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

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘And that is …’

  ‘They’re not gods.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Well, maybe they are, but not in the sense that ya or I would expect. The Winged Ones say that they’re just creatures from another realm – and insignificant ones at that; in their own realm they’re nothing more than bottom feeders.’

  ‘Wha– You’re not making any sense, Jensen.’

  Well, maybe I’m not spelling dis out too clearly, although ta be honest I was never a hundred per cent clear meself when it was explained ta me. Look, from wot I can gather these “gods” ain’t from Bellania or even Earth. They’re supposed ta be from somewhere else altogether.’

  ‘How can that be?’

  ‘Uh, well the Winged Ones sometimes like ta talk about parallel realms and “united universe” theories but that’s a subject for another day. Apparently, in their own realm these gods live in a world that is nothing more than a gigantic ball of gas.’

  ‘What, like Jupiter?’

  ‘That’s that planet that can be seen from Earth, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then, yes, like Jupiter. Now as I was saying, apparently, in dis realm all manner of weird and wonderful beasties exist. The Winged One said that the beasties over there treat the gas like a liquid – almost like a spherical ocean – and that these weird creatures swim, fly and float through the gassy murkiness much like our sea creatures navigate through water. Now wot’s so unbelievable about all of dis is that over there the gods are at the bottom of the food chain. Literally. All the really amazing creatures swim high up where the pressure is lower, then as ya get deeper and deeper and the pressure grows, the creatures of that realm get smaller and smaller and less majestic. And there, right at the bottom, where there’s no light and the gas pressure is so intense that almost nothing but the most hardy bottom feeders can live ya’ll find –’

  ‘The gods?’

  ‘So they say.’

  ‘B-b-but that makes no sense!’

  ‘I know. That’s wot I thought when I first heard about it.’

  ‘But how …’

  ‘How did they get here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good question. The Winged Ones reckon that in their realm the gas pressure is so strong that the sheer, unrelenting, unimaginable force of it pushes them through the reality of their realm inta ours.’

  ‘Doesn’t that sound a little far-fetched?’

  ‘Ta be honest? Yes it does and I’ve always had my suspicions that Dridif and that Winged One were having a laugh at my expense but oddly enough their explanation does have some logic ta it.’

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Well … yes. Just think about it, we’re all familiar with the Gateways between Earth and Bellania and we know there are other realms and places that we can travel ta.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like the lower dominions where you retrieved Darkmount’s god and then there’s the Winged Dominion: the place where the Winged Ones go for their Chrysalis Period. If we know all these places are connected wot’s ta say that it couldn’t happen with another realm, even by accident?’

  Charlie opened her mouth to laugh but paused as she considered what Jensen was suggesting. There was indeed a faint trace of logic to it. After all, wasn’t Bellania a weird and wonderful place in comparison to Earth? Knowing that, who was she to say that there were or weren’t other realms with inexplicable laws and physics? Then her sense of suspicion caught up with her and she looked askance at Jensen.

  ‘Ha!’ He chuckled as he saw her expression. ‘I gave the Winged One and Dridif that very same look when they first told me. I wasn’t sure if they were pulling my leg or not.’

  ‘Were they?’

  ‘They said they weren’t and as odd as it sounds I do tend ta bow my head ta my more learned betters in subjects such as these. I think they were telling me the truth.’

  ‘OK, supposing it’s true, what do these gods want?’

  ‘Well there’s the rub. They want ta be worshipped. They don’t care by whom or by wot, but there’s something in the stuff of worship that they need. Something that is intangible ta ya and I, but acts like food ta them. They grant wishes and in return they get fed wot they desire most.’

  Charlie scrunched her eyes shut as she tried to make sense of all the bits and pieces of information. ‘So they really are bottom feeders, aren’t they? I mean there’s no “greater purpose” going on here is there? These things just grub around looking for sustenance and cos they’re so alien they’re called gods.’

  ‘That’s the crux of it.’

  Charlie was caught up in her own thoughts. ‘When I talked to Darkmount’s god, it sounded like it was right inside my head, my nose began to bleed and I had a splitting headache … Do you think that maybe it feeds on thoughts or emotions?’

  ‘I’m not sure … maybe. All I know is that there’s supposed to be a price to be paid. They say if ya spend too long with one it changes ya.’

  ‘Changes you how?’

  ‘Charlie, I honestly wouldn’t know. Darkmount hasn’t spent too much time with his, but Bane … they say Bane has changed the most. The Winged Ones say that the reason why his face can never be seen and that he wraps his flesh in bandages is because all that time spent with his god has changed him irreversibly.’

  ‘What do you think he looks like beneath that hood?’

  ‘That’s the billion shilling question, isn’t it? No one knows and only Darkmount is fool enough to risk playing with a god long enough ta find out.’

  Charlie shivered at the thought. The idea of allowing something so alien inside your head, to allow it to pluck and squirm through your emotions and memories for year after year seemed horrifying.

  ‘One more question,’ she said. ‘What do you think these gods ultimately want?’

  ‘We don’t know. Well, I definitely don’t know, and neither Dridif nor the Winged One knew either. There’s a theory that these gods are quite happy picking over the scraps and leftovers. And while they’re content ta live amongst the Stomen, the Winged One and Dridif were musing that perhaps they would be just as happy amongst chicken or even shellfish. I don’t think these gods care who worships them – if worship is even the right word – so long as they have the opportunity ta feed off emotion or memories or wotever it is they suck from their followers.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense. How can something that’s so powerful not care? I mean, come on, Bane’s god has helped him reshape the whole of Bellania. How can something like that not care?’

  ‘They might be powerful over here, but think about it. Where they come from they’re the lowest of the low that feed on the leftovers. How boring must their lives be? How infinitely small must their minds and their imaginations be? Maybe it might help if we put it inta context: could ya imagine pulling a crab or say a squigglefish from the ocean and expecting them ta create great philosophies or paintings or scientific equations?’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that … no.’

  ‘Of course. And would ya expect a crab ta be able ta think past its next meal?’

  ‘Um, no. But how can you compare a crab from here to something that’s a god?’

  Jensen shrugged. ‘Different realms, but same mentality.’

  ‘Huh … well, that’s food for thought and that’s for sure,’ said Charlie. ‘You’ve definitely given me something to consider for our next meeting with Darkmount.’

  Nibbler, having finished chewing on the last of the grilled fish that Crumble had caught and cooked, shook himself and sat upright. ‘So what about the rest of the beasties that live in their realm? I mean if the smallest, most insignificant creatures from their realm are seen as gods over here, what amazing things could, say, the whales and the dolphins of their world do?’

  They all paused to think about that. A different realm with different laws and physics and thoughts.

  ‘Indeed, me young Winged One.’ Jensen grinned, obviously enj
oying the idea. ‘Wot wonders could such things accomplish? But surely thoughts and dreams like that are for another day? Right now we’ve got other matters that need attending ta.’

  ‘Yes we do,’ agreed Charlie as thoughts and plans started to whirr through her mind. ‘I think it’s time for us to get moving. It’s time we paid Darkmount a visit.’

  42

  The Great Plains

  The Portal closed, leaving them on a grassy and rain-swept ridge. Jensen indicated that they should get down on their stomachs, so one by one they wormed their way across the wet grass until they reached the hill’s summit. Following Jensen’s instruction they slowly stuck their heads over the top in order to see the valley.

  When they saw what lay below Crumble’s eyes bulged, Sic Boy growled deep in his throat and Nibbler let out a low whistle of surprise. Charlie, already expecting the worst, merely grunted.

  A cavernous tent had been erected in the valley basin. Dark pennants fluttered from its supports. In precise ranks that spread from the tent like vast spokes of a wheel, was an army. An army the like of which Bellania had never seen. Row after row of brooding, bulky things squatted, and even though they were silent and unmoving there was something about them that screamed violence. Distance and rain made it hard to judge exactly what they were, but Charlie thought they looked like smaller versions of the Stoman behemoths they had encountered before, though less mannequin-like.

  ‘Looks like our bishop has been a busy boy since I saw him last,’ muttered Jensen.

  ‘There must be thousands of those things,’ said Crumble.

  ‘Tens of thousands,’ corrected Jensen as he ran a practised eye over the neat lines.

  ‘What are they?’ asked Nibbler.

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Jensen. ‘I’ve never seen the likes of them before.’

  ‘They look like gargoyles,’ said Charlie.

  ‘That’s funny,’ said Jensen, ‘I was thinking that they looked just like gorillas.’

  ‘Gargorillas or apeogyles?’ suggested Crumble, mixing the words together.

  ‘Ape-o-gyles?’ queried Charlie, unimpressed with his lack of originality.

  ‘Gargorillas,’ said Nibbler. ‘Definitely gargorillas.’

  ‘Gargorillas it is,’ said Jensen, settling the debate.

  A dark green pulse of light suddenly appeared beneath the canvas flaps. As it faded, four more gargorillas knuckled their way out of the tent to join the ranks.

  ‘How many more does he need to make?’ asked Charlie. ‘Surely with an army that size he could defeat anyone?’

  Jensen shook his head. ‘No he couldn’t. Bane has raised a force larger than any in history. Three armies with hundreds of thousands in each. Hundreds. Of. Thousands. And while I’m sure those big beasties down there could wreak all sorts of damage, they’re still not enough ta match one of Bane’s armies, let alone all three of them. Not yet anyway. Either way I think it would be wise ta get down there before Darkmount makes any more. Although with all those brutes facing outward I’m not sure how we’re going ta get down there without being detected.’

  ‘We’ll just open a Portal behind the tent and slip in.’

  ‘Wot, just like that?’

  ‘Why not? Like you said, they’re all looking away from the tent. As long as we’re quiet, we can open the Portal in the gap between the gargorillas and the tent, then slip inside.’

  ‘I like the direct approach,’ mused Jensen.

  ‘And I’ve got another idea,’ continued Charlie.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Deception, trickery and …’ She turned to give Crumble a wink. ‘Some of that good old-fashioned sneakiness we were talking about earlier.’

  There was another green pulse as four more gargorillas appeared.

  ‘Wot d’ya have in mind, lass?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, but, first, Crumble, what’s the biggest stone club you could make and wield?’

  ‘I can make something pretty big.’

  ‘Big enough to bring down an elephant?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A big mammal with a trunk for a nose. Imagine something four times bigger than Sic Boy.’

  ‘Uh … I’m not sure. I can make a club big enough to damage a rhinospider, but with my stiff shoulder I won’t be able to wield it for long.’

  ‘Don’t worry, hopefully you’ll only have to swing it the once.’

  ‘Wot do ya have planned, me little Hippotomi?’ Jensen, although growing curious, enjoyed seeing Charlie’s mind at work.

  ‘Something big. Jensen, can you be quick and quiet?’

  ‘Of course, lass, I’m a Treman.’

  ‘What about me?’ asked Nibbler.

  Charlie looked at her friend and sighed. ‘I need you and Sic Boy to stay here.’

  ‘What? No way! You’re going to need all the muscle –’

  Charlie put up her hand to silence him. ‘Nibbler, now isn’t the time for muscle. We’re going to need to be quick and silent and –’

  ‘I’m quick!’

  ‘You haven’t recovered from your time in that river. I saw how hard it was for you to crawl up here. You’re stiff and I know you’re still in pain.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’m letting you go down there on your own.’

  ‘I won’t be alone. Crumble and Jensen will be with me.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Nibbler, please. Trust me on this. One or two more people watching my back isn’t going to make a difference, not when we’re facing tens of thousands of … whatever those things are. Smaller numbers are what’s needed for this plan to work. Any more than that and we risk being detected.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Please, Nibbler.’

  The Hatchling didn’t look happy, but finally he nodded. ‘OK, but if anything does go wrong, me and Sic Boy are going to come and get you.’

  Charlie rubbed the scales that ran down his neck. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘When were ya thinking of making a move?’ asked Jensen.

  ‘As soon as Crumble can make his club, I’ll open the Portal.’

  ‘Let’s wait a bit,’ suggested Jensen, his eyes tracking the distant sky.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Those rain clouds are approaching; we can go under cover of the downpour.’

  Charlie’s wet hair was already sticking out at unusual angles. ‘You wouldn’t call this delightful weather “rain”?’ she said, looking at Jensen as though he were mad.

  ‘Wot, dis spring shower? Dis is just a misting! We’re on the edge of the Great Plains, lass. Just ya wait until the heavens really open. Out here they know the meaning of thunderstorms.’

  ‘OK, then. So how long do you think until it arrives?’

  ‘Ah, that’s never an easy estimate ta make. An hour and a half, maybe two?’

  ‘All right, let’s wait a bit. But if it’s not here by then we need to move before Darkmount makes too many more of those things.’

  Everyone nodded in agreement and they all crawled back from the ridge to wait for the right moment to ambush.

  Back by the abandoned campsite the wind had changed direction, teasing the cinders of the dying fire that persisted despite the light rain. Unrelenting in its demands, the wind continued to tickle the embers with a gentle touch, fanning its ambitions until it glowed a cherry red. Unable to withstand the heated embrace any longer, a partially burnt log ignited and a lazy tendril of smoke wafted upward.

  Carried along by the gentle nudge of the wind, the smoke eased over the withered and twisted corpse of Fo Fum. Bits of the smoke blew into the man’s hollow eyes.

  One of Fo Fum’s legs began to twitch in a horrible rhythm. It kicked up and down, disturbing small pebbles and scaring nearby herons into flight. The sickening beat was joined by fingers that jolted in time as the corpse began to shudder and spasm. Abruptly, and as if with a life of its own, one of the hands scuttled up the blade o
f Jensen’s Thornsword to grasp and paw at the hilt. Slowly it pulled the sword free. With a terrible croak Fo Fum rolled on to his stomach. Undulating forward like some misshapen worm, the corpse plunged its face into the ashes of the fire.

  Long moments of stillness passed and the sickly scent of burning flesh filled the clearing. The smoke no longer spooled into the air but appeared to be sucked towards the deflated body. Fo Fum’s corpse gradually started to swell, still accompanied by the awful twitching.

  And then it stopped.

  Fo Fum pushed himself to his knees then jerked upright. His face was a blackened mess, but the endless hollows that should have held his eyes wriggled with the spark of life.

  Reaching over he pulled his staff from the floor. Snapping it across his knee he added the two parts to the rekindled fire. More smoke bubbled up and the odd aroma of burning rubber and mouldy socks filled the air. Without hesitation Fo Fum plunged his face into the smoke and slowly he inhaled the dark vapours with disturbing delight. His muscles bulged, his clothes stretched and he grew in height as the heavens opened above him and heavy rain poured down across the campsite.

  Moving gracefully once more he bound his eyes with a scrap torn from his cloak. Pulling his hat on to his head he retrieved his compass from his pocket and, after checking his bearings, strode from the riverside. His purposeful stride turned into a jog, his jog into a run and then with his overinflated muscles pumping with renewed power he broke into a sprint.

  Faster and faster, his cloak flaring behind him, Fo Fum began to eat up the distance that lay between him and his prey. Using the strike of his heels as a beat he began to chant a rhyme: ‘Fe-fi, Fo Fum, I come to earn my bounty sum. Fe-fi, Fo Fum, I go to kill that Keeper scum.’

  With a thin smile of greedy delight the mercenary disappeared into the quickening rain.

  43

  Mud

  The thick clouds churned overhead, dimming the landscape. The wind picked up sending formidable gusts rippling and bobbing through the tall grass like ocean waves. With a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning the deluge started. Thick blobs of rain cascaded down upon the small group.