many, many more listened eagerly as Bane’s bounty was described.
‘… sapphires!’
‘… enough rubies to swim in!’
‘… a thousand fistfuls of gold!’
Grinning and slapping each other on the back as though they had already earned the reward, they began to disperse in trickles and then droves as they started their quest for Bane’s elusive fugitive.
In a dusty square in some nameless village the herald’s words caused a riot as three competing gangs clashed over foolish boasts of what they would do with the reward.
On the outskirts of the piazza, a tall stranger with an unusual wide-brimmed hat and a shabby cloak ignored the violence and walked straight across the square. Those who saw him coming leaped out of the way. The fighting stopped and silence spread as the hoodlums cleared a path for the stranger and shouted warnings to those still brawling.
‘Fe-fi …’ whispered a heavily muscled Stoman.
‘Fo Fum,’ gasped another.
‘Watch out, watch out,’ chanted all the gang members in unison, ‘the bad man comes.’
Planting his heavy staff against the side of a building that edged the square, the stranger pulled a compact wooden box from beneath his robe. Inside was an ornate compass, the beauty and craftsmanship of which was most unusual. Its great age was also apparent, suggesting it had been constructed not just in a different time, but perhaps in a different realm. The man pulled the compass to his lips.
‘Charlie Keeper,’ he whispered in a dry, croaky voice. ‘I want Charlie Keeper.’
The compass wheel spun one way, the needle the other. Round and round they went, then suddenly snapped to a standstill, the needle pointing unerringly towards the Slumbering Hills.
The stranger folded the lid over the compass before carefully stowing it away.
Taking hold of his staff and ignoring the shouts and curses of the amateurs who resumed fighting behind him, the man strode off.
He had a fugitive Keeper to find and a bounty to earn.
16
Final Preparations
At the end of the tunnel was a chamber, crudely hewn from the bedrock. Thick candles crouched on lumps of rock and hung from stone outcroppings. Grey smoke and the putrid smell of burning fat oozing off the candles created a gloomy atmosphere and offered little in the way of illumination. The scent of rotting carcasses and stagnant water clogged Charlie’s nostrils and the only thing that stopped her from crying out in disgust was the sense of … something. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but beneath the terrible stench lay a feeling of suspense. As though something was lurking nearby, like a shark hidden in the murky depths waiting for someone foolish enough to dangle their toes in the water.
She wished that someone was there with her. Someone to talk to and help break the eerie atmosphere, but she was alone. At least she thought she was; she had the unpleasant sensation that something was watching her.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Charlie examined the chamber. On the far wall a skin of some sort had been stretched taut over the craggy surface. Drawing closer Charlie realized the terrible smell was coming from the stretched piece of hide. She could see bits of fat, scales and hair clinging to it and, to her disgust, what looked like big pimples.
‘Eeurgh!’ she complained, unable to keep her mouth closed any longer. ‘That thing is gross! Gross! And look it’s even got zits on it, how naaaaaaaasty is that?’
She realized that she was talking to herself, but she didn’t care. Standing here, in this place, in total silence was more than she could bear.
‘This has got to be the Gate,’ she muttered. ‘There’s nothing else.’
She called forth her Will and smiled slightly as the gorgeous golden light pushed back the darkness. She reached towards the skin, her fingers not quite touching its horrendous surface. As she focused her mind and gritted her teeth, her Will shot out, covering the skin in golden light. It rippled and changed, becoming translucent. Through it she caught a brief glimpse of a cobbled stone pathway and a hanging rope bridge before a thick mist descended and obscured everything from view. All that remained were a few short metres of visibility that allowed her to see the path lying tauntingly in front of her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her parents, Azariah, Jensen and Kelko, and everything that had led her here. Grabbing the useless hilt of the Hell Sword and finding little comfort in its decrepit appearance, she gathered all the