Heeding Jensen’s call, Rocksteady spun round and went to his sibling’s aid. He sank his teeth into a Stowyrm’s tail and flung the creature into the lava. Free of one of his antagonists, Hotstepper was able to finish off the other.
‘Where’s Charlie?’ shouted Jensen.
Hotstepper spat the taste of Stowyrm from his mouth and growled. ‘Chaos! It is pure chaos up there! The young Keeper was knocked from my back during the ruckus!’
‘Well, wot are we waiting for?’
Hotstepper didn’t reply but nodded to show his willingness to find their young colleague.
Rocksteady, however, shook his head. ‘We cannot go back for one soul. Not when so many are at stake. We must continue!’
‘I’m not leaving Charlie!’ protested Jensen.
‘I cannot afford to divide my numbers any further. I have lost some of my crew in that maze of tunnels and I know not where they are! All I can hope is that those who are lost are causing enough chaos inside the Western Mountains to keep Bane occupied. But as for the rest of us, we must continue with the task at hand. We must!’
‘I can’t leave her up there,’ repeated Jensen. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got ta go.’
‘And how will you find her without wings?’ asked Rocksteady.
‘I’ll take him,’ said Hotstepper.
Unwilling to argue but making his displeasure known, Rocksteady allowed Jensen the time to jump to his brethren’s back.
‘Luck be with us all!’ called Rocksteady, then returned to his allotted task.
Hotstepper flailed his wings until he was facing the other way. He waited until the rest of the Winged Ones exited the tunnel and prepared to ascend, but halted when a smaller shape burst from the shadows with a flutter of wings. It was Nibbler.
‘Hey, what are you doing on Hotstepper’s back?’ he asked in confusion. ‘Did you swap seats with Charlie?’
‘We lost her in the tunnel!’ said Jensen.
Nibbler frowned and, without waiting for them, sped back the way he’d come. Hotstepper and Jensen raced to join him.
Kicking out yet another grille, Charlie wriggled free from the vent and dropped to the floor below to find herself in a gloomy tunnel that stank of decaying matter. The walls were rough and craggy, and the floor dry with the dust of ages. There were flickering torches hanging on brackets but they were few and far between and did little to push back the shadows. Both directions looked unappealing so Charlie picked one at random. As she trotted along she heard a soft scrape from behind. She peered back the way she had come but could see nothing. Assuming it was just another of the fat toads, she continued on her way.
Then froze when she realized her mistake. If it had been a toad she would have seen its luminescence.
Gulping, she spun round and pushed a questioning flicker of Will into the darkness. It revealed a Rhinospider that had been stealthily hunting her. As Charlie gazed at its row of beady eyes, bloated body and spindly legs, she felt a surge of arachnophobia rise in her gorge. The thing scuttled forward and pounced. Charlie yelled and, unwilling to touch it with her fists, instead beat it back with a flurry of Will until it crumpled into a heap. Panting heavily, she checked there was no chance of it bothering her again, then turned and ran.
Seconds later, she looked back again at the sound of yet another rustle and a hiss from behind. She raised her flaming hands. She had feared another Rhinospider but was horrified to find herself instead facing a full pack of Shades. Having lost the element of surprise, they howled towards her. Panicked, Charlie slammed a wall of Will across the passageway. She paused to watch as they struck and spat at her glimmering barrier. When she was certain they couldn’t get past she fled once more.
Only to stagger to a stop.
Looking ahead, she could see no end to the tunnel. She groaned as she understood the ramifications: the further she travelled from her shield, the harder it became to hold. She wouldn’t be able to maintain her barrier long enough for her to escape this subterranean passageway.
That meant she was going to have to face the Shades.
She hesitantly made her way back. They were still there, still slamming and pounding at the constraining layer of gold. She forced herself to look at them. As she stared at their inky flesh, their writhing tendrils and clawed appendages, she became aware that this was nothing she hadn’t seen before. She had fought dozens and dozens of Shades and had survived.
Her fear dwindled and a glimmer of anger took its place.
The Shades were a strong sign of Bane’s blight across the land and as long as they roamed free Bellania would struggle to bloom.
‘Are you sure you want to come and get me?’ she asked them.
The Shades didn’t answer her but continued to strike the wall.
‘Are you sure?’ she yelled and struck one of her own fists against the barrier, causing it to spark violently.
The Shades exploded into a frenzy, spitting and hissing as they tried even harder to reach her.
‘Right! You want it, you got it!’
Tugging the shield aside, she raised her burning hands and slammed into the pack.
It took her less time than she’d thought.
As the shadowy remnants of the Shades evaporated, she pulled back her lips and howled. She was done with fear. If anyone was to feel a sense of dread it would be her enemies, not her. Growling like a beast, she hurtled down the tunnel.
And if she encountered any more Shades, Rhinospiders or random creepy-crawlies she would make them sorry.
57
Anger
Rocksteady and his crew pushed and fought their way deeper into the tunnel. The light that they assumed to be their destination drew closer but with it came an increase in opposition. More and more Stowyrms appeared in a steady stream that bogged them down. Metre by metre, he and his crew clawed and bit and lashed their way forward, ripping the wings off their opponents or shattering them with great forks of lightning. But it was a slow advance. Too slow for Rocksteady’s liking. As another trickle of Stowyrms approached, it was the final nudge that tipped the balance of power against them. Their advance stumbled to a halt.
Stalemate.
The combat intensified and Rocksteady tried to take stock of his forces. It didn’t look good: three or four had fallen to the enemy and they were few in number. Too few.
‘Thief Cutter!’ he cried. ‘Where is Last Laugh? Where are the rest of our brethren?’
‘We lost him as we descended beneath the Western Mountains. One of my crew thinks they saw him take a wrong turn,’ replied Thief Cutter. ‘And Last Laugh was not the only one to disappear. Half his crew tried to follow him too! This is a shambles! Should we fall back and regroup?’
‘No! If they are lost, they are lost! We must push on!’ Rocksteady raised his voice so all the Winged Ones could hear him. ‘Keep going, we are almost there! Push! Push!’
After finally finding a way out of the gloomy tunnel Charlie had progressed up a long, rickety set of stairs, thick with cobwebs and discarded bones, to find herself in a huge hallway decorated with imposing statues and illuminated by glowing crystals that hung from the ceiling.
Again uncertain as to which direction to take, Charlie was about to pick one at random when a Winged One burst through a wall, careened through another, then disappeared on its way to wherever it was going in a rumble of destruction and a cloud of dust and debris.
Amazed, Charlie just stood there. She thought the Winged One looked like it belonged to Last Laugh’s crew, but what was it doing there? Was it as lost as she was?
She heard shouts of fury and before she could think to hide a crowd of Stonesingers and Stomen appeared, intent on chasing the Winged One. Many of them didn’t see her and sped onward. However, those who did notice stopped to stare.
The soldiers looked furious. Hefting heavy cudgels and cruel maces, they glared at her in astonishment. The Stonesingers, in contrast, appeared quite happy to find someone to vent their cruelty upon. Chanti
ng softly, they caused the purple flames of their power to writhe higher around their forearms.
‘Keeper,’ grunted one when he noticed the flicker of Will surrounding her.
‘Young ’un,’ sneered another.
They chuckled and shared mocking stares.
Charlie couldn’t be bothered to wait for them to make the first move. Still gorged on anger, she summoned her Will and charged forward with it billowing around her.
Fists blurring, she pummelled two, then three, into submission. Blocking a strike with a flurry of sparks, she cartwheeled into a frothing soldier, then punched another in both knees before finishing him with a blow to the head. Using her small stature to her advantage, she spun and twisted, kneed and kicked her adversaries into submission. As she finished the last of them she found herself standing on the broad chest of one of the fallen Stonesingers. She gazed down into his bleary eyes.
‘Which way to Bane’s Throne Room?’ she asked.
‘Loyal,’ he mumbled, ‘I’m still loyal. You won’t get that out of me.’
Growling, she raised her hands theatrically overhead.
‘If you don’t tell me I’ll open a Portal to the Winged Ones’ Realm and get them to ask the questions instead.
‘Keepers can’t open Portals to the Winged Realm, only Gateways,’ groaned the Stonesinger. ‘And we both know that my lord has barred Portals from working in our city.’
‘Oh yeah?’ bluffed Charlie. ‘Try this for size.’
She tore open a Portal.
The Stonesinger’s eyes widened in disbelief as her actions appeared to prove his words wrong. As the rumble and whoosh of something approaching grew louder, his nerve crumbled. ‘Th-that way,’ he stuttered, unable to bear the thought of being judged in the Winged Realm. He pointed down the hall.
Charlie grinned and held the screaming Portal open anyway. She waited for a small mound of orchids to fall to the floor before allowing it to close. The following silence was a merciful contrast.
‘Oops, guess you were right about the Portal, but thanks anyway,’ said Charlie. ‘Now normally I’d hang around and do my best to say something witty but my brain’s a little scrambled at the moment. So what I’m going to do instead is tuck one of these orchids behind your ear –’ she pressed the flower into place – ‘and leave you looking pretty. After all, even a big bad Stonesinger like yourself shouldn’t feel he has to look like a hard man all the time, right?’
The Stonesinger opened his mouth once or twice like a landlocked fish but was too beaten to say anything.
‘No reply? Ah, don’t worry. I’ve got to go – people to beat, giants to topple. You know how it is.’
Charlie scampered off.
Last Laugh was lost. More than lost; he had no idea how to rejoin his crew and comrades and finish his allotted task. Rather than bemoan his error, he jumped at the opportunity to wreak as much chaos as possible, reasoning that it would buy his brethren time to finish off Bane’s erroneously titled ‘god’.
His duty was first and foremost in his mind as he started his new undertaking. With fire and lightning, claws and muscular tail, he began to slam through the subterranean palace, wrecking all that he could find.
Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might even bump into that arrogant Stoman, Bane. If he did, he would teach him a lesson he would never forget.
The thought brought a smile to his face.
58
The Horror
‘Oh, come on!’ complained Charlie. ‘Lost again? Again?’
Thinking that she was perhaps too old to stamp her feet, she instead crossed her arms and frowned. She had made good progress and, having left the utilitarian corridors behind to reach richer passageways, she was sure she was nearing her goal. She had also encountered fewer soldiers and more servants, which she took as a good sign, but now with no one around to ask directions she was stumped.
She strode forward and opened a door at random.
It was a cleaning cupboard.
‘Gah!’ Completely forgetting her earlier decision, she stomped her foot, the sound of it striking the marble floor carrying off into the distance.
Almost snarling with frustration, and hoping that she would encounter some idiotic Stonesinger so she could release some anger, she ripped a door off its hinges and – to her surprise – found herself staring into a kitchen of daunting proportions.
On one side she could see pastry chefs working at flour-coated benches mixing batter for cakes and piping melted chocolate into intricate shapes. On the other, hotter side of the kitchen she could see more chefs toiling over steaming pots, flaming woks and bubbling vats. Spits of meat roasted over fires, ovens belched out smoke, and kitchen porters hustled and bustled around in search of potatoes to peel and pots to scrub. Strange scents, spices and the wonderful smell of grilled meat filled her nose and caused her stomach to gurgle with hunger. It had been a long time since she had last eaten.
Screaming constantly over the noise of culinary labour was a gigantic head chef, big even by his race’s standards. While Stomen were normally clean-shaven, this man had a long beard that had been neatly tied with the help of a black ribbon. One of his ears had been pierced with a long line of rubies while the other was missing completely. A large white hat hung at a rakish angle and a chef’s tunic did little to disguise his muscular physique. In his hands were a cleaver and a rolling pin, but both were so large they could easily have been mistaken for weapons of war rather than the tools of his trade.
When she saw that only a very confused kitchen porter had noticed her entrance, Charlie hastily dropped the door and scampered in. Thinking that she could perhaps get past the brigade of chefs without a fight, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked through the steam, smoke and flour dust as though she belonged there.
It went well until the moment when an overworked commis chef stepped backwards and nearly tripped over her.
‘Watch it!’ he said. Then, ‘Hey, what are you doing here? Chef! Chef! One of the goods got out of the larder!’
Having absolutely no idea what he was talking about, Charlie picked up a pot and cracked him over the head with it.
Ducking low, she scuttled down to the end of the aisle and slinked round the corner, only to bump into a surprised-looking pastry chef.
‘How did you get out?’ he asked. With a frown, he tried to pick her up but Charlie was having none of it. Kicking him hard in the shin, she brought him down to her height, then rendered him unconscious with a blow from her glowing fist.
‘What is going on?’ she muttered in confusion. Clearly these chefs had been working too long in the kitchen heat because they were all mad and making no sense whatsoever.
She stood for a moment, rubbing at her forehead, and decided to get through the kitchen as swiftly as possible so she could return to beating Shades and Stonesingers. At least she knew where she stood with them.
SCCKRMPF!
The head chef’s cleaver buried itself into a wooden work station mere centimetres away from her head.
Charlie gulped at the near miss, then looked up the blade, along the length of the chef’s arm to stare directly into his cold eyes.
‘You’ve got five seconds to crawl back into the pantry before I cut your limbs off and turn you into seasoned broth!’
That was it. Charlie had had enough. The anger that had been simmering inside her suddenly boiled.
‘Cut my limbs off? Don’t be a fool! Get out of my way or I’m going to rip that silly ribbon out of your beard and make you eat it!’
When the head chef failed to budge and instead raised his rolling pin in a threatening gesture, she didn’t hesitate to strike but he quickly countered her attack with a twist of his cleaver. Surprised by his skill, Charlie chased him back down the aisle, raining blow after blow on him, but he deflected each with casual sweeps of his blade. This was a man who knew how to use his tool of choice with the same precision that a master swordsman would use his. Sparks flew as me
tal met Will, and the shouts of the two combatants caused the other chefs to look up from their work in alarm.
Growing ever more furious, Charlie pulled deeper on her Will and was about to really let loose when the head chef swung at her with his rolling pin. Swift as ever, she ducked beneath it, and with its momentum unchecked it cracked against a large pot, spilling its contents all across the floor.
Charlie stopped when she saw the ingredients.
Hands. Lots of hands.
Her anger vanished.
Her stomach heaved.
All this time she had heard rumours of Bane’s appetites but this was too much. It was the cold slap in the face that really woke her up to the nasty extent of Bane’s twisted cruelty.
A young chef, keen to defend his boss, threw a frying pan at her head. She blocked it without thinking.
‘How …?’ she began but was so overcome with horror that she couldn’t finish.
Another chef barrelled down the aisle and attempted to wrestle her to the ground. She knocked him senseless.
‘Why …?’ she tried again but couldn’t get the words to come out of her mouth.
Suddenly all the chefs and kitchen porters piled in with knives, pots, pans and meat hooks held in their calloused hands. Charlie was too preoccupied by her unpleasant discovery to fight with any rage so she knocked them back with efficient but lacklustre movements. Ripping a pan from a kitchen porter’s hand, she parried a knife thrust and bashed its owner’s toes before throwing the pan with such force that it bowled three chefs from their feet. Still in a state of disbelief, Charlie moved stiffly and, with none of her usual grace, from opponent to opponent until all were groaning or lying still on the tiled floor.
Which just left the head chef.
The two adversaries stared at each other.
The head chef sneered and adjusted his grip on cleaver and pin.
Unfortunately Charlie didn’t manage to look quite as cool. Horrified at how the kitchen’s scents had at first caused her to salivate with hunger, she grabbed the closest pot and emptied her stomach’s contents into it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her face pale with nausea.
Blood and Fire (Book 3) Page 26
