Kell bared his teeth, face eerie by the light of the fire and the glowing, fungus-covered stalagmites. "Yes. But what you're feeling – that may be the smoke, I agree, or it could just be the vachine blood which now runs through your veins in a torrent."
There was an awkward silence.
"Listen," said Saark, finally, eyes shifting uneasily.
Kell placed his hand on Saark's, and patted him. "Don't you worry, lad. I know you think I'm an insane vachine killer… well, I am an insane vachine killer, but you're one of us. You're a friend. I promise to you, here and now, on my honour, on my blood, on my axe, that I will not kill you – vachine, or no vachine. That settle you?"
Saark coughed. Blood rimed his lips. "Thank you. But you do not know what you promise. You do not know how it feels."
"Explain it to me."
"Wait. Somebody's coming."
"How can…"
Saark grinned. " Vachine senses. They are good, Kell. Very good."
Kell rose, Ilanna in his great fists, and scanned the black shoreline with narrowed eyes. If it was the Vampire Warlords, immortal deities or no, Kell would give them a taste of his axe they'd never damn well forget!
And if it was General Graal come sniffing around after blood and violence? Kell smiled, a nasty smile on such a wise, old, ravaged face. Well, Graal had it coming from a long way off.
A figure picked its way carefully along the shoreline, gradually materialising into a woman. She was tall, limbs wiry and strong, but whereas once she had sported short, cropped black hair, now it was long, gently curled, and luscious like the pelt of a panther. Whereas once her features were gaunt, ravaged by cancer, sunken eyes and narrow bloodless lips, her flesh stretched like ancient, oil-stained parchment, now her skin was smooth and pale like marble, her face proud with high cheekbones and glittering dark eyes. She was a striking figure. A beautiful woman. She had the tiny, pointed teeth of the vachine. The gentle, slow tick tick tick of the machine vampire. A clockwork vampire.
"Myriam!" snarled Kell, and readied himself for battle.
Myriam approached, warily, both hands held wide to show open palms, no weapons. Her eyes met Kell's, and she knew there was death waiting there; but then her eyes met Saark's, and a smile touched her lips.
"He is still alive," she said, voice no longer the croak of the dying.
"No thanks to you, vachine bitch. Arm yourself, Myriam, because by all the gods I'll cut you from head to quim, whether armed or no."
"I have not come to fight," she said, stopping, boots crunching on the stones of the dark beach. "If I'd wanted you dead, I could have picked you off from five hundred paces with my bow. And you know that's true, old man."
Kell grinned. "Yeah. Well. I don't die easy." He moved forward, lowering his head, face full of rage and thunder, Ilanna lifting a little and seeming to glow black in anticipation of battle. Myriam had betrayed them, allowed Kell and Saark and Nienna to be caught by the Soul Stealers, aided in their capture by the Soul Stealers and delivered to General Graal trussed up like festival turkeys for summary execution. She was the enemy, through and through. She was a vachine contortion. A puppet. She must die.
"No!" screeched Nienna, dropping her armfuls of fungus and racing across the beach to stand before Kell. She held her arms wide. "No, Kell, no! Don't do this."
"Get out of my way, child, or you'll feel the back of my hand."
"Hard brave words from the Black Axeman of Drennach!" she sneered. "Such heroic spit to threaten a little girl."
Kell focused on Nienna for the first time. "She will betray us. She is the enemy. She must die. Have you forgotten so easily what happened on the bridge? I have not."
"Hear her out, grandfather." Nienna's voice softened. " Please? She has her bow. I've seen how incredible she is with that weapon – devastating! She could have easily killed us from afar – all of us."
"Girl, you are fast becoming a thorn in my side!" Kell snapped, but lowered his axe, aware he was putty in her fingers, and knowing deep in his soul he would regret allowing Myriam to live.
"Yes, but surely I'm a thorn on a rose?" she said sweetly, and turned to Myriam. There were tears in Nienna's eyes. "Myriam? You have come to help?"
"Yes, child," said Myriam, and smiled, and there was love in her eyes. "Kell released me. From imprisonment. From thrall. From slavery."
"Explain," growled Kell.
"When you killed the Soul Stealers, Kell. They infected me with their blood-oil, their disease, and used clockwork to change me into a full vachine. I was theirs to command, not just through words or gratitude, but by – it is hard to explain. They took a part of my soul, and I took theirs. We were joined. I could not refuse them; Shanna and Tashmaniok were a drug for me. I was their marionette. But when you killed them, I was dazed for a while, and then their essence faded back to the Chaos Halls and I was set free. And then I saw the Vampire Warlords, I listened to their words, and I was filled with an absolute terror. I ran, Kell. I was frightened. I slipped away from Helltop and came looking for you. Believe it or not, you people are the only family I have."
Kell grunted, and slumped down beside Saark, who was panting heavily. "Well, you've found us in a sorry mess. I hope those bastard vampires don't come after us, for we are in no real state to defend."
Myriam moved forward, keeping a wary eye on Kell and his axe. "May I examine Saark's wound?"
"Go ahead. The lad will be dead by tomorrow." He fixed a beady eye on Myriam. "And you had a great part to play in that, girl."
Myriam knelt, and peeled back the torn linen pad which Kell had placed over the wound. "It has begun to heal," said Myriam.
"Nonsense," snapped Kell. "And even if the flesh healed, I've seen wounds like that before on the battlefield; he'll surely be riddled with infection. Gangrene will set in turning his flesh into a stinking putty. He will die, horribly, there is no doubt. And in a great amount of pain."
"Kell, shut up!" breathed Saark, scowling. His eyes fixed on Myriam's. "What's happening to me?"
"It is the vachine blood-oil in your veins. You have changed, Saark. You already know this. You now possess accelerated healing powers, and no infection will touch your tainted blood." She glanced at Kell. "The old man is wrong. There will be no gangrene for you; no maggot-filled infections. Your flesh is clean, because no bacteria can face the vampire parasite."
"Why so?" asked Kell, intrigued.
Myriam gave a small smile. "His flesh is cursed. No infection will touch him. Nienna! Bring me some of the fungus; the more yellow, the better."
Nienna carried some to the hunter and knelt by her side, watching carefully. "Can you help save him?" she said, voice soft, eyes wide. Nienna was in a permanent state of shock; she had seen too much death. Her childhood had been stripped away like bark from a tree, leaving her scarred and naked.
"Watch." Myriam tore the fungus into pieces, and taking a flat rock, began to crumble it between her brass vachine claws. "Mulgeth weed, it also grows in the Stone Lion Woods – in the cold, dark, damp places. It has many precious properties for those who live in the wilds."
"It burns well," said Kell, "although I wouldn't smoke it in a pipe, that's for sure."
"Some physicians use it," said Myriam. She opened her pack, now at her side, and removed a tin cup. "Nienna, run down and gather water from the lake," she said, handing the cup. She turned back to Kell. "Mulgeth weed removes pain, aids in healing, and yes, we can even eat it. But if one was to use it for too long, it would destroy a person's brain from the inside out; it delivers a slack jaw and permanent yellow drool. Soon, any such over-indulging individual would be down the Shit Pits at the docks shovelling fish-heads for a living."
Kell leaned close to Saark. "Hear that, lad? No downsides for you, then."