Andy Remic - Soul Stealers

"These damn vachine," snapped Saark irritably. "Don't you just fucking hate them?"

"Every last one," said Kell, turning back to the trail. "They need exterminating like a nest of cockroaches." He moved on, picking his way with care and helping Nienna when she needed help. Behind, Saark's eyes gleamed with malevolence.

They rested two hours before dawn, eating dried salted beef and rubbing warmth back into limbs bitten by cold. Saark had wandered off for toileting, and Kell sat close to Nienna, looking down into her eyes with concern.

"How are you, girl?"

"Frightened," she said.

"We have to do this, you understand?" he said. She nodded. "We have nowhere else to run. The bastards have taken over Falanor; we must fight the invasion at its root."

"What will you do when we arrive?" she asked.

"I will find these Watchmakers, I will find those who control the Army of Iron, the people who rule Graal. First, I will ask. And when they snarl in superior arrogance, then, then I will fight, and I will take their top Watchmakers hostage, force them to withdraw their soldiers from our land."

"Do you really think you can do this?"

Kell nodded. "I'll give it my best damn shot," he said.

"A fine plan," said Saark, approaching from the path to the large ring of rocks where they were seated, "with, I can see, only three major flaws."

"You heard all that?" said Kell.

"Aye, I heard some."

"What did you hear?"

"About finding the Watchmakers, holding them hostage, that sort of thing."

"By God, lad, you've got some incredible hearing."

"No, no," said Saark slowly, "I was on my way back."

"You were all the way over there. Shitting behind that rock. I could smell you. You stink worse than any boy-lover's perfume." Kell shook his head, frowning. "And lad, you move quiet. Did you say you used to be a thief?"

Saark shrugged, and stroked his chin. "Is it time to move?" he said. "I have a feeling those Soul Stealer bitches are close on our trail."

"Yes. Not far now," said Kell.

"Not far from what?"

Kell stood, and stretched, and his mood visibly darkened. "The Worm Caves," he said. "So don't get too comfortable, lad, because we have a lot of sneaking to do. The Worm Caves are no place for mortals. They ooze death."

"You can't be serious," said Saark, eyebrows rising. "You mean the Va lentrio Caves? Shit. No, Kell. I've heard the tales, about the white worms which inhabit that place. In fact, they were from the same bloody bard who sang about your bloody maudlin Kell's Legend. Which just goes to show what a barrel of donkey-shit those songs really are." He grinned, a sour grin. "Maybe there's no danger after all?"

"Funny," said Kell, and threw Saark his pack. "Believe me, there's danger all right. So empty yourself now; this is no place to be needing a shit break. Let's go."

Shivering even more, and far from pacified by their talk, Nienna followed Kell, and Saark brought up the rear. The aroma of their blood twitched his nostrils, more tantalising than ever, now. He scowled, eyes narrowed. Damn this curse, he thought bitterly. Damn it to the Dark Halls! Damn it to the Bone Underworld!

The archway was small, and carved in a blank wall of rock with no other noticeable features. It would have been easy to miss the opening, if you hadn't known it was there.

Saark stood back from the black arch and looked up at finely carved script. His brow furrowed. "I've never seen lettering like that, before," he said, then wrinkled his nose. "Gods, it stinks in there."

"The leski worms," said Kell, voice soft.

"Have you even seen one of these worms?"

"Only once. From a distance. They have teeth as long as your forearm – but that's all I saw, I was too busy running in the other direction. They have a poisonous bite, lad, so don't get too close."

"That's comforting. What does the writing say?"

Kell shrugged, and started removing unnecessary kit from his pack. "Empty your pack of junk. You're going to need to travel light. There are some narrow places in there, tight places. Places a man could get easily trapped."

"But I thought you said the worms were big? Fangs as long as a horse's dick, or something?"

"They are, but they compress their bodies to squeeze through narrow apertures. Like a rat, Saark." His eyes twinkled. "You should know all about that kind of vermin, coming from your Royal Court background. And anyway, to answer your question, the script reads, 'Seek Another Path'."

"That's it? That's the warning?"

"That isn't good enough for you? With a stench of death like Dake's arse pumping out?"

"You have such a way with words, my man." Now, with his pack somewhat lighter, Saark drew his rapier and ran a finger along the blade. He re-sheathed the weapon. "Let's get going. Before I change my mind."

"You can always head back. Woo those vampire killers with your charm."

"What, and have them bite me, turn me into one of them? That would be insane!"

"Yes," said Kell, eyes glinting, "we wouldn't want that, lad, would we? Then I'd have to cut your head off!" He gave a low rumble of laughter, and slapped Saark on the back.

As they moved to the entrance, and Kell stooped to enter, Ilanna before him, Nienna touched his arm. "Grandfather?"

"Yes, monkey?"

She smiled at that. "I'm scared," she said.

"Don't be. I'll protect you."

"I know you will. But… I'm still scared."

Kell turned, and righted himself. He lifted Ilanna, looked at her curious matt black butterfly blades – so unlike any other weapon he had seen. She was older than the mountains, so the legend went. And indestructible. He kissed the blades, then bent down, and kissed Nienna on one cheek. "Just stick close to me, little lady. Don't be frightened of the dark. Kell walks beside you."

Nienna nodded, eyes full of tears. Her adventure was not quite what she'd expected. Not when so much blood and death was involved. Not when good women like Katrina had to give their life for nothing; for the honour of thieves and murderers. She sighed. And followed Kell into the gloom.

The Valentrio Caves were dark for perhaps a hundred metres, and then the floor seemed to shine with a very pale, sickly light. The darkness closed in fast, with claustrophobia in one fist, and haunting echoes in the other. Within minutes Saark had closed the distance from his rear guard, and was almost treading on Nienna's heels.

"Kell," he hissed, after perhaps ten minutes where they followed a level, winding passage.

"What?" said the old warrior.

"The light. On the floor. By Dake's Balls, what is it?"

Kell grinned, face a skull in the pale, ethereal glow. "Slime. From the worms. They must secrete it. Or something."

Saark's face fell. He looked ill. "Shit," he said. "I wish I'd never asked."

"Don't worry," soothed Kell, seeing Nienna's face from the corner of his eye. "This tunnel system is vast; it stretches for hundreds of miles under the mountains, vertically as well as horizontally. You can travel here for weeks and never see a worm. The leski are primitive, they have no understanding. They just eat and breed."

"Sounds a bit like us sophisticated humans," muttered Saark.

"Come on. Let's get moving. We have a long way to go."

They walked, boots making odd sounds on the sticky, luminescent ground. Saark realised, unconsciously, that he had his rapier drawn. He cursed himself, and sheathed the weapon, frowning. At least his rising fear and claustrophobia were good for one thing; they were taking his mind off the sweet, cloying smell of Nienna's blood, distracting him from the everpresent rhythmic thumping of her heart. He shook his head. What are you becoming, Saark? he asked himself, and didn't like to consider the answer.

They moved for hours, and sometimes the glowing floor would end and they would ease through deepest gloom, guided by mineral veins in the rock and marble walls. Sometimes, the corridors would narrow as Kell predicted, so that both Saark and Kell had great difficulty squeezing through and only Nienna was able to pass with ease. Occasionally, they came to areas where huge boulders had dropped, crushing part of the tunnel and making it near impossible to pass. Several times they had to squeeze beneath a chunk of mountain that, if it shifted, would crush them like an ant beneath a boot. At one point the crushed section was extended, and Saark found himself on his back, scrambling along with limbs scratched and dust falling in his eyes and his panting coming in short, sharp bursts. Panic was an old friend clutching his heart, and he was coughing and choking and pushing up at the immeasurably huge rock above and wondering if he was going to die until Kell's rough hands grasped his scruff, and hauled him the rest of the way under the obstacle.