Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (27 page)

Nibbler, led by his stomach, soon joined him on the riverbank and Charlie, not wanting to be left alone with her dark thoughts, joined them too.

‘Who’s Fo Fum?’ asked Charlie as she replayed their earlier conversation with Ottoline in her head.

‘I can’t believe neither of you have heard of him,’ said Crumble. ‘I know you’ve both only been in Bellania for a short period of time, but he’s one of those characters who everyone knows.’ Seeing Charlie and Nibbler’s blank expressions he continued. ‘Parents scare their children to sleep with stories of Fo Fum. Mine always used to say:
Be good or Fo Fum will come and snatch you away. Do your chores or Fo Fum will come and break all your bones. Go to bed or Fo Fum will pluck your eyeballs from their sockets and gobble them up.
He’s the most infamous mercenary in Bellania. Surely you must have heard something about him?’

Nibbler and Charlie shook their heads.

‘How about the children’s rhyme: “Fe-fi, Fo Fum, watch out, watch out, the bad man comes”?’

‘I know that one,’ said Charlie, ‘but you’ve got it wrong. It’s: “Fe-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”’

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘It’s part of a fairy tale that they tell kids back home.
That’s the chant that the giant sings when he comes looking for the guy who stole his gold.’

‘Well, be that as it may in your realm, this is no fairy tale and Fo Fum is no giant. He’s a man … but like no other. They say he comes from the south. From far beyond the Great Deserts or the Great Veil, and that he lives in the Dark Temple of the Whispering Wind. They say that he was trained by the Blind Monks and that he’s their best student: the only one to survive the Thousand Tests, the only man who can’t be killed.’

‘That sounds like more of a tall tale than the one we tell on Earth. Have you ever seen this Fo Fum?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know of anyone who has seen him?’

‘No.’

‘So how do you know he’s real then?’

‘Two hours walk from where I live lies a canyon so deep that parts of it never see the sun. My uncle took me there when I was six. Inside were these marks, craters and small pockmarks in the rock, that hadn’t been made by stonesinging. My uncle said this was the site of a great battle when the Hundred Axes fought –’

‘Were they any better than the Forty Swords?’ asked Nibbler. ‘Cos they weren’t very good, were they? I mean –’

‘Am I telling this story or do you want to talk about what happened in Shidden Vale?’ protested Crumble.

‘Uh, sorry. Carry on.’

‘It was where the legendary Hundred Axes,
who were very skilled warriors
–’ Crumble paused to give Nibbler a don’t-you-dare-say-anything look – ‘fought Fo Fum. They
say the battle was so fierce that it went on for two whole days and nights and that Fo Fum was the only one to leave that place alive. They say those marks were made by his fists and his staff.’

‘How do they know that?’ persisted Charlie. ‘Couldn’t it just have been some funny marks in the rock that people made a story about?’

‘Charlie, it was hand marks in the rock. You could see the fingers, the width of the palm, you could see everything. And the prints were deep in the rock. Some of them were so deep I could stick my hand in up to my forearm before I could reach the impression. I saw it. I was there and believe me when I tell you that they were real. Just think about it for a minute – Fo Fum doesn’t stonesing, but he’s so strong that he can punch into rock completely unaided. Now, I don’t know about you, but that scares me.’

‘So you think this Fo Fum was there and he really took out these Hundred Axes?’ asked Nibbler.

‘Someone made those marks.’

There was silence as they imagined how powerful someone had to be to do that to rock without stonesinging or the Will and the Way. A sudden splash of water and the jerking of Crumble’s fishing rod interrupted their thoughts. Grinning, Crumble hauled in his catch.

‘Now that’s a fish!’ he said with relish. ‘If we catch a couple more like that we’ll have enough for a royal feast.’

Charlie’s stomach rumbled at the idea. Barbequed fish also conjured up memories of her first day in Bellania: being chased by Sic Boy, falling off the waterfall, meeting all the Tremen and sharing their beautifully prepared meal beneath
the trees of Deepforest. Her smile faded as she remembered how Stotch had died soon after that event. Dark thoughts so briefly pushed aside returned with a vengeance.

‘Crumble, Nibbler, we’ll rest tonight, but tomorrow we make our move. Things are going to have to move a lot faster from this point on.’

Nibbler looked up with a haunted expression on his face and Crumble hesitated as he lowered his fishing hook into the river.

‘Crumble, will you look at the map and see if you can find –’

‘Enough, Charlie, that’s enough,’ insisted Crumble. ‘We’ll both help you the best we can. I’ll look at that map with you tomorrow and we’ll find a safe place to open the Portal, but right here, right now, let’s try to enjoy ourselves.’

Charlie frowned at him. ‘Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand what’s at risk?’

‘Of course I get it, Charlie. Your parents, the return of the Winged Ones, a chance to return Bellania to a state of peace – all of that good stuff. And I’ll help you get there, but not all of this has to be bad. Life’s too short to dwell on sorrow. If you fill your stomach with nothing but anger, hate and regret then that’s what you’ll turn into: an angry, hateful, regretful person. My uncle used to say “The wound that bleeds inwardly is the most dangerous”. I never knew what he meant, but having seen what you’re putting yourself through I finally understand. Charlie, you’re your own worst enemy.’

Charlie hesitated. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but felt that if she opened her mouth she’d only make matters worse.

‘Charlie,’ said Nibbler with a gentle voice, ‘he’s right. I can’t stand to see what you’re doing to yourself either and I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my best friend because of it. You’ve been surrounded by darkness for so long that you’ve taken it into yourself. You’re becoming as menacing as the people we fight and that’s just not who you are.’

Charlie couldn’t deny that what they said had a grain of truth to it, but how could they say such a thing? Didn’t she have the right to change after all that she had endured? She felt the unbearable pressure of responsibility, always bubbling in the back of her mind, build to the point where she thought her head would explode. With it came a feeling of anger and a strong need to express herself.

She opened her mouth, but before she could vent an image of her grandma’s kitchen, very much unexpected, appeared in her mind’s eye. It was a vivid memory of better times when her parents were still around. And although the kitchen was empty she could tell that her gran had just been in there. She could see the flour-coated kitchen top, the rolling pin so recently used. The memory was so strong that she could smell the scent of fresh baking, and lingering in the air was the aroma of her mother’s perfume. With that reminder came a sudden peace that lulled her heart. Relaxing from her tense position she shut her mouth.

Then she opened it again. ‘It’s not easy. It’s not! They’ve taken everything from me, even the promise of any return to normality, of ever having a regular life. All of that has been stolen from me. But you’re right. You’re both right, I can’t go on like this.’ She paused to gather her thoughts. ‘I can’t allow this darkness to consume me. But I can’t give it
up either. I need it. If I’m ever going to stand up to Bane or if I ever meet Darkmount again I’m going to need it. So help me. Help me find a balance, one where I can use this thing inside me but still be … me.’

‘I won’t leave you, Charlie,’ said Nibbler. ‘I’ll always be here.’

‘Erm … I can’t match that.’ Crumble grinned ruefully. ‘I’ve got a family and, while I don’t necessarily get on well with my father, I love my rock brothers and sisters, and there’s still a lot that I can learn from my uncle. So I won’t always be there for you, but I think that I’d like to be your friend, Charlie. And if I help you in the future it’ll be for friendship and not out of respect for your profession.’

Crumble leaned across the campfire with an open hand. Charlie took it and gripped it and, unable and unwilling to ignore his honest smile, found herself cracking a grin too.

‘So we’re going to blow some steam off tonight and get back on with the game plan tomorrow?’ she asked.

Crumble nodded as he added some fresh bait to his hook. ‘Now that sounds like a plan. Time off every once in a while can’t be a bad thing.’

‘Great,’ agreed Nibbler. ‘I’m all about the relaxing time. So can we get on with the fishing now? I’m getting those growing pangs again.’

36

The First of War

Kelko stood uncomfortably next to the two men on either side of him. They, unlike him, seemed keen to confront Bane’s army and had spent most of the last two hours boasting about how many soldiers they would vanquish and how many medals they would win.

Kelko, in contrast, felt mildly sick. He stared down at his suit of armour with twin feelings of disbelief and sadness. It was a beautiful piece of woodsmanship, crafted by the very finest Tree Singers and passed down from one of his great forebears. It bore marks and scars from famous historic battles and had been passed from generation to generation with whispered stories of what previous members of the Oak family had achieved from beneath its protective plating.

Even though Kelko had employed a Tree Singer of wondrous skill to enlarge it to fit his unique frame, he had honestly never thought the day would arise when he would have to wear it with serious intent. He didn’t consider himself a soldier, nor did he believe in the merits of death and destruction

But that day had come. Now it was time for him to claim his place as a soldier of Sylvaris and defend the city
of his birth and the forest he loved. That morning he had pulled the great family war axe from its mount on the wall and, slipping the heraldic shield that bore a stylized oak over his other arm, he had left his tower in Sylvaris and joined the procession of other men filing down to Deepforest.

All afternoon the Sylvarisian forces encamped on the border between Deepforest and the endless grasslands of the Great Plains had prepared for the coming of the enemy. Generals had made bold speeches; master Tree Singers had grown huge beds of strangleweed and suckerthorns to hinder the enemy’s approach; sappers had dug trenches, embedded stakes in the soil and raised great ramparts; fletchers had handed out arrows; blacksmiths and woodsmiths had attended to weapons and armour; and healers had prepared medical tents.

But now everyone at the front was growing restless. Archers had checked and rechecked their flights; cavalry and canine riders had fed and watered their mounts; foot soldiers had sharpened their swords to razor edges; quartermasters had long since given out all necessary supplies; and now only potboys or juniors moved as they carried water and sweet tea to the waiting troops.

An uneasy silence settled across the Treman army as a faint vibration rocked the land. Minutes passed and the vibration didn’t cease. Instead the tremor grew and with it came a faint noise reminiscent of waves crashing against distant cliffs. A smudge appeared on the horizon that slowly grew and unfolded like low hanging clouds. As this odd phenomenon grew, so too did the terrible vibration and eerie sound. Soon it was clear that the impossibly long line that
spread across the horizon was none other than Bane’s First Army.

To begin with the line was made up of distant specks, but as it drew closer everything eased into focus so that individuals and details could be identified. Throngs of Shades skittered and shrieked as they surged across the grass like the approaching tide of a dark sea. Stamping behind them with measured steps came proud Stoman soldiers with axes or swords clamped in their eager hands. Finally, above the rank and file, skittered the Widow Brigade. Each rider, whip and spiked pennant in hand, was carried forward by rhinospiders that, having detected the scent of Tremen in the air, clicked their mandibles together with greedy appetite.

The two men on either side of Kelko stared at each other. One took a hasty sip of water and the other chewed on his knuckles. Their earlier boasts of prowess were swiftly forgotten as they were faced with the terrible realization that the Treman army was vastly outnumbered.

With a final thump the enemy came to a standstill.

Just out of bowshot Stomen sniggered and grinned as they eyed their diminutive foes. Jeers and catcalls were hurled across the gap of no-man’s-land. These were swiftly silenced as a general to the rear of the ranks snapped out a command. The Stomen raised their weapons high, then brought them crashing down against their shields.

Again and again they repeated this action and a barrage of sound cracked against the sky. Another order was screamed out and the speed with which the Stomen struck their shields changed so that it was no longer a mindless
pounding but a fiery rhythm that snapped and boomed across the landscape.

Frightening. Threatening.

And then the enemy started to sing.

Rough voices joined together to weave a song of power that filled the air with a tangible potency. The ranks parted and Stonesingers swaggered forward. Gesturing with glowing hands they harnessed the song and channelled it into the ground. Creaking and moaning, the grass tore apart as gigantic fists and overly large heads squirmed free from the soil. Slowly, behemoths pulled themselves from the earth to tower over the battlefield like the stone gods of old.

The Stoman army cheered in delight as one by one the behemoths grated open their jaws and trumpeted a mindless bellow of challenge to the Treman ranks that detonated across no-man’s-land.

The Tremen, not to be outdone, roused themselves and responded with a militant chant of their own that brought with it a scent of pepper, nettle and cardamom. Tree Singers, funnelling the power of their song, roused great panther-like creatures from oversized seeds that had been placed strategically upon the soil. The feline forest creatures snarled and paced back and forth aggressively. Their eyes blazed with an elemental purple light and the desire to pounce on the enemy.