Keeper of the Realms

by Marcus Alexander

  ‘If we free the Winged Ones,’ said E’Jaaz, ‘will you throw us another celebration parade?’

  ‘E’Jaaz! I warn ya not ta push yer luck!’

  ‘Oh, by my Blessed Will,’ muttered the man. ‘You risk life, good looks and liberty to keep Bellania safe and what thanks do you get?’

  ‘E’Jaaz …’ said Dridif. Her voice grew hard.

  The roguish Keeper grinned back disarmingly at the older lady.

  ‘Oh, save me,’ grumbled Dridif. ‘I’ve better things ta do than listen ta yer foppish provocations. Right, ya all know wot ya’re supposed ta do so get on with it. No, not ya, Kelko, remain here. As my newest and latest general ya and I have things ta discuss.’

  Realizing that they were dismissed, Marsila, E’Jaaz and Charlie rose.

  ‘Hey!’ protested Kelko. ‘Aren’t ya forgetting something?’

  Turning, Charlie found herself wrapped in his tight embrace.

  ‘Ya go get those Winged Ones, Charlie,’ said Kelko. ‘And make sure ya come back in one piece.’

  7

  Wings

  Something had changed. The endless bridge still stretched into the distance, the slow waterfalls of magma continued to stream down the walls and the shimmering waves of heat rose from below, bringing with them the oppressive stink of sulphur. But the atmosphere had changed from merely daunting to something sickly and otherworldly. Odd shadows flickered over the ceiling and the bridge, shadows that had no cause to be there. And interspersed between the blast of the heat and the stink of the sulphur came chill gusts of wind and the unpleasant tang of brine and maritime rot.

  Nothing was as it should be and the cause was obvious.

  Bane’s dark god.

  It loomed over the bridge in its globe of light like a sickened comet. Bobbing and swaying from side to side, it gathered its power, preparing itself for the task ahead. The flames around it flickered and its long, insectile fingers shivered and shook. Abruptly it slowed its movements. Spreading its hands wide like a conductor before an orchestra, it paused, then, with an odd lurch, it gusted into ghastly motion.

  Bane watched with interest as his god worked. Mr Crow, however, could not bear to look. Instead he studied his hands, turning them this way and that. He should have been concerned that after his last run-in with Charlie and her pet dragon his flesh was still translucent. But he wasn’t. He had already pushed that particular worry to the back of his mind. What he focused on now was how his brain hurt. This was his second visit to Bane’s god and each time it had done something to the insides of his head.

  ‘Not a good thing,’ he said to himself. ‘No, not a good thing at all.’

  Shivering, he tried to push the memory of the god’s cold embrace to the back of his mind too. But it was getting harder and harder to do. His head was already heavy with dark things and he was running out of space to store them.

  ‘Not good,’ he repeated. Clenching his hands into fists, he summoned an image of that brat, Charlie Keeper. The rage she provoked always helped to clear his head. ‘You’re going to pay, little filly, you’re going to pay. Oh yes, for all that poor Crow has had to endure.’

  A cricking, cracking, clattering sound drove him from his thoughts. Against his better judgement he looked. Two eggs were rising from the fabric of the bridge. As the god splayed its hands over them they grew and changed, bulging as if being pushed from the inside, stretching and elongating into long worm-like shapes. With a final creak, the eggshells shattered and the things inside bulged outward. The beasts opened their maws with a wet shloop-shloop sound and shook wings that were still wet with ichor. Reaching out, the god placed its hands on then in the beasts. White light flared and once it had diminished the two things were far, far bigger than before.

  Bane the giant, wrapped in bandages and shadow, moved forward to better study the creatures.

  ‘Good,’ he growled, ‘but, my god, I would ask that you make the next bigger.’

  ‘Your desire,’ said the god, ‘I shall so grant.’

  ‘An army of these,’ said Bane.

  ‘An army,’ confirmed the god.

  ‘Crowman, I must return to my Throne Room. Stay here and ensure my wishes are fulfilled.’

  ‘Stay h-here?’ squawked the lawyer. ‘By myself?’

  ‘You will have company soon enough,’ snapped Bane.

  ‘B-but –’

  ‘Am I not making myself clear?’

  Mr Crow trembled as he tried to stare into the dark depths of Bane’s cowl.

  ‘Yes, lord … I will stay.’

  Bane grunted. Gesturing for his two newest servants to follow him, he thumped his way off the endless bridge, leaving the lawyer to snivel while his god began to work on his army.

  The glory of flight filled him.

  The wind thrummed beneath his outspread wings, sunlight tickled his shoulders with welcome warmth and the sense of weightlessness washed away the last traces of sleep.

  Nibbler felt as though he could spend his life riding the thermals. Up here was where he belonged.

  But he couldn’t. At least, not yet.

  He stared at the pendant clasped in his talons. It looked like a cross between an acorn and an egg, and for an object that everyone was fighting over it was distinctly underwhelming. Nondescript as it was, it seemed out of place in his grasp and he knew it would only look right when it was returned to Charlie’s neck. An image of his friend chuckled through his thoughts; he pictured her with her wild hair spilling out of its topknot and with that cheeky smile splashed across her face.

  He almost grinned at the memory until it was swiftly replaced by a much darker image of the last time he had seen Charlie: no longer laughing, her leg bearing the scar from Darkmount’s treachery and the glimmer of darkness in her eyes.

  How did she fare? Had she survived the battle? Or was it still rampaging, with her caught up in its tides, trying desperately to fulfil her role as a Keeper?

  Unbidden, a growl escaped his lips and then a name: ‘Bane.’

  Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Nibbler banked and wheeled in the sky. Bane had a lot to answer for but the giant was far away and he had more pressing concerns. Such as keeping the Stoman soldiers, Shades and Stonesingers away from Jensen, Crumble and the other Tremen.

  Scanning the landscape, he spotted the enemy far below.

  He grunted in annoyance. He had allowed himself to fly too far, too high. The Stomen, realizing they wouldn’t be able to catch him, had slowed. Some were pointing to where the Tremen had last been seen; perhaps they were of a mind to give up the chase and return for easier prey. Nibbler couldn’t allow that; he had to keep them focused on the prize. On the pendant.

  Collapsing his wings, he stuck out his neck, straightened his tail and fell into a plummeting dive.

  The wind whistled past his ears. Driven by anger and the need to keep the Tremen alive, an unknown and unspoken instinct rose inside him, perhaps some genetic predisposition or evolutionary adaptation from aeons of being a predator. Whatever it was, it urged him to raise his shoulder blades – just so – and to angle his wing tips – like this. Suddenly, with his body flared in this new position, the wind began to scream as it rushed around his wings and over the ridges and gnarls of his thick skin.

  Like a warning siren or klaxon from yesteryear.

  Grinning in astonishment, he clenched his muscles tighter, perfecting the pose until the wind howled around him.

  The shocked Stomen stopped to point up at the skies. Up at the winged form that fell towards them, bringing with it a menacing sound of terror.

  Feeling more alive than ever before, Nibbler opened his mouth and let loose a crack of electricity.

  Lightning to match his new-found thunder.

  8

  Words of Warning

  Gloomy thoughts filled Charlie’s head as she plodded up the stairs after the other two Keepers. Once again fate seemed to be stacking the odds against her. Saving Sylvaris from Bane’s First had bee
n hard enough and that was when she’d had an army of her own at her back. The idea that the city she loved would have to face another two of Bane’s armies seemed like a cruel trick. Nor was she too thrilled about their deadline. Could they really be expected to find and free the Winged Ones in three days?

  The stress of the burden caused her stomach to churn. There was so much going on, so many tangled threads, that she feared her own desire might get lost amongst all the others. She would fight for Bellania, she would do all in her power for her friends and Sylvaris, but she also had to free her parents from Bane’s Tapestry. She had to. Clenching her fingers into fists, she looked up at the two Keepers ahead of her. They were as different from each other as chalk from cheese; Marsila with her headstrong disposition was a sharp contrast to E’Jaaz and his happy-go-lucky ways. But at least, thought Charlie, they’re real Keepers. Perhaps she could afford to relax a bit, knowing they would take the lead. She might only be a Keeper-in-training and her grasp on the Will and the Way might not be complete but they were professionals. Charlie hoped their experience and knowledge would give them the edge they needed.

  As they reached the top of the stairs and entered the Keepers’ Room of Travel a sense of comradeship settled over the group.

  ‘There’s no need to form a Triad for this,’ said Marsila. ‘At least, not yet. E’Jaaz will open the Portal to the Winged Mount, but before that, Charlie, one last word.’

  Aware that she was intended to give them her full attention, Charlie straightened her back.

  ‘Charlie,’ continued Marsila, ‘you have done well to get so far. Truly. You have done your parents proud, you have done us, as Keepers, proud. But you’re still a child –’

  ‘Don’t patronize her,’ rebuked E’Jaaz. ‘She’s fourteen. Call her what she is.’

  ‘A teenager, then. Either way, you’re inexperienced and …’ Marsila suddenly sighed. ‘Ah, forget it. I don’t think there’s much point in doing the we’re adults and you’re just a kid talk. Not after everything you’ve been through and not after hearing how you handled Lady Narcissa’s treachery. Just remember, you’re working with us now. That makes you part of a team and any mistakes you make can have consequences for E’Jaaz and myself. Got it?’

  ‘Got it,’ said Charlie, glad that someone was finally judging her not at face value but on the value of her accomplishments.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Marsila. ‘One other thing: we have less than three days to find the Serpent’s Tail, open the Gateway and see the return of the Winged Ones. Three days. So that means we’re going to have to move how?’

  ‘Fast?’ suggested Charlie.

  ‘And …?’

  ‘Erm … really quick?’

  ‘Hard, Charlie. We’re going to have to move hard and fast. Repeat it back to me.’

  ‘Hard and fast?’

  Marsila rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t want to hear a question. I want to hear certainty. I want to hear determination. Sylvaris depends upon us. Bellania depends upon us. Lives hang in the balance. So tell me how we’re going to move when we get to the Winged Mount?’

  ‘Hard and fast.’

  ‘Say it again.’

  Not really enjoying it but realizing what was expected of her, Charlie pushed her concerns aside and grasped her Will. When she spoke next her eyes glittered with determination. ‘HARD AND FAST.’

  Happy that she had impressed upon Charlie the seriousness of the situation and the need for swift action, Marsila relented. ‘Good. Let’s get to it, then.’

  Seeing that they were ready, E’Jaaz embraced his Will and with a flourish of his golden fists tore open a crackling Portal. Summer warmth, the welcome glow of sunlight and the scents of persimmon, pomegranate and lotus wafted into the room. Charlie closed her eyes and smiled; it was moments like this that made her glad to be a Keeper. Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes to stare through the Portal to the land beyond.

  Her first impression was of a wind-eroded landscape full of canyons, rounded boulders and sandstone spires in soft shades of red, yellow and brown. As she looked longer she noticed splashes of green and signs of lush life amongst the wilderness. There were strange gnarled trees with emerald-coloured leaves, corkscrewed cacti with purple thorns and, growing in the shade, an abundance of ferns. Dragonflies and humminghawks flitted from flower to flower and long-necked shirasheer (which Charlie considered to be a cross between a sheep and a giraffe) grazed in the distance.

  But all of this came second to the Winged Mount. It towered over everything, eclipsing the landscape with its magnificence. Its base was wide but sloped upward to form a spiralling trunk that ended in a top-heavy peak which scraped the turquoise sky.

  Looking at it, Charlie was struck by two thoughts: first, that the Winged Mount had to be the epitome of a fairy-tale mountain; and second, that there couldn’t be anything natural about it. She’d had enough geography classes to know that mountains like this couldn’t exist. It should be surrounded by others, just as Everest was buoyed up by the Himalayas.

  ‘Magic,’ she whispered with a contented smile.

  Marsila sniffed. ‘There’s no such thing as magic. As a Keeper you should know that –’

  ‘Look,’ retorted Charlie, ‘you might want to tell me there’s no such thing as “magic” and that the Will and the Way is a science but if I want to use the word I will. And that,’ she thrust a finger towards the mount, ‘is magical in every sense of the word.’

  Marsila shook her head and tutted. E’Jaaz, however, covered a grin.

  Before she could put forward her argument, something caught Charlie’s eye. ‘What’s that?’ She pointed towards a building on the Winged Mount’s lower slope. Distance made it hard to pick out details but it looked like a sprawling affair.

  ‘The Embassy of the Winds. It used to be the complex that hosted the Winged Ones’ Gateway,’ answered E’Jaaz. ‘It was a place of joy, feasts and dancing, but it’s been overrun by Bane’s soldiers and now it’s a home for Stonesingers. They’re garrisoned there to ensure that the Gateway to the Winged Realm remains sealed.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Charlie. ‘So do you –’

  ‘Hang on,’ interrupted Marsila. She frowned slightly as she pondered the view. ‘You’ve opened the Portal in the wrong place. Didn’t we drop the Tremen off further to the north-east?’

  E’Jaaz stroked his chin. Realizing she was right, he sealed the Portal with a swirl of his hands. With a look of concentration on his face, he opened another.

  This time E’Jaaz had got it right but something was wildly wrong. The stony clearing to which the Portal led was littered with discarded bags, shattered weapons and sticky pools of congealed blood which had turned black in the heat of the sun.

  Of the Tremen there was no sign.

  ‘What the jabber is going on?’ growled Marsila. Summoning her Will, she prepared for the worst.

  Bane sat upon his Devouring Throne and listened to the two brothers speak. They offered to kill the Hatchling and retrieve the pendant, and when he raised some questions they answered each with assured confidence. Bane liked what he heard, liked what the two seemed capable of achieving.

  ‘And so it shall be,’ he said. ‘Go then, to the Winged Mount, be my voice, be my blade, and see this task done.’

  The Delightful Brothers’ yellow eyes flashed with nasty triumph. Certain of their path and of their abilities, they made to leave the Throne Room.

  ‘You depart too soon,’ said Bane, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling around them, hinting at gifts not yet given. ‘And without suitable weapons for bringing down a Hatchling from the sky.’

  The Delightful Brothers paused.

  They watched as Bane gestured something forward … then smiled when they saw what emerged from the shadows. There were two of the things. One winged monstrosity for each brother.

  Bane rose from his throne. Lifting his arms, he began to chant, and when his arms blazed with power he pointed aloft and tore the ceiling apart to reveal th
e chasm that led to distant sky.

  ‘Go!’ commanded Bane. ‘Go and prove to me your worth! Go and do not return until you have the pendant and blood drips from your fists! Go!’

  Teeth gleaming, eyes blazing, the Delightful Brothers ran to the stone Wyrms and clambered aboard. As the beasts began to lift off from the floor their wings buzzed and their tails whipped from side to side. Gathering speed, they spun around the room, past the dais and between the columns that supported the ceiling. Scales rasping, teeth clashing, they drove themselves towards frenzy. With a last whirr of their wings and a final flick of their tails, they surged up the chasm and into the stormy heavens.

  Beneath his cowl Bane smiled as he watched his latest creations disappear. If those two beasts were mere prototypes he was eager to see what his new army would be capable of.

  9

  New Horizons

  E’Jaaz and Marsila sprang through the Portal. Their hands were aglow with contained Will. Their eyes danced this way and that, checking everywhere for signs of ambush.

  Charlie, however, held her heart in her mouth. Stuck on the wrong side of the Portal, she couldn’t stop staring at the sticky pools of congealed blood. What if some of that blood is Jensen’s? she thought to herself. Or Crumble’s? Or Nibbler’s? There was no way she could deal with the death of another close friend. Azariah’s death had cut her far too deeply. She couldn’t carry another scar like that with her. Jensen and Nibbler’s faces in particular flashed through her mind and a sudden sense of dread clutched at her.

  ‘Get a grip,’ she muttered to herself, ‘and get on with the job.’

  Sensing Marsila and E’Jaaz’s impatience, she hastened through the Portal.

  ‘You OK?’ asked E’Jaaz.

  ‘Yeah, I’m good,’ she lied. She did her best to imitate their professionalism but she felt inadequate next to their casual ability to endure the sight of so much blood. Trying not to think of her friends, she straightened her shoulders and summoned her Will.