Keeper of the Realms

by Marcus Alexander

  Aware of how tired she really was, she paused to consider her position. ‘Maybe comfortable isn’t such a good idea,’ she said to herself.

  She didn’t doubt that it would be easy to fall asleep sitting up. Just thinking about it seemed tempting. Sighing, she stood, found a couple of rough pebbles, then resumed her seat with the uncomfortable pillow of stones beneath her.

  ‘Oh yes, good times,’ whispered Charlie with a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘If only my friends could see me now. Sitting on stones to keep myself awake.’

  Looking out, she noted that the landscape seemed different at night. Very different. The boulders and rock spires, splendid to look at in the daylight, now seemed cruel and forbidding. Half glimpsed in the gloom, the spires looked like hooked claws, and her imagination couldn’t help but conjure up images of Rhinospiders, with their thin legs and fat, bloated bodies, hidden behind boulders, just waiting for the right moment to sneak on to their island.

  After that, it didn’t take long for her mind to switch to darker, more menacing enemies. The nasty faces of Stix and Stones, the Delightful Brothers, flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t forget how twisted they had seemed from the first moment she had met them. Her unpleasant stay in the Ivory Tower with the two of them as her captors had cemented her opinion of them as bitter, vengeful pieces of work. Their hatred for her had grown all the more when she had accidentally killed Lady Narcissa, their treacherous mother, while saving Jensen’s life.

  Then there was Mr Crow, the deceitful, greedy lawyer who had always had his eye on her house and the wealth it contained. Wealth that he felt, by rights, should belong to him. Charlie had never understood how his crooked mind worked but somewhere along the line his longing for her family’s wealth and misplaced sense of ownership had caused him to develop an intense hatred for her. She knew that he also blamed her for his arrival in Bellania, into Bane and his dark god.

  Crowning them all, of course, was Bane. She hated him for all that he had done and that he intended to do. Deciphering his feelings for her was a little harder. She wasn’t sure if he thought of her as anything more than an annoying bug. Whatever his opinion, she knew that in order to secure his grasp on the realm he required her death.

  And no matter how you add it up, mused Charlie to herself, that’s a lot of powerful enemies with grudges against me. In an attempt to dispel her jittery thoughts, she grabbed a stick and started drawing marks in the dirt. Fourteen for the temples they had already checked on the southern side of the Winged Mount and another seventy-six (to make a total of ninety) so she could work on the maths required to calculate their chances of success. E’Jaaz’s earlier explanation of their odds had really struck a chord. And added to this medley of thoughts spinning through her mind was that unfinished clue on the pendant.

  She was just in the process of scratching another mark when she heard a shriek echo out from across the darkness. It was a cross between a lion’s rasping cough and the screech of a coyote.

  There was a rustle behind her. Flustered, she tried to spin round but after sitting on the pebbles her legs had gone numb. When she did manage to face the surprised faces of Marsila and E’Jaaz she did so on her hands and knees. Nibbler joined them a moment later.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘I didn’t see it.’

  The shriek came again. Haunting and eerie, the sound caused the hairs to stand on all three Keepers’ arms. Nibbler’s ears flickered in alarm.

  Again came the challenging cry and again, each shriek more fearsome than the one before.

  Then another voice arose to join the first, shattering the night with a chorus of strident screams, hoots and caustic whistles.

  ‘There’s two of them,’ said E’Jaaz. ‘Whatever they are.’

  ‘They sound familiar,’ said Charlie. ‘Almost like Wyrms but not quite …’

  ‘That’s not a Wyrm cry that I’m familiar with,’ said Marsila. ‘Sounds too big.’

  ‘And too hungry,’ added Nibbler.

  Charlie shivered as she heard the cry come again.

  ‘Well, no use worrying over something that can’t be seen,’ said E’Jaaz. ‘We’ll deal with it in the morning.’

  Charlie couldn’t believe it when she saw him head back towards camp. How could he be so calm? Who could bear to sleep while some unseen predator rampaged in the nearby darkness?

  The haunting shrieks came again but quieter as though receding into the distance.

  ‘They’re going away, but I’ll extinguish the fire,’ said Marsila. ‘Until we know what we’re dealing with there’s no need to risk being seen. Wake me if they come closer.’

  Charlie did a double take as Marsila too returned to bed.

  ‘G’night, Charlie,’ said Nibbler.

  ‘What? You’re going to sleep as well?’ said Charlie in disbelief. ‘With those things out there? Am I the only sane one here?’

  ‘Well, like Marsila said, they’re going away. Besides, if I’m getting up soon to cover the last shift it kinda makes sense that I get what sleep I can. Night, Charlie.’

  There was a rustle as Nibbler pushed his way back through the brush.

  Alone, Charlie looked out into the darkness. Her heart pitter-pattered as the night continued to be broken by spine-chilling hoots, whistles and chattering wails of unseen monsters.

  Like two spiteful teenagers, Stix and Stones dismounted from their rides and swaggered through the Embassy of the Winds. Guards thought to stop and question them but after seeing the two arrive on their stone-like beasts they pretended to look elsewhere as the Delightful Brothers passed by.

  ‘Where’s your boss?’ said Stix with a sneer to a large Stoman.

  ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘His replacement,’ Stix replied with a nasty grin.

  The soldier’s first instinct was to smack the Treman but after looking twice he changed his mind. ‘Down the corridor, left at the junction, knock on the door with the shield and wing carvings.’

  Stix and Stones sauntered off. When they reached the door they didn’t bother to knock.

  The impressive Stonesinger seated behind the desk half rose from his seat. ‘Who the –’ He paused then slowly sat down. ‘I’ve heard of you two. The Delightful Brothers, right? What do you want?’

  ‘Travel, fame and the opportunity to hunt,’ said Stones with an idle shrug.

  The Stonesinger growled, ‘I’m not playing games. What do you want here in my garrison?’

  ‘Your job,’ said Stones. He allowed a menacing smile to appear on his face.

  ‘My job,’ said the Stonesinger through gritted teeth, ‘is not up for grabs!’

  ‘We thought you’d say that,’ said Stix. ‘If we were polite we might mention that your lord sent us here and that we’re taking over with his permission … but we’re not polite and we don’t do nice. So what are you going to do about it?’

  The Stonesinger sprang from his chair with a snarl on his face.

  Once it was all over, the Delightful Brothers mulled over the three-dimensional map of the area that rose from the floor.

  ‘What do you think those little flags mean?’ Stix asked his brother.

  ‘I’m not sure. Let’s find out.’ He tugged the door open and bellowed, ‘Captain!’

  There was a moment’s quiet, then the sound of running feet.

  ‘Sir?’ said the Stoman and snapped a salute as soon as he entered. His composure faltered when he noticed the blood, then his fallen commander and the Delightful Brothers watching him with cold eyes.

  ‘We’re in charge,’ spat Stix in a voice so full of poison and hate that the captain flinched. ‘Your lord, Bane, sent us. So we’re here. And we’re in control. Problem?’

  The captain was quick to grasp the new state of affairs. ‘No problem, sir. What do you need?’

  ‘We want information on the Keepers and the pendant,’ said Stones. ‘What do these flags indicate?’

  Th
e captain carefully made his way into the room to stand next to the map. ‘They’re indicators of conflict, sir. Each shows where we spotted or clashed with the Keepers.’

  ‘What are these buildings?’ asked Stix.

  ‘The old temples, sir. We’ve had a lot of skirmishes around those.’

  ‘You don’t say,’ drawled Stix. ‘All right, laddie, these are our commands …’

  17

  Red Eyes and More Coffee

  Before the pre-dawn light banished the stars, E’Jaaz and Marsila rose from their beds like clockwork machines.

  Marsila bent to stir Charlie but found her wide awake, her eyes bloodshot and the dark circles beneath larger than ever before.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep, huh?’

  ‘No! And I don’t understand how you guys managed with those whatever-they-ares out there,’ grumbled Charlie. ‘How could anyone sleep with all that howling?’

  ‘You need to learn to switch off that mind of yours,’ said Marsila. ‘Idle thoughts, wild fears and useless speculation will keep anyone awake. Even the Maoli Masters know better than to waste an opportunity for sleep; they save their philosophy for the light of day.’

  ‘I’d like to see these Mooli Masters switch their minds off when there’s great blooming big monsters screaming for their blood in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Maoli,’ corrected Marsila. ‘Not Mooli.’

  ‘Bleuuurgh,’ groaned Charlie and rubbed furiously at her eyes. ‘Maoli, Mooli, Mooing, whatever. I’d just like to get a decent night’s sleep for once.’

  ‘Our moonlight visitors do seem to have withdrawn,’ said E’Jaaz. ‘Perhaps these hidden beasties are nocturnal? If luck is with us we’ll discover the right Gateway and be on our way before we ever put a face to our mysterious monsters.’

  Marsila snorted. ‘Have you ever known our luck to be that good? No, the chances are we’ll come face to face with our unseen predators before the day is done.’

  ‘Hey, guys!’ said Nibbler, returning from his watch with a cheerful grin. ‘I heard you were up and … Whoa!’ He did a double take when he saw Charlie’s bloodshot eyes and messy hair. Even by Charlie’s standards this was reaching new lows. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ muttered Charlie. ‘All I want is some hot food … and maybe the chance to find out if black coffee really works.’

  ‘Well … you might be in luck,’ said E’Jaaz. ‘With our beasties absent for the moment I’m sure we can rekindle the campfire and a fresh brew of coffee would be in all our interests.’ He paused to peer at her bloodshot eyes. ‘Although, to be honest, in your condition I think a little dragonsblood wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Marsila snorted in derision. ‘Fool’s request. There won’t be any dragonsblood until the Winged Ones return.’

  ‘What’s dragonsblood?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Winged Ones’ blood,’ replied Marsila.

  ‘What, literally?’

  ‘Literally,’ acknowledged Marsila.

  Charlie’s mouth wobbled as her mind chased itself in circles trying to consider all the implications. ‘Haaaaang on a minute,’ she suddenly protested. ‘Everyone stares at me like a fool each time I say “dragon” instead of Winged One but how come it’s OK for you to say “dragonsblood”?’

  ‘It’s an ancient word that survives from the time before the Great Cataclysm,’ explained Marsila. ‘When the realms of Earth and Bellania split, the Humans on that side continued to call Winged Ones by the local name of dragons but here we address them with their chosen honorific of Winged Ones. Dragonsblood is one of the few exceptions to the rule.’

  Charlie was too tired to grumble about the inconsistencies of that. She was, however, puzzled as to the benefits of drinking a Winged One’s blood. ‘So, uh, what does dragonsblood do?’

  ‘Yeah,’ added Nibbler, just as intrigued as his friend.

  ‘It’s a restorative,’ explained Marsila. ‘As Keepers, we share the same genetic traits as Winged Ones – indeed, all our powers come from the ancient mingling of our bloodlines.’

  ‘Er … I’ve never got that bit,’ said Charlie. ‘How can Keepers and Winged Ones share the same genes?’

  ‘That’s a long conversation,’ said Marsila. ‘And something we don’t have time for. Charlie, I’m well aware that your education as a Keeper is lacking but until this war is over that’s something we won’t be able to address. For now, please just take my word for it. But back to dragonsblood. As Keepers, our bodies and powers are in tune with those of the Winged Ones. In times of need, be our wounds too great or our Will too weak, we can restore ourselves with the blood of the Winged Ones. It is, however, a double-edged gift. There can be side effects and the receiving of it is always painful. I don’t really know why E’Jaaz bothered to mention it as without the Winged Ones present it’s not something that’s available to us.’

  ‘Er, hello? Someone forgetting something?’ said Nibbler. He made a show of patting his body as though checking for something that he might have misplaced. ‘Wings? Wings? Ah yes, I still have wings so I’m guessing that would make me … a Winged One! So roll up, roll up! Dragonsblood if you need it! Going today at a bargain price of two barrels of Larva-Larva fruit for a cup of dragonsblood!’

  ‘Ew! Nibbler!’ protested Charlie. ‘That’s gross. I’m not going to drink your blood! Do you think I’m a vampire?’

  ‘Well, E’Jaaz did say it might help your fatigue,’ said Nibbler. He twisted his head to one side to better expose his neck. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a little –’ he made some horrendous sucking noises – ‘a little nibble?’

  ‘Nibbler!’ protested Charlie.

  ‘Oh, my Sweet Heavens,’ snorted E’Jaaz. ‘It’s too early for this kind of pandemonium. Nibbler, you’re still too small to be offering your blood. When you’ve fully grown into your wings you’ll have enough to spare. But until then let’s stick with the traditional fare of coffee and food, and save gnawing on Nibbler’s neck for another day, shall we?’

  Hearing no words of protest, he lit the fire, heated some rations and then rummaged through his pack to pull out one of the smallest and oddest-looking kettles Charlie had ever seen. He added some ground coffee and water to the kettle, then settled back, humming gently.

  The four of them sat in a companionable silence as the aroma of roasted food and fresh coffee wafted across their small campsite.

  Marsila waited for everyone to enjoy a mouthful of food and a sip of coffee before pulling the map out. ‘This is going to be a working breakfast, people. We have a lot of ground to cover and a clock that is fast running out. We need to discuss our search pattern for the remaining temples, how we’re going to tackle the issue of the Shade and Stoman attacks, and how we’re going to proceed when we come face to face with our howling friends from last night.’

  ‘You really think we’re going to bump into those beasties?’ asked E’Jaaz.

  Marsila didn’t bother to reply; she just gave him a look.

  ‘So beasties it is,’ acknowledged E’Jaaz with a grimace. ‘Monsters aside, I think we should continue to follow yesterday’s procedure for checking the temples. Maybe make the sectors smaller and jump around a bit more to keep the Stomen guessing.’

  ‘What about the …’ said Charlie, hesitating, ‘… the you-know-whats?’

  ‘Monsters?’ said E’Jaaz. ‘We wait until we see them before making any judgement. If they prove to be as big and as bad as they sound I think it would be wise for us to bail as soon as they appear.’

  ‘You mean run?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Sure. We’ve got enough on our plate already. I don’t want to add “confront and slay howling monsters” to our to-do list.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Marsila. ‘Now if everyone’s finished, let’s get to it.’ She paused to stare at Charlie’s bedraggled condition. ‘On second thoughts, Charlie, go down to the river and see if you can’t wash some of that sleep away. E’Jaaz will have another coffee wai
ting for you when you return. Nibbler, go keep her company.’

  Ten minutes later, with hair tidied and another strong coffee inside her, Charlie appeared somewhat presentable. More importantly, the shadows beneath her eyes had receded and, although not a bundle of enthusiasm, she had managed to shake off the worst effects of last night’s dismal lack of sleep.

  ‘You look better, Charlie,’ grinned E’Jaaz. ‘More human and less like the walking dead.’

  ‘Braaaaaaaaaaaains,’ began Nibbler, who had a penchant for doing zombie sound effects, but was quickly cut short by Marsila.

  ‘Stop that!’ She pointed at the map. ‘We’ll search this area first. Triad up and let’s get our game face on.’

  With a wave of golden light, they opened a Portal and disappeared to start their hunt anew.

  18

  The Chancellor

  The chamber of the Jade Circle had been converted into a war room that bustled with activity. Maps hung from walls, blackboards had been erected to mark the flow of supplies and couriers, and messengers had taken up stations around the perimeter ready to carry notes, commands and letters.

  Jensen, in his new position as chancellor, was seated at the Jade Table. He had been up till late and it showed. His eyes were red and the large stack of coffee mugs gave a good indication of the hours he had been keeping. He double-checked the letter he was working on, scribbled his signature on the parchment, sealed it with a generous blob of wax, then passed it to the waiting messenger.

  ‘Get it there as fast as possible,’ he said.

  The messenger nodded and hastened from the room. As he left another arrived and placed a scrawled note in Jensen’s waiting hands. Jensen frowned as he read, cursed and threw it over his shoulder to join a rising pile of discarded letters.

  Hearing his sigh, Lady Dridif raised an eyebrow. ‘Wot news?’

  ‘The Tribe of the Painted Lady agreed ta the blood price but it will take them two days ta reach us. And two days –’