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

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘But that’s crazy!’ insisted Crumble. ‘Look, I’ve already told you that I don’t believe in what Bane is doing. Most of my village don’t like the idea of one Bellania beneath Stoman rule, but we all know how powerful Bane is! There’s never been a Stoman lord like him before. Jugged the Great, Hook the Thunderer and Stale the Swallower are like mice next to Bane and they’re mythical heroes and kings! The fact that Bane is real and stands head and shoulders above all the legendary lords makes what you’re suggesting absurd.’

  ‘Maybe it is and maybe it’s not,’ said Charlie. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to join our fight. You offered to help and that’s all I’m asking. All you need to do is be our guide. Azariah said that the Western Mountains would be protected against unwelcome Portals so we’ll need to walk in. All you have to do is show us the way. Once Nibbler and I are there we’ll handle the rest.’

  ‘And do what?’ Crumble continued stubbornly, unwilling to allow a Keeper and a Winged One to walk towards what he saw as certain death. ‘What do you think that you can possibly do to Bane? Don’t you understand when I tell you that he’s the most powerful being that has ever sat upon the Devouring Throne?’

  Charlie sat up straighter and clenched her teeth together. Without realizing it her hands knotted into fists as she imagined finally coming face to face with Bane. A dark shadow flickered across her eyes and her hair began to writhe as her Will – unsummoned this time – manifested itself as black flames that flickered round her knuckles.

  ‘Don’t worry about Bane. He and I have some unfinished business,’ she said with a voice that growled with the promise of violence.

  ‘Charlie,’ protested Nibbler. ‘Look, I know we’ve just gone over all our options, but surely there’s got to be something else that we can do? There’s got to be another option. There’s got to be.’

  ‘Like what?’ snapped Charlie. Little sparks of darkness trickled from the corners of her eyes. ‘Where in Bellania are we going to be safe? Nowhere! Can we afford to hide away and hope things get better? No! Things are only going to get worse. Either Bane conquers the land or Darkmount does. Yes we could play the waiting game in the hope that Darkmount and Bane eventually fight and we try to take the pendant from whoever wins, but the likelihood of that happening or us lasting that long are tiny.’

  As Charlie continued to talk, she grew angrier and her voice grew harsher. ‘So if we make a move now or later our chances are still the same. Maybe better now because no one would expect us, maybe worse later with Bellania crushed and conquered. But all of that aside I’ve had enough! They’ve taken too much from me. Too much! And I for one think that Bane needs to learn that things don’t always go his way. I want to go to the Western Mountains, go to his Throne Room and show him that I mean business. I owe Bane a debt of agony!’

  Seeing how alarmed both Nibbler and Crumble appeared she abruptly grew aware of how she must look. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled and rubbed at her hands in an attempt to push her Will away. Using the action of tidying her hair into a topknot as a chance to recover her composure she did her best to smile reassuringly. ‘Just thinking about Bane gets me angry. Look, Crumble, honestly you don’t have to worry about us. Just get us to the Western Mountains and we’ll do the rest.’

  The young Stoman looked concerned, but sitting in the presence of both a Winged One and a Keeper, young as they were, he found he couldn’t deny Charlie’s request. ‘OK. We’ll make a start in the morning.’

  ‘And you’ll take us to the Western Mountains.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ he agreed with an unhappy expression.

  Jensen the Willow and Sic Boy were not the only ones to witness the birth of Edge Darkmount’s stone army. Mr Crow, having cleared the surrounding landscape of prey, had been forced further afield in order to fulfil his constant gnawing hunger.

  Spotting the odd green glow amongst the night-time drudgery of the Great Plains, he had swept out of the sky to stand on a grassy ridge that overlooked Darkmount’s temporary residence.

  Crow twitched his head from side to side as he watched the events proceeding below. Something about the Stoman bishop fascinated him. Perhaps it was the tantalizing display of power, or perhaps it was the possibility that something in the valley below could offer him a reprieve from Bane’s wrath if only he could decipher what that was. The lawyer knew he needed something to appease his lord and he suspected that perhaps there really was something here that could aid him towards that goal.

  Standing still and scarecrow-like on the ridge, he watched for several long hours. In that time Darkmount’s dark army continued to grow until it could be counted in the hundreds, and the source of his power, the vessel at his feet, continued to flash with flames of green light.

  The appearance of dawn’s rosy fingers awoke Mr Crow from his trance. Blinking, he stared around him in alarm. He didn’t want to be discovered out here in the open. Jumping into the sky in a burst of feathers, he headed back to his cave to ponder his cowardly concerns.

  29

  Shatterstone

  Charlie awoke just as the first light of dawn began to break across their campsite. Knowing that Nibbler, always a fan of sleeping, would be the last to awake, she tiptoed away from the remnants of the fire with the intention of practising her K’Changa, only to find that Crumble had beaten her to it.

  Only he wasn’t practising K’Changa. He was systematically going through a series of very brutal-looking strikes. Punch followed kick and knee followed headbutt. With blow after blow, Crumble Shard moved forward, his lean muscles burning with a fierce economy of movement. His face was marred by a look of concentration and at the end of each fearsome combination he would exhale forcefully.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Charlie.

  Crumble whipped his head round in surprise.

  ‘Are you trying to scare me to death?’ he half joked.

  ‘I said “What are you doing?”’ Charlie’s face hardened, underlining her determination to get a straight answer. Whatever form of martial art the Stoman boy had been practising, it looked very effective. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having someone so obviously capable travelling with her and Nibbler. A fighter in their midst was obviously a help, but also a possible future threat.

  ‘Shatterstone.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The fighting style of my village. My uncle won the Western Fist Championship when he was young. I’ve been training under his tutelage since I was five.’

  ‘Let me be honest, Crumble. I don’t trust you.’ She stared him square in the face. Feeling the darkness rise inside her she clenched her hand into a tight fist. ‘I think that you being able to move and fight like that,’ she gestured roughly in the direction that he had been practising, ‘goes against your oh-so-nice image of last night. So let me say it again: I don’t trust you.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ he replied.

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Crumble, ignoring the sweat on his brow and the hard look coming from Charlie, briefly closed his eyes and gave her a formal yet humble little bow. ‘After hearing your story last night I have an inkling of what you must have gone through – all that pain and fear and heartache and anger. You know what, Charlie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think that if that had happened to me I’m not sure I would have the strength to continue. I don’t think that I could have done what you have done. And after all those betrayals? I wouldn’t trust anyone either. So if it would make you happier, allow me to aid you as best I can. Let me draw you a map of the region so if you do decide to press on to the Western Mountains you can. Or should you come to your senses it’ll give you other places of refuge that you can reach. I can do all of that and have my pannier packed and be gone in less than an hour.’

  Charlie continued to stare Crumble in the eye, but was the first to look away as she felt something other than the pool of darkness squirm in her chest. Shamed by her o
wn words and Crumble’s honest expression she held up a hand.

  ‘Look …’ she began, but unsure how to continue she paused to search for the right words. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to trust anyone … but I can’t allow –’ She stopped as Crumble held up his hand.

  ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘Really I do. You’re like my younger rock sister. Sometimes she struggles with words, but she never realizes that I can read her heart by seeing what’s on her face. How’s this? I will stay and help as long as you like, but the minute that you feel that you cannot trust me tell me and I’ll go. I will ask no question nor require an explanation. To aid a Keeper and a Winged One is honour enough and I would be more than a fool not to realize that such a task comes with many difficulties.’

  Charlie opened her mouth, but found that mingled thoughts of darkness and shame clouded her judgement. Instead she gave Crumble a nod then turned to trudge back to their campsite.

  ‘Wait,’ she said and turned back to the young Stoman. ‘That “Shatterstone” of yours. Is that what Stonesingers use to fight with?’

  ‘Some do or if they don’t they use a similar style.’

  ‘Show me.’

  Aware that this was a somewhat odd request, but still keen to aid Charlie in whatever way he could, Crumble began to demonstrate. But after only a few sequences he stopped.

  ‘Am I showing you this because you want to learn or is there another reason?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘A bit of both. I’ve fought Shades, Alavisian Watchmen and Mr Crow and held my own, but Darkmount brushed my Will aside like it was nothing. He used a fighting style similar to yours, but when he combined it with his stonesinging it was … it was like he was unstoppable. Like a boulder rolling down a hill. Maybe if I can learn a little of this Shatterstone of yours, the next time I come up against a Stonesinger as strong as Darkmount things might turn out differently.’

  Crumble nodded and picked up a rough-looking stone. Summoning his stonesinging, he began to chant. The stone began to bulge and flex. With a crick-crack the stone split and as he continued to sing a small crystal flower emerged.

  Charlie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the small miracle.

  Crumble held up the flower for closer inspection. ‘I can heal, I can shape stone and I can call forth the crystal harvest, but, Charlie, you need to know that I am no great Stonesinger. Darkmount is not just a Stonesinger but a Stoman bishop. One of the greats, one of the powerful. People like Bane and Darkmount are forever above and beyond my reach. Yes, I might be good at Shatterstone, but facing someone like me will be vastly, vastly different from facing someone of real power.’

  ‘I know that. But show me what you can and leave the rest to me.’

  Crumble smiled softly. ‘OK, let me show you what I can do.’

  Charlie settled down to sit cross-legged with studious intent as Crumble, blue fists aglow, began to strike and glide beneath the still starlit but gently lightening dawn sky.

  Leaving the Great Plains behind, Jensen headed into the Slumbering Hills and made for the merchant town of Idle Wind. It was a suitable location that was not only halfway between Alavis and the Western Mountains but also a major cornerstone of the trading world. It was here that Jensen hoped to learn more about Charlie’s fate.

  Jensen was well aware of how badly Bane wanted to get his hands on Charlie and her pendant. It was only logical that if his forces had captured her in Alavis she would then be transported to the Western Mountains. What Jensen didn’t know was whether she had been transferred quickly and swiftly via a lightly armoured escort or if Bane’s forces, concerned about the possibility of escape, had instead chosen to transport her at a slower pace, but with more guards. If she had been transferred with a light escort, he reasoned, then she would already be in the Western Mountains. However, if she was under the watchful eye of a full military escort it was more than likely that she was still in transit.

  And it was this information that would dictate how Jensen would proceed.

  Riding into Idle Wind on Sic Boy’s back, Jensen received some strange looks. Such a sight wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it was not that unusual either. Idle Wind was a major trading post that attracted visitors from the length and breadth of Bellania and had seen more than its fair share of exotic visitors riding in on mounts that were equally strange: Humans on painted horses; Sandraiders on mottled grasshoppers; Northern Barbarians on snowbears; Tribesmen of the Eastern Sea on mournful crabs – the list went on. Most would have assumed that the number of visitors would have decreased with the onset of the war, however the wise knew that money was to be made during times of dispute. Barter and trade was the Idle Wind’s lifeblood and with the rise of Bane’s empire it was more prosperous than ever.

  Forcing his way through the press of the crowd, Jensen headed towards the central marketplace where he hoped to glean an insight into current affairs. If he dug deep enough perhaps he might even hear a whisper of Charlie’s whereabouts.

  So it came as a shock when a herald climbed on to a stage normally reserved for auctions and announced Bane’s proclamation in a ringing voice that reverberated across the streets.

  ‘… her head is delivered still fresh and bleeding I will double the sum offered. If she is delivered whimpering and broken to lie at my feet I will triple the sum and bestow the title of Lordship of Alavis on whomever succeeds in this undertaking.’

  Jensen staggered as he heard those words. Conflicting thoughts and emotions rushed through his head; the first and perhaps the happiest was that Charlie must have eluded Bane’s soldiers. She must be free! The second was one of doubt and confusion: if Charlie was indeed free then where was she now? And how on Bellania was he to find her? The final thought that staggered through his mind was that Charlie was still in peril. With such a bounty on her head every lowlife would be after her, a fact that Jensen could verify for himself as he saw freebooters and mercenaries grin in delight after hearing the herald. Many immediately hastened off to begin their hunt.

  Nudging Sic Boy through the crowd, Jensen headed to a quieter side street to mull things over.

  ‘Wot ta do?’ murmured Jensen. ‘Wot ta do, wot ta do?’

  Hundreds of different ideas and possible solutions clashed and clamoured through his thoughts, none of which seemed realistic or even viable. In the search for inspiration he studied the merchant’s stall on the other side of the street, and it was there that he saw the flash of gold and the twinkle of coins as money changed hands.

  A small smile tugged at Jensen’s lips.

  Jensen was the largest dealer of Moreish powder in both Bellania and Earth. He had made his fortune from trade and it had made him the foremost merchant prince in Sylvaris. It was time he remembered that.

  Heeling Sic Boy round, he made his way towards the city bank. He had a transaction to make.

  30

  The Proclamation

  Nibbler disturbed Charlie’s concentration and Crumble’s demonstration.

  ‘I’m not sure what you guys are doing, but I think we need to get our bearings, have something to eat and discuss how we’re going to continue. Charlie, if you’re still dead-set on facing Bane in the Western Mountains –’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then we need to come up with a plan.’

  ‘Can we not stay here until you settle upon a direct course of action?’ asked Crumble. ‘And if you are hungry there’s still one more rabbit to be cooked.’

  Nibbler squirmed before answering. ‘I, uh, had some growing pangs in the middle of the night so I, er –’

  ‘Nibbler’s trying to tell you that he’s already yammed the rabbit,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Well … yes. I did.’

  ‘That matters not, Winged One,’ said Crumble. ‘You are most welcome to eat your fill. Perhaps I can catch some more later.’

  ‘To be honest, I think we need more than food,’ urged Nibbler. ‘We need supplies, particularly if we’re going to have to w
alk to the Western Mountains. Roughing it beneath the stars is OK for one night, but not all the time. We’re going to need blankets and, er … you know what? I’ve never gone camping before. I’m sure we’re going to need stuff, I just don’t know what.’

  ‘I’ve a good idea of what we’ll need,’ said Crumble.

  Nibbler looked relieved. ‘Great, so where can we get it from?’

  ‘We could go to my village –’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Charlie with a determined look on her face. ‘I don’t want to get your family involved. I’ve lost too much of my own life to risk anyone else’s.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No,’ repeated Charlie. ‘That’s final and there’s no room for negotiation on this.’

  Such was the look of determination on her face that neither Crumble nor Nibbler voiced any further protest.

  ‘So what do you want to do then?’ asked Crumble.

  ‘We need a village or a small town. Somewhere where we can get our hands on the stuff we need and a place where we can find out how close we can get to the Western Mountains with a Portal before Bane’s barrier kicks in and we have to start walking. That is unless you already know the answer to that, Crumble?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know anything about Keeper stuff or how Bane manages to block Portals.’ Crumble shrugged. ‘I can’t help you with that I’m afraid.’

  ‘No problem. Nibbler and I will find that out. Can you suggest or take us to a town? It needs to be big enough to have shops or a market, but not so big that we need to worry about stumbling across a garrison of soldiers or any more angry Stonesingers.’