Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (12 page)

A roar came from above. Charlie glanced over her shoulder and saw a jostling wave of soldiers burst into the stairwell. At their feet was a telltale dark swirl of Shades as they too joined the chase. The cry and curse from the Stomen and the shriek of the Shades were so loud that they overwhelmed the howl of the gargoyles that also lined the stairwell. Charlie faltered at the piercing sound.

‘Keep going!’ insisted Nibbler.

Somehow Charlie managed to keep her momentum as arrows whistled past them. Leaning forward, she pumped her arms and ran for all she was worth.

The Shades, hungry for a taste of flesh, leaped ahead of the Stoman soldiers and closed in on the trio.

‘Faster!’ cried Darkmount. ‘We need to go faster!’

Mustering the Stonesong so that his feet glowed as brightly as his hands, he jumped on to the thick banister that lined the stairs and began to slide downward. He quickly picked up momentum and was soon flashing past floor after floor. With Darkmount out of his way Nibbler had more room to spread his wings. He too picked up speed, the whistle from his wings mingling with the klaxon sound coming from the gargoyles.

Which left Charlie in the rear.

The bowmen switched their focus to her.

‘Right,’ scowled Charlie as a hail of arrows fell around her. ‘Skank this!’

She fanned her Will so that it started to burn brighter. The golden sheets of flame that billowed from her fists surged and, taking hold of her courage, Charlie leaped.

She soared over the banister, over the terrible gap that led to the depths below, and landed with a thud on the far side of the floor below where she had started.

‘Ha!’ She grinned in jubilation.

Bunching her legs beneath her she jumped again. And again. Skipping from side to side and from floor to floor she descended.

All three of them, Darkmount with the green glow of his
stonesinging, Nibbler with his wings spread wide and Charlie with a haze of golden light surrounding her, sped downward and deeper. The soldiers and Shades, although still in pursuit, soon dwindled from sight.

As they headed deeper, the staircase began to change. The steps were carved with less precision, the banister grew rougher and the walls that lined the shaft became craggy. The gargoyles grew further and further apart until eventually they disappeared altogether.

Finally the stairway ended and, looking back up, Charlie realized that they must have descended not just the height of the citadel’s walls, but also the cliff that it rested upon. In fact, she guessed that they must now be hundreds of metres beneath the ground.

A tunnel led away from the stairs. Ugly statues, cruder and very different from the gargoyles of the citadael above, lined the way. Made from a rough unglazed terracotta clay, each one held its head and appeared to be in the process of screaming. Darkmount, ignoring the grim artwork, walked a small distance into the passageway before stopping.

‘This is it. The Gate lies that way. Your Winged friend and I will hold Bane’s forces here.’

‘But what –’

The screech of Shades and the sound of booted feet grew closer as their pursuers approached. The shrieking of the Shades and the clink of weapons were joined by the ominous rumble of stonesinging. It sounded as though the whole weight of the Stoman army was descending on them.

‘There is no more time!’ snapped Darkmount, preparing
himself to face the onslaught. ‘Remember everything that I have told you. Now go.’

‘Wait,’ said Charlie as a final thought came to mind. ‘What does the Gate look like?’

‘Pah! You will know it when you see it. Now go!’

A spear whistled into the tunnel, only to be stopped by a swipe of Darkmount’s glowing hands.

Nibbler gave Charlie a despairing look, a choked, ‘G’luck!’ then turned to stand next to Darkmount.

With a burst of crackling yellow flames and a flash of Stonesong, they rushed forward to meet their foes.

With a great clash the two sides met. Charlie stood dumbstruck as Nibbler began to rend and tear at armour. She watched as Darkmount smashed a shield in half and battered two soldiers to the ground. Nibbler’s flames pushed back Shades, and Darkmount’s hands shaped weapon after weapon from the stone floor with which to attack his opponents. Looking over their heads she stared at the torrent of enemies that filled the tunnel and swept down the staircase like a never-ending tide.

Shaking herself free from her stupor, Charlie turned and ran.

Down the tunnel towards hell.

15

Bounty Hunters

Jensen, Kelko and Sic Boy, cramped and tired, were slowly lulled into a shallow, fitful sleep by the rocking and bumping of the wagon. Occasionally they were slapped awake by the cruel guard, but soon returned to their restless slumber. They had tried and tested their bonds, wiggled fingers at each other in the hope of communicating some formula for escape, but other than that there was very little with which to occupy their minds.

A slow rumble intruded on their hazy dreams, growing in volume until it reverberated into a resounding
tha-thud, tha-thud
.

The wagon driver called out, ‘Whoa-whoa!’ and with a crack of his whip forced the horses off the side of the road. Jensen and Kelko craned their necks over the side of the wagon to stare in disbelief as the Widow Brigade, very much unexpected this far into the Great Plains, marched past.

‘What’s your business?’ snarled a captain as he rode up to the wagon on a rearing rhinospider. ‘State it quickly or see your heads parted from your necks!’

‘W-we’re c-carrying prisoners to the Soul Mines of Zhartoum,’ stammered the driver as he watched the sharp tip of
the captain’s halberd swaying mere inches from the end of his nose. ‘On express orders from our lord himself.’

‘Show me your papers,’ snapped the captain.

The guard hastily rummaged through the small box secured beneath the driving bench. Finding the papers, he presented them with a smug look on his piggish face.

The captain scanned them and, finding them legitimate, relaxed somewhat. ‘Apologies for the rough approach, lads. But we’ve strict orders to silence all eyes that witness our passing.’

The driver and the guard shared a panicked look.

‘Don’t worry!’ snorted the captain as he caught the exchange. ‘That doesn’t apply to our militia going about legitimate business.’ The driver and guard let out a thankful sigh.

The driver stared at the passing banners and military standards. ‘I thought the Widow Brigade was stationed at the Western Mountains?’

‘We were.’ The captain grinned. ‘But now we’re on a path to greater things. In alliance with the First Army we’re on our way to stamp the towers of Sylvaris into the ground. Our lord has offered to pay all his soldiers a blood price for every Treman nose delivered to his Throne Room.’ The captain pulled two sacks from his saddlebags. ‘If I can fill these with green noses I’ll be rich beyond my wildest dreams!’

With a throaty laugh of delight he turned his arachnid mount and galloped off, adding the dust of his passing to the great cloud already kicked up by the passing of thousands of booted feet.

The guard turned to look at the two prisoners with a speculative eye only to get a slap round the back of his head.

‘Stop that!’ insisted the driver. ‘Take their noses and we’ll not only lose our bonus, but we’ll lose this cushy job. And if you think that’s worth it, imagine where you’ll be drafted to next.’ The driver waved a thumb in the direction of the First Army. ‘Right in with that lot of grunts. Is that what you want? Marching for miles each day on an empty stomach, being ordered around by snotty-nosed colonels and gut-punching sergeants?’

‘No. Now that you mention it … no.’ The guard pushed his dagger back into its sheath and settled into his seat.

In the wagon, Jenson and Kelko, gagged as they were, needed no words to express their horror at what they had heard. Powerless to act, they had to wait three long hours before Bane’s mighty army had snaked its deadly way past them towards their beloved home of Sylvaris.

Bane’s bounty for Charlie Keeper was carried across the land. Heralds in elegant livery and town criers in rich robes shouted the announcement in hamlets, villages, towns and cities. Word began to travel far and wide and those motivated by the colour of gold and the twinkle of jewels pricked up their ears. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, cutpurses, bandits, soldiers of fortune, bootstraps and backstabbers gathered in throngs.

The Scarlet Poison Gang, the Scaramanga Triplets, the Forty Swords, the Band of Thirteen, the Liver Eaters and
many, many more listened eagerly as Bane’s bounty was described.

‘… sapphires!’

‘… enough rubies to swim in!’

‘… a thousand fistfuls of gold!’

Grinning and slapping each other on the back as though they had already earned the reward, they began to disperse in trickles and then droves as they started their quest for Bane’s elusive fugitive.

In a dusty square in some nameless village the herald’s words caused a riot as three competing gangs clashed over foolish boasts of what they would do with the reward.

On the outskirts of the piazza, a tall stranger with an unusual wide-brimmed hat and a shabby cloak ignored the violence and walked straight across the square. Those who saw him coming leaped out of the way. The fighting stopped and silence spread as the hoodlums cleared a path for the stranger and shouted warnings to those still brawling.

‘Fe-fi …’ whispered a heavily muscled Stoman.

‘Fo Fum,’ gasped another.

‘Watch out, watch out,’ chanted all the gang members in unison, ‘the bad man comes.’

Planting his heavy staff against the side of a building that edged the square, the stranger pulled a compact wooden box from beneath his robe. Inside was an ornate compass, the beauty and craftsmanship of which was most unusual. Its great age was also apparent, suggesting it had been constructed not just in a different time, but perhaps in a different realm. The man pulled the compass to his lips.

‘Charlie Keeper,’ he whispered in a dry, croaky voice. ‘I want Charlie Keeper.’

The compass wheel spun one way, the needle the other. Round and round they went, then suddenly snapped to a standstill, the needle pointing unerringly towards the Slumbering Hills.

The stranger folded the lid over the compass before carefully stowing it away.

Taking hold of his staff and ignoring the shouts and curses of the amateurs who resumed fighting behind him, the man strode off.

He had a fugitive Keeper to find and a bounty to earn.

16

Final Preparations

At the end of the tunnel was a chamber, crudely hewn from the bedrock. Thick candles crouched on lumps of rock and hung from stone outcroppings. Grey smoke and the putrid smell of burning fat oozing off the candles created a gloomy atmosphere and offered little in the way of illumination. The scent of rotting carcasses and stagnant water clogged Charlie’s nostrils and the only thing that stopped her from crying out in disgust was the sense of … something. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but beneath the terrible stench lay a feeling of suspense. As though something was lurking nearby, like a shark hidden in the murky depths waiting for someone foolish enough to dangle their toes in the water.

She wished that someone was there with her. Someone to talk to and help break the eerie atmosphere, but she was alone. At least she thought she was; she had the unpleasant sensation that something was watching her.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Charlie examined the chamber. On the far wall a skin of some sort had been stretched taut over the craggy surface. Drawing closer Charlie realized the terrible smell was coming from the stretched piece of hide. She could see bits of fat, scales and
hair clinging to it and, to her disgust, what looked like big pimples.

‘Eeurgh!’ she complained, unable to keep her mouth closed any longer. ‘That thing is gross! Gross! And look it’s even got zits on it, how naaaaaaaasty is that?’

She realized that she was talking to herself, but she didn’t care. Standing here, in this place, in total silence was more than she could bear.

‘This has got to be the Gate,’ she muttered. ‘There’s nothing else.’

She called forth her Will and smiled slightly as the gorgeous golden light pushed back the darkness. She reached towards the skin, her fingers not quite touching its horrendous surface. As she focused her mind and gritted her teeth, her Will shot out, covering the skin in golden light. It rippled and changed, becoming translucent. Through it she caught a brief glimpse of a cobbled stone pathway and a hanging rope bridge before a thick mist descended and obscured everything from view. All that remained were a few short metres of visibility that allowed her to see the path lying tauntingly in front of her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her parents, Azariah, Jensen and Kelko, and everything that had led her here. Grabbing the useless hilt of the Hell Sword and finding little comfort in its decrepit appearance, she gathered all the courage she could muster and leaped through the Gate.