Keeper of the Realms: The Dark Army (Book 2) (29 page)

Sic Boy had done Jensen proud. He had eaten up great distances far faster than a horse or a rhinospider would have done. But it was obvious that the fierce dog’s stamina was ebbing. His large tongue lolled from his muzzle and Jensen’s newly tailored three-quarter-length trousers were salt-stained with the dog’s sweat. But they were close. Jensen could see their destination, Shidden Vale, in the distance.

‘Keep going, Sic Boy, keep going! That’s it, we’re nearly there. Nearly there!’

Sensing the urgency in Jensen’s voice, Sic Boy somehow managed to tap extra reserves of energy. Powerful muscles flexing, he increased his stride until Jensen’s eyes watered and his topknot was pressed flat by the wind.

The road curved gently as it neared the town. On the right lay a landscape of wind-smoothed boulders and on the left a fast-paced river.

Jensen did a double take and his jaw dropped in disbelief as he saw Nibbler being dragged along by the current.

‘Wot the …’

Snapping his head round he saw a teenage Stoman hollering as he chased the struggling Winged One along the riverbank. Looking even further upstream, Jensen caught a glimpse of movement and a flash of unruly blonde
hair before the image disappeared behind the trees and foliage.

Making an abrupt decision, he pulled Sic Boy to a halt and leaped from his back.

Pointing him in the direction of the struggling Winged One he shouted his command. ‘Go! Get Nibbler! Go boy!’

Sic Boy flared his nostrils, but didn’t hesitate. Leaving a trail of sparks as his talons blazed across the road, he sped off in pursuit of the Hatchling.

Jensen, sword in hand and a grim look on his face, sprinted in the opposite direction.

39

Fist, Rock and Water

Crumble leaped over a fallen tree trunk, vaulted over a boulder and dodged beneath a series of branches. Sliding down the wet riverbank he landed ankle deep in water and splashed onward.

‘–eeeeeeeelp! Heeeelp m–’ Nibbler’s cries were momentarily cut off as the current slammed him against another rock then dragged his head beneath the water. ‘Chaaaaaaarl–’

‘I’m coming!’ hollered Crumble.

Long legs kicking up a spray of water, he waded as far as he could then dived forward. With vigorous strokes he swam over to where he had last seen the dragon. Taking a series of deep breaths, he ducked down into a murky world of river weed and displaced leaves that made it hard to see. When he glimpsed a flash of scales he darted forward, but it was just a large fish startled into making a quick escape. Kicking for the surface he filled his lungs then dived back down.

This time he found a length of cord with a wooden weight tied to the end. Following it he grasped a wing and, swimming even deeper, he discovered the rest of Nibbler flailing weakly in an attempt to free himself from the bolas. Grabbing hold of a paw, Crumble kicked his way towards the surface.

Both of them drew in great lungfuls of air. With Crumble supporting Nibbler they struggled to the riverside, crawled up the bank and collapsed in a heap.

‘Well, will you look at what the tide dragged in,’ said a voice. ‘Looks like the Band o’ Thirteen might have a new clue as to the whereabouts of our bounty.’

Crumble and Nibbler twisted round to find that not only had they washed ashore next to the town of Shidden Vale, but they were encircled by a group of Humans dressed in intricate armour, all of whom had the number thirteen stamped in blood-red ink on to their breastplates.

Even partially tied-up Nibbler couldn’t contain his curiosity. ‘But there’s only eleven of you,’ he protested. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be a band of thirteen?’

‘We’re so named because if we don’t get what we want, thirteen pieces is what we cut our victims into,’ leered one of the men. Gold teeth twinkling through his greasy beard he loomed over the river-sodden duo. ‘So what do you say, my pretties? Do you want to tell me where Charlie of the Keepers is or do me and my boys get busy with our talent for butchery?’

Fo Fum ducked away from Charlie’s blow and, with the acrid smoke still jetting from his eye holes, unleashed a wave of vicious counter-attacks. Charlie blocked each with a flash from her blazing fists, but it hurt. So powerful were the mercenary’s strikes that even surrounded by the shield of her Will Charlie felt like she was being struck by a sledgehammer.

Rallying, she struck back with whips of dark Will. Lashing one hand forward then another she brought great licks of flame to bear, but Fo Fum, cartwheeling backwards in a flurry of smoke, evaded her attack. Back and forth they went, each equally skilled and both equally fast, until Fo Fum’s incredible strength became the deciding factor. The few blows that Charlie landed barely stunned the man, whereas each of his continued to almost knock her off her feet.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snapped as her sense of frustration soared.

Somersaulting sideways she tried to create some distance, but Fo Fum kept up.

‘I mean it! Leave me alone! I’ve got enough on my plate already. ENOUGH!’ Riding a wave of anger her Will exploded.

Great streams of black flames, golden light and sun-white sparks burst from her fists. Leaping forward she danced around Fo Fum battering at him with a barrage of kicks and punches.

‘I’LL TEACH YOU NOT TO MESS WITH ME! I’LL TEACH YOU THE MEANING OF –’

Fo Fum suddenly screamed, ‘Feeeee!’ and knifed the heel of his foot sideways into Charlie’s stomach.

The air was knocked from Charlie’s lungs. Winded, she was forced to stagger backwards, but Fo Fum pressed forward to his advantage. With each blow that he unleashed he let loose an ear-wrenching scream.

‘Fiiiiiii!’

His staff cracked against Charlie’s fists in a flash of sparks.

‘Ffffffo!’

Smoke erupting from his nightmare face, he smashed at Charlie’s defences.

‘Ffffum!’

Senses reeling, Charlie barely deflected his next strike.

And then she failed altogether. Fo Fum’s staff burst through her Will and landed a glancing blow across her temple. The world spun. Sky appeared where there should have been earth and trees where just before there had been rain clouds.

‘Aaaaargh!’ screamed Charlie as the ground came rushing up to meet her. She blacked out for a second and when she came to, Fo Fum’s silhouette reared above her. He raised his staff high overhead.

‘No one messes with me friends!’ growled a voice.

Fo Fum twitched. His mean smile slipped as his arm fell and his staff thudded to the floor. He swayed from side to side then collapsed with all the suddenness of a puppet with its strings cut. Behind him stood Jensen, arm extended, blood-splattered Thornsword held firmly in his hand, droplets of rainwater cascading down his worried face. Confident that Fo Fum was dead, but unwilling to take any chances, he plunged his sword into the inert body and left it there.

‘Hello, lass,’ he said as he knelt by Charlie’s side.

‘J-Jensen?’

‘Ya got it in one, me little Hippotomi.’

Nibbler, in his haste to lunge at the nearest Band of Thirteen, forgot about the bolas. Tripping forward into a flailing heap he struggled to stand up. Roaring with laughter at the Winged
One’s misfortune, one of the Humans raised his heavy mace only to be felled in turn as Crumble tackled him round the waist. Both Human and Stoman went tumbling into the river.

The rest of the band found this uproarious, laughing and pointing at their fallen comrade. Their chuckles fell silent as Crumble, hands aglow, made short work of his foe. Knocking the man’s mace from his grasp, Crumble used it against him, leaving his attacker dazed and cross-eyed from a thump to the side of his head. Wading from the water with the mace in his hand, Crumble stood protectively over Nibbler.

A hard expression crossed the remaining ten men’s faces.

‘Weapons out, ladies,’ growled the man with the beard and golden teeth. ‘Looks like we’ll have to demonstrate our ability to count to thirteen.’

They stalked forward only to be met by crackles of electricity as Nibbler, still struggling to free himself, proved his worth. The men scuttled out of reach.

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ bellowed Golden Teeth. ‘We all know the drill. Three of you take that side, you three take the other. And don’t hold back with the blades. We only need one of them able to talk!’

Split into three groups, they began to press their attack. Crumble and Nibbler, forced almost all the way back to the water’s edge, did their best to fend off the Band of Thirteen. But Nibbler’s lightning could only restrain one side at a time, and no matter how fast he moved the other two groups would dart forward to strike. Crumble did his best to counter their attacks with his mace and Shatterstone, but it was an impossible task.

Then the three on the left, timing their attack to perfection,
reached Nibbler just as he was fending off the other seven. Crumble, desperate beyond measure, threw the mace at one of them and, shouting mindlessly, barrelled into the other two before they could raise their weapons.

But these weren’t the Forty Swords; the Band of Thirteen were toughened, driven by greed and above all very experienced. Dropping their weapons so they could better grapple at close quarters, the two Humans pulled Crumble to the ground. Using their combined weight to their advantage, they forced the young Stoman’s hands backwards and with a sickening pop wrenched one of his arms all the way behind him.

Crumble screamed in agony then moaned as a fist was driven under his ribs. Grinning nastily, the two men retrieved their weapons.

A distant growl gave them cause to turn their heads.

Sic Boy, kicking up a cloud of dust and pebbles, raced towards them. The deep bass of his enraged barks rumbled down the street and broke like a wave upon the Band of Thirteen.

Stunned by this sudden
appearance they tried to reorganize their ranks, but it was too late. Growling and gnashing, Sic Boy flung himself at the band. Knocking two to the ground he closed his jaws round a screaming third. The crunch of plate armour being crumpled in the huge dog’s mouth was appalling for all to hear. Dashing his victim aside he fixed Golden Teeth with a glare and growled so menacingly that the leader nearly lost control of his bladder.

A fork of lightning struck one of the Humans in the back. Caught between the anvil of Nibbler’s flames and the hammer of Sic Boy’s untamed ferocity, the band were in a tactically disastrous position. Sic Boy encouraged their decision to flee by raking his paw across Golden Teeth’s chest plate. The shriek of metal and the deep grooves left in the armour gave those still standing a chance to appreciate just how much they valued their lives.

Cursing and hollering, the Band of Thirteen made an undignified retreat.

40

Reunited

Unaware that Charlie had already been saved, Nibbler had hobbled back as fast as he could, followed by Sic Boy and finally, at a somewhat slower rate, by Crumble, who with only one active arm, had difficulty traversing the riverbank. Everyone relaxed once it became evident that neither group had suffered life-threatening injury. Jensen, an experienced hand, popped Crumble’s dislocated shoulder back into place.