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

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘I-I face my death with honour intact, my lord,’ gurgled the general as best he could with Bane’s gigantic fingers pressed round his neck.

  ‘Honour?’ hissed Bane. Grabbing the chains he snapped them one by one. The links clanked as they struck the floor. ‘You think I will allow you to die with honour after losing my prime army? Gah!’ He flung the general across the room as though he was nothing more than a rag doll.

  The disgraced Stoman rolled several times before coming to a stop in a darkened corner. There was a sibilant hissing and slowly the shadows unfolded. Shades reached out and entwined their dark tendrils round the general’s wrists.

  ‘For such a failure you will die a lacklustre and honourless death! You lost my First Army and for that you will be the first adult that I will devour. Shades, take him to my kitchens. I will eat him tonight!’

  The general’s eyes widened, but before he could cry for mercy his mouth was stuffed with shadowy limbs. Legs kicking and drumming, he was hauled into the darkness.

  ‘Ya be the best Tree Singers. The best of all Sylvaris, of all Deepforest and of all Bellania, and it is for yer skills that I have had ya gathered here today,’ said Lady Dridif in solemn tones.

  The men and women in front of her had all been deeply affected by the battle. Some had had their homes torched, others had lost family members, but each had in their own way made an effort to look as presentable as possible. Hair had been tied into the neatest of topknots, clean clothes had been borrowed and jade jewellery was worn with obvious pride. Now they stood on the sweeping balcony that allowed the Jade Circle to look out across the ruins of Sylvaris.

  The fires had been put out and the rubble had been cleared from the streets in a remarkably short time, but it was evident that Sylvaris was a broken city. Towers leaned at drunken angles, some had had floors and balconies ripped clean off, and others were little more than ruined stumps. In Deepforest great swathes of land had been burned to the ground and many of the beautiful and almost impossibly grand trees had been turned into piles of ash.

  But there was hope. Many of the forest beasts and wild creatures that had fled during the chaos had started to return. Monkeys scampered through the remaining branches, the great flamingo-like birds that had always graced the Treman capital flew through the air in flocks, and other strange and magnificent creatures made a timid reappearance in the land.

  Lady Dridif, caught in a stare as she examined her city, cleared her throat. ‘As I was about ta say, ya Tree Singers are gifted with wondrous skill and it is for dis reason that our once fair city of Sylvaris needs ya now. I charge ya with the rebuilding and regeneration of our way of life. It is in yer hands that Sylvaris shall be reborn. I would see our great towers arise from the ashes, our sweeping bridges rebuilt and the highways and boulevards that are the arteries and veins of this city reshaped. Tree Singers, I humbly bid ya, please repay our city for the shelter and happiness that it has provided us over the millennia. Please go forth and breathe new life inta our slumbering city. Go forth and make Sylvaris great.’

  There was no applause or cheers from the throng for Dridif’s words, but there was an unspoken yet strongly felt sense of purpose. Bowing low, the men and women silently filed from the room. As they left, some of those who had been hardest hit by loss even managed to gently smile. Sylvaris would rise.

  57

  The Emperor’s Gift

  The silence of Bane’s Throne Room was broken by the faint flutter of wings.

  The sound was not loud or persistent enough to alarm the men-at-arms, but Bane was a different breed. Clenching his hand into a fist he banged it against his throne.

  ‘Crowman!’ he snarled. The fury of his voice spat around the room and caused the knees of footmen and servants to buckle. ‘Get down here!’

  The flutter of wings grew louder. Swooping out of the darkness in a trail of feathers came Mr Crow. As he landed lightly, the broken remains of the gargorilla thudded next to his feet.

  ‘You dare,’ hissed Bane, ‘you DARE show your face back here after failing so spectacularly? I should rip your soul from your flesh and leave it dancing and flapping by your feet.’

  ‘Lord –’ began Mr Crow, but was cut short by Bane’s thundering voice.

  ‘You would beg?’ Looking for something to crush, but finding nothing within arm’s reach, the Stoman Lord settled for pounding both fists against the Devouring Throne. ‘You snivelling, squishy little Human.’

  ‘M-m-my lord,’ stuttered the terrified lawyer, desperate to get a word in before it was too late. ‘I might have missed the chance to kill Charlie, but I can still prove useful.’

  ‘Worth?’ sneered Bane. ‘You think you have worth? What use is a tool if it cannot complete a task? What need do I have for a dog that cannot sink its teeth into meat? Bah! Even with your new powers you are as weak and as blubbering as the rest of your soft and fleshy race.’

  ‘Maybe that’s true, my lord, but if I failed in one way perhaps I can make you stronger in another.’

  Mr Crow placed his foot on the gargorilla and, with a heave, kicked it across the floor. It spun several times before coming to a standstill at the foot of Bane’s raised dais. The one remaining arm of the gagorilla spasmed slightly so its fingers curled, then it stilled and moved no more.

  ‘What is this broken thing? Is this your idea of a gift?’

  Mr Crow’s eyes sparkled with the glint of nasty intelligence. ‘It is, my lord. But before you pass judgement on the matter you should know that it was an army of these that overcame your First.’

  There was an intake of breath as the footmen feared that the weird lawyer was in some foolish way trying to bait the wrath of their lord. But surprisingly Bane kept his composure.

  ‘Go on,’ he growled.

  ‘Charlie Keeper led this army, but it wasn’t she who created them. That was done by a Stoman and a god. A god similar to the one that dwells beneath this Throne Room.’

  Bane remained silent and Mr Crow, sensing that he only had moments left in which to make his point, hastened on.

  ‘Charlie Keeper still has the pendant and with it a chance –’

  Bane rumbled, deep and low in the back of his throat.

  ‘A faint chance!’ squealed Crow. ‘Only a faint chance of returning the Winged Ones to Bellania. But that matters not!’

  Bane, having grown tired of this tirade, stood and slowly marched down the steps from his throne.

  Gabbling his words Mr Crow spat out his last message. ‘If you were to create your own stone army with your god you could match their might and never have to worry about losing your throne!’

  ‘Stupid. Ignorant. Weak.’ Bane punctuated each of his steps with a word. ‘Is that the best you can offer? My Shades have reported the value of Charlie Keeper’s dark army. They might have won the battle of Sylvaris but in doing so they were extinguished. Not one of these things –’ Bane stamped what remained of the gargorilla into shards with one blow of his foot – ‘remains. If they couldn’t stand against the might of one of my armies what hope would they have in facing the power of the Winged Ones?’

  Bending down, he pushed his shadowy cowl close to Mr Crow’s face. The lawyer, even though he was more powerful than he had ever been back on Earth, quaked in terror. Summoning what remained of his rapidly departing courage he blurted out his last gambit. ‘The Stoman who created those stone soldiers had one major flaw: he had no imagination! All he could come up with was the idea of crossing behemoths with gorillas.’ Crow squeaked as Bane’s fingers wrapped round one of his arms. ‘We – uh, I mean you – could do so much better. Just think what would happen if you were to merge the power of a behemoth with the viciousness of a Wyrm! You would have an army that could govern the skies and match the Winged Ones power for power. You’d be unstoppable.’

  Bane slowly released his fingers from round the lawyer’s skinny arms. His silence was deafening as he pondered the logic. Finally the Stoman Lord spoke. ‘Your idea … has me
rit.’

  And even though it was impossible to tell beneath the eternal shadows that covered Bane’s face, Mr Crow got the impression that his master was smiling.

  58

  Friends

  ‘Charlie? Charlie! Oh, thank my beloved Oak yer all right!’

  Charlie didn’t get a chance to turn round before she was pulled into a bear hug. She did, however, instantly recognize her old friend by the weight of his stomach and familiar scent of vanilla and forest berries.

  ‘Kelko, you big lummox, put me down!’

  ‘Wot?’ protested the chubby Treman. ‘Wot’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, but I can’t return the hug if you’ve got me hanging half upside down, can I?’

  Feet returned to floor, Charlie grinned and hugged Kelko properly. After all the turmoil of the past week his soft face was a welcome sight.

  ‘I missed ya, Blossom,’ he whispered. ‘And I’m glad yer safe. Yer like a little light in this time of darkness.’

  ‘Er … are you sure about that?’ asked Charlie as she remembered how dark she had turned and how black her Will had become.

  ‘Wot?’ protested Kelko. Pushing Charlie to arm’s length so he could better stare her in the eyes, he shook his head in disbelief. ‘Charlie, yer one of the best things that has happened ta me, or for that matter Jensen or Sic Boy.’

  A growl came from behind his back. Leaning to one side Charlie was happy to see Sic Boy, hidden by Kelko’s girth, calmly sitting on his haunches and scratching the spot behind his ear with one paw. The dog paused in his action to ‘groof’ at Charlie. She grinned back.

  ‘So you, er, haven’t heard anything bad about me?’

  ‘Other than yer sad inability ta comb yer hair, everything else sounds peachy.’ Kelko paused to consider the young Keeper. ‘Wait a minute. Yer talking about yer Will, aren’t ya?’

  Charlie mumbled something under her breath.

  ‘Yeah, well we did hear about a Keeper whose Will had turned as black as night and who rode inta town on the back of a dark army …’

  Charlie’s face blanched.

  ‘And we also heard that this mysterious Keeper snuck inta an impenetrable fortess of the Stubborn Citadel, retrieved a god from hell, bested Lallinda the daemon queen, kicked the Forty Swords up and down a street, defeated Fo Fum the undefeatable bounty hunter, saved Sylvaris from Bane’s First Army, beat a backstabbing Stoman bishop at his own game and helped her friends in their time of need … and all of that before dinner. Charlie, ya ROCK!’

  ‘So you’re not worried about me turning all dark and dangerous?’

  ‘Dark? Ha! Sweet Sap, after everything that ya went through I’d have thought that ya were more than entitled ta a little grumpiness. Besides ya used yer anger ta yer advantage, and when it threatened ta become too strong ya overcame it. Charlie, I know many, many adults who have trouble letting go of their hatred and anger. Yer’ve succeeded where many have failed. Seriously, sweetheart, I can’t say dis often enough or heartily enough: ya do me proud and if I didn’t know that one day soon we’re going ta reunite ya with yer parents I’d want ta adopt yer myself. Yer a daughter who would make any father happy.’

  Something welled up in Charlie. Rather than waiting for tears to spill across her cheeks she grabbed Kelko and allowed herself be pulled in for another hug. Sic Boy padded over to nuzzle her shoulder.

  They stayed like that for a long minute.

  The moment was finally broken when Kelko’s stomach gave a cheery grumble.

  ‘Right!’ said the Treman, smacking his lips together with relish. ‘Yer’ve saved Sylvaris, right?’

  ‘Check,’ said Charlie, following his lead.

  ‘Yer’ve beaten Darkmount and freed Bellania from a dark god?’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Yer’ve left Bane spitting and cursing after destroying his prized army?’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Yer’ve retrieved yer pendant and have firm plans for joining Jensen and Nibbler in the morning?’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Yer’ve been ta the celebration feast and taken pride of place at the head of the victory parade?’

  ‘Che–’ Charlie paused to stare at Kelko with a look of suspicion. ‘What feast? And what parade?’

  ‘So ya haven’t been ta the celebration, yammed on lots of yummy food or walked in front of adoring crowds?’

  ‘Stop playing, Kelko.’

  ‘Can ya hear the rumble of my stomach? Does that sound like the gurgle of a man that’s willing ta joke about food?’

  ‘I-I … look, I don’t have time to stand in a parade.’

  ‘It’s not stand in a parade, it’s lead a parade from the front. Place of pride, remember?’

  Charlie squirmed. ‘Look, we’ve got more important things to do. I’m supposed to find Salixia and after that I’ve got to prepare for tomorrow’s Portal to meet up with Jensen –’

  ‘Salixia? Who do ya think helped arrange dis celebration?’

  ‘What, you’ve found Salixia?’

  ‘Of course,’ snorted Kelko. ‘Do ya think I’d forget the sister of my best friend?’

  ‘She’s safe?’

  ‘Of course she is, although ya won’t be if ya turn down all the hard work she put inta dis.’

  Tucking one hand behind Charlie’s back Kelko began to push her down the street. Sic Boy, yawning contentedly, followed after.

  ‘But –’ began Charlie, only to be cut off by Kelko.

  ‘Charlie, yer doing dis. If not for yerself then yer doing it fer the city. The people of Sylvaris need a chance ta smile.’ A loud rumble came from Kelko’s midriff. ‘And if ya won’t do it fer the city ya better well do it for my stomach!’

  Charlie vaguely tried to protest. The idea of leading a parade went against her perception of good taste. Her concerns were silenced by a long drawn-out word that was uttered with complete warmth and total compassion by Kelko.

  ‘Fooooooooooood!’

  Sic Boy, finally having had enough of all the tomfoolery, bounded up to help Kelko haul Charlie down the street. They had a celebration to attend.

  59

  The Beginning of the End

  ‘Lord,’ said a footman, bowing low. ‘There are two … men who would beg an audience with you. They appear to be skilled and more than a little dangerous. They wish to offer their services to you, O Lord.’

  Bane stirred from his thoughts. ‘Send them in,’ he said with a negligent wave of his hand.

  The great doors to the Throne Room were pulled open and two figures – one little, one large – entered. They moved with the grace of predators. Self-assured and dangerous, they ignored the men-at-arms who guarded the room. Their gaze was reserved solely for the Stoman Lord.

  Bane stared them up and down, their appearance stirring a memory. ‘I have heard of you two, have I not?’ he said.

  ‘I would hope so,’ said the shorter one. ‘My name is Stix and this is my brother, Stones.’

  ‘Ahh, the Delightful Brothers,’ said Bane in his rumbling voice.

  ‘The Delightful Brothers indeed,’ stated Stones as he stared at the menacing figure who nearly dwarfed the huge Throne Room with the weight of his presence.

  ‘For what reason would you two dare to enter my domain? I believe your mother failed in her task to serve me.’

  ‘And for that incompetence she duly paid with her life,’ said Stix, the harsh scar standing out on his emotionless face. ‘We come to offer our services to the Stoman Lord,’ he rasped.

  ‘Yes, to offer our services,’ agreed Stones, clenching and unclenching his fists, ‘in the hope that we may yet tear the teeth and skin from that little pest Charlie Keeper.’

  The dovecote was one of the few parts of the Jade Tower that had not suffered any damage. Its white-washed walls were still intact, as too were the many pigeonholes where birds now resumed their soft cooing. The aviarist was more than a little tipsy, having already enjoyed his fill at the street celebration and victory p
arade. If he was quiet he could still hear the cries and cheers of partygoers living it up on the boulevards and floors below.

  Hiccupping, the bird-keeper blinked in mild surprise as an unfamiliar messenger pigeon fluttered its way towards the roosts. Swaying over to the bird he unravelled the scroll from round its foot.

  ‘Oh, by Sweet Sap and New Leaf,’ he whispered in disbelief.

  Shock driving the celebratory fuzz from his brain, he hastened towards the door, determined to alert the First Speaker to this new calamity. The sound of another bird arriving halted him in his tracks. Hurrying over he removed the message from his second visitor. With shaking fingers he unrolled the scrap of parchment.

  ‘No. No, no, nooooo,’ he moaned. Collapsing back against the wall he sank down until he was crouched in ball. Stifling a sob he pushed himself to his feet and ran from the dovecote.

  He had to warn the First Speaker and the Jade Circle. Sylvaris was under threat from not one but two new armies, and they were coming … and coming soon.

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