Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (21 page)

Seeing how alarmed both Nibbler and Crumble appeared
she abruptly grew aware of how she must look. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled and rubbed at her hands in an attempt to push her Will away. Using the action of tidying her hair into a topknot as a chance to recover her composure she did her best to smile reassuringly. ‘Just thinking about Bane gets me angry. Look, Crumble, honestly you don’t have to worry about us. Just get us to the Western Mountains and we’ll do the rest.’

The young Stoman looked concerned, but sitting in the presence of both a Winged One and a Keeper, young as they were, he found he couldn’t deny Charlie’s request. ‘OK. We’ll make a start in the morning.’

‘And you’ll take us to the Western Mountains.’

‘I’ll take you,’ he agreed with an unhappy expression.

Jensen the Willow and Sic Boy were not the only ones to witness the birth of Edge Darkmount’s stone army. Mr Crow, having cleared the surrounding landscape of prey, had been forced further afield in order to fulfil his constant gnawing hunger.

Spotting the odd green glow amongst the night-time drudgery of the Great Plains, he had swept out of the sky to stand on a grassy ridge that overlooked Darkmount’s temporary residence.

Crow twitched his head from side to side as he watched the events proceeding below. Something about the Stoman bishop fascinated him. Perhaps it was the tantalizing display of power, or perhaps it was the possibility that something
in the valley below could offer him a reprieve from Bane’s wrath if only he could decipher what that was. The lawyer knew he needed something to appease his lord and he suspected that perhaps there really was something here that could aid him towards that goal.

Standing still and scarecrow-like on the ridge, he watched for several long hours. In that time Darkmount’s dark army continued to grow until it could be counted in the hundreds, and the source of his power, the vessel at his feet, continued to flash with flames of green light.

The appearance of dawn’s rosy fingers awoke Mr Crow from his trance. Blinking, he stared around him in alarm. He didn’t want to be discovered out here in the open. Jumping into the sky in a burst of feathers, he headed back to his cave to ponder his cowardly concerns.

29

Shatterstone

Charlie awoke just as the first light of dawn began to break across their campsite. Knowing that Nibbler, always a fan of sleeping, would be the last to awake, she tiptoed away from the remnants of the fire with the intention of practising her K’Changa, only to find that Crumble had beaten her to it.

Only he wasn’t practising K’Changa. He was systematically going through a series of very brutal-looking strikes. Punch followed kick and knee followed headbutt. With blow after blow, Crumble Shard moved forward, his lean muscles burning with a fierce economy of movement. His face was marred by a look of concentration and at the end of each fearsome combination he would exhale forcefully.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Charlie.

Crumble whipped his head round in surprise.

‘Are you trying to scare me to death?’ he half joked.

‘I said “What are you doing?”’ Charlie’s face hardened, underlining her determination to get a straight answer. Whatever form of martial art the Stoman boy had been practising, it looked very effective. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having someone so obviously capable travelling with her and
Nibbler. A fighter in their midst was obviously a help, but also a possible future threat.

‘Shatterstone.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The fighting style of my village. My uncle won the Western Fist Championship when he was young. I’ve been training under his tutelage since I was five.’

‘Let me be honest, Crumble. I don’t trust you.’ She stared him square in the face. Feeling the darkness rise inside her she clenched her hand into a tight fist. ‘I think that you being able to move and fight like that,’ she gestured roughly in the direction that he had been practising, ‘goes against your oh-so-nice image of last night. So let me say it again: I don’t trust you.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ he replied.

‘You don’t?’

‘No. Of course not.’ Crumble, ignoring the sweat on his brow and the hard look coming from Charlie, briefly closed his eyes and gave her a formal yet humble little bow. ‘After hearing your story last night I have an inkling of what you must have gone through – all that pain and fear and heartache and anger. You know what, Charlie?’

‘What?’

‘I think that if that had happened to me I’m not sure I would have the strength to continue. I don’t think that I could have done what you have done. And after all those betrayals? I wouldn’t trust anyone either. So if it would make you happier, allow me to aid you as best I can. Let me draw you a map of the region so if you do decide to press on to the Western Mountains you can. Or should you come to
your senses it’ll give you other places of refuge that you can reach. I can do all of that and have my pannier packed and be gone in less than an hour.’

Charlie continued to stare Crumble in the eye, but was the first to look away as she felt something other than the pool of darkness squirm in her chest. Shamed by her own words and Crumble’s honest expression she held up a hand.

‘Look …’ she began, but unsure how to continue she paused to search for the right words. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to trust anyone … but I can’t allow –’ She stopped as Crumble held up his hand.

‘I get it,’ he said. ‘Really I do. You’re like my younger rock sister. Sometimes she struggles with words, but she never realizes that I can read her heart by seeing what’s on her face. How’s this? I will stay and help as long as you like, but the minute that you feel that you cannot trust me tell me and I’ll go. I will ask no question nor require an explanation. To aid a Keeper and a Winged One is honour enough and I would be more than a fool not to realize that such a task comes with many difficulties.’

Charlie opened her mouth, but found that mingled thoughts of darkness and shame clouded her judgement. Instead she gave Crumble a nod then turned to trudge back to their campsite.

‘Wait,’ she said and turned back to the young Stoman. ‘That “Shatterstone” of yours. Is that what Stonesingers use to fight with?’

‘Some do or if they don’t they use a similar style.’

‘Show me.’

Aware that this was a somewhat odd request, but still
keen to aid Charlie in whatever way he could, Crumble began to demonstrate. But after only a few sequences he stopped.

‘Am I showing you this because you want to learn or is there another reason?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘A bit of both. I’ve fought Shades, Alavisian Watchmen and Mr Crow and held my own, but Darkmount brushed my Will aside like it was nothing. He used a fighting style similar to yours, but when he combined it with his stonesinging it was … it was like he was unstoppable. Like a boulder rolling down a hill. Maybe if I can learn a little of this Shatterstone of yours, the next time I come up against a Stonesinger as strong as Darkmount things might turn out differently.’

Crumble nodded and picked up a rough-looking stone. Summoning his stonesinging, he began to chant. The stone began to bulge and flex. With a
crick-crack
the stone split and as he continued to sing a small crystal flower emerged.

Charlie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the small miracle.

Crumble held up the flower for closer inspection. ‘I can heal, I can shape stone and I can call forth the crystal harvest, but, Charlie, you need to know that I am no great Stonesinger. Darkmount is not just a Stonesinger but a Stoman bishop. One of the greats, one of the powerful. People like Bane and Darkmount are forever above and beyond my reach. Yes, I might be good at Shatterstone, but facing someone like me will be vastly, vastly different from facing someone of real power.’

‘I know that. But show me what you can and leave the rest to me.’

Crumble smiled softly. ‘OK, let me show you what I can do.’

Charlie settled down to sit cross-legged with studious intent as Crumble, blue fists aglow, began to strike and glide beneath the still starlit but gently lightening dawn sky.

Leaving the Great Plains behind, Jensen headed into the Slumbering Hills and made for the merchant town of Idle Wind. It was a suitable location that was not only halfway between Alavis and the Western Mountains but also a major cornerstone of the trading world. It was here that Jensen hoped to learn more about Charlie’s fate.

Jensen was well aware of how badly Bane wanted to get his hands on Charlie and her pendant. It was only logical that if his forces had captured her in Alavis she would then be transported to the Western Mountains. What Jensen didn’t know was whether she had been transferred quickly and swiftly via a lightly armoured escort or if Bane’s forces, concerned about the possibility of escape, had instead chosen to transport her at a slower pace, but with more guards. If she had been transferred with a light escort, he reasoned, then she would already be in the Western Mountains. However, if she was under the watchful eye of a full military escort it was more than likely that she was still in transit.

And it was this information that would dictate how Jensen would proceed.

Riding into Idle Wind on Sic Boy’s back, Jensen received some strange looks. Such a sight wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it was not that unusual either. Idle Wind was a major trading post that attracted visitors from the length and breadth of Bellania and had seen more than its fair share of exotic visitors riding in on mounts that were equally strange: Humans on painted horses; Sandraiders on mottled grasshoppers; Northern Barbarians on snowbears; Tribesmen of the Eastern Sea on mournful crabs – the list went on. Most would have assumed that the number of visitors would have decreased with the onset of the war, however the wise knew that money was to be made during times of dispute. Barter and trade was the Idle Wind’s lifeblood and with the rise of Bane’s empire it was more prosperous than ever.

Forcing his way through the press of the crowd, Jensen headed towards the central marketplace where he hoped to glean an insight into current affairs. If he dug deep enough perhaps he might even hear a whisper of Charlie’s whereabouts.

So it came as a shock when a herald climbed on to a stage normally reserved for auctions and announced Bane’s proclamation in a ringing voice that reverberated across the streets.

‘… her head is delivered still fresh and bleeding I will double the sum offered. If she is delivered whimpering and broken to lie at my feet I will triple the sum and bestow the title of Lordship of Alavis on whomever succeeds in this undertaking.’

Jensen staggered as he heard those words. Conflicting
thoughts and emotions rushed through his head; the first and perhaps the happiest was that Charlie must have eluded Bane’s soldiers. She must be free! The second was one of doubt and confusion: if Charlie was indeed free then where was she now? And how on Bellania was he to find her? The final thought that staggered through his mind was that Charlie was still in peril. With such a bounty on her head every lowlife would be after her, a fact that Jensen could verify for himself as he saw freebooters and mercenaries grin in delight after hearing the herald. Many immediately hastened off to begin their hunt.