Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (25 page)

Jensen smiled grimly as he recalled their history. ‘I can
think of many reasons why it would be prudent ta keep Charlie out of his grasp. I think the most pressing concern – in relation ta the Gilded Bank – is that her continued freedom ensures that Bellania remains out of Bane’s control, allowing businessfolk like ourselves a continued free rein. That and, of course, the healthy commission that I will give ta the Gilded Bank for aiding me in this service.’

Sindris raised her glass. ‘A toast to free markets.’

‘And commissions,’ said Jensen with a knowing grin.

Sindris chuckled.

‘Two more things,’ added Jensen. He paused as he looked down at his bedraggled clothing. ‘No, better make that three more things.’

‘How else can we be of service?’

‘A tailor and perhaps a bath?’

‘Not a problem,’ said Sindris, who all this time had politely avoided acknowledging Jensen’s road-weary look. ‘And your third request?’

‘A length of Thornwood, of Sylvarisian quality.’

‘Ah, that won’t be the easiest item to procure. I’m assuming that you had something special in mind?’

‘With Fo Fum’s arrival on the playing board? Yes, I will need something special with which ta even the odds. A length of Thornwood fits the bill perfectly. Do ya have access ta some?’

Sindris raised her glass again in respect of her esteemed customer. ‘All things are possible for patrons of the Gilded Bank.’

Crumble’s jaw dropped as he watched Charlie slam into the packed mercenaries, knocking them aside like bowling pins. He stared in disbelief as she broke tridents and swords, snatched thrown spears and daggers from the air and lashed at the largest of her foes with great whips of dark flame. The spectacle of it seemed unreal, like a painted battle of the furies brought to life right in front of his very eyes.

‘Crumble!’ shouted Nibbler, waking him from his dazed reverie. Spinning round he found the Winged One attacking three heavily armoured mercenaries with tooth and claw, while a fourth approached with a spread net.

Although he’d fought in Shatterstone tournaments before, Crumble had never been in a battle. Intimidated by the ferocity of it, not to mention all the fearsomely sharp weapons being pitched about, he hesitated.

‘Crack this!’ he cursed. Summoning not just his courage but his rudimentary Stonesong, he sprinted towards the fourth attacker with blue glowing fists, taking him by surprise. Making quick work of the net-bearer he ran to aid Nibbler, but the dragon already had the upper hand.

Wings rearing, Nibbler pointed at a reinforcement of five who were attempting to approach Charlie from behind. ‘Take care of them!’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with the rest.’

Nibbler took flight so he could better rain down fire and electricity from above. Which left Crumble trying to figure out how he was going to take on not one but five armed professionals. He briefly thought about using his cooking pot as he had in Opal Hold, but he knew there was no way that idea would work. Grimacing, he sprinted forward and snatched a discarded shield from the ground. Dodging a
wayward bolt of Nibbler’s lightning he knocked aside a hook-wielding thug, leaped over a pile of fallen bodies that had succumbed to Charlie’s Will and slammed, shield first, into the five mercenaries. They all went down in a clatter of amour.

Crumble, first to regain his feet and doing his best to mask his terror, pounded both blue-glowing fist and battered shield against the attackers. Moving as fast as he could, he skipped from one to another, beating one halfway down then staggering to the next before they could recover their wits or stand upright. His whole body shaking with adrenalin, Crumble battled to stay alive.

Jensen admired his reflection. Bathed, with a freshly tied topknot and crisp clean clothes, he felt like a new man. Retreating from the polished mirror, he crossed the lavish guest room to a small side table containing a gift-wrapped item.

Humming gently to himself he carried the delivery to the centre of the room. Neglecting the plump chairs he instead chose to sit cross-legged on the floor where he slowly unwrapped the silk packaging to reveal a length of ebony-coloured Thornwood. Jensen stroked his hands across its surface and drew on its familiar aura. As his fingers traced its length, a soft scent of ginger filled the room.

Collecting his thoughts he began to sing. His melodic voice drifted through the room, filling it with a sense of intent and purpose. This wasn’t a Treesong of growth, rather it was one of craft, of shaping.

As he continued to chant, he ran his hands over the wood. Excess pieces dropped away like fine shavings. Here and there the wood buckled, warped and in some places drew inward, becoming more compact. The minutes turned into hours and Jensen continued to work the wood, manipulating it into the shape he desired until eventually he held his finished piece aloft.

A sword constructed entirely of Thornwood.

Its blade was long and elegant, the point exceptionally sharp, and in truth so fine that it was hard to see. The hilt was crafted with fine ridges to provide a comfortable but sure grip and the cross guard was shaped to resemble curving leaves.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Come!’ said Jensen.

Sindris the Third entered. She raised her eyebrows as she saw Jensen’s finished product. ‘Is that a …’

‘A Thornsword?’ said Jensen, completing Sindris’s question. ‘Aye, it is.’

‘By the Scales, such a thing is a rare sight. Perhaps one day you might have the time to allow me several questions about its making? However, I fear now is not the place to be asking as time is pressing. My clerks received word from our branch in Opal Hold that Charlie Keeper was spotted there earlier today. She did not dawdle, but left through a Keeper’s Portal. Our clerks at the Opal Hold branch were unable to ascertain where she went but they have noticed an increase of bounty hunters in the vicinity.’

‘Opal Hold? That’s two days’ ride from here, ain’t it?’

‘That is correct, however we can receive communication via carrier pigeon in as little as five hours.’

‘Hhmm,’ mused Jensen. ‘Wot other towns are there between here and Opal Hold?’

‘Little Storm, Shidden Vale and Yearning Tooth.’

‘And the Gilded Bank has branches at each of those?’

‘We have a large branch in Little Storm, a smaller branch in Shidden Vale, but nothing in Yearning Tooth. We do have ties to Yearning Tooth’s post office so if your young Keeper were to arrive there I can see to it that you are informed.’

‘Me thanks, Sindris. I think it would be prudent ta take myself ta Little Storm. It makes a more convenient hub ta receive local intelligence.’

‘I will notify my counterpart at the Little Storm branch that you are coming.’

‘Again, me thanks,’ said Jensen. Unfolding himself from the floor he grabbed his backpack and with sword in hand headed for the door.

34

The Bookseller

Charlie breathed deeply, savouring the moment.

She could feel the anger under her skin. The rage, the humiliation and the fear; all of it accumulated while in Bellania. Bane, Narcissa, Crow, Stix, Stones, Darkmount, Lallinda, the Shades, the Wyrms, the daemons – all of them had contributed to the anger that bubbled within. But now, with each and every blow from her fists and kick from her legs, she got to give some of it back.

It felt wonderful.

Her fists flared darkly, leaving a trail of golden sparks as she pummelled opponent after opponent into submission. Wrenching swords from their owners’ fists, snapping axe shafts and shattering maces into splinters, she danced about. Blurring from one K’Changa stance into another she left a trail of destruction in her wake.

Suddenly it was over.

The few mercenaries still capable of standing ran for cover. Ducking into side streets and alleyways they melted away, leaving a collection of discarded weapons and piles of unconscious or moaning bodies behind.

‘Forty Swords?’ Charlie shouted at their backs. ‘More like forty chumps!’

‘Charlie!’

She turned to find Nibbler and Crumble hurrying towards her.

‘Are you guys OK?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ panted Nibbler. ‘But we’ve got to get out of here before anyone else decides they want a go at claiming Bane’s reward.’

‘Why?’ queried Charlie. ‘We coped with those guys easy enough.’

‘Are you mad?’ snapped Crumble, his newly acquired shield still in hand. ‘We almost got killed! There’s no way I want to go through that again.’

Charlie felt the anger rise. She wanted more people to fight; she wanted to burn all the hate that resided inside her by beating anyone who stood in her way. She
hoped
that more mercenaries would come.

‘Charlie, I’m serious,’ insisted Crumble. ‘We can’t go through that again.’

Charlie noticed that his hands were shaking and saw how exhausted Nibbler looked. Suddenly she felt ashamed. Her actions had endangered her friends and it was they who had placed their lives on the line for her. Guilt churned in her stomach at the thought of Nibbler or even Crumble, a relatively new arrival to her circle of companions, suffering an injury on her behalf.

Shouts and the tramp of booted feet stirred her from her contemplation.

‘Ah that doesn’t sound good,’ said Nibbler. ‘It sounds like half the town must be after us.’

‘Or another crew of gold-diggers,’ suggested Crumble with an unhappy look on his face. ‘Charlie, what do you want to do?’

‘Keeper! This way!’ hissed a voice, making all three of them jump.

Turning, they found a Stoman lady gesturing frantically at them from the mouth of an alley. Sharing a look between them, but, realizing how quickly things could take a turn for the worse if they stayed out in the open, they filed into the passageway.

Charlie, fearing treachery, allowed a little trickle of Will to ease on to her fingers.
Just in case
, she thought to herself.

The Stoman led them down the alley, across another street, down yet another winding backstreet and, ensuring that they weren’t observed, ducked into a small garden. Charlie eyed the enclosed space with suspicion before following her.

Now they had stopped moving Charlie could see that the Stoman lady wore a brown leather kilt and a simple shirt. She had little jewellery on her person, but wore a glass monocle on a leather cord that hung round her neck. ‘You shouldn’t be here!’ she urged. ‘Word of Bane’s bounty has reached Shidden Vale and it won’t be long until every –’

‘Relax,’ said Charlie, ‘we just took care of the Forty Swords.’

‘They were nothing! The Band of Thirteen are here in Shidden Vale, so is the Scarlet Poison Gang and word is that Fo Fum has been seen searching for you in the Slumbering Hills.’

‘Fo Fum!’ choked Crumble, a look of astonishment and horror in his eyes.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Charlie.

‘You don’t know who Fo Fum is?’ snorted the lady. ‘Ah, Keeper, the rumours about you being naive and innocent must be true.’

‘What? Naive? What do you mean by that? And just who is Fo Fum? And … wait, who are
you
anyway?’

The Stoman had the face of an older woman, but with youthful grey-green eyes that she now used to frown at the three. ‘Lots of questions there, young Keeper. Do you want to pick one for me to answer or should I just try to answer all of them?’

‘Lady,’ spluttered Charlie, ‘did you bring us down here for a reason or did you just want to make me look like a fool?’

‘I brought you down here to try to keep you and your friends alive for another day. Acting like a fool is something that you seem to be doing well all by yourself.’

‘Oooh! You’re as bad as Azariah!’ scowled Charlie, immediately feeling the loss of her friend and mentor. ‘OK, I can see you want to help and I can see you’re also going to be annoyingly difficult to deal with, so let’s start again. I’m Charlie Keeper, this is Nibbler and the big guy is Crumble Shard. What’s your name?’

‘Ottoline Lark.’

‘Right. Well, Ottoline, if the rest of Shidden Vale want to kill me to claim Bane’s bounty then why do you want to help us?’

‘Because I’m a free thinker, child. I don’t like Bane’s ideas
for “one Bellania beneath Stoman rule” and I still hold true to the old ways of respecting Keepers and Winged Ones.’ Ottoline gave Charlie and Nibbler a measured stare. ‘Although to be truthful the two of you don’t look much like a real Keeper or a Winged One. You look more like a bunch of kids than anything, but you should know that I hold true to the ideals of respecting your elders so I guess that means looking after you whipper-snappers.’