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

by Marcus Alexander

  Charlie stared hard at Edge Darkmount. It was true that he should get something in exchange for his knowledge and since she was half rescued thanks to him she should, she supposed, be grateful. But there was something very unlikeable about him; he was too cold, too distant. But as with so many things that had happened to her in Bellania, she knew when she had little or no choice.

  ‘So what do you want from me?’

  ‘I need you to fetch me a vessel. A holy vessel. It is a sign, an embodiment of my religion and with it in my hands I can begin to repair the damage that Bane has done to the true faith of Bellania.’

  ‘True faith? Bane? What has Bane done to you?’

  ‘What has he done?’ growled Darkmount, and for the first time he revealed some genuine emotion. ‘What has that dog not done?’ A flickering anger swept across his face, causing veins to pulse across his forehead. ‘He has made a mockery! A mockery of the Stoman religion. His new so-called god has usurped the true faith and led the righteous astray. Bane must be forced to see the error of his ways.’

  ‘So I take it you’re not pals, right?’

  Darkmount let out a sigh of frustration. ‘Your constant, infantile witticisms are wearying to my ears, but in this you are indeed correct. Bane and I share a hatred so sincere, so pure, that the darkness of night pales in comparison.’

  ‘So is this an “enemy of my enemy” kind of deal?’

  ‘If you wish to see it like that,’ replied Darkmount, once again in control of his emotions.

  ‘So what’s in this vessel then?’

  ‘My god.’

  ‘Say what?’ Charlie rubbed at her ear, thinking that she had misheard.

  ‘I said it contains my god,’ growled Darkmount. Lightning seemed to flicker across his eyes. ‘The vessel is merely the physical casing that contains my god.’

  Charlie frowned as she tried to get her head around that idea. ‘What, like a genie in a bottle?’

  ‘That is a crude and irreverent way of putting it, but … yes.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ muttered Charlie, ‘cos that really makes sense … a god in a bottle.’

  ‘What was that?’ snapped Darkmount.

  ‘Uh, nothing,’ said Charlie, carefully eyeing the bishop. ‘So, um, tell me more about this deal. Why can’t you go and get this “vessel” yourself?’

  ‘Because Bane has hidden it beyond my reach. However, your abilities as a Keeper allow you to open doors that others cannot. So … for this deal to go ahead you must accompany me to the Stubborn Citadel. Buried deep inside the citadel is a door, a Gateway if you will. This Gateway leads to one of Bellania’s lower dominions and in it lies my vessel. I need you to use your Will to break into the dominion, find my god and return it to me. Do this for me and I will tell you everything that you want to know about your pendant.’

  ‘Waaaaaait a minute.’ Charlie crossed her arms and threw Edge Darkmount a suspicious look. ‘You make it seem all too simple. Why do I get the impression this is going to be harder than it sounds?’

  ‘Oh, it will be difficult. More than difficult. The Stubborn Citadel is one of Bane’s strongest fortresses. Its walls are thick and impenetrable. The soldiers that garrison it thrive on brutality and the lust for blood. Once past these soldiers there will be Shades and perhaps worse within. Yet getting past these obstacles will be easy in comparison to what lies within the lower dominion. The denizens that inhabit it are full of guile and poison. Pah! Little girl, retrieving the vessel will be difficult in the extreme! But once my god is returned to me all things are possible.’ A look of hunger flickered across his face. ‘With the vessel in my hands the guards, the soldiers, the things that scurry in the darkness of the lower dominion will tremble before us. So all you have to worry about is getting in; everything else you leave to me.’

  Charlie’s eyes had been growing wider as Darkmount described the danger. ‘Hang on a second. You want me to break into an impenetrable fortress that is guarded by insane-sounding soldiers and Shades …’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And then head past more creepy-crawlies to find a door that leads to a dominion full of wackos …’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Where I have to hunt around, no doubt while I’m being chased, grab your “vessel”, which incidentally holds a god, and then make it back past these nut-jobs who probably won’t be happy to see me leave.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you want someone of my height and shoe size to go there?’

  ‘What needs to be done, needs to be done.’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘I do not joke.’

  Charlie eyed the grim-faced Stoman up and down. ‘No, I guess you don’t. One thing I don’t understand: what is a “lower dominion”?’

  ‘It is what you would call a hell.’

  Charlie’s mouth wobbled, she laughed nervously then went pale. ‘Look, I know you don’t joke … but you’re joking, right? Hell’s not real. Not really.’

  ‘What?’ sneered Darkmount. ‘There are many hells in Bellania – seven of them to be exact – and if you don’t believe in hells on Earth then be assured that ours are very real.’

  ‘With daemons and everything?’

  ‘Of course. Do you think Bane would entrust the guarding of a god to furry rabbits, jovial cherubs or pretty unicorns with ribbons wrapped round their horns? Bah! It is the Daemon Kindred who Bane made a deal with and it is the Daemon Kindred who guard my god.’

  ‘And you think I’m going to go anywhere near a place with daemons? You’re crazy!’

  ‘Do you want to find the answer to that which lies round your neck?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do, but …’ Charlie stumbled to a halt. She stared around at the depressing walls and remembered all that she had seen and done, all that she had experienced within Bellania. The magic, the sights, the smells, the sheer adventure of it all. She had accepted it, acknowledged this wonderful world so different from London and Earth, yet what was now being asked of her seemed unreal, almost ridiculous. She was sure the task ahead of her was beyond her abilities. ‘You really want me to go to this hell? Like, for real?’

  ‘Enough of your weak-minded blather. Young you may be, but nonetheless you are a Keeper. Your blood ensures that you carry the burdens that Bellania delivers your way. Only your family has the ability to open the gates that stand between me and my god, and this is the price I demand for deciphering your pendant. If you want me to help you escape this city and move forward on your journey then this is what must be done, no more no less.’

  With those words hanging between them Charlie knew he was right. Not a nice person, not a fair person, but still right in what he said. She wanted – no, she needed – to unlock the secret of the pendant. If she was ever going to stand a chance of defeating Bane, of seeing her parents again, then this was what she had to do.

  As soon as she had acknowledged this, the calmness of responsibility settled once more upon her shoulders. She would do this, she would succeed and she would do the right thing. ‘So I get you your god, you give me my answers.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what about my friends?

  ‘What of them?’ asked Darkmount.

  ‘They are here, prisoners like me. There’s two Tremen, Jensen and Kelko, their dog, Sic Boy, and Nibbler, a young Winged One who you’ve met already.’ Even as Charlie talked her mind continued to churn. She still couldn’t believe that she was friends with a talking dragon. A real dragon! Nibbler had woken early from his hibernation and answered her call for help, but all the other Winged Ones – the elders who could restore peace to Bellania – were prevented from returning by the powerful hand of Bane, the Stoman Lord. It was Nibbler who had flown to Alavis and set up the arrangement with Darkmount on behalf of the Jade Circle. Wherever Nibbler was now Charlie could only imagine how furious he must be, knowing that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong. ‘You’ve got to help me free them too.’

  ‘That i
sn’t part of the deal,’ rumbled Darkmount.

  ‘Deal? There is no deal until we agree on the details and you don’t know me if you think I’m leaving my friends behind.’

  Darkmount – so tall that his head almost scraped the ceiling – stared down at the young Keeper with a baleful expression. Charlie, determination overcoming her trepidation, stared right back.

  ‘Good,’ grunted the bishop. ‘I admire your strength of spirit, little girl; you will be needing it where you are going. Very well, I accept. If your friends are imprisoned in this city I will aid you in freeing them.’

  ‘And you will tell me half of my pendant’s secret before I get your god,’ demanded Charlie, mindful of Lady Narcissa’s painful lesson in betrayal. ‘And the other half when I return with this vessel of yours. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Edge Darkmount in his mournfully deep voice.

  Charlie held out her hand, Darkmount mirrored the gesture and the two of them shook hands, sealing the deal.

  Kelko and Jensen had been thrown, battered and bruised, into the back of the prison wagon. Their wrists and ankles had been secured in wooden stocks and as a parting gift from their Stoman guards their mouths had been gagged with an old pair of the colonel’s sandals. A bustling knot of muscular soldiers, heaving on chains and knotted rope, half hauled, half heaved Sic Boy into the courtyard. With great effort they got the huge dog on to the wagon too.

  Once the grumbling, kicking – and in one case barking – prisoners were secure, two of the guards swung into the driver’s seat. With a crack of the reins they set the large horses moving. Trailing a cloud of dust, the cart passed beneath the city gate of Alvaris and out into the countryside.

  As the dust from their passing began to settle, a Shade slunk into the courtyard. It slipped past the soldiers and its shadowy form eased beneath the door that led to the colonel’s temporary office. Familiar with Lord Bane’s personal guard, the colonel looked up from his paperwork as soon as he noticed the drop in temperature.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have come to oversee the transfer of our lord’s prisoners.’

  The colonel carefully lowered his raised quill to stare at the black shadow that coiled and bristled in the darkest corner of his office. ‘The two idiotic Tremen and the beast have been transferred to the Soul Mines as instructed. The Hatchling and the Keeper remain within our custody. Again, as instructed they have been jailed separately.’

  ‘Good. Take me to them now. Our lord has requested that they be sent with haste to the Western Mountains. The Keeper and the Hatchling have fates to face.’

  ‘It shall be as you say. I shall send for a runner to show you the way.’

  ‘No, I think not,’ said the Shade with a dry, acidic tone. ‘You shall take me yourself.’

  ‘As you wish. Please follow me.’

  The colonel, muscles bunching beneath his ornate armour, strode through the courtyard towards the prison cells with the Shade writhing, half-hidden, by his side. It was time for the Keeper girl and the Winged One to take a trip.

  3

  The Song and the Stone

  Darkmount used the power of his stonesinging to carve a tunnel beneath the city.

  When she had been in Sylvaris seeking help from the Jade Circle Charlie had witnessed the beauty of treesinging and had admired how it could craft and create the ornate towers and sweeping bridges of the ancient Treman city. But she had to acknowledge that the Stoman art of stonesinging was equally awe-inspiring.

  The bishop’s deep, melodic voice and fiercely glowing fists sculpted the rock, pushing it aside and easing it into a smooth passageway. The light from his fists doubled as a means of illumination, allowing Charlie to admire the different grades of rock and ore that were swirled into fresh patterns by his song. An occasional flash and flicker of amethysts, tiger-crystal and unrefined gold brought the walls to life with their sparkle. Once, to Charlie’s delight, the fossilized bones of some prehistoric monster momentarily reared up, before being rearranged and incorporated into the tunnel.

  But for all the subterranean wonders and the fact that this was the first chance she’d had to witness stonesinging, travelling beneath the city was not a pleasant experience, at least not with this companion. Darkmount really creeped her out. He was cold, grumpy, didn’t do small talk and, if she was being completely honest, had weird body odour.

  The joy of new sights and experiences was rapidly fading. In fact, this most recent chapter in her travels across Bellania had been miserable, painfully miserable, which, when Charlie thought about it, was putting it mildly. Charlie’s mind started to wander. Old and new concerns flickered through her mind. Were Nibbler, Jensen, Kelko and Sic Boy OK? What of her gran left behind in London? Was this guy Edge Darkmount really going to solve the pendant’s riddle so she could free her parents? Why was her luck always so bad? And why did she always seem to get hurt no matter how hard she tried to do the right thing?

  She was so caught up in these turbulent thoughts that Charlie failed to realize that Darkmount had stopped, and walked into his back. It was like walking into a lamppost. Bouncing off him, she peered up in surprise at the Stoman’s hard face. Glancing past his broad shoulders, she saw that the tunnel ended in a brick wall.

  ‘We are here,’ he rumbled. ‘Prepare yourself.’

  And before Charlie could ask where exactly ‘here’ was and what she had to prepare herself for, Darkmount smashed the wall apart. Moving quickly, he leaped forward, surrounded by a cloud of dust and flying fragments of brick. Charlie peered through the wreckage into a dungeon so wide that its far side was hidden in shadow. Halfway down the room a group of startled Stoman soldiers slowly drew their weapons, intent on investigating the cause of the explosion.

  The thick cloud of debris and dust obscured Darkmount. All that could be seen was a faint outline and the soft glow from the bishop’s fists that pulsated and throbbed with the unspoken promise of violence.

  The tone of the bishop’s song abruptly deepened and grew in volume. Its aggressive melody rolled along the length of the room and echoed off the walls.

  Menacing.

  Haunting.

  As it swelled to a crescendo, Darkmount’s fists and forearms burst into thick shafts of green flame. With a terrifying roar he burst from the dust and charged forward.

  One of the soldiers staggered and tripped at the sudden sight of Darkmount hurtling towards them. The others slowed and licked their lips as they re-evaluated the balance of power, but their sense of duty and natural aggression quickly quashed any doubts. Screaming defiantly, they raced up the dungeon with their weapons raised.

  With the lack of sleep and dust stinging her already bleary eyes, Charlie couldn’t quite count the soldiers, but she thought there might have been eleven or twelve. Surely too many for Darkmount to take on alone? Hurriedly she tried to dig deep and find the rage that had fuelled her through so many occasions before, but fatigue meant her Will still failed her. All she could do was stand there and stare.

  Sprinting forward Darkmount dipped his blazing hands into the floor and ripped free jagged clumps of rock. As he pounded across the room, he flung these crude missiles, knocking soldier after soldier off his feet. Then he was amidst the warriors, moving with raw efficiency. Kicking and stamping, hurling punches, bone-crunching elbows and vicious headbutts against his opponents.

  Charlie’s mouth gaped open. Edge Darkmount didn’t move with the elegance of a martial artist but with the fury and brutality of a bar-room brawler. He used any and every part of his body as a weapon to strike and pummel the soldiers. When they tried to strike back his glowing fists and forearms deflected their blows in an explosion of sparks.

  Darkmount was a tidal wave of destruction.

  As he made short work of the Stomen, unconscious, twitching and moaning bodies fell to the floor until only three remained. The warriors hesitated at the obvious strength of their foe. Adjusting their grip on their weapons they lowered their stances and bega
n to circle their adversary.

  ‘Idiots!’ snapped Darkmount with a sneer of disdain. ‘You face a Bishop of the Faith! A true Master of Stone!’

  Again reaching his hands into the floor he tore free a length of rock. Quickly passing his hands up and down its surface, he shaped it into a long mace. Then, raising it above his head, he began to whirl it round and round, all the while feeding his power with his stonesinging.

  The first warrior made his move. The others, gaining courage from his action, also darted forward, but Darkmount was quicker. Much quicker. Punching the mace forward like a spear, he thrust its blunt head deep into the first soldier’s gut. Lashing the club backwards, he struck the second warrior on his shoulder, hip, knee and wrist in quick succession, before spinning it round to crack against the remaining soldier’s skull.

  He grunted in approval as he surveyed his work. Seeing that the majority of the guards weren’t moving and that those who did were writhing in agony, he allowed his song to slow and the light to dim from his hands.

  Moans of pain filled the silence and, apart from the occasional twitch from one or two of the fallen guards, the dungeon was still.

  Charlie stared at Darkmount with a combination of awe and alarm. Creepy he might be, but she got the impression he might be better than having a battering ram or armoured tank on her side. Much better.

  ‘Mmmmmmmmmmggggg!!’ protested a familiar but muffled voice. ‘Mmmmmmmmhhh!’

  Charlie moved across the mouldy dungeon where, to her surprise, she found Nibbler. He was struggling between taut lengths of chain. A leather harness had been forced over his muzzle, preventing him from opening his mouth, and all that escaped his lips were the peculiar murmurs that groaned their way across the room.

  ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmg, mmh-nng-mmmmmmmmhhh!’

  ‘Oh, Nibbler,’ breathed Charlie, partly in relief at seeing her friend still alive and partly in dismay at finding him in such a bedraggled condition. She wanted to crack a wise joke, something to make everything better, but the sheer scale of failure that had accumulated over the past couple of days weighed heavily on her heart. All she could say was, ‘Oh.’