the riverbank to watch the fast moving waters beneath the shelter of an overhanging willow, which automatically reminded her of Jensen.
‘Are you always an early riser?’ asked Crumble as he came to stand by her side.
‘I never used to be, but since coming to Bellania sleep doesn’t seem to be as easy as it was.’
Sitting down on the driest patch of ground she could find she leaned back against the willow’s trunk. Crumble hunkered down beside her.
‘So what are your plans?’ he asked.
‘Enjoy the morning quiet, practise K’Changa, eat some breakfast and then try opening that Portal.’ Sitting in a comfortable silence the two enjoyed the view of the rain clouds turning a deep red as the sun tried to make an entrance. ‘Crumble?’
‘Yes, Charlie?’
‘You’ve seen me fight, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have any advice for me? Anything that I could use or change when I face Bane or Darkmount?’
‘I think you’re already scary enough when you fight.’
‘I’m being serious!’ said Charlie and nudged him in the ribs.
‘As was I.’ He had to resist nudging Charlie back. ‘I’m not sure what to say. Your style of fighting – the way you mix K’Changa with your Will – it’s very elaborate and … pretty.’ Seeing Charlie’s look he quickly reworded. ‘Look, I’m not saying it isn’t effective because clearly it is. We both know that when you’re charged up on your Will you could easily knock me aside. What I am trying to say is your style of fighting has a lot of embellishments and flourishes to it. The way I fight and the way that Stoman bishops fight is more … blunt. You flow and move like this river, but the great Stonesingers fight like they’re made from rock: they’re steady and direct.’ He pointed to several large boulders in the middle of the river. ‘That’s what the bishops are like and, just like the river, you’ll be able to flow round them, but I think that you’ll struggle when the time comes to move them.’
‘Water is supposed to be one of the most powerful natural forces,’ Charlie protested, ‘and if there’s enough –’
‘But you understand what I’m getting at, though?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘So what would you suggest I do to stop my Will getting brushed aside next time I fight someone more powerful than me?’
‘Either be more aggressive or sneakier.’
‘That’s it? That’s your great advice?’
‘Well … yes.’
The rising sun was obscured by more rain clouds. Feeling glum, Charlie stood and offered Crumble a hand up. Together they made their way back to the campsite. ‘Did you get a chance to look at that map?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And do you think you can …’
Charlie’s voice petered off as she caught sight of a man staring down at them from the roadside. There was something so unusual in the way he held himself, something so silent and still that he could have passed for a statue, but the menace that he projected was palpable. Even at this distance she could sense his hostility. Charlie stumbled over her own feet and had to grab on to Crumble for support.
‘Look at that man!’
Crumble followed her finger to the roadside. The man wore a wide-brimmed hat that kept his face hidden in shadow; a tattered brown cloak hung from his shoulders and he carried a long walking staff.
‘What is it?’ asked Charlie when she saw Crumble suddenly tense. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘That’s Fo Fum.’
‘Him? But how do you know? You said you’ve never seen him. Wha– Slow down!’
Crumble in his haste to make it back to the camp, hauled Charlie along by the arm. ‘The hat, the staff and the cloak, they all match the legends.’
‘But –’
‘No time for buts! We’ve got to get Nibbler and run!’
‘Wait!’
‘No, we can’t –’
‘Just wait! Look – he’s gone!’
Crumble, hand still on Charlie’s wrist, staggered to a halt. The man had disappeared.
‘Oh, Fractured Diamond!’ cursed Crumble. ‘We’ve got to get out of here before he appears.’
They turned to stare at each other. ‘Nibbler!’ they shouted in unison.
The battle had raged for hours.
Kelko’s face was covered with blood that trickled from a gash across his forehead. It wasn’t life-threatening or even that serious, but because it was a head wound it bled a great deal. At times it made it hard to see, so that the chaotic world around him appeared washed with a red haze.
The tide of the battle ebbed and flowed: one minute cruel and intense, the next slow and ponderous. Taking advantage of one of the rare moments of relative