"Stop babbling," said Kell.
"But. We had, er, a couple of problems."
"Such as?"
They watched Grak striding down the slope, dragging with him the unwilling figure of Myrtax. The man was struggling, and his hands were bound before him.
"It wasn't my fault, Kell," said Myrtax, red and sweating.
"Explain."
"He let Sara go," said Saark, voice low. "Killed the guards. Released her into the night."
"Horse shit," snarled Kell, "now the fucking vampires will know what we plan! Why did you do it, Myrtax? Why?"
"I was… I lost control!"
With a snarl, Kell hefted Ilanna and in a sudden stroke cut off Myrtax's head. There came a stunned silence, a pattering of blood, and the body flopped to one side, the head rolling to a stop in crimson snow.
"Why did you do that?" cried Nienna, suddenly, stepping back from Kell, face twisted in horror.
"He was a traitor, with a direct bloody link to the Vampire Warlords," growled the old warrior, and stared hard at Nienna. "I'm sorry. I seem to have lost control." He gave a grim smile, and pointed with a stubby, powerful finger. "Now stop asking damn fool questions and get back up the hill to Grak. We have a lot to do, and because of this offal," he spat, "we need to move fast. Saark!"
"Yes sir!" He snapped to attention, then slumped again. He pulled a pained face. "Did I really call you sir? Shit. Something bad must have got into me."
"And indeed," said Kell, voice low, temper now gone, mind drifting into a mood for battle, "something bad will get into you if you don't listen. She's called Ilanna, and she takes no prisoners. We will march east on Jalder. It's not a complex plan. You finished all the weapons? And collars?"
"All done," said Saark. "The smiths worked through many a night. Do you think they'll be effective?"
"If they don't, we'll soon be dead," said Kell. "Let's use what remains of the daylight and close down a few leagues; we can talk and plan tonight. GRAK!"
"Sir?" bellowed the bearded warrior.
"Let's move out."
"Yes, General!" bellowed Grak, and leading three thousand armoured convicts, now bearing swords and shields and helms of polished steel, they descended into the valley churning snow to mud.
Kell glanced down at Myrtax. He was touched by sorrow for a moment. The man had a wife. And little ones. But then Kell's heart went hard. For Myrtax would have sold them all out for his own safety. His cowardice had become his undoing… And a lesson had to be shown to the many fighting men around Kelclass="underline" that traitors would not be tolerated. Dealt with swiftly. Harshly. Without mercy.
"Goodbye, old friend," he said.
Governor Myrtax continued to bleed into the snow.
The two new Divisions of Falanor men moved in discrete units. The Black Pike Mine men were grim, it had to be said; but not as grim as the Blacklippers, who considered themselves born to die.
Grak and Saark headed one column, and Kell and Dekkar the other. Nienna rode with Saark, and though this irked Kell, he accepted it. She was upset with him for killing Governor Myrtax, and one day, he knew, she would understand his act. Now was not a time to be planning. Now was a time for action.
After half a day's marching, when they stopped by the edge of a young forest to refill waterskins and eat hurried meals of oats and dried biscuits, Kell strode to Saark. "We'll be joined soon by an old friend," he said, and frowned, feeling like an intruder on Saark and Nienna's conversation. Saark grinned up at him, but Nienna's face remained set in a frown.
"What, old friend?" she said.
"Myriam."
"What?" spluttered Saark, spitting watery biscuit down his pink shirt, "I'll kill the bitch, I'll rip off her head and piss down her neck! The bitch! The back-stabbing whore!"
"No," said Kell, and squatted down beside his friend. "In the Valleys of the Moon, I was dead, lad. About to be slaughtered by that huge fucker," he gestured to the mighty figure of Dekkar, who was talking quietly with some of the most senior Blacklippers and examining a steel collar. "Myriam had been following me. She came to my rescue. Without her, Saark, Nienna, I would be dead."
"She betrayed us, grandfather," said Nienna, softly.
Kell shrugged. "Then she rescued me. She redeemed herself."
"Does that mean you'll cut off her head, like poor Myrtax?"
" Poor Myrtax stuck a knife through the ribs of a good soldier. That man had a family, Nienna. Little girls, by all accounts. Little girls who will grow up without their father thanks to the betrayal of Myrtax. And down to his big mouth and runny brain, we might all well be walking into a trap at Jalder. This game has not played out yet."
Nienna shrugged, blushing. "Well, why go, then?"
"Because we must!" snapped Kell, feeling his temper boiling once more. He struggled to control himself. "Listen. I'm sorry. I just… I have so many hundreds of things running through my brain! I am a warrior, not a general. A killer, not a damn tactician. I am out of my world, and trying my damn best. But the only thing I truly know is if we don't make a stand, if we leave the spread of this vampire plague unchecked, then one day, and one day soon, we will all be dead."
Nienna nodded, and Kell rose. He pointed at Saark. "When she arrives, lad, you behave. You hear me?"
"I hear you, Kell. And Kell?"
"Yeah lad?"
"Don't worry. About the battle. We have some good men here. Some tough, hardy, unbreakable warriors, that's for sure."
Kell sighed. "I know we do. The great irony is it's up to the condemned to save the innocent. Still. I'd rather this honour and task had gone to somebody else. I feel uncomfortable wearing a general's helm."
"You'll do grand, Kell. You always do."
Kell snorted, and moved off to talk to Dekkar and Grak.
"Nice to see he's grumpy as ever," laughed Nienna.
Saark smiled, but tension throbbed behind his eyes. Myriam! What a… complication. Now all he needed was a few irate ex-girlfriends to turn up as well, pregnant and waving invoices for food and lodging, and closely followed by their even more irate husbands bearing spears and torture implements.
"Bah," he spat, and rummaged for another biscuit.
Saark watched Myriam arrive at a distance, and she dismounted and walked with Kell for a while, chatting. Saark glanced at her a few times, and Grak slapped him on the back. "She's a looker, eh lad?" he rumbled. "Look at those long legs! Wouldn't mind them wrapped around my back, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, Saark," said Nienna, glancing up at him. "Wouldn't mind them wrapped around your back, eh?"
"You know what?" said Saark, scowling. "I'm starting to hit that point where I've had my fill of women – for a lifetime!"
"Nonsense," boomed Grak, pushing out his chest. "The day I tire of a woman's fine company is the day they bury my casket."
"Not long, then," smiled Nienna, sweetly.
"Little lady," scowled Grak, "that's not a very good thing to say to a man on his way to a battle."
"Well, you talk about women as if they're objects! As if we can't damn well think for ourselves! Let me tell you something, Grak, you bastard, maybe if you'd treated a woman as an equal instead of some cheap slab of meat for the night, maybe you'd have a fine warrior wench right here by your side now! As for me, I'm sure I can get some more equitable talk back there with the rapists and killers. I take my leave."
Nienna stalked off.
"She's a lioness, that one, that's for sure," said Grak, grinning.
"Aye," muttered Saark, weakly.
"I pity the man who ends up with her!"
" Aye," mumbled Saark.
"And just think, not only have you to get past the sharpened tip of that acid tongue, but if you put a bloody foot wrong, you get Kell's axe in the back of the head!" He roared with laughter. "Not only would you have to be a masochist, you'd have to be as dumb as that mule back there." He gestured with his thumb.