"What is wrong?" she said.
"They cheer because they know they will kill the men and women of Falanor. It is sick."
"You got your army."
"Yes. I got it. But what worries me is once I've unleashed it, and if we win… how do I rein it back again? But that's a problem for another day."
Myriam nodded, and peered down into the depths of the rift. "I'm sorry, Kell. About before. About Saark."
"I should have let you drown him longer. Would have done him good. Cooled him off a little." Kell grinned. "Have you learnt your lesson?"
"So you're not going to cut off my head?"
"You saved my life, didn't you? With that damn fine bow."
"Maybe I was trying to hit you?"
Kell roared with laughter, suddenly, and slapped Myriam on the back. He was battered, his nose broken, his face and clothing covered in gore, vampire blood, strings of flesh. He looked like an animal. He looked worse than an animal. He looked like a Vampire Killer.
Myriam shivered.
"Either way, lass, you saved my hide on that bridge. And in a roundabout way, you have helped save Falanor."
"How so?"
"I think you led the vampires here. They were a tracking unit. I reckon they were after killing themselves a vachine. They know your kind are a threat, and you must be a priority hunt for them."
"Oh," she said, deflating a little. Kell put his arm round her.
"Don't worry, Myriam. You're with me now. And me and Ilanna, we're starting to get quite fond of you vachine. You certainly have your uses in a scrap!"
"Yes, but we're hard to love," said Myriam, and smiled, and looked up at Kell, and he stared at her as if almost seeing her for the first time. When Kell had first met Myriam, back in Vorgeth Forest, and she had poisoned him; she had been a husk of a woman, riddled with cancer, eyes sunken, hair lifeless; now, thanks to her vachine change at the hands of the Soul Stealers, she was tall, powerful, skin pale but radiant, and her hair was long, gently curled, luscious like the glossy pelt of a panther. Her eyes were dark and glittering and intelligent, and if it hadn't been for the brass vachine fangs, she would have been, to Kell's eyes at least, strikingly beautiful.
He remembered her touch. He remembered glimpses of her, little snippets of naked flesh, bathing, dressing. And back in Vorgeth Forest, just before she had injected him with poison, she had pressed close against him, and even now he could remember the musk of her body, and he remembered the rising lust in his loins and cursed himself, now and then, for being weak, for being pitiful, for betraying the memory of his long lost Ehlana. Back in Vorgeth Myriam had kissed him, and it had felt good. It had felt more than good. But he pushed the memory away. Never again, old man, he had told himself. Not in this life.
Kell shuddered.
"No," he said.
"No what?" Myriam was looking at him strangely.
"Just no. Come on. Let's take these Blacklippers to Saark and the men. The fight is just beginning."
"Wait." Her hand was on his arm.
Kell stared at her fingers, then lifted his head to look into her face. Again, that curious smile. The tilt of the head. Kell shivered, for he thought he knew what that smile meant. Myriam was weak – she needed to be loved, to be cherished, and to be in control. And she was attracted to power. Attracted to Kell's ferocity, his savagery, his Legend.
"Go on."
"That thing. Back there. With Saark. I didn't mean it."
"What, trying to kill him? Don't worry about that. I love the man, but I, also, want to kill him regular."
"Not killing him, no. The… other thing."
"Ahh."
"It was just… a moment. I am free of him. You see?"
"I see," said Kell, voice low, eyes locked to Myriam. "Come on, lass. We should go."
"Yes."
Kell led the way, and Myriam followed, sheathing her sword.
Dekkar sent a fast rider with three horses within the hour. The mission was simple: to reach Saark at the Black Pike Mines with a letter from Kell. In it, were instructions to assemble the new army and to rendezvous on the plains south of the Black Pike Mines. Then they would take a direct course from the Black Pike Mines to the occupied city of Jalder.
Now Kell, Myriam and Dekkar, King of the Blacklippers, led two thousand armed male and female Blacklippers across the ice and snow, and out from the Valleys of the Moon. They moved mostly in silence, hair and furs ruffled by the cold wind from the mountains. It was a bleak day, grey and cold and threatening snow.
"Now, we go to war," said Myriam, voice gentle.
"Now, we fight for Falanor," agreed Kell.
CHAPTER 13
"It's grandfather!" grinned Nienna, shading her eyes from the glare of the snow. From the hilltop across the valley emerged a horde of soldiers, heavily armed, who descended into the valley floor with Kell marching alongside a huge man bearing a mace.
"Looks like a bunch of murderous cutthroats to me," muttered Saark, then gave a sly smile. "As you say. Your grandfather."
"Don't be like that! He's done it! He's brought more soldiers!"
Nienna ran off ahead, boots ploughing through fresh soft snow, an almost childish look on her face which made Saark blush as he remembered the past week and the things they'd done. Nothing fazed Nienna. Saark had to admit, she gave him a run for his money.
Saark watched as Nienna leapt at the old man, throwing her arms about him, and he laughed and hugged her tight, shifting Ilanna to one side out of the way where sunlight gleamed on the dark matt blades.
If he finds out, I'm a dead man. No. More. If he finds out, he'll beat me, then he'll torture me, then he'll cut me up into little pieces! He'll tear off my arms and cut off my balls. Saark clutched his balls with compassion. And I don't ever want to lose my balls. I like my balls. After all… He grimaced. My balls are my best feature.
Saark moved across the snow, signalling to Grak the Bastard to stand down the men. As Saark approached, Kell grinned at him and cracked his knuckles. "I see you, dandy."
"Somebody hit you?" Saark squinted at the damage.
"People always hit me," said Kell.
"I see somebody broke your nose. You look better for it."
"Yes," said Kell, and gestured to Dekkar, the Blacklipper King. "We had a few, shall we say, disagreements. But then the vampires attacked the Valleys of the Moon, and it all worked out right in the end."
Saark nodded, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Dekkar." Saark held out his hand. Dekkar simply stared at him, as a lion would if presented with a potato. "Ahh, I see, you employ the old school of ignorance just like our big stinking friend here."
Dekkar leaned close to Kell. "Shall I silence this yapping puppy?"
"No, no, he's all right. He's always like this. You get used to him."
"I do not think I will," said Dekkar, scowling and hefting his huge mace.
"Hey," said Saark, scowling, "I'm here, you know, right here in front of you, now I'm used to people talking about me behind my back but this just isn't on. You wouldn't get this sort of thing in the Court of King Leanoric, I can tell you!"
"Did he look after you?" said Kell, to Nienna.
"He looked after me," she said, voice small, but thankfully Kell was looking away, surveying the army of criminals as presented by Saark. So he missed the blush. He missed Nienna's subtle tone of voice. Saark scowled at her, then waved up the slope.
"We trained them. Just like you said. And although I'd like to take all the credit, in fact I shall take all the credit, but maybe a little of the credit must go to Grak. He's a bastard, but he knows a thing or two about formations, and training men, and getting the best out of them."