Andy Remic - Kell’s Legend

Frangeth and the soldiers were angling south-east, at the same time as a similar battalion crossed Valantrium Moor to the east and angled south-west, the idea being they would link as a forward host to the main force of Graal’s army on the Great North Road. That way, it would be difficult for Leanoric’s battalions to circle and hit them from behind. That way, it would be a straight fight, with the blood-oil magick chilling ice from the earth, and chilling the enemy…to their very bones.

Frangeth halted, and held up his hand, which gleamed, pale and waxen in the moonlight filtering through firs. Behind, the other nineteen members of the platoon dropped to one knee and waited his instruction. Frangeth heard several whispers of iron on leather, and his eyes narrowed. Such noise was unprofessional.

He focused. It had been a shout, of surprise, more than pain, that alerted him. He took in the scene with an experienced glance, watched the huge man, bear-like in his stance, pluck something from his neck and stare at his great paws. He spoke with…a woman, but a woman who appeared as nothing Frangeth had ever seen. She was skeletal, and quite obviously close to death. Frangeth watched the huge man un-sling a battle-axe from his back and march on the woman and a thrill coursed his veins, for the warrior’s demeanour was quite obvious, his intention to kill…

The woman’s head snapped right, and her eyes fixed on the darkness where Frangeth and his albino soldiers crouched. Impossible! They were shrouded by blood-oil magick; they were invisible! She drew a small weapon and her arm extended towards the group, she snarled something at the huge warrior as suddenly, there came an explosion of glass and through the window of the timber building accelerated a small, powerful man, to land with a grunt on the snow.

Frangeth glanced back. He blinked. They were waiting.

“Take them,” he said, and from the close nigritude of the forest streamed twenty albino warriors…

Myriam fired her Widowmaker with a whump, and one of the charging albino soldiers was smacked from his feet with a gurgle and wide spray of blood. Kell loosened his shoulder and lifted his axe, waiting coolly for the rush of men. Saark leapt from the window of the building, landed lightly in the snow behind the stunned figure of Styx, and lifted his rapier to deliver a killing blow-as his eyes focused on the stream of albino soldiers and Kell bellowed, “Saark, to me!” and the albino soldiers were on them, swords slamming down, flashing with moonlight. Steel rang on steel as Myriam dragged free her own sword, the Widow-maker useless at such close quarters. Kell’s axe whirred, decapitating a soldier then twisted, huge blades cleaving another’s arm from his body. Kell ducked a whistling sword, but a boot struck his chest and he staggered back. Saark leapt into battle, and as the forest clearing was filled with savage fighting, the clash of steel on steel, grunts of combat, a shout from Myriam echoed.

“Styx! Jex! To me! I need you!”

Styx rolled from the snow, and came up fighting. Jex staggered from the building with a sword-wound to his upper arm, face grim, and lifting his blade he leapt into battle. At the doorway appeared Nienna, face drawn grey in fear, her short-sword clasped in one hand, the blade edged with Jex’s blood. With a gasp, she turned and ran back to check on Kat…

Almost unconsciously, Kell, Saark, Myriam, Jex and Styx formed a fighting unit, a battle square upon which the albinos hurled themselves. Swords and Kell’s axe rose and fell, and they covered one another’s backs, pushing forward deeper into the forest as the albinos swarmed at them, and were cut down with a savagery not just of desperation, but born from a need to live.

Eight albinos lay dead, and the rest backed away a little, then split without word, six men moving off to each side for an attack against both flanks.

“Kell, what the hell’s going on?” snarled Saark.

“Long story,” growled Kell. “I’ll tell you when we’ve killed these bastards.”

“When?”

“Listen, just don’t trust this bunch of cut-throats!”

“I already discovered that,” snarled Saark. “Styx killed Katrina.”

“What?”

In eerie silence the albinos attacked, and again the clearing was filled with steel on steel. Then a sword-blow cleaved Styx’s clavicle with a crunch, and shower of blood. Styx drew out a short knife, and rammed it into the albino’s belly, just under the edge of his black breast-plate. He pushed again, harder, and the albino slumped forward onto him. Myriam broke from the group, whirling and dancing, dazzlingly fast as she took up a second sword from a fallen soldier and leapt amongst the men, blades clashing and whirring, then in quick succession killing three albino soldiers who hit the ground in a burst. Saark killed two, and Kell waded into the remaining group with a roar that shook the forest, Ilanna slamming left, then right, a glittering figure of eight which impacted with jarring force leaving body-parts littering the clearing. Kell ducked a sword-strike, front kicked the soldier who stumbled, falling back onto his rump. Kell’s axe glittered high, and came down as if chopping a log to cut the albino soldier straight through, from the crown of his head down to his arsehole. His body split in two, peeling away like parted sides of pork revealing brain and skull and fat and meat, and a slither of departing internal organs and bowel. A stench filled the clearing, and Kell turned, face a bloody mask, chest heaving, rage rampant in his eyes and frame. He realised the soldiers were all dead, and he lifted his axe, staring hard at Myriam. Styx sat on the floor, nursing his injured shoulder as Jex tried to stem the flow of blood. Nienna ran out from the barracks, crying, and fell into Kell despite his coating of gore.

“Styx killed Katrina!” she wailed, then looked up into her grandfather’s eyes. “Kill him, please, for me,” she turned and pointed at Styx and wailed, “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Kell nodded, pushed Nienna aside, and started forward hefting his axe. Myriam leapt between them, head high, eyes bright, and she lifted a hand. “Wait. To kill him, you must go through me. And if you do that, you’ll never find the antidote.”

“A chance I’m willing to take,” growled Kell. “Move, or I’ll cut you in half.”

“Nienna has also been poisoned.”

Kell stopped, then, and his head lowered. When he lifted his face, his eyes were dark pools of evil in a face so contorted with rage it was inhuman; a writhing demon. Myriam took a step back.

Kell turned to Nienna. “Did he stick a needle in you?”

Nienna nodded, pointing at Jex. “That’s why I was able to hit him. With my sword. He was too busy playing with his little brass dagger…his needle? What have they done to me?”

“They’ve poisoned us,” snarled Kell.

“But there’s an antidote?” said Saark.

“Yes. To the north. If I take this whore to the Black Pike Mountains. She wishes,” he gave a nasty grin, “to explore the vachine technology. She wishes to live.”

Saark stood alongside Kell, and Nienna. “We should kill them now. We will find this antidote.”

“You do not have time,” said Myriam, voice soft. “It takes between two and three weeks for the poison to kill. It would be more than that to sail across the Great Salarl.” She transferred her gaze to Nienna, and gave a narrow, cruel smile. Without looking at Kell, she said, “I understand your willingness to condemn yourself, old man. But what of this sweet child? So young, pretty, and with so much to look forward to. So much to live for.”

“We need to warn Leanoric,” said Saark, hand on Kell’s arm.

Kell felt himself fold, internally; but outside he kept his iron glare, and turned to Nienna. “Do you understand what is happening?”