Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (32 page)

It was dark inside. As their eyes grew accustomed to the low light, it became apparent that they were sandwiched between an outer and inner layer of canvas. Keeping low they shuffled forward until they were pressed against the second layer. Charlie tensed at the sound of Darkmount’s familiar voice. The deluge pounding upon the roof muffled his words, but it was clear from the response that the bishop was asking for something.

‘As you wish,’ echoed a voice that came not from within the tent, but which was directly inside Charlie’s head.

The shock of hearing Darkmount’s god within their own minds caused all three to start. They turned to stare at each
other, obviously wanting to say something, but too close to their enemy to dare.

The fabric that separated them from the inner confines glowed yet again. The green light cast strange shadows that danced across the canvas. Four rounded, writhing things grew from small silhouettes into large brooding shapes.

Again Darkmount’s voice but not his words could be heard.

The four shapes moved, and as the thump of their footfalls faded Charlie touched Crumble on the shoulder, giving him the go-ahead. As quietly as possible, he split the partition. Charlie reached out and gave her friends a final grasping touch on their forearms before she slithered through the hole.

Her first impression of the tent now she was up close was its size; it could have passed for a circus big top. Her second was how dark it was. Only a few oil-burning lights and a paltry fire gave any illumination, all of which were on or around a small altar that lay in the tent’s centre. Darkmount, hood thrown back to reveal his sharp features, stood next to the altar gazing intently at the urn, a greedy look somewhere between hunger and adoration on his face.

Charlie, glad of the poor lighting and muddy camouflage, waited for Jensen and Crumble to join her. She then watched as each sneaked off in opposite directions. Riding on a wave of growing excitement and struggling to deal with the insistent tick of adrenalin rushing through her veins, she stood up to make her move.

‘What kind of inefficient killer forgets to check his handiwork?’ she said, the abruptness of her voice making Darkmount jump.

‘Charlie Keeper?’

‘Got it in one,’ she said, stepping into the small circle of light.

Darkmount quickly regained his composure. ‘I have more pressing matters to concern myself with than one idiotic girl foolishly dreaming about the return of her pendant. I’ll give you one chance to leave with your life and one only.’

‘That’s one more chance than I’m prepared to give you.’ Charlie paused. Having narrowed the distance between them she could clearly see that the Stoman had changed since they last met. There was something wrong with his face. Little patches of darkness moved across it like windswept clouds streaming through an otherwise clear sky. Charlie blinked as she noted little lights glimmering in the dark patches; it was as if Darkmount was beginning to take on similar qualities to that of his god. He was becoming a patchwork man of flesh and starry galaxies.

‘Looks like you’ve been spending too much time with your god, eh, Darkmount?’

The bishop reached up to touch his face. His fingers actually dipped into one of the black spots as though it was in itself a tiny window to another realm. ‘I’m becoming a true holy man, Charlie Keeper. My god is bestowing upon me the holiness of his heavens.’

‘Heavens, huh? I think you’d better prepare yourself to be disappointed.’

‘Infantile to the last, Charlie Keeper! Are you really unable to comprehend how powerful I have become? Would it help you understand the situation if instead of burying you beneath a mountain of stone I simply ripped your spine from your body?’

‘Enough with the talking, let’s get on with this.’

‘As you wish.’ Darkmount took a step towards her.

Charlie gave him a dry laugh. ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

She raised one arm high and clicked her fingers.

At her command a pair of hands snaked out of the darkness and snatched the vessel off the altar.

Darkmount, glimpsing the theft out of the corner of his eye, whipped round, but before he could cry out or summon his Stonesong Charlie clicked her fingers again.

KRUUU-KKKACK!

Taking advantage of Darkmount’s distraction, Crumble cracked his oversized club against the bishop’s head. Darkmount flew through the air to land in a heap. His eyes rolled up, one arm twitched spasmodically and almost immediately a rasping snore oozed from his slack mouth.

‘Are we good?’ asked Charlie.

‘All good.’ Jensen grinned, stepping forward with the urn cradled in his arms.

Crumble joined him. ‘Great plan, Charlie, well done.’

‘Well done indeed, lass,’ said Jensen, genuine admiration shone from his eyes. ‘Quick, simple and very, very effective.’

‘If I’d known sneaky attacks worked so well I’d have started using them sooner,’ said Charlie, her jubilation mirroring Jensen’s. ‘Sneakiness and good teamwork is definitely the way forward.’

While the Treman and Stoman ripped Darkmount’s cloak into strips so they could bind him, Charlie went through his pockets.

‘Got it!’ Her grin grew wider as she held the pendant aloft. The clasp was broken, and for a moment she considered wrapping it round her wrist like a bracelet, but settled instead for stuffing it deep in her pocket until she could get it fixed or come up with a better solution.

‘He’s not going anywhere,’ stated Crumble as he tied the last knot.

Darkmount, still snoring and twitching erratically, had been trussed into a U-shape so that his wrists were tied to his ankles.

‘Gag him too,’ insisted Charlie.

Jensen returned the urn to the altar then stuffed the remnants of Darkmount’s cloak into his mouth.

‘What are we going to do about him?’ asked Crumble. ‘We can’t just let him go, can we?’

‘After all that he’s done? There’s no chance I’m just going to let him go,’ said Charlie, an undercurrent of anger in her voice.

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Vengeance.’

Jensen, so jubilant before, examined her with worried eyes. ‘Hippotomi,’ he began, but Charlie put her hand up.

‘I know what you’re going to say, Jensen, but please, trust me. Trust my instincts this time. I won’t do anything that would make you ashamed of me.’

Jensen couldn’t say anything after that, but he continued to watch her. Concern for what she might do and fears about
the influence of the darkness that she now carried within her was evident in his eyes.

Charlie made her way to the altar. ‘Let’s get reckless,’ she whispered, and without allowing herself time to think, lifted the urn and stared into its star-filled depths.

44

Vengeance

‘I know you’re there,’ she said.

The urn grew cold. One of the stars grew closer and pulsed with a sickly green light.

‘Utter your request and see it done,’ said the god.

‘Those
things
outside. How was Darkmount going to control them?’

‘They will move to his wants so long as he holds their hearts within his fist.’

‘Where is this, uh, heart?’

‘Here.’

Charlie, ignoring the trickle of blood that seeped from her nose, looked around, but couldn’t see an object that resembled or could be called a heart.

‘Where?’

‘Here.’

As the star continued to grow to the point that Charlie’s face was bathed in green light, it dawned on her that it meant that
it
had it. Realizing she couldn’t back down, she summoned all her courage.

‘Give it to me.’

‘As you wish.’

The star grew and grew, the sensation of intense cold now beyond the point of bearing, and Charlie had no option but to drop the vessel. As it struck the ground, frost appeared along its length then spread along the floor in an arc. The tent grew icy, Charlie’s breath misted and the starlight seeping from the urn grew to an almost unbearable glory.

Just when she thought the light couldn’t get any brighter the star floated free to hang above the urn. Something stirred within the green light. A great diamond-shaped head and a pair of grasping hands appeared, but everything else, if indeed there was anything else, remained hidden inside the star.

‘Come closer,’ demanded the voice.

Charlie, thinking that perhaps she had finally bitten off more than she could chew, edged her unwilling feet nearer.

‘Closer.’

The cold was almost unbearable, the blood dripping from her nose freezing, however a small part of Charlie’s mind couldn’t help but notice and be horrified that the thing,
this god,
had no mouth with which to speak.

‘Give me your hand.’

Almost beyond the point of caring, Charlie thrust her arm forward. The thing reached out a thin and blackened arm and ever so lightly placed something in Charlie’s palm, and then, shrinking in on itself, it returned to the urn.

Whatever it was it was repulsive. It glistened on the palm of her hand like a fat slug. Purple tendrils sprouted across its surface and it pulsed in her hand with the movement of a real heart. The little tendrils clutched weakly at her skin and Charlie almost dropped it in disgust.

‘Er … how do I use … this?’ she asked. The question was partly for herself, partly for Jensen and Crumble, but it was the god who answered her.

‘Nurture it. Feed it. When it is satisfied it will be yours to command.’

‘Uh, OK. Thank you.’

The god didn’t reply.

With some trepidation Charlie placed the urn back on the altar. Gesturing for Crumble and Jensen to join her, she pulled them into a close huddle.

‘I need to know two things. Where is the deepest ocean in Bellania? And where’s the most desolate place?’

Jensen pondered her questions. ‘I’ve heard it said that the Sea of Charms is supposed ta be bottomless,’ he said.

‘That sounds perfect. Where is it?’

Jensen told her.

‘Good, and the most desolate place?’

‘Um, do you want ta be a bit more specific about that?’

‘I want a place that’s scarcely populated and would be very, very hard to return from.’

‘Fo Fum was the only person to make the journey from beyond the Great Deserts,’ said Crumble, ‘so I’d say that would make them a great candidate for being desolate.’

Charlie turned to stare at Darkmount’s unconscious form. ‘The Great Deserts sound perfect. I’ll need to know where those are too.’

Hesitantly Crumble, with the aid of the better-travelled Jensen, described the geography of the place.

With a grim smile Charlie went to wake Edge Darkmount.
Tipping the liquid contents of an altar bowl across his face she waited for him to stop spluttering before addressing him.

‘You used me, Darkmount,’ she snapped at him. ‘You broke my leg. You stole my pendant. You left me for dead.’

‘Mmngg-hhnn-grrmpf!’ mumbled Darkmount as he struggled against his bonds.

Charlie hunkered down so she could stare directly into his eyes. ‘You almost ruined the one chance left for Bellania and –’ her voice dropped to a terrible whisper – ‘you almost took the one chance I have left to save my parents.’ Charlie’s hair began to writhe and little trickles of darkness crept from her eyes.

‘Yyuuu-dnnnt-owww–’

Charlie pressed her hand over his mouth, silencing his attempts at speech. Leaning even closer she whispered into his ear: ‘Have you ever heard of that old expression “an eye for an eye”?’

‘Charlie –’ warned Jensen, but she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, addressing both Jensen and Darkmount, ‘I’m not that dark. At least not yet. But Darkmount tried to take what’s dearest to me so it’s only fair that I return the favour.’

Fists clenched, darkness writhing round her, Charlie opened a Portal to reveal a sea of churning waves. Taking hold of the urn she held it teasingly above Darkmount, then with an almost negligent flick of her wrist she tossed it through the Portal. The urn spun head over tail to land with
a soft splash. Jensen and Crumble gasped as they saw a flash of luminescence and the flicker of something tentacle-like emerge from the urn before it sank from sight.

Moans of dismay leaked from beneath Darkmount’s gag as he watched his dreams literally sink away.

‘I know that, given the chance, you’d probably like to curse and threaten me with promises of eternal revenge, but, Darkmount, believe you me, this is the very least that you deserve. You didn’t care about the pain you brought, or the damage that you dealt, and obviously you didn’t think about anyone other than yourself or that thing you called a god.’

‘Grrrrtt-mnnn-nnrr!’

‘What? You feel wronged? Ha! Darkmount, look what you’ve turned me into.’ Spreading her arms wide, Charlie unleashed the full wrath of her Will. The tent billowed as she let loose the darkness held within her heart. Black waves, highlighted by a faint glimmer of gold, gushed from her hands and seeped from her eyes, sending her clothes rippling and causing her hair to stand on end. ‘LOOK AT ME! Look at what you’ve created!’ Riding on a crest of anger, she slammed shut the Portal that led to the Sea of Charms and tore open another that led to a stony desert bereft of life. Grabbing hold of Darkmount, she dragged him across the floor as though he weighed little more than a doll. She paused as she neared the Portal. ‘Be glad that I still hold on to some semblance of my old self. Be pleased my friends stand strong behind me. Be thankful that they have kept some measure of light in my heart, otherwise I would be taking your life.’