four, transport them back to Sylvaris and save the day.’
The councillors, Lady Dridif, Marsila and even Jensen gave the man a dark stare for his disrespectful attitude.
‘What? Did I forget something?’ E’Jaaz made a pantomime of putting his hand over his mouth. ‘Oh yes: five, whisk Marsila off her feet and claim that kiss I’ve always been waiting for. What?’ he protested. ‘What better time for a kiss than the end of the world?’
The tower shook and in the distance someone screamed.
‘Enough tomfoolery,’ demanded Dridif. ‘Get ta it.’
‘Wait,’ urged Jensen. ‘The Winged Saddles. Get them out of storage; we’ll need them.’
Lady Dridif turned to the nearest footman. ‘Get them,’ she instructed. As the man scampered off with several soldiers and footmen in tow, the First Speaker gave the group a contemplative stare before her gaze rested upon Nibbler. ‘I won’t put all ma eggs in one basket,’ she muttered to herself.
‘What was that?’ asked Nibbler, who felt uncomfortable beneath the weight of her attention.
‘Charlie?’
‘Yes, Dridif?’
‘Give Nibbler the pendant.’
Charlie hesitated. ‘I don’t have a problem giving it to Nibbler, but are you going to tell me why?’
‘Should ya die today we need a second chance. A hope, no matter how faint, that Bellania will still recover from Bane’s shadow.’
‘You, ah … you lost me there.’
‘We don’t know if the pendant was intended for yer sole use or not. If ya perish then Nibbler is our one other hope of using that pendant and returning the Winged Ones ta our realm. If there are no other Keepers left then a Winged One would surely be the next logical choice.’
Charlie tentatively pulled the pendant from her pocket. ‘I’m, er, still not up to speed with what you’re trying to suggest.’
Dridif, her hard face a direct contrast to many of the other terrified people in the room, straightened. ‘I mean for yer companions ta split. Ya must send Nibbler and Jensen ta the Winged Mount with yer pendant. There they can pursue our hopes of reuniting the Winged Ones.’
‘Wot about Charlie?’ demanded Jensen.
‘Her chances are more than fair. She is a Keeper, joined by Keepers and she will have an army at her back.’
‘An army that might not be able ta match the might of the Stoman army!’
‘Precisely,’ said Dridif.
‘Huh?’ Jensen twitched his head to one side so he could better hear the First Speaker. He was certain that he had misheard.
‘Do not be naive, Jensen! Ya are the first Merchant Prince of Sylvaris. Yer wealth and business acumen is renowned across Bellania. Ya juggle figures and manipulate markets ta better reap profit. I know yer brain is not slow so open yer eyes and acknowledge the truth! We are more than dying! We, our people, our way of life, our hopes, dreams and fondest wishes are close ta extinction! We must prepare for every opportunity. We must allow every seed of our culture a chance ta take root. Charlie is but one seed. Nibbler, ya and the pendant are another. Two chances, two hopes, two dreams for our future are far better than a solitary gamble.’
‘Hang on –’
‘No!’ snapped Dridif, preventing any further protests. ‘I am the First Speaker and I have spoken!’
At that moment the footmen and soldiers returned dragging six ornate but overly large leather saddles.
‘We will only be needing three of those,’ commanded Dridif.
The exhausted footmen gratefully dropped three.
‘Where do you want these two sent?’ Marsila gestured at Jensen and Nibbler.
‘These three,’ corrected Crumble in an unexpected display of loyalty. ‘I’ll watch out for them, Charlie.’
Charlie, still perplexed by Dridif’s abrupt decision, nodded her thanks to Crumble Shard.
‘A day’s walk from the Winged Mount,’ said Dridif after a moment’s contemplation.
‘Wait!’ protested Jensen, a tortured look on his face. ‘Just wait a Blighted minute.’ He moved to Charlie’s side and with a frustrated expression on his face pulled her into a tight embrace.
‘Once yer’ve finished off Bane’s army – which I know ya’ll do – I want ya ta keep an eye out for me sister and that fat oaf of an Oak, Kelko.’
The clash of arms sounded closer.
‘I promise,’ whispered Charlie, clasping her friend as tightly as she could.
‘I love ya, me little Hippotomi.’
‘Charlie –’ began Nibbler. Behind him stood Crumble, eager to get one last word in too.
‘There’s no time for dis!’ said Dridif, brusque and formal. ‘Every second is someone’s life! Marsila, get ta it!’
As much as Marsila sympathized with Charlie’s tangled emotions, she couldn’t help but agree with the First Speaker’s prognosis. She opened a Portal. Fresh