Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2)

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘I’m not staying here!’

  ‘You can come with me, then.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To the end of the corridor.’

  ‘We’re in a corridor?’

  Charlie rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She didn’t remember being quite so dense when she was seven, but then again she appreciated that the girl was scared and remembered only too well how terrified she had been when she found out monsters were real. She would never forget the first time Mr Crow had come to give her a beating.

  ‘Look, honey, I’ve got to be honest. We’re not in a good situation, but there’s something important that I’ve got to do. Really important. So what I need you to do is stay by my side, be really quiet and I’ll make sure the two of us get out of here in one piece. Think you can do that for me? Stay quiet?’

  Lallinda nodded silently, keen to show that she knew how to keep her mouth shut.

  Charlie couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were very wide. Very innocent.

  ‘And, Lallinda, I know how horrible it is when someone asks you to be quiet, particularly someone older than you, but I really, really need to keep my wits about me. I need to listen and I need to stay on my toes so, uh, just keep quiet and be ready to move fast. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Lallinda, doing her best to flash a brave smile even though her eyes were still wet with tears.

  ‘Great.’

  Charlie took the girl by the hand, poked her head out of the door to double check the corridor was still clear, then headed towards the last three doors on the right. As she approached the first, she released Lallinda’s hand, grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

  A huge mouth lunged at her, all sharp teeth, rotten breath and rolling tongue. The mouth was the size of the doorway and the tongue unfurled towards her.

  Charlie hurriedly slammed the door shut.

  ‘Not that one, then.’

  Ignoring the slobbering and scritchy-scratchy noises coming from the first door she headed to the next. Taking a deep breath she eased it open.

  At first she thought the room was empty, but then she noticed a painting on the wall. It was a portrait of a woman with her eyes closed; something about it reminded Charlie of a pre-Raphaelite exhibition she’d seen on a school trip. So beautiful, but also so very, very sad.

  The woman’s eyes opened and looked directly at Charlie. Tears began to track down her face and dripped silently off the frame.

  Something about the painting – the woman’s eyes and her tears – dug at Charlie’s heart, but she honestly didn’t know if she should do something about it. Confused, she slowly backed away and closed the door.

  The experience cut her deeper than that of the lunging mouth. Hesitantly she made her way to the last door.

  When she opened it she was surprised to see that there were no beasties inside and no paintings – just a plinth, and on it a simple stone vessel, just as Darkmount had described.

  Charlie approached the pedestal and stood on tiptoes so she could peer into the urn.

  Stars. It was full of stars.

  Her hands trembled a little as she reached for it.

  As she plucked it from the plinth, a dry, rasping chuckle filled the room. The voice was promptly joined by others until the whole temple seemed to echo with wicked laughter.

  ‘Not good, not good,’ muttered Charlie, realizing that time had suddenly run out.

  Moving as quickly as she could, she stuffed the vessel into her backpack, grabbed Lallinda by the hand and ran into the corridor before staggering to a halt.

  The walls were sliding upward to reveal a forest of thick purple plants. Their fat leaves glistened with sticky-looking dew drops and stretching from plant stem to plant stem were thick strands of silk. The plants were so tightly packed and the light so poor that Charlie couldn’t tell how far the plants stretched, but she got the impression that the forest was big. Really big. Which considering they were inside a building made no sense, but then again, she thought, nothing about this place behaved as it should.

  The sounds of leaves being brushed aside reached Charlie’s ears as slowly and stealthily the temple’s inhabitants began to push their way through the foliage to step out into the corridor.

  The Daemon Kindred.

  They slunk, skittered and crawled into view. Hybrids. They were all insane and ghastly-looking hybrids.

  Tremen who scuttled on hairy arachnid legs, Stomen who lurched on spindly grasshopper joints and Humans who scurried around with millipede propulsion. None of them were the same, all slightly different and each more twisted than the last.

  They lined up along the length of the corridor and in unison their mouths twitched upward, their blackened lips peeled back and suddenly they were all grinning.

  ‘The creepy-crawly people!’ gasped Lallinda.

  ‘Good description,’ agreed Charlie, unable to tear her gaze away from their mottled skin, pointed teeth and ravenous eyes.

  One by one the daemons put out a hand to gesture down the corridor towards the distant staircase, as though daring Charlie to run their gauntlet.

  ‘SweetSapBudandLeafSweetSapBudandLeafSweetSapBudandLeaf,’ chanted Lallinda in terror, scrunching her eyes shut.

  ‘Come this way,’ smirked one of the Kindred in a taunting voice. It pointed past the length of its brethren to the possible sanctuary of the stairs. ‘Oh, won’t you come this way, little girls, and play our games?’

  Charlie’s mouth opened and shut. Her mind struggled to accept the reality of the situation, but her heart, far faster than her brain, was already bursting with fear.

  ‘Come, come this way,’ chuckled another in a voice that sounded like metal twisting and buckling. ‘Won’t you come and be our playthings?’

  ‘Come, come, come,’ chanted all the daemons on one side of the corridor.

  ‘Play with us, play with us,’ sang the others.

  Their smiles grew wider, their eyes glittered with sickly hunger and their long fingers began to twitch as though eager for unspeakable delights.

  Charlie could feel her fear sink deeper, feel her stomach flutter and the muscles in her lower back quiver and tense. She couldn’t take her eyes from their teeth, couldn’t bear to think what their idea of playing might be. But more importantly she didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where she could run to, didn’t know –

  And then the anger suddenly took over.

  ‘I’m not playing your games!’ she snapped. ‘And if I’ve got to play any sort of game it’s going to be by my rules!’

  She spun round, grabbed Lallinda and sprinted back to the room that had held the urn. Wielding the Hell Sword she carved a large square into the wall, knocked it outward with a firm kick and peered through the makeshift exit to the ground below. The influx of wind ruffled her clothes, tore through her hair and brought that odd greenhouse scent to her nose. Looking out she could see the bridge to her right, the spider-web clouds in the sky above and the tiered roofs with their garden balconies below.

  Sudden cries of rage burst down the corridor and punched into the room. The cruel shrieks gave strength to her determination and speed to her actions.

  ‘Lallinda!’ barked Charlie, her unexpected voice of command startling the terrified child from her vacant gaze. ‘Put your arms round my neck and jump on to my back.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No questions, do it now!’

  The scrabble of insect legs at the doorway caused her to look up, but she didn’t hang around. Making sure that Lallinda had a firm grip, Charlie edged backwards until her heels hung over the precipice. She flashed the first daemon that came into view a rude grin and an insolent wave then jumped backwards.

  Out into the void.

  21

  Sting in the Tale

  In the end Jook the Attentive agreed to allow Jensen, Kelko and Sic Boy to leave the Soul Mines of Zhartoum with suitable supplies (and with all their limbs intact). But before any of this was to happen Jens
en had to provide his half of the bargain. To this end Jensen and Kelko had been hauled through the despairing tunnels of the mine to Jook’s office.

  It was a luxurious room that had been split into two parts. One held a line of empty prisoner cells while the other had thick carpets, plush seats and an impressive-looking desk backing on to a long window that looked down across the hellish cavern of the main mines. The distant sound of lashing whips and slaves crying seeped into the room. The two guards had tagged along, and seeing that Jensen and Kelko were, for the time being, still prisoners, had wrapped them in chains.

  ‘Show me these Lindis seeds,’ insisted Jook.

  ‘I’ll need Sic Boy for that.’

  Jook raised the eyebrow over his patched eye.

  ‘I’ve hidden the seeds on the dog.’ Jensen shrugged apologetically. ‘Really, wot better place ta hide them and keep them safe?’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding if you think I’m letting that beast of a dog in here,’ sneered Jook.

  ‘Put him in one of those cells if yer worried about security,’ suggested Jensen.

  Jook grudgingly nodded his assent. One of the guards left and after a short period returned with another eight Stomen who, swearing, grunting and groaning, hauled Sic Boy into the office. The dog immediately perked up when he saw the two Tremen.

  ‘Calm down, Sic Boy,’ said Jensen soothingly. ‘Don’t worry, Boy, everything will be all right.’

  Sic Boy allowed himself to be guided into the cell before a guard slammed the door shut, sealing him in.

  Jensen turned back to Jook with a disarming grin. ‘Happy now?’

  ‘Just get on with it.’

  Jensen coughed into his fist.

  ‘What now?’

  Jensen rolled his eyes towards the mass of guards. Jook, quick to realize the value of sharing secrets with as few as possible, grunted in agreement.

  ‘You lot. Out.’

  ‘Boss, are you sure?’ queried one of the guards.

  ‘What? You think two little Tremen in chains are a danger to me? Curse your ears, you fool!’

  The guard’s shoulders drooped. He trudged after the others and pulled the office door shut behind him. However, once the guards had departed, Jook grabbed Kelko and shoved him into another of the cells. ‘The man had a point,’ he said. ‘Risks should always be kept to a minimum.’

  ‘Quite right,’ agreed Jensen. ‘Now back to business …’ He held out his hands.

  Jook stamped over to the Treman. Leaning over him in an obvious act of intimidation, he placed one large hand round both of Jensen’s. ‘Don’t forget, we might be acting at being pals, but if I suspect for one second that you’re trying to play me for a fool I’ll gut you like a rabbit and strangle you with your own intestines.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ said Jensen, staring the huge Stoman straight in the eye.

  Jook paused, grunted, then finally released Jensen from his shackles.

  ‘Ta business, then,’ said Jensen.

  Striding purposefully forward, he made straight for Sic Boy’s cell.

  ‘Come here, Sic Boy,’ he urged. As the large dog came closer, he pushed his hands through the dog’s fur to detach a small box hidden beneath his collar. He opened it, checked the contents and as he turned back to Jook he gave Sic Boy one final pat. ‘These, me large friend, are the seeds of yer future success. Allow me to demonstrate their worth.’

  He placed a seed on the desk. Closing his eyes he began to softly chant. The sound of his voice and the warmth of his Treesong carried across the room. It weaved its way through the bars of the cells, tickled at Kelko and wafted past Sic Boy’s great ears. A scent of sap and freshly cut grass seeped into the office and with it came an odd feeling of contentment. The seed responded. Bursting open, it released small tendrils of greenery that weaved up into the air. As Jook leaned closer to watch the magic unfold, his face betrayed a mixed array of emotions: wonder, delight and good old-fashioned greed.

  As Jensen continued his chant, the tendril grew fatter, roots pushed their way into the desk and into cracks in the floor. Leaves blossomed and finally the shoot swelled into a small sapling large enough for its branches to scrape against the ceiling.

  Jensen, with a very large smile on his face, allowed his song to fade.

  Side by side, the small Treman and large Stoman admired the new growth in silence.

  ‘So this is it? This is a Lindis plant?’ asked Jook. Leaning over he took one of the leaves in his hands to gently rub between his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Ah … no. Actually it’s an elm tree. Me old friend Stotch was fond of them. In fact, his family name was Elm.’

  ‘What?’ growled Jook.

  ‘Well wot did ya expect ta find in the collar of my late friend’s prized dog? If ya really wanted ta find a Lindis seed ya should have come ta see me in Sylvaris.’

  ‘You …’ snarled the Stoman. Rage building, he reached for his axe.

  ‘Hold up,’ suggested Jensen with a grin that was so cheeky it would have made angels weep. ‘Ya might want ta know that dis ain’t the only elm tree in yer office.’ The jaunty Treman jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the cells. ‘In fact, you might find a second one over there.’

  Jook turned.

  There was indeed a second elm in the room. It sprouted at an odd angle from the ruins of Sic Boy’s cell lock.

  Jook, slightly overwhelmed at the state of his office, stared disbelievingly from one elm tree to the other, then finally settled his furious eye upon the small figure of Jensen the Willow.

  ‘I palmed the other seed inta the lock when ya weren’t looking. And, uh … before ya reach any further for yer beloved axe ya might want ta take one last look over there.’

  TTTWANG!

  The lock shattered as Sic Boy gently prodded the door with one of his paws. It swung open with a long creak. The huge dog padded into the office with a truly terrifying expression of malice on his face.

  ‘And dis,’ said Jensen, ‘is wot is known as the payback. Sic Boy … do yer thing.’

  The dog leaped forward with a ferocious growl.

  Once it was over Jensen released Kelko.

  ‘The ol’ Lindis seed trick, huh?’ grinned Kelko.

  ‘Never fails,’ smirked Jensen. ‘Hate to end these things so violently, but I figured it was either him or us.’

  Kelko stepped over Jook’s remains to stare out at the Soul Mines. ‘So how do ya plan ta free that lot? There’s a lot of people down there who need saving.’

  ‘We’re not going ta save them,’ said Jensen.

  ‘Wot?’ asked Kelko with a startled look. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s too big a project. Sweet Sap knows how many guards and soldiers are down here. Surely too many for us ta take on.’

  ‘But we’ve got Sic Boy with us. That’ll –’

  Jensen held up his hand to silence his large friend. ‘Kelko, I know wot yer gonna say and I know how that big heart of yers works … But it ain’t gonna happen. The risk is too great and the cost of failure a price that we cannot afford ta pay.’

  ‘Yer gonna say “think of the big picture” aren’t ya?’ grumbled Kelko.

  ‘Yes I am,’ admitted Jensen. ‘And it’s by looking at the big picture that we can achieve the most. Ya know wot’s at stake here. Ya know we can’t afford ta get caught and ya know with all the guards and soldiers out there there’s a high chance that things could go wrong. If we get caught who would save Charlie? Who would see that the pendant is kept safe? Who would warn Sylvaris about Bane’s attack?’

  Kelko sighed so heavily that his stomach almost burst the buttons off his shirt. ‘OK, I get it. I do. I just wish …’

  ‘I know, Kelko, I know. But freeing the Winged Ones is the quickest way of getting rid of Bane. And once Bane is out of the picture places like dis will disappear too.’

  ‘So wot now? How’re we going ta get outta here?’

  ‘Well we know there’s ten guards waiting
outside dis door and a whole lot more between us and the exit so I think we should carry on with wot we’ve started here.’

  The two turned to admire the small tree emerging from the ruins of Jook’s desk.

  ‘Wot about the guards?’ asked Kelko. ‘Won’t they knock down the door as soon as they hear wot’s going on?’

  ‘Probably,’ admitted Jensen with a mischievous look. ‘But there’s still some seeds left in Sic Boy’s collar. I think we can put them ta good use.’

  Kelko watched with a befuddled look that swiftly turned into amusement as Jensen placed another seed in front of the door into the office.

  Standing back with a grin to mirror Kelko’s own, Jensen asked, ‘Are ya ready?’

  ‘Ya can’t even begin ta imagine how ready I am. Let’s do this!’

  Jensen was first to start singing, Kelko – waiting a moment to follow the melody – joined in shortly after. Guiding their Treesong, they teased the seeds and sapling into growth. Pushing their roots deeper into the ground, they found added sustenance and beneath the urging of the Tremen’s song the saplings swelled into mature trees. Their branches pressed against the ceiling and with a groan, a creak and a crack they forced their way upwards.

  Eyes twinkling in delight and buoyed up by the idea of escape, Jensen and Kelko increased the power of their song. The trees, already impressive, grew even larger.

  There was a sudden pounding of fists on the door, but the guards could not get in. The seed that Jensen had placed in front of it was now a tree and barred their entrance more efficiently than any lock.

  Snapping, splintering and screeching, the rock above was forced apart. With a final roar the roof was split open to reveal a chasm that led to a ribbon of blue sky.

  ‘That’s it!’ yelled Jensen, sheltering from the falling rock at the base of the giant elm. ‘Let’s get outta here! C’mon, Sic Boy, let’s go!’

  Clambering up the trunk, the Tremen scampered from branch to branch until they at last reached the welcome sunlight. Sic Boy scrambled up behind them, his huge claws gripping the bark.