Blood and Fire (Book 3)

by Marcus Alexander

  There was a moment of disbelief that stretched as the Stoman Lord digested Charlie’s words, then –

  ‘Impudence!’ roared Bane. His shout was so rich, so powerful, it caused the columns that supported the roof to shake, the bodies of the unconscious guards to tremble on the floor, and the Stowyrms and Charlie’s friends to momentarily pause their combat.

  Bane began to chant. The shadows around his shoulders rose, flames of power trembled around his fists and with a terrifying growl he pounded down the few remaining steps. Charlie, every bit as determined as Bane was furious, pulled deep on her Will. Deeper than she had ever done before.

  The two collided.

  Light flared. Shadows reared.

  The sound of their meeting cracked around the Throne Room and Charlie was suddenly and painfully forced to confront the reality of what happened when a teenage girl challenged a giant. The force of Bane’s inhuman blow knocked her off her feet and sent her whistling through the air. She crashed through several columns and landed in a crumpled heap at the foot of a leering statue.

  ‘Did you think,’ whispered Bane in an awful voice that somehow managed to cut through the bedlam, ‘that you could best me? That a mere squishy Human could stand against my might? Foolish child, all your fears and nightmares are about to come true.’

  He began to slowly, confidently stride across the rubble. Stonesong writhed and cracked around him, pools of shadow collected in his footsteps.

  Bane with Flames

  ‘I’m not done yet,’ said Charlie. Pushing herself to her feet, she repeated her words: ‘I’m not done yet!’

  Standing straight, she faced her foe.

  Nibbler sheared the wings off a Stowyrm with a bolt of lightning, then ignited the carpet beneath it with a jet of flames, causing the fibres to melt and stick to the beast, slowing its movements. Growling, he leaped on its back and pounded his claws repeatedly against its stony hide, interlacing his blows with spears of lightning.

  The thing shattered.

  Nibbler opened his mouth and let loose a wave of victorious flame but his triumph was cut short as another Stowyrm slammed into him in a bundle of crazed teeth and rock-hard scales. He slashed at his adversary, his talons leaving a trail of sparks across its flanks. Grabbing one of its wings in his mouth, he hauled himself on to its back. He caught a brief glimpse of Jensen and Hotstepper wrestling with opponents, then the view was lost to him as the beast he was riding slammed itself through a line of statues in an attempt to dislodge him.

  Pushing his concern for Charlie and his friends aside, Nibbler was forced to concentrate on his own survival.

  Charlie could not believe how powerful Bane really was. Each of his punches threatened to shatter her Will and when she managed to deflect them or dodge aside, his fists left craters in the floor. She had been fooling herself when she thought that she stood a chance. And now she was suffering for her lack of foresight.

  But Charlie was not going to give up. Not now. Not after everything she had endured.

  Slipping into a K’Changa stance, she rolled beneath his lunging fingers, sprang to her feet and kicked him as hard as she could. It felt like she had kicked a mountain. Biting back a hiss of pain, she ducked beneath a blow and cartwheeled away.

  He thudded after her with no trace of a limp or any sign to indicate that he had felt her kick.

  But that wasn’t going to stop her. If her attack hadn’t worked the first time, then she would simply try again. He had to feel something sooner or later. He had to.

  Fanning the fire in her heart, she caused her Will to flare around her and, gritting her teeth, she began to move faster and faster. She ducked beneath his lumbering attacks, tumbled over his grasping hands and weaved back and forth just out of his reach. As she moved, images of past pains flashed before her eyes. Eager for any advantage, she used these bitter memories as fuel to feed her aggression. Blocking a blow that sent her sliding, she recalled the first Bellanian friend who had been taken from her.

  ‘For Stotch!’ she cried, remembering how the poor Treman had looked after Bane’s Wyrms had robbed him of life. Running forward, she slammed her elbow as hard as she could against his thigh.

  Twisting away, she slid behind his foot and sliced the hard edge of her hand against the giant’s calf. ‘For Marsila!’

  Bane tried to grab her but she was too fast for him. She teased him towards one of the statues, then ran up it to somersault over his head. ‘For Azariah!’ she screamed and lashed out as she flew past.

  Breathing deeply and riding a wave of righteous anger, she shouted, ‘For my parents!’ and leaped straight for him.

  But Bane was ready for her and snagged her out of the air with a snort of derision. ‘Idiotic child! You are but a puppy before a wolf! A kitten before a lion!’ Wrapping his fingers round her arms, he trapped her in his grip. ‘Did you really think you would find justice here? You, like all your kind, are fragile, foolish and mistaken!’

  He finished the last words with a roar and swung his fist with Charlie in it, slamming it through a statue. Not stopping there, he continued down the line, bursting statue after statue and watching with grim satisfaction as Charlie’s Will flared less and less with each successive explosion.

  Grazes and cuts began to appear on Charlie’s head as her Will grew weak. The wound on her lip that she had received from the Stone Bishops opened up and began to bleed.

  Bane grunted at the sight of it.

  ‘Fleshy and weak. How I despise your kind.’ He started to walk between rows of columns, heading towards a secluded part of his Throne Room. ‘I know not who this Stotch is and I care not to know who this Azariah or Marsila were, but I do know one thing … your parents make the perfect decoration.’

  He held Charlie aloft so she could better see what lay in front of her.

  Bane’s Tapestry.

  It was a broad ribbon of an amber-like material that stretched from one wall to the other. Flickering torches cast enough light for Charlie to see its contents.

  People.

  Dozens upon dozens of people.

  Humans, Stomen and Tremen. Each displayed in various poses. Some stood alone, others were arranged in groups. Some stood as though lost in thought, others stretched out hands as though pointing to distant objects, and a few had been twisted into classic sporting poses: the discus thrower, the wrestlers, the archer and the sprinters. It was horrendous. A dishonourable and defamatory punishment like none other.

  And placed slightly off-centre, like two forlorn pieces of art, were her parents. They stood hand in hand but had been set with their heads cast away from each other, forever denied the opportunity to look their love in the eye.

  Charlie’s tears mingled with the blood and saliva that were dribbling from her mouth. The red liquid trickled down Bane’s fist to drip and puddle on the floor.

  ‘Do you see, little worm? Do you see what happens to those who offend me?’ Bane walked up to one end of the Tapestry and thrust her head against its smooth surface. He began to walk down it, rubbing her cheek and forehead against it as he moved. Face after face passed before Charlie’s weeping eyes. ‘This is where the Stone Bishops and the leaders and the politicians who oppose me end up. Here, forever immortalized in lacklustre glory, lie the freedom fighters, the usurpers, the backstabbers, the traitors and the Keepers.’ Charlie caught a glimpse of her parents, their downturned eyes and held hands, then they were gone and others passed before her. It would have continued but Bane snatched her away and brought her perilously close to the darkness of his hood. ‘Think you’ll end up in here, maggot? As a treasured foe? Well, you thought wrong! You are a cur, a piece of offal and an offence to my sight. I have other things planned for you. Darker things. Before I ruin your flesh I will take you to my god and have your soul ripped from your body!’

  With a cloud of darkness still hanging over him, Bane ignored the sound of combat coming from the Stowyrms and marched towards the tunnel at the rear of the room.


  Charlie, arms pinned to her side and nearly broken from physical and mental pain, did the one thing, the only thing, that she could do. She channelled all her heartache and horror, summoned all that remained of her Will, and bit Bane’s finger with all her might.

  ‘Graaaah! Wretch!’ bellowed Bane. He opened his fingers in reflex and flung her upward. Angered and enraged beyond all measure, he brought his other hand high and smacked her like a sportsman striking a ball.

  Charlie went tumbling through the air. Head over heels in a ragdoll motion, she flew into the tunnel and was swallowed by the shadows.

  64

  Lost

  Jensen slammed the hilt of his sword against the guard’s armoured chest, then spun round to slice a long line of spikes from the Stowyrm’s tail as it tried to club him to the floor. It shrieked and lunged for him but Jensen tumbled out of the way in true K’Changa style, springing from hands to feet and back again. Whirling the sword in intricate patterns, he was about to thrust it at the beast but paused when he saw Hotstepper, already waylaid by three Stowyrms, tackled by a fourth.

  He cursed the fates, tripped a footman, sliced a Shade in two and slid beneath the Stowyrm that was chasing him. Regaining his feet and wishing he had a Keeper’s speed, he sprinted to aid his winged companion. He clambered up the body of a shattered Stowyrm and ran along it, then – using its height to his advantage – jumped on to one of the beasts that wriggled over Hotstepper. Bringing his sword to bear, he slammed it into the Stowyrm and grinned in satisfaction as he heard the fatal snap-snap that heralded its demise.

  From the back of the now lifeless Stowyrm he jumped on to Hotstepper’s shoulders, intent on aiding him in his moment of need. Drenched by shadow, he looked up to see another Stowyrm. Instinctively, he thrust out his sword and allowed it to impale itself. But that was the last of Jensen’s luck. The beast, now dead, fell forward, pinning him to Hotstepper. The Winged One, still battling three others, was suddenly waylaid by the extra weight. The Stowyrms sensed an opportunity and stampeded forward. Banging and butting, they repeatedly pounded into Hotstepper, forcing him back.

  Jensen

  Flailing desperately to free himself, Jensen cast his eyes around. He caught sight of Nibbler battling one of the remaining Stowyrms and beyond that glimpsed Charlie just as she was flung into the tunnel. The sight of Bane thundering after her caused his heart to pound.

  ‘Nibbler!’ he screamed. ‘Nibbler!’

  The Hatchling dodged his adversary and looked to Jensen. His eyes widened in disbelief and he took a stuttering couple of steps towards him.

  ‘No!’ shrieked Jensen. ‘Charlie! Save Charlie! She’s in the tunnel! Go! Go –’

  The Stowyrms battered Hotstepper through the doorway and into the ruined antechamber, cutting the Throne Room and Nibbler from Jensen’s view.

  It was dark and gloomy inside the tunnel. The air stank unpleasantly of burnt metal and asphalt. Grunting in agony, Charlie rolled on to her knees and tried to stand. But her calf bore a nasty gash and wouldn’t bear her weight.

  ‘My leg,’ she cursed, ‘why is it always my leg?’

  ‘I can hear you, little worm!’ Bane’s voice sang out of the darkness. With it came the measured tread of his footsteps.

  Biting her lip, Charlie dragged herself forward and allowed herself to roll off the path, to fall in a windmill of legs and arms before slamming to an abrupt and painful stop on top of a ledge. Her eyes, not yet adjusted, were unable to judge how far she had fallen or what lay below, but she didn’t care. As long as she was off the path and out of Bane’s sight, that was all that mattered.

  The sound of Bane’s footsteps increased; so too did the sensation of approaching menace. Sweat broke out on Charlie’s forehead and she dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from shaking.

  ‘Do you think you can hide from me?’ came his voice. It grew loud as he drew level with her, then receded as he passed. ‘Do you think that I won’t find you? This is my realm, my domain, and it is I who belongs in the darkness and you, my little wretch, so used to the light, are the one who should learn to shiver in fear. I will find you, maggot, have no doubt about that.’

  Charlie breathed a little deeper when she heard his footsteps disappear. Reaching down with questing fingers, she checked the fresh wound on her calf. It was deep but not dangerously so. If she could bind it she should be able to regain her feet and then … and then what? She knew now that the power of her Will and the strength of her determination simply weren’t enough. She would have to come up with something else. Some other plan.

  But what could she do, a teenager before the might of an enraged giant? Desperate for an answer, any answer, she did her best to think how her two mentors, Azariah and Marsila, would have approached a problem like this. Surely they would have thought of a suitable tactic by now?

  ‘But what?’ she whispered to herself.

  ‘There you are,’ chuckled Bane. Singing softly, he allowed the flames of his Stonesong to illuminate himself. He stood quite a distance above her, still on the path but looking down the cliff towards her. Somehow he had managed to creep up on her unawares. ‘Talking to yourself, little wench? Whispering to your gods? And trusting to the fates?’ His sneering laugh came again. ‘Time for pain, little one, time for –’

  Charlie didn’t wait around to hear the rest of his words. Wrapping herself in the cracked remnants of her Will, she crossed her fingers for luck, rolled off the ledge and dropped into the darkness.

  The wind and the sound of Bane’s brutal laugh whistled around her as she fell. She hit the side of the cliff in a shower of sparks. She bounced, then slid painfully down a steep incline before coming to a juddering stop. It felt like she’d landed on some cavernous floor but without light to see she could not be sure.

  ‘Think you can run?’ The giant’s voice echoed down from somewhere far above. ‘It will do you no good. I will get you in the end!’

  Charlie knew better than to answer him and give away her position. Gritting her teeth, she rolled over and used her elbows to crawl deeper into the gloom. After long minutes and when she could no longer hear the sound of Bane’s footsteps, she pulled her jacket from her shoulders and tore strips from it with which to bind her calf. Ignoring the pain, she pulled herself to her feet and, unable to summon her Will for fear that it would act like a beacon, began to blindly walk through the darkness. It was not a comfortable moment and she had to fight the sense of claustrophobia that threatened to overwhelm her. She would have done almost anything for the chance to stand once more beneath Bellanian skies.

  A faint whisper of movement caused her to stiffen. Fearing that Bane was approaching, she hastened to find somewhere to hide but without the ability to see she was getting nowhere fast. With her heart pounding in her chest, she hobbled forward, her arms outstretched, certain that at any second she would either stumble face first into a rock or walk straight into Bane’s grasp.

  ‘Charlie!’ someone hissed.

  She almost yelped but relaxed when she recognized the familiar voice.

  ‘Nibbler?’ she replied. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Here.’

  She felt his paws take her hand and guide it to his shoulder.

  ‘You can see?’ she asked.

  ‘Not amazingly well, but I do OK in the dark.’

  ‘Is Bane about?’

  ‘Not that I can see.’

  Charlie summoned her Will and grinned at her friend in relief. He returned her smile but it faltered when he noticed her latest collection of wounds.

  ‘Things aren’t going as well as we’d hoped, are they?’ he said.

  ‘Oh no, I think everything is going to plan.’

  ‘What? Really?’ replied Nibbler with naive charm.

  ‘Er, no. I was being sarcastic,’ admitted Charlie. ‘So far, today has been the worst day of my life.’

  ‘Oh. What happened to you? You were on Hotstepper’s back when we arrived in the Western Mountains, then you were
gone.’

  Charlie, still concerned that Bane might arrive at any moment, glanced anxiously over her shoulder.

  ‘If you can carry me back to Bane’s Throne Room,’ she said, ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan. Get on,’ said Nibbler and knelt down so she could scramble on his back. Then he bunched his legs beneath him and took off at a run.

  65

  Bane’s Tapestry

  Mr Crow hobbled towards the glowing cloud of light that hid the charcoal monster. Bane’s god terrified him and the rocky Stowyrm thingies that it kept creating didn’t exactly thrill him either. But all of that was about to change. Half cackling in delight and half whimpering in fear, he moved closer. As close as he dared.

  ‘Charcoal monster,’ he whispered.

  Bane’s god, busy with the task of creating Stowyrms, ignored him.

  ‘Charcoal monster!’ snapped the lawyer.

  Still the god ignored him.

  ‘Charcoal monster! I’m talking to you!’

  The god hissed. Spinning round, it confronted Crow with its wide eyes and grasping hands.

  ‘Eeeep!’ blurted Mr Crow and took several steps back.

  The god cocked its head at an angle to better study the lawyer. Behind it the latest batch of Stowyrms took flight and disappeared from view. Angered or inquisitive, it was hard to tell which, the god floated towards Crow, its long burnt-looking fingers grasping and pawing at the air with an unquenchable hunger.

  ‘No!’ screamed Mr Crow. ‘No more! My mind is my own! My own!’

  The god moved closer, its eyes glowed brighter and Mr Crow squealed as he felt it attempt to force itself once more into his mind.

  ‘NO!’ squealed Crow.