Kell took a few moments to analyse his surroundings. To his right loomed the great wall of the Black Pike Mine fortress, containing hefty stone barricades replete with steps and towers on which soldiers could defend against any opposing force. The valley floor ran pretty straight, pretty flat, and was lined to either side by hundreds, no… thousands of cells, all carved into the natural rocky walls and fitted with sturdy iron bars. Kell and Saark had been locked in one of these. Nienna, in another.
"Why didn't they separate us two?" he grunted.
"They didn't want you dying; gave me a needle and thread, had me patch you up good."
"Why the hell would they do that? There's three hundred men out there must surely want my blood."
"I thought you said a hundred?" Saark shook his head. "Anyway, they, er, they said something about sport, and entertainment, words of that calibre, and then something about a trial. They don't want you dead. Not yet. Not before you suffered as, I assume, they feel they have suffered under your rough justice." Saark's eyes were gleaming, and he grinned at Kell without humour. "They want to play, Kell," he said.
Kell digested this information. He finally caught sight of Nienna across the valley floor, and gave her a wave, but she seemed lost in a half-sleep, staring at the roof of her cave cell. Kell's tongue probed his dry mouth, and he cursed these people, and cursed the drugs they'd used to incapacitate him. By the Bone Halls, he thought, they'd better finish him off next time or he'd crack a few skulls!
Kell's gaze swept left and right. He could see, perhaps, three hundred men. They were roughshod, most quite stocky from years working in the Black Pike Mines. These were Falanor's worst, most grim and nasty criminals. The murderers, rapists, smugglers, child-killers. Kell stared at them with uncontrolled disgust, and an even bigger disgust at what he must do. He sighed. It was the only choice he had.
"So, come on then," said Saark. He was looking sideways at Kell, eyes narrowed. "What's the big plan now, eh? You managed to get us caught pretty bad, with your so-called ooh Governor Myrtax is totally trustworthy and we can go in and get something to eat old horse shit. And they've gone and captured Mary. I tell you something, if they cook my donkey, there'll be hell to pay."
"Stop whining."
"Give me some answers then, damn you!"
"Listen to the demands of Saark, the wonderful, masterful, all-powerful vachine shagging vachine coward. I didn't see you doing much to help when they peppered me with fucking crossbow bolts!"
"It was one bolt, Kell. Hark at the power of a man's exaggeration!"
"You're a fine one to speak. If anybody believed your tales, you'd have impregnated half of Falanor by now!"
"Maybe I have! They do say I have a certain way with the women."
"Yeah, and I bet you carry enough pox to drop a battalion. Now shut your mouth, Saark, and tell me what they did with my axe."
Saark frowned, then rubbed his bruised face. He, too, had taken a beating at the hands of Jagor Mad. As the huge oaf declared, he was indeed, at least partially, mad. But then, Saark was getting used to taking a beating in the fiery orbit of Kell's legend. After all, that's what friends were for, no?
"They dumped it in one of the cells, I think. Along with Nienna and the rest of our weapons. It's got to be said, Kell, sometimes I wonder who you love the most: Nienna, or that damn axe?"
"The axe'll never let me down," growled Kell, face locked in a terrible anger. "Now listen to me, Saark. This is the plan."
"Wonderful!"
"Take the grin off your powdered mug before I damn well knock it clear. Things are about to get serious, and you need to know what to do."
"Go on, then. Stun me with the geometry of your tactician's mind."
"I'm going to win over the criminals here, and we'll form them into a fighting unit, into an army, and march on the Vampire Warlords! We will take the battle to the enemy. We will attack, first Jalder, then Gollothrim, then Vor. We will kill the Vampire Warlords. We will stop the vampire plague."
There was a long silence. Outside, somewhere high in the mountains, an avalanche boomed. Crashing echoes reverberated from on high, a deafening and terrifying sound which gradually faded into drifting echoes, like a scattering of loose snow.
"Kell, even for you that's madder than a mad dog's dinner."
"Meaning?"
"Well, where do I begin? For a start, all the bastards here hate you and want your blood and spleen. The Vampire Warlords are, er, indestructible. How can you train an army out of scum? What sorry fool will do the training? And even more importantly, even if, and this is a big if, you persuaded three thousand hardened criminals to join your cause, what would stop them being criminals the minute we set foot back in the real world? They'd be straight back to killing and raping, I'd wager."
"Yeah. But we have the upper hand."
"Which is?"
"They have no idea what's happening, out there, in Falanor. They saw the Army of Iron passing through, they rebelled against Governor Myrtax and took over the fortress. They have no idea about Jalder being overrun, or Vor or the gods only know how many other damn cities. They know nothing of King Leanoric dying in battle, or of the cankers or the destruction of Silva Valley."
Saark snorted. "And they don't fucking care, Kell! Don't you understand? We're dealing with criminal scum here, the freaks of the country, the bastards who are bastards to their own mother's bastards. They don't deserve to live, and they won't fucking help you, I'm fucking telling you, I am."
"Ha, that's so much horse shit," snapped Kell. "You, with your southern queer dandy ways, you have no fucking idea what these men are like." Kell moved close, his voice dropping a little. "You don't get how life works, do you, Saark? You've had silver platters and boiled eggs all your life. You've had your face in so many rich bouncing tits, licking the arse-crumbs from oh so many perfume-stinking nobles' cracks, that you have no connection with reality. Most of these men, they're not bad men, not evil men, there are shades of grey, Saark, and we all make mistakes. It's nice to see you're so fucking perfect! In a different world, you would have lost your head a long time ago!"
Saark snorted again. "What the hell am I hearing? You put hundreds of these bastards in here! Listen to the last of the great hypocrites! You hunted them down, Kell, you killed a lot, and you dragged many back to Vor for trial. And now you want them to fight for you? Now you want them to die for you? I've met some mad skunks in my time, heard some crazy bloody plans, but this takes the ridiculous plum straight from the mouth of the insane rich. They'll never follow you, Kell, Legend or no. They'd rather shit on your grave."
"You'll see," rumbled Kell.
"And what you going to do? Kill the new governors?" Saark laughed.
"That's the idea."
"What with? Your left thumb?"
"If I have to. Now stop your prattling, I'm trying to think and you're carping on like a fishwife on a fish stall selling buckets of fish to rank stinking fishermen."
"What? What? Is that an example of how you're going to win over the crowd? Ha ha, Kell, you've got some serious lessons to learn in life. You're about to throw yourself to the wolves."
"We'll see," said Kell, eyes glowing. "We'll just see."
As the day progressed, Kell and Saark watched a hundred or so men sawing wood and putting together some kind of framed structure. Kell brooded in silence, wincing occasionally at his damaged shoulder, and sat with his knees pulled up under his chin, arms wrapped around his legs, wondering how to get out of this mess. Nobody came to their cell, and they were given no food or water. Occasionally, they saw one of the new Black Pike Governors wandering around the frantic building work, and as a hefty softwood frame took shape, Saark put his head on one side.