. A blanket provided some warmth and a thin bedroll gave some cushioning but that was his only measure of comfort. Yet he was one of the lucky ones; others amongst his party had a harder time of it. Those without bedrolls had to make do with layers of leaves and hay as a means of insulating themselves from the cold.

  It was a rough and ready approach to wilderness survival.

  What had made the night even harder to endure was the lack of a campfire. They were in hostile territory and could not risk the luxury of light or heat.

  Marsila Keeper

  Sighing unhappily, Jensen threw back his blanket, pushed himself upright and threaded his feet into his sandals. Raising his arms overhead, he stretched and did his best to unlock his stiff muscles. Like many of his race, Jensen was short and wiry; his skin was green and he had a fondness for wearing olive- and tan-coloured clothing. Again like many of the Tremen, his hair was tied up into a perky topknot that bobbed above his head, a brightly coloured feather threaded through it, and his long earlobes were pierced with wooden hoops. He stopped stretching when his back gave a satisfactory ‘pop’, paused briefly to check his topknot was in place, lifted the sword loaned to him as a poor substitute for the Thornsword he had left buried in Fo Fum’s side, then staggered through the pre-dawn darkness to greet one of the sentries.

  ‘Sweet Sap, but I’d give a prince’s ransom for a cup of coffee and a toasty set of slippers,’ said Jensen.

  The sentry grinned at that. ‘Well, we all know ya can afford a prince’s ransom. However, us lowly soldiers have ta be resourceful when it comes ta staying warm.’ Reaching into his tunic, he pulled free a small flask. ‘Try dis. Old family recipe.’

  Jensen pulled off the cap and peered inside. ‘Has that got any of me Moreish powder in it?’

  ‘No, dis is a man’s drink! Me grandpa used ta call it his “sunshine shuffle”.’

  Jensen’s brow furrowed. ‘Shouldn’t that be “moonshine shuffle”?’

  ‘Nope. A swig of dis will make ya feel as though the sun is coming up, not going down!’

  Unable to resist the man’s good humour, Jensen took a pull on the flask. A slow smile blossomed across his lips as he felt its effects.

  ‘Good stuff indeed. Yer grandpa obviously knew wot he was talking about.’

  The sentry shared Jensen’s quiet chuckle.

  ‘How has yer watch been?’

  ‘Quiet,’ answered the sentry. ‘And I’m hoping it stays that way.’

  The first ray of sunshine broke the horizon, casting back the darkness and bringing with it a welcome promise of warmth.

  Jensen grinned at the synchronicity of the moment. ‘Did yer grandpa really call that stuff sunshine shuffle or do ya just have a great sense of timing?’

  The sentry, like many of his profession, was enjoying the banter. He was about to reply when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

  A shadow had failed to disappear with the rising of the sun. Noting the look of horror in the man’s eyes, Jensen drew his sword.

  Sensing that it had been spotted, the Shade hissed in annoyance. The sibilant sound was repeated from other shadowy nooks and crannies as its brethren shared its anger.

  ‘Blight me Leaf!’ snarled the sentry. Flowing from where he sat, he too drew his sword.

  ‘Ambush! Ambush! Up arms!’

  2

  Debris and Hangovers

  The Stoman guards couldn’t quite fathom the meaning of their task. Nor did they enjoy it, but they knew better than to question their lord’s demands. So, ignoring the stink and enduring the back-breaking work, all seven of them continued to pull the rubble from the ruined pit until they found what they were looking for.

  It was not a pretty sight. The two great beasts lay in a festering mass of shattered wings and torn, slimy flesh. Picking the least damaged, the guards grabbed the corpse by the tail and heaved it to the top of the pit. They hauled it along dank corridors, grunting and cursing as they went. After a long toil they reached better decorated parts of the palace; here too they continued to lug their catch along. Past alcoves that held jewels and treasures, beneath archways decorated with captured weapons and brushing past gorgeous tapestries, they did not slow, nor did they think twice when forced to pull their leaking load across rare and precious carpets, ruining them with stains that would never wash out.

  Sweating heavily, they approached their final destination.

  The Throne Room.

  Men-at-arms swung open the spiked doors. Tufts of mist, the soft hiss of hidden Shades and an oppressive atmosphere dribbled from between the doors to lap around their feet. Swallowing their fear, they adjusted their grip and hauled the dead monster after them.

  Rows of footmen and guards armed with huge axes turned to stare as they trudged into the centre of the room but the Stomen ignored these sentinels; they only had eyes for the giant brooding upon the infamous Devouring Throne.

  ‘My lor–’ coughed one and had to start again as fear clenched his throat. ‘My lord, as you commanded … the Wyrm.’

  Slowly Bane’s head lifted. His face could not be seen beneath the thick shadow of his hood, but when his voice rumbled across the Throne Room it carried a merciless tone of command. ‘Good. You have done … well.’

  Bane unfolded himself from his throne and thudded down the dais. Looming over the guards, he studied the broken Wyrm. Pleased with what he saw, he grasped the corpse by the tail and strode off,
trailing the Wyrm behind him as easily as a child dragging a stuffed toy.

  ‘Crowman,’ boomed Bane. ‘Follow me. It is time to test the merit of your idea.’

  The guards watched with open mouths as their lord marched to the rear of the Throne Room and disappeared into a tunnel. The Wyrm was a huge beast, terrifying even in death, yet it looked like a puppy next to the craggy frame of their master.

  Their expressions of wonder turned to fear as a flock of birds whirled down from the ceiling in a spiralling mass of inky wings. Just before the birds sped into the tunnel the guards thought they saw the wings merge and take the shape of a man.

  Stoman warrior

  A tall, skinny man.

  Fear rising to new heights, the guards hastened from the room as fast as protocol would allow.

  It was apparent that the Jade Tower had not escaped the battle for Sylvaris unscathed. The stairs that Charlie and Marsila descended bore signs of structural damage. Cracks marred the stairwell wall and entire stretches of banister were missing; these had been temporarily replaced with spans of knotted rope to be used less as a handrail and more as a safety measure to prevent anyone plummeting over the side.

  At odds with the damage were the signs of merriment that lay discarded in unexpected places. Charlie saw bright masquerade masks hanging from statues, pieces of clothing strewn on the floor, half-empty bottles of liquor lying in corners and plates of partially eaten food left in alcoves.

  Patches of memory from last night floated to the surface of Charlie’s sleep-befuddled brain. Yesterday’s battle had been fierce (and unlike anything she had ever experienced or indeed ever wished to experience again), but in true Treman fashion the populace of Sylvaris had celebrated their victory in flamboyant style. There had been a parade and street party of almost epic proportions. Charlie rubbed at the bags beneath her eyes and couldn’t help but grin as she recalled singing badly and off-key with Kelko as they stumbled from an impromptu game of K’Changa to join a group of councillors dancing on one of Sylvaris’s sweeping bridges.