Vampire Warlords: The Clockwork Vampire Chronicles (3 page)

  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."

  "Kiss my rosy arse, Kell," he coughed, wincing in agony.

  Nienna returned, and dripping water into the crushed Mulgeth weed, Myriam kneaded it into a thick paste. Then, she leant forward and packed the hole in Saark's chest with gentle fingers. He groaned, a low sound of agony, and once Myriam had filled the hole she covered the wound with a bandage taken from her pack. She took another pouch, and from this a small, brown glass vial. She unstoppered it, and dripped a single drop of clear liquid into Saark's open mouth. Within seconds, he was snoring.

  Myriam turned to Kell. "Now we must discuss Falanor. We must stop these Vampire Warlords."

  Kell snorted. "We are trapped under the mountains, lass. What would you have me do? Topple the damn peaks on their heads?" Then his eyes turned dark. "And your words are fine and brave, coming from one who fled the enemy. Fled from them, yes, or maybe, instead, you are still in league with Graal and his bastards?"

  "No," said Myriam. "The Vampire Warlords, they are terrible indeed. Dark creatures from the Chaos Halls. They were banished there once before, but Graal and Kradekka brought them back using blood-oil magick to open a portal! But I know their plans, Kell. I heard enough, before I was able to slip out down the passages into Skaringa Dak. I heard enough to bring the information to you!"

  "Go on," said Kell, listening, brow furrowed. "But that part of your story where the mighty Kell saves Falanor and rides home on the arse-flanks of a pig carrying the severed heads of three Vampire Warlords in a tattered old onion sack, and sucking on the honeyed teat of a rescued virgin, well it needs to be excised right at the start."

  "Grandfather, listen to her," said Nienna, sitting cross-legged on a stone. "What have you got to lose?"

  "All our lives?" suggested Kell, but muttered something unheard and scratched his beard. At least the oily lake had sluiced him clear of blood, gore and vachine brains, vachine clockwork. He was feeling barely human, for a change. "Go on girl, let's hear it. Then I'll focus on getting my granddaughter clear of this unholy shit-hole, and back to some semblance of sanity."

  "Not in Falanor, you won't," said Myriam, voice soft. She glanced down at Saark, face now relaxed in peace, then back to the old, grizzled warrior. "There are three of them. Kuradek the Unholy, with a passionate hatred for all human religions. His favourite pastime was slaughtering monks and ladies of the cloth; or even worse, changing them into vampires and letting them loose on their colleagues. He burned churches and temples to the ground, then would eat their ashes, laughing that his shit would be baptised in holy fire. Now, he intends to return to the northern city of Jalder. He will control the northern half of Falanor, and build up his army of albinos and… and
vampires
."

  "They killed everybody in Jalder," said Kell, voice cold and hard. "I was there. I saw it."

  "No, Kell. They killed
many
in Jalder. But men are more resilient than you give them credit. They hid. In cellars and attics and warehouses. In the sewer systems, in the shit cauldrons of the tanneries. Kell, many survived, trust me. Kuradek knows this, and he will hunt them down, turn them into his vampire slaves. Into parasitical puppets he can control."

  Kell took a deep breath. He thought of his few friends in Jalder, old men, old warriors from back at Crake's Wall, Jangir Field, the Siege of Drennach, and the Battle of Valantrium Moor. If any could have survived the ice smoke, then surely these were the men?

  "I don't know," said Kell, slowly. "It was a miracle I survived the invasion. If it had not been for Ilanna…"

  "This is what Graal told Kuradek. This is what I heard."

  Kell nodded. "And what of the other two bastards? They going to set up a nursery and wean baby vampires with bottles of blood?"

  "No, Kell. Meshwar the Violent will head south, rule Falanor's capital, the city of Vor. There, Graal believes even more rebels survived the ice-smoke invasion. There are thousands of tunnels beneath the city, a huge and sprawling complex. When Graal's invasion began, many fled into the tunnel and sewer network. Many hid. And Vor is vast, as you well know. It is Meshwar's job to hunt down these people, weed them out, turn them into his vampire horde."

  "And the third?"

  "Bhu Vanesh. The Eater in the Dark. He is a hunter, from the old days," said Myriam, and she rubbed at her eyes, weary now despite her vachine blood. Terror edged her words, and Kell noticed a slight tremor to her hand. If she was faking her fear, then she was a very good actress. But then, Kell had met many a good actress in his years of battle across Falanor. He'd killed a few, as well; on stage, and off.

  "And what is his wonderful plan?"

  "He will seek to take control of the Port of Gollothrim."

  "Ship building?" said Kell darkly, brow furrowed. "He would seek to expand their dirty little empire west? He wants transport for his army, doesn't he, Myriam?"

  "Yes. His albino slaves and vampires will take the existing navy, and also build him an extended fleet of ships. With this new, mammoth navy they will head west across the Salarl Ocean – expand their Vampire Dominion across the world!"

  "What of Graal?"

  "He will go with Bhu Vanesh. Oversee the ship-building. One could say he has been… demoted. Graal thought he could control the Vampire Warlords. But they are all-powerful. They have other plans."

  "Graal always was an arrogant bastard. And I didn't get to carve my name on his arse with my axe. Not yet, anyways. Still, l at least carved him a new cheek flap."

  "Graal was less than complimentary about that," said Myriam, flashing a dark smile. Her eyes met Kell's. "You understand what all this means, axeman? You
do
understand?"

  Kell sighed. It was a sigh from deep down in a dark place weary of carrying the weight of the world. "I'm a retired soldier," he said. "I'm a simple man, a man of bread and cheese, of coarse wine and nostalgic memories of battle. It was never meant to be this way. I was supposed to live out my final years in Jalder, see this young lady through university, maybe travel the Black Pikes one last time before dotage crushed my rotten teeth in his fist, and watched my mind dribble out my ears."