Soon they were up and over the second wall with another nervous wait at the bottom as another patrol passed. Then they were climbing the final barrier.
The citadel swept into view. Charlie’s heart, already panicked from the treacherous climb, almost skipped a beat. The fortress seemed to defy the rules of perspective. It was gigantic – a mountain of stone. Thick, impenetrable and very, very intimidating. The battlements and spiked walls cast fierce shadows that seemed to lash out at the moonlight.
‘Calm,’ she whispered to herself, and did her best to slow her panicked pulse. ‘Stay calm.’
Darkmount shifted his grip on the wall so that he could see her. ‘Get a hold of yourself! This is not even the beginning. You cannot afford to feel fear, not at this stage.’
‘I-I’m trying my best.’
‘Well your best doesn’t seem good enough!’ he harrumphed. ‘You’re supposed to be a Keeper, so behave like one!’
Charlie felt her fury rise at the remark. She’d heard it too often since arriving in Bellania and hated the fact that everyone had unrealistic expectations of her simply because of her name. Although Azariah Keeper, her mentor, had taught her so much about the powers she could command, she still felt woefully underprepared for what lay ahead. The reminder of Azariah’s death fuelled the fury inside her, and although the sudden warmth of her anger buoyed up her courage, it wasn’t quite enough to blanket her fear. It remained within her breast, heavy and sullen, like bad heartburn.
‘I’ve got it under control,’ lied Charlie. ‘Let’s get going, OK?’
Darkmount gave her a wary look, grunted in annoyance, but continued their descent. At the bottom Charlie slid off Darkmount’s back, massaged some feeling back into her fingers, then squatted down beside her unpleasant companion. Together the two of them hid in a pool of shadow.
She almost screamed as she felt a talon squeeze her shoulder.
‘Nibbler, you idiot! What are trying to do, give me a heart attack?’
‘Sorry.’ His eyes flashed in the darkness. ‘I’ve been waiting ages.’ He grinned in relief, obviously glad to see her.
‘Are you two ready?’ asked Darkmount.
‘As ready as I’m ever going to be,’ said Charlie. Nibbler nodded in agreement.
‘Good. Then it’s time for us to make our entrance.’
Throwing his previous caution aside, Darkmount strode across the gap between the wall and citadel. Raising his arms over his head he began to sing. His hands started to glow and as his song increased in strength the light intensified so that it went from a deep green to a pearly white that was almost painful to look at.
With a roar he clapped both hands against the citadel and, amidst an explosion of sparks, started to push. The wall juddered and moaned in response to his onslaught and slowly, ever so slowly, his hands began to push a section of the citadel’s stone blocks inwards.
The stonesinging and twisted shriek of the tortured wall didn’t go unnoticed. Cries of alarm and shouted orders could be heard in the distance.
‘Darkmount …’ Charlie began, but stopped when she realized the huge strain he was under.
Veins were popping across his forehead, tendons stuck out along his neck, sweat dripped from his nose and his eyes had narrowed into slits of concentration.
Begrudgingly the section of wall sank deeper beneath his fingers.
A spear slammed into the floor by Charlie’s feet as a troop of Stoman guards rounded the corner. With shouts of anger they rushed towards them.
‘Better hurry that up!’ shouted Charlie to Darkmount as she watched the soldiers narrow the distance.
Nibbler reared back on his feet and pawed at the air. Unleashing a torrent of flame that crackled into the night he prepared to jump into the skies.
Charlie grabbed him by the tail. ‘No! We can’t afford to get separated. I’ll deal with it.’
Stepping forward and summoning her Will, she crouched into a loose K’Changa pose and waited for the first Stoman to come within striking distance. Charlie licked her lips in anticipation. She was determined that after her last confrontation with Stoman soldiers – back in Alavis where her Will had failed her – this time would be different. This time she wouldn’t act like a scared little girl.
But before she could put herself to the test a shuddering screech came from the citadel as Darkmount, with a final grunt, forced his way inside. There was a boom as the section of wall he had been pushing fell forward.
‘In!’ he roared. Grabbing a loose rock, he flung it so that it deflected a thrown spear that had been intended for Charlie. ‘Get in!’
Charlie and Nibbler took one last look at the running soldiers before ducking through the hole in the wall.
Veins still pulsating and with sweat coursing off him, Darkmount knelt down, heaved up the fallen slab and, with a final bellow of stonesinging, slammed it back into place.
13
Dark Forces
The young Stoman boy lay awake, wrapped in his blankets. Something unusual was happening and it took a while for his sleep-befuddled brain to work out what exactly had woken him. There – a rhythmic pounding, so low pitched he could hardly hear it, but he could certainly feel it as it rippled through his bones.
Wide awake and curious, he threw off his blankets, made certain his pannier was secure and added an extra log to the fire to ensure it would still be alight when he returned. The night sky was clear and the stars twinkled overhead, but over towards the Red Moon Canyon – where the rhythm seemed to be coming from – was an odd glow. With his curiosity growing, the young boy crept forward past thick stalks of wild amethyst bamboo and beneath the softly glowing leaves of crycarry trees. As he neared the canyon, the pounding noise grew in volume and the light intensified. Scrambling down on his hands and knees, he edged forward right to the canyon’s edge. Peering over he looked down and gasped in astonishment.
Below, a Stoman army flowed through the canyon like a scarlet river. The pounding he had heard was the measured step of hulking soldiers as they marched in order, battalion after battalion sweeping past amidst flickering torchlight.
Each Stoman soldier wore polished scarlet leather armour and was armed with an axe, sword or mace. Black circular shields embossed with a clenched fist were strapped to their arms, and at the head of each battalion marched a hooded figure who carried a blood-red pennant that flapped in the rushing canyon wind.
As the army marched on and on, seemingly endless, the Stoman boy gazed in wonder at its sheer numbers. After what seemed like hours, the infantry passed and the young boy was just about to rise from his vantage point and return to his bed when a rustling, scuttling sound froze him in his tracks. Once again, torchlight lit the canyon and rounding the bend came the Stoman cavalry, different from anything that had preceded it.
The boy’s eyes went wide with fear. It was the Widow Brigade, infamous throughout Bellania for their savage attacks. Not on foot, these were mounted soldiers, in horned helmets and spiked stone armour. They handled their charges with pride and studied nonchalance, but as seasoned warriors the Widow Brigade knew just how much terror their steeds evoked. Instead of horses they rode giant, bloated arachnids, whose venom dripped to the ground to form a poisonous wake. The spiders marched across the canyon floor and even along the walls, the crunch and thud of their claws echoing back and forth.
The boy turned even paler as fear and revulsion gripped him. He hated spiders, even the smallest kind. ‘Sweet Sapphire Gods, please don’t let them see me,’ he whispered.
Luck was with him, for the Widow Brigade passed without incident. Breathing a sigh of relief and with a promised blessing to the gods, the young boy headed back to his campsite. But as he retreated he could hear the rumbling of stone wheels along the canyon as even more troops and wagons passed through, and the Stoman army tirelessly and relentlessly marched to war.
14
The Descent
Charlie took stock of their surroundings within the citadel.
They were in a long corridor that was decorated with a series of snarling gargoyles and intersected at regular intervals with other pathways. Curious, Charlie leaned forward to examine the nearest figurine, which had been skilfully carved as part snake, part fox, and set into the wall. She jumped in horror as it opened its glowing red eyes and began to howl. The two gargoyles on either side opened their eyes too and, seeing the intruders, joined the cry. The cacophony of yowls and screams swept down the corridor as all the other gargoyles awoke and fixed the small group with their glaring eyes.
Panicked by the bizarre alarm system, Charlie turned to Darkmount.
‘We won’t have long,’ he said. ‘You –’ his finger thudded into Charlie’s chest – ‘go that way and you –’ he pointed at Nibbler – ‘go in that direction. I will wait here. Bring me the first soldier you come across and be quick!’
A hundred questions flitted across Charlie’s mind, but the urgency of their mission and the awful racket spurred her into motion. Sprinting down the corridor, she slipped round a corner and, to her shock, ran straight into an approaching Stoman soldier.
Charlie bounced off his armour and fell backwards to sprawl on the floor.
‘Whoopsy,’ she said. It was a stupid thing to say, but she couldn’t help it after the shock of the collision and the constant screech of the alarm. As the soldier drew his sword, her brain finally kicked into gear.
Summoning her Will, she kicked the Stoman in the knee and, while he flailed around trying to regain his balance, jumped to her feet. Falling into a loose K’Changa pose, she skipped aside to avoid the first swing of his sword and blocked his second. Before he could reverse the blow, she punched him in the solar plexus, robbing him of air. As he doubled over, Charlie instinctively followed through with another blow to his chin.
The guard spun around, bounced off the wall and fell unconscious in a heap.
Charlie grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back round the corner. ‘Hey! Darkmount! Over here.’
The bishop hastened over. ‘Good. Now get your Winged friend while I find the Gate’s location.’
Charlie nodded and ran off in the direction that Nibbler had taken. She stumbled to a halt as Nibbler rounded the corner in front of her. He was dragging a soldier along too.
‘Wud-hop?’ Realizing that he couldn’t talk with the soldier’s sleeve in his mouth Nibbler spat it out. ‘What’s up?’
‘Got one already,’ Charlie panted. ‘Let’s go.’
In his haste to follow her, Nibbler got his hind leg tangled in the soldier’s clothing. As he stumbled forward, an arrow snapped past his face and splintered against the wall. He turned to see a horde of enraged Stomen stampeding towards him.
‘Run!’ shouted Charlie.
Racing back up the corridor, they saw Darkmount give his captive a final shake before smashing him into one of the gargoyles.
‘Darkmount, we’ve got company!’
Seeing the charging Stomen, Darkmount hurled the unconscious soldier like a javelin towards them. Charlie and Nibbler hurriedly ducked out of the way, but the Stomen behind them went down like bowling pins.
‘This way!’ Darkmount hastened off down the corridor, and for all his bulk moved with surprising speed.
Charlie was shocked to realize that without her Will she probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the nimble bishop. Nibbler, however, had no such problem. Wings half spread and with all four talons striking sparks from the floor, he easily kept up.
The three of them ducked into a passageway, tore open a door and burst into a wide stairway that spiralled down into the gloomy guts of the citadel. They ran on, taking the steps two and three at a time.
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 stare
d 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.
Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) Page 8