‘Hmmm … there’s Opal Hold. It’s more of a big village than a town, but we can get supplies there.’
‘How far away is it?’
Crumble pointed to the top of the canyon wall. ‘With all the canyons to cross it would take us most of the day to reach, but if we were to stand there we would be able to see it in the distance.’
‘OK, let’s do that.’
‘What, climb the canyon? Why would you want to do that?’
‘Well, if I can see it it’ll make it easier to open a Portal.’
‘I thought you said you couldn’t open one near the Western Mountains.’
‘Well, yeah, that’s true, but I opened a Portal with Darkmount right next to the Stubborn Citadel and according to what you said last night that’s closer to the Western Mountains than where we are right now. If I could open one there it’s not going to be difficult opening one here, so let’s save the walking until we really have to. But we’ll have to climb up there – I don’t want to waste any of my Will.’
Charlie and Crumble scaled the side of the canyon while Nibbler flapped to the top with several lazy beats of his wings. Following Crumble’s outstretched arm to where the crags and gullies began to blur together into a dark line Charlie could just discern a group of buildings, but distance blurred any detail.
‘That’s it,’ acknowledged Crumble.
‘Can you describe it to me?’ asked Charlie. ‘It’s not easy to make out from here.’
‘There are two roads that run from north to south and east to west and where they meet is a small square that they use for festivals and market days.’
Charlie had shut her eyes. ‘Can you describe any buildings on the outskirts? It might be best if we don’t open the Portal in front of everyone.’
Crumble scrunched his eyes shut so he could better recall his last journey to Opal Hold. ‘If memory serves me true there’s an old statue of Hook the Thunderer in a sheltered rock garden on the far side of town from us.’
‘Got it,’ said Charlie and tore the air open.
Crumble eyed the Portal with slight misgivings. Through it they could make out a small garden.
‘I’ve never been through one of these. Does it … hurt?’
‘To step through? No. Let’s go.’
Pushing through the Portal they found themselves next to a looming statue of a Stoman bishop poised in mid leap, his cloak flung out behind him. Around him was the rock garden itself. Charlie gaped in wonder as she took in the sight.
‘How?’ she began. ‘How can this be?’
The flowers and bushes were all crystalline, with petals and leaves that glittered and glistened in the early morning sunshine. Reaching over Charlie touched a petal – it was hard and cold to the touch.
‘You’ve never seen a rock garden before?’ enquired Crumble.
‘I’ve never seen anything like this before. How can you have plants like this?’
‘Ah, they’re not plants, well not in the Treman sense, which I think is what you’re used to. These are rock flowers and can only be teased from a stone or rock by stonesinging.’
‘So they’re real, though? I mean they’ll reproduce and seed like normal plants, right?’
‘No. Well, technically yes, but it would take more time than you and I ever have to see a rock flower produce seeds.’
‘How much time?’ asked Charlie, her curiosity unfulfilled.
‘The village elders say it would take eleven lifetimes to see a rock flower reproduce.’
Charlie gazed at the small garden with a smile of delight. ‘Amazing,’ she whispered.
‘The village is this way,’ said Crumble, leading Charlie and Nibbler from the small hollow that held the rock garden.
Rounding a bend, Opal Hold was revealed. It had a quiet country village feel to it, one that Charlie, as a city girl, was not familiar with but could instantly recognize. What was unfamiliar was the type of house. Like the Treman city of Sylvaris, everything looked organic, but here the buildings had been made from stone and rock. Dark sandy-coloured structures reared upward – tall buildings that looked like they had been shaped by aeons of wind – and smaller low-slung buildings with domed roofs crouched below them. All the buildings had oval windows and strangely rounded doors, and appeared to have been formed from the ground. Which, Charlie deduced, was what had happened. These buildings had been created by stonesinging, which explained the lack of mortar or any sign of bricks or carved stone. Charlie was impressed. Her first experience of Stoman habitation – while not as overpowering as her first sight of Deepforest – would become a memory that she would treasure.
Nibbler elbowed her in the side. ‘Hey, stop daydreaming. If you stand there all day with that funny look in your eyes people are going to mistake you for the local fool.’
Charlie grinned ruefully, but followed Crumble’s lead as he headed towards the village square. Nibbler, head held high, walked beside her.
They were in luck. It was market day and the small square hustled and bustled. Stalls with brightly coloured canopies lined each side of the square and in the middle was a raised dais overshadowed by yet another statue of a mythical Stonesinger. Stoman farmers, merchants, blacksmiths, potters, weavers, brewers and carpenters were busy selling their wares. Here and there the slight figure of a Human could be seen and occasionally the much smaller figure of a Treman, but they were a rarity.
As the trio headed towards the line of market stalls, Nibbler instantly began to draw a lot of attention. Some of the villagers and merchants, respectful of Winged Ones, touched their foreheads as he passed with a few words of greeting. Others, however, threw nasty looks and muttered under their breath.
‘I think the sooner we get what we need and the sooner we get out of here the better,’ commented Charlie.
‘Agreed,’ said Crumble. Walking past a fruit and veg stall he headed towards a likely looking place that appeared to stock the items they needed. He swiftly began to haggle with the merchant. ‘Two silver florins and an eighth,’ he called over his shoulder as he collected blankets, bed rolls and other items. ‘Or the merchant will take seven Deepforest shillings if that’s what you’re carrying.’
Nibbler and Charlie looked at each other with guilty, startled faces. Neither one had thought about money, and neither for that matter had any.
Crumble caught their look and with a big sigh dug his fingers into his waist pouch. Eyeing his profits with a forlorn expression he handed the sum to the waiting merchant.
‘That’s another reason for you two to come back from the Western Mountains alive because if you don’t pay back that money my father is going to beat me from house to market and back again –’
‘HEAR ME, PEOPLE OF OPAL HOLD!’ boomed a voice. ‘HEAR ME NOW AS I BRING A MESSAGE FROM OUR GREAT LORD!’
Silence swiftly fell across the marketplace as villagers and merchants turned to look at the raised dais in the centre of the square. A Stoman herald in gorgeous black, red and gold robes stood in a pose of studied self-importance on the circular stage, an unfurled scroll between his hands. Behind him stood a small squad of soldiers and off to one side, nearly hidden by the shadows of a building, lurked a Stonesinger in full ornamental armour.
‘I come with a proclamation,’ continued the Stoman on the dais. Raising the scroll, he began to read aloud. ‘“I, Bane, Lord of the Western Mountains, declare Charlie Keeper to be an outcast and outlaw. I will pay whomever brings me her head and her pendant fifty baskets of emeralds, a hundred baskets of sapphires and a thousand fistfuls of gold coins. If 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 –”’
A ripe melon slammed into the herald’s chest, spattering him and some of the nearby soldiers with bits of fruit. In the deathly silence that followed the herald wiped the gooey matter from his face. Picking a large piece of the offending missile from his shoulder he held it up for closer ins
pection. His face rapidly went from white to red and finally to a dark murderous purple.
‘WHO DID THIS?’ he roared. ‘WHO DARED TO –’
A second melon, followed in quick succession by a Very-vaverry fruit and an oversized Mooseberry, burst against the herald’s once gorgeous robes.
‘I think,’ rang a voice, ‘that the culprit you’re looking for is me.’
The herald, once he had wiped his face, the soldiers and most of the stunned villagers and merchants turned to stare at the Human girl who stood in the midst of them with her poorly kept topknot and a piece of fruit in either hand.
‘I’m Charlie Keeper and I’m a bit short on money so if you’ve got any of that reward with you we’ll be happy to take it.’
The herald could have replied with a thousand different responses, but he was so angry that he simply screamed, ‘GET HER!’ at the top of his lungs.
The soldiers pulled the swords from their scabbards and lifted the axes from their harnesses as they spread out in a loose semicircle.
The crowd looked at the angered herald and soldiers, then back at the small Human girl. A collective gasp rang across the village square. Charlie Keeper stood wreathed in black and gold flames. With her fists raised high and a glint in her eyes, she slowly walked forward.
‘If Bane has offered all that money,’ she shouted at the herald while bowling over the first soldier in a flash of dark light, ‘then surely you’re intelligent enough to realize that I’ve got to be considered a threat.’ With an unusual expression that was half smile, half focused anger, Charlie kicked and punched the next two soldiers so hard that they were propelled backwards through a line of stalls. ‘Surely no one would be stupid enough to try to take on Bane’s most wanted with just a handful of soldiers?’
Ducking beneath the swishing arc of an axe, she tripped one opponent, flipped another and rapped her elbow against the helmet of a third while drawing closer and closer to the alarmed herald. ‘Or is it perhaps –’ she punctuated her sentence by bringing down the last two soldiers who stood in her way – ‘that your fat mouth and ability to swagger around in a pretty costume hides the fact that you’re a little bit dim-witted?’
With most of the soldiers lying scattered behind her, Charlie stood at the foot of the dais and stared disrespectfully up at the herald. Sweating profusely and looking less than regal in his fruit-splattered robes, he staggered backwards while gesturing for the Stonesinger to step forward.
Charlie grinned as, out the corner of her eye, she detected a wave of crackling flame followed by a high-pitched scream and a thud. Nibbler had taken care of the Stonesinger.
‘Looks like you’re all out of help,’ she said, and with a sardonic smile still wrapped across her face Charlie lunged forward, driving a black-and-gold-flamed fist against the side of the dais. The stone cracked and the force of the blow caused the herald to lose his footing and fall to the ground. Charlie jumped lightly upward and, walking across the dais, stared down at the herald now suffering the indignity of lying in mud.
Groaning, he tried to sit up, but Charlie leaped to land feet-first on his chest, driving him back down. Crouching on top of the moaning herald she rifled through his robes, removing all his coins and valuables. ‘What’s this? No fistfuls of diamonds or rubies? No precious bounty? I’m kind of disappointed.’
‘Are-are you going to kill me?’ gasped the herald.
Charlie fixed him with a stare. ‘I’m no killer … but I’m no pushover either. Go back to Bane and tell him he’ll have to work harder if he wants my head.’ Reaching down she patted one of his cheeks. ‘Have fun getting all that mud and fruit out of your pretty clothes.’
Hastening back to her companions she found Crumble fingering a big dent in his cooking pot and the unconscious body of a soldier at his feet. Nibbler trotted over with the Stonesinger’s burnt cloak in his mouth.
‘Everyone OK?’ she asked. Getting a nod from both she showed them her haul: a small pile of gold coins and two sapphires. She pocketed some of the gold and then gave several of the remaining coins to Crumble. ‘Here’s what we owe you and a little extra for the camping supplies, and here’s some more in case we need to buy any other stuff on the way.’
Striding over to the group of wide-eyed merchants and villagers, she tossed the leftover coins and sapphires at their feet. ‘I’m sorry for what happened to your market day. I hope this goes some way towards paying for the damage.’ Then, without waiting for a reply, she tore open a Portal so she and her companions could make a quick exit.
31
The Golden Touch
‘Yes? Can I help you?’ asked a haughty cashier.
‘Yes, ya can. I’d like ta speak ta the master banker if ya please. It’s Jensen the Willow of Sylvaris.’
The cashier looked down his nose at the travel-worn Treman standing on the other side of his counter.
‘And does sir have an appointment?’ enquired the cashier in a slightly mocking tone.
‘Does it look like I’ve been in town long enough ta make an appointment?’ countered Jensen. ‘Of course I don’t have one, but I have several large accounts with dis bank and many more with its sister banks in Sylvaris, Alavis and Alacorn. I think ya’ll find that the size and merit of my accounts allow me more than ample opportunity ta drop inta any branch of the Gilded Bank as and when I want ta.’
‘Is that right, sir?’ said the cashier in a patronising voice. ‘Are you sure you have an account with us? Perhaps you’ve got your banks confused?’
‘Listen, sonny –’
‘No, you listen, sir. This a bank for gentlemen not scoundrels! You must think me a buffoon, sir. Not one of our clients would ever dress as poorly as you or, might I add, stink of the road as much as you. I insist you leave our premises or I’ll have our bailiffs escort you out!’
Jensen sighed. Reaching over he grabbed the cashier’s ear.
The cashier yelped and tried to close his own fist round Jensen’s, but the Treman twisted his ear even further. All the other clerks watched in alarm and one of the burly bailiffs started to lumber over.
‘Ladies, gentlemen,’ began Jensen in a loud but polite manner, ‘I find that I am rapidly losing me respect for the Gilded Bank. Allow me ta repeat meself, I am Jensen the Willow and over the years I have deposited enough money in this bank ta warrant a little respect. Now if someone doesn’t go and fetch me the master banker right this instant I can guarantee that I will be withdrawing me more than considerable business from this sorry excuse for a bank!’
‘What, might I ask, is going on here?’ A plump Stoman with thick reading glasses held open one of the doors that led deeper into the bank. She wore a concerned look on her educated face. ‘And who, might I add, is the gentleman who is manhandling my staff?’
‘Jensen the Willow.’
The woman blinked upon hearing the name. ‘Of Sylvaris?’
‘Aye, that would be me.’
The Stoman blinked yet again. She snapped her fingers at the bailiff. ‘Please remove that man.’ The bailiff loomed over Jensen. ‘No, not that man, that man.’
The bailiff hesitated for a moment, but, reading the seriousness of his employer’s expression, swiftly let go of Jensen and instead clamped his oversized hands round the surprised cashier’s shoulders.
‘Wh-what?’ stuttered the cashier, unable to comprehend what was happening.
‘Silence,’ growled the bailiff.
All the other clerks watched in fascination as their ex-colleague was unceremoniously hurled out of the door.
‘I do apologize for that,’ said the Stoman once the door was slammed shut, silencing the cashier’s high-pitched squawks of protest. ‘Since the war broke out it has become perilously hard to find good staff. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sindris the Third and I am the master banker of Idle Wind’s branch of the Gilded Bank.’
Jensen’s eyes twinkled.
‘Sir,’ continued Sindris the Third, ‘you are an honoured c
ustomer and it is a pleasure to welcome you. If you would please follow me, we can retire to a room more suitable for someone of your stature.’
The clerks all watched with open mouths as the scruffy Treman walked past their desks and breezed through the door that the master banker held open.
Arriving in Sylvaris, Kelko headed towards the Jade Tower. However, when he tried to dismount from his exhausted horse he found that his legs wouldn’t obey him. Groaning and doing his best to ignore the sniggers of those passing by and the whinny of protest arising from his steed, he half fell and half slumped from the saddle to land with an ‘oof’ by the feet of a surprised guard.
‘Are ya OK there, buddy?’ asked the guard.
‘I can’t straighten my legs,’ croaked Kelko.
‘Here let me help ya … Oh, my Sweet Sap, wot have ya been eating?’ the guard grunted as he strained to pull Kelko back to his feet. ‘Blight my Leaf, but ya’ve got girth enough on ya for two grown men.’
‘Ahh,’ sighed Kelko. The relief of being able to stand without a horse bumping and bruising his thighs with every step was wonderful. Straightening up, he cricked and cracked the ache from his back before fixing his sights on the entrance to the Jade Tower. ‘Listen, we could spend all day discussing the merits of me manly girth over yer weedy chest, but right now we’ve got more pressing matters. I need ya ta help me get inside the Jade Circle right away.’
‘Wot for?’ asked the guard, slightly taken aback by the sudden seriousness of Kelko’s demands.
‘War.’
‘Say wot?’
‘War is coming ta Sylvaris and a lot sooner that we expect. Now stop gawking and lend me yer shoulder!’
Leaning on the guard, Kelko staggered into the tower.
All the councillors looked up in surprise as Kelko and his attendant banged against a table, knocking over a particularly graceful vase of flowers before rebounding into the table’s twin and knocking over a second vase. The crash of shattered porcelain was especially loud.
Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) Page 16
