Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (36 page)

‘How are we going ta find them in that?’ asked Jensen. Tears of anger threatened to leak from his eyes as he watched the ruin of his beloved city.

‘Captain!’ snapped Dridif. ‘Drop everything yer doing and have yer men scour the streets. I must have those Keepers returned here at once.’

‘I’ll fly down there and see what I can find,’ suggested Nibbler. Bunching his muscles he prepared to leap, but Charlie stopped him by placing her hand on his shoulder.

‘Wait,’ she suggested. ‘We’re in a position of vantage. From up here we can see across most of Sylvaris. All we have to look out for is a flash of Will. A golden light is going to stand out much brighter than anything else, right?’

‘Good lass,’ congratulated Jensen. He pointed at the few
councillors who had followed them outside. ‘Everyone, keep yer eyes open for gold. Cry out if ya see a Keeper!’

The balcony was soon fringed with bodies as those present desperately looked out.

‘There!’ boomed a Stoman lady, proudly wearing all her jade jewellery. ‘Down there … no, wait.’ Leaning over the balcony she pointed to a distant tower that throbbed with motion as soldiers from both sides battled across it. ‘It was there I saw it … wait, yes! It’s there again. A Keeper!’

Charlie pushed her way to the front of the balcony. Her eyes widened in triumph as she too glimpsed the faraway spark of golden Will.

‘Stand back,’ she commanded. Barely allowing the councillors enough time to jump aside, she opened a Portal and dived through. Jensen and Nibbler joined her. Crumble paused long enough to pinch a sword from one of the Treman guards, then he too sprang through.

They found themselves amidst a world of chaos. Screaming Humans and Tremen tore at Stomen. Rhinospiders scuttled this way and that, arrows flashed through the air, Shades snapped at swords, and axes thudded against shields.

Realizing that the bulk of the defenders were pressed back against the tower and that the majority of the invaders had pushed their way along a narrow bridge, Charlie let loose a torrent of blackened Will that shot across the end of the overpass. Nibbler joined her efforts with a blistering wave of flame. The enemy fell back, cursing and shrieking.

‘Here!’ hollered Crumble, pointing at the tower.

Surrounded by a cadre of Human and Treman soldiers
in torn and bloodied armour was a Keeper. A halo of gold fizzed and flitted above his fists, both of which clutched an arrow that had pierced his thigh, pinning him to the building’s stonework.

As Charlie and Nibbler struggled to keep Bane’s forces at bay, Jensen rushed to the Keeper’s side.

‘How bad is it?’ he asked.

The man, teeth clenched against the pain, somehow managed to force a grin. ‘I think it might put a crimp in my dancing style.’

Jensen, always one to appreciate a foolhardy spirit, grinned in response. ‘Any reason why yer haven’t pulled yerself free or were yer simply enjoying the opportunity ta rest against the wall?’

‘I don’t think it’s near the artery, but I’ve been too busy trying to keep those Shades away from my boys to take a look.’

‘Let’s take a peek.’ Jensen hunkered down to peer behind the man’s trapped leg.

‘Whatever you’re doing,’ screamed Charlie, tendons sticking up on her neck as she struggled to hold back the tide, ‘you’d better hurry it up!’

Jensen paused in his deliberations to look over his shoulder. ‘Whoops,’ he said as he caught sight of a behemoth wading along the bridge towards them. ‘Better make dis quick!’ Helping himself to a knife that hung from the Keeper’s belt, he reached around to feel for the arrow head embedded into the tower wall. ‘Sorry, friend, no time for niceties.’ With quick strokes he sawed through the shaft. Once he had parted the arrow from its head he gripped the
man by the thigh and with another ‘sorry!’ yanked the arrow free of his leg.

The man groaned and only by holding on to Jensen’s shoulder prevented himself from keeling over. ‘That wasn’t the lightest of touches,’ he protested.

Jensen grinned as he put a supporting arm round the man’s waist. ‘We could always wait for ya ta get shot in the other leg. Who knows I might get better with practice.’

‘No, no, you’re good. Thanks.’

‘Jensen!’ screamed Charlie as, with arms spread wide, she tried to slow the approach of the behemoth.

‘OK! We’re done here!’ he replied.

‘All right, boys!’ hollered the Keeper. ‘We’re not winning any ground here, let’s regroup and try hitting them from somewhere else.’

At his command those of his men still capable of standing dragged those who couldn’t through Charlie’s Portal.

‘Clear!’ hollered the last of the Treman soldiers as they disappeared through to the Jade Tower.

Charlie commenced her retreat. Step by step she did her best to keep both the Stomen and lumbering behemoth at bay, all the while slowly inching back.

‘The bridge!’ shouted Nibbler. ‘The bridge!’

With both her hands full and her mind focused on fighting the behemoth Charlie didn’t grasp what Nibbler was driving at. It was only when he sent bolt after bolt of lightning into the arch of the bridge that Charlie finally understood what he was suggesting.

And she wasn’t happy with the notion.

She saw Bane’s forces rioting across the city, she saw the
smoke, the fire and the Stonesingers rampaging through Deepforest, but until now it simply hadn’t dawned upon her that they were fighting a losing battle. She couldn’t bring herself to strike against the city that she saw as a second home, she simply couldn’t raise her hand to damage something that had bewitched her with its sheer beauty.

It was the Keeper they had rescued who made the decision for her. Sending a sheet of golden Will to strike in tandem with Nibbler’s lightning, he brought the graceful bridge, the behemoth and all the Stoman forces upon it tumbling down. With barely a pause Jensen dragged him through the Portal, grabbing Crumble as he went. Nibbler flapped in behind them.

‘Charlie!’ he shouted. ‘Come on!’

Charlie took one last look at the scene before her. With her heart heavy in her chest and the taste of ashes upon her tongue, she leaped after the others.

49

Marsila the Fierce

With one hand pressed on his wound the Keeper extended his other towards Charlie.

‘My name is E’Jaaz. I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude.’

Charlie took his calloused hand in her own and they shook hands. She was fascinated to note that this Keeper was dressed very differently from Azariah; indeed there was something about him that made her think of a Persian knight. He had brown eyes and long dark hair that was held in check with a braided cord. Strange tattoos were inscribed across his bronzed cheeks. His billowing black trousers were tucked into shin-high boots and his loose open shirt was tied with an embroidered sash.

‘That’s a debt that I might want repaid sooner than you think.’

‘Ha!’ chuckled E’Jaaz. ‘So you’ve noticed it’s the end of the world and you want to collect what’s owed to you while you can? I like your style!’

Charlie eyed the man. His leg was bleeding, the city was burning around him and he had the courage or the madness to grin. What kind of man was this Keeper?

‘E’Jaaz,’ said Dridif, interrupting the conversation with a commanding tone. ‘Charlie brings Sylvaris hope, but we need one more Keeper. Where can the other four be found?’

‘Hope?’ said E’Jaaz, shocked to realize that this might not be the end. ‘Tis a fine thing. A fine thing indeed.’ He turned to Dridif. ‘I’m not certain regarding the whereabouts of Hikmat, Jericha and Roxana, but Marsila I know has chosen to hold back the tide at the Whispering Heights. I can get us –’

‘I’ll do it,’ insisted Charlie. ‘Get that leg looked at. You’ll need it where we’re going.’

E’Jaaz chuckled as he watched Charlie sweep open a Portal. ‘Charlie, you’re something new, you know that?’

‘Fetch a healer!’ snapped Dridif.

E’Jaaz shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled into a chair. ‘Keep your Will bright!’ he called out as Charlie, Jensen, Crumble and Nibbler disappeared through the Portal.

Mr Crow was growing nervous. He didn’t like the look of the stranger with the wide oriental-looking hat. The man had a definite air of danger to him. That, combined with the multitude of looming stone monsters – which Mr Crow knew were just waiting to lumber into motion – were almost too much to bear. His natural instinct for survival and his constant cowardice were screaming at him to depart the scene. To leave while he still could.

But the lawyer knew that he couldn’t return to Bane
empty-handed if he wanted to live. The Stoman Lord would rip him into a thousand pieces for his failures. Better to return late and triumphant or not at all.

Becoming increasingly fraught, Mr Crow strode up and down, racking his brains in an attempt to come up with a plan. What could he offer Bane? What could he give the Stoman Lord that he didn’t already have?

A nasty grin crept across the lawyer’s face. Breaking into a trot, then a sprint, he leaped into the air and dissolved into a flock of shrieking black birds. Whipping into a frenzy, they settled round one of the statuesque soldiers. Grasping its rocky skin, they tried to lift it into the air, but it was simply too heavy a weight.

Darting upwards to a higher altitude they hesitated for a moment then descended with the power of a sledgehammer. Slamming repeatedly against the gargorilla’s waist they broke it into two. Grabbing the topmost piece they again attempted to take to the skies.

This time it worked. Flapping and cawing, they headed westward with their prize clutched in their talons.

Charlie and her friends pushed against the flow of terrified people. There were Tremen with bags upon their backs, Humans with children upon their shoulders and Stomen heaving over-laden carts full of belongings, food and hastily gathered medical supplies.

It was by no means easy pushing through the refugees, but Charlie had miscast her Portal so that it fell a bridge
away from the three towers that comprised the Whispering Heights. Gritting their teeth the three friends plunged ahead while Nibbler flew above them.

There were sudden screams and a slackening of pressure. The crowd parted as a carpet of Shades, screeching and hooting, forced their way past the defensive line of Treman soldiers. Young children shrieked in terror, old folks tottered desperately forward and terrified parents dropped their belongings in a bid to escape.

‘NO MORE!’ howled a voice. ‘NO MORE I SAID!’

A sheet of gold light sheared into one of the three towers, ripping free several flights of stairs, a couple of balconies and two of the celebrated gardens of Sylvaris. Cracking and groaning the great mass cascaded free to slam into the writhing pile of Shades.

A woman in tight-fitting clothes and black lacquered armour clambered up the rubble to strike and claw at the few surviving Shades with golden hands.

‘Marsila?’ hollered Charlie.

The Keeper, a Shade dangling lifelessly in one hand, her other arm poised to strike, paused in her efforts.

‘Who are you?’ she shouted.

‘Charlie. Charlie Keeper.’

‘Elias and Mya’s girl?’

Charlie started at the sound of her parents’ names. ‘How do you know my parents?’

Marsila nodded in appreciation as Nibbler swept low to finish her job with a wave of flame that sent the last of the Shades writhing and clawing to plummet from the bridge to the chaos that lay below. ‘We Keepers are a small
community.’ She watched with a bleak expression as a distant behemoth tore down a once graceful tower. ‘Much smaller now that Bane has had his way.’

‘Marsila?’ said Charlie, noting that the lady in black appeared distracted.

The lady blinked. A ribbon of red warpaint covered her eyes and the bridge of her nose. This, the dead Shade in one hand and the stink of war upon her clothes made her appear fearsome indeed. ‘Apologies. It has been days since I slept and my mind has started to wander. What can I do for you Charlie?’

‘I need help. I need a Triad of Keepers.’

Marsila allowed a sad smile to reach her lips. ‘That has been tried already, but Hikmat, Jericha and Roxana fell within the first two hours. A Triad will not save the day. This is the end.’ She cast the Shade over the side of the bridge. ‘Make your last stand how you will.’ Marsila began to walk away.