Kell rubbed at his beard through leather gloves, and glanced down at his axe. Ilanna. Blessed in blood-oil, she would protect him against ice-smoke, he knew. She would allow him to kill these magick-cursed men. Allow? Kell smiled a bitter smile. Hell, she would encourage it.
Now. Where would Nienna be? The dormitories?
If under attack, where would she run?
Kell, following instinct, following a call of blood, eased through long corridors and halls of the university building, past corpses and several times past soldiers intent on their search. Up to the second floor, Kell found piles of bodies, all frozen, all arranged as if awaiting…what? What the hell do they want?, wondered his confused mind.
A scream. Above.
Kell broke into a run, past lines of bodies laid out with arms by sides, faces serene in cold and death. His hands were tight on Ilanna, his breathing ragged and harsh, and he could sense his granddaughter close by. Up more steps, growing reckless the more he grew frantic with rising fear. Through a dormitory, beds neatly made, wooden chests unopened, and up another tight spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time, his old legs groaning at him, muscles on fire, joints stabbing him with pain, but all this was washed aside by a surge of adrenalin as Kell slammed into the room There were four dead girls, lying on the floor, with long hair seeming to float behind pale chilled faces. Nienna and two others stood, armed with ornamental pikes they’d dragged from the walls during their flight. Before them stood three albino warriors with long white hair, all carrying short swords, their black armour a gleaming contrast to porcelain skin.
The soldiers turned as one, as Kell burst in. With a scream he leapt at them, axe slamming left in a whirr that severed one soldier’s sword-arm and left him kneeling, stump spewing milk blood. Nienna leapt forward, thrusting her commandeered pike into an albino’s throat but he moved fast, grabbing the weapon and twisting it viciously from Nienna’s grip. She stumbled back nursing injured wrists, and watched with mouth open as the skewered albino stubbornly refused to die.
“Magick!” she hissed.
The albino nodded, smiling a smile which disintegrated as Kell’s axe cleaved down the centre of his skull and dropped him in an instant. The third soldier turned to flee, but Ilanna sang, smashing through his clavicle. The second strike severed his head with a savage diagonal stroke.
The world froze in sudden impact.
Kell, chest heaving, moved forward. “Are you hurt?”
“Grandpa!” She fell into his arms, her friends coming up close behind, their faces drawn in fear, etched with terror. “It’s awful! They stormed the university, started to kill everybody with swords and…and…”
“And magick,” whispered a young woman, with short red hair and topaz eyes. “I’m Katrina. Kat to my friends. You are Kell. I’ve read everything about you, sir, your history, your exploits…your adventures! You are a hero! The hero of Kell’s Legend!”
“We’ve not time for this,” growled Kell. “We have to get out of the city. The soldiers are killing everyone.!”
Katrina stooped, and hoisted one of the albino’s swords. “Normal weapons won’t kill them, right?”
Kell nodded. “You catch on fast, girl. The soldiers are blessed-or maybe cursed-with blood-oil magick. Only a suitably blessed and holy weapon can slay them. Either that, or remove their heads.”
“Will this kill them?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Nienna and the third young woman, Volga, armed themselves with the dead soldiers’ swords. Kell led them to the spiral stairs, moving cat-like, wary, his senses alert, his aches and pains, arthritis and lumbago all gone. He could sense the women’s fear, and that was bad; something dark flitted across his soul, something pure evil settling in Kell’s mind. He didn’t want the responsibility of these women. They were nothing to him. An inconvenience. He wanted simply to save Nienna. The other two? The other two women could…
I can kill them, if you like.
The thought came not so much as words, as primitive, primal images, drifting like a shroud across his thoughts. For a decade she had remained silent. But with fresh blood, fresh magick, fresh death, Ilanna had found new life…
“No!”
They halted, and Nienna touched his arm gingerly. “Are you well, Grandpa?”
“Yes,” came his strangled reply; and for a moment he gazed at his bloodbond axe with unfathomable horror. The Ilanna was powerful, and evil, and yet-yet he knew without her he would not survive this day. Would not survive this hour. He owed her- it, damn it!-owed it his life. He owed it everything…
“I am well,” he forced himself to say, words grinding through gritted teeth. “Come. We need to reach the river. We can steal a boat there, attempt to get away from this…horror.”
“I think you will find the river frozen,” said a low, gentle voice.
The group had emerged like maggots from a wound, spilling from stairs into a long, low hall lined with richly polished furniture gleaming under ice-light from high arched windows. The whole scene appeared grey and silver; a portrait delicately carved in ice.
Kell stopped, mouth a line, mind whirring mechanically. The man was tall, lithe, wearing black armour without insignia. He was albino, like the other soldiers, with long white hair and ashen skin; and yet, yet-Kell frowned, for there was authority there, integral, a part of his core; and something not quite right. This was the leader. Kell did not need to be told. And his eyes were blue. They glittered like sapphires.
“You are?”
“General Graal. This is my army, the Army of Iron, which has forcibly taken and now controls the city of Jalder. We have overrun the garrison, stormed the Summer Palace, subdued the soldiers and population. All with very little loss to my own men. And yet-” He smiled then, teeth bared, and took a step forward, the two soldiers flanking Graal remaining in position so the general was fore-grounded, set apart by his natural authority. “And yet you, old man, are fast becoming a thorn in my side.”
Kell, who had been eyeing other corridors which fed the hall in the hope of an easy escape route, eased to his right and checked for enemy. The corridor was empty. He turned, fixing a steel gaze on the general who seemed to be observing Kell with private amusement; or at least, the disdain a piranha reserves for an injured fish.
“I apologise,” growled Kell, eyes narrowed, “that I haven’t rolled over to die like so many other puppies.” His eyes flashed dangerous with a new and concentrated form of hate. “It would seem you caught many of the city-folk by surprise, Graal, with the benefit of blood-oil magick at your disposal. I’m sure this makes you feel like a big cock bastard down at the barracks, Graal, the whore-master, joking about how he killed babes in their beds and soldiers in their sleep. The work of a coward.”
Graal was unfazed by insult. He tilted his head, watching Kell, feminine face laced with good humour. “What is your name, soldier?” His words were a lullaby; soft and enticing. Come to me, that voice whispered. Join with me.
“I am Kell. Remember it well, laddie, ‘cause I’m going to carve it on your arse.”
“But not today, I fear. Men? Kill them. Kill them all.”
The two albino soldiers eased forward, bodies rolling with athletic grace. Kell’s eyes narrowed. These men were special, he could tell. They were professional, and deadly. He knew; he’d killed enough during his long, savage lifetime.
The two soldiers split, one moving for Kell, the other for Nienna, Kat and Volga. They accelerated smoothly, leaping forward and Kell leapt to meet his man, axe slamming down, but the albino had gone, rolling, sword flickering out to score a line across Kell’s bearskin-clad bicep that saw the big man stagger back, face like thunder, teeth gritted and axe clamped in both hands.
“A pretty trick, boy.”
The albino said nothing, but attacked again, swift, deadly, sword slamming up then twisting, cutting left, right, to be battered aside by the butterfly-blades of Kell’s axe. The albino spun, his blade hammering at Kell’s neck. Kell’s axe slammed the blade aside with a clatter. A reverse thrust sent the bloodbond axe towards the albino’s chest, but the man rolled fast and came up, grinning a full-teeth grin.
“You’re fast, old man.” His voice was like silver.
“Not fast enough,” snapped Kell, irate. He was starting to pant, and pain flickered in his chest. Too old,
