Silva Valley to the North, dominating the skyline of the vachine civilisation and controlling the flow of the Silva River from deep inside the Deshi caves and beyond, where the Silva River flowed deeper into the heart of the Black Pike Mountains.
Now, as General Graal's blood sacrifice and blood-oil magick Summoning sent ripples of energy through the natural arteries of Skaringa Dak, so the Vrekken, that mighty underground whirlpool, roared a noise so loud it made the mountain tremble and there came a distant boom boom boom as water pressure increased a millionfold and with the power of the ocean, the power of the mountains, the fury of the land, the Vrekken reared from its deep bottomless pit and water heaved through tunnels millennia deserted, black and cold and shimmering like blood. It pounded through corridors and caverns, smashing up through a hundred breeding nests of Graal's white-haired soldiers, up up up through thick arteries as the mountain trembled and the world trembled and billions of gallons were forced under enormous pressure into the Silva River, out through the gaping maws of the Deshi Caves, out with such incredible pressure and a wall of water reared like the rising head of a striking cobra and slammed at once down Silva Valley crushing houses and temples, warehouses and palaces, and thousands of vachine were slammed with such force they were crushed, compressed down into a mash of flesh and corrupted clockwork components. Thousands ran, streaming down pavements and jewelled roadways, but the wall of water pounded along and they were gone in an instant. The Engineer's Palace was torn in two, one half picked up like a toy and dashed along the expanse of Silva Valley, bounced from mountain wall to mountain wall as tens of thousands of screams rent the air and the mighty force of the Vrekken crushed the occupants of Silva Valley… and the vachine civilisation therein.
The roaring seemed to last a thousand years. It echoed deafening through the Black Pike Mountains, like mocking laughter. And… as soon at it had come, the might of the Vrekken was gone, leaving Silva Valley flooded, a churning platter of dark black waters. Where once the valley had sat, now was a surging, seething lake.
Slowly, the violence faded and the new lake settled, calming, to be still.
Silva Valley was no more.
And the dead screamed unto eternity.
On Helltop, they stood in silence. The roaring of the Vrekken, the flooding of Silva Valley, the extinguishing of the vachine civilisation had taken perhaps five minutes. Kell, eyes narrowed, stared hard at Graal. 'What have you done?' he said.
'It was a necessary sacrifice,' said Graal.
'You exterminated their colony like insects.'
Graal's eyes gleamed. 'And soon, you will see why!' He gestured to the Soul Stealers, and Shanna and Tashmaniok moved to Anukis, and tossed her corpse aside. Then they did this to Jageraw, leaving smears of dark blood on the Granite Thrones. Finally, they grabbed Saark, who was wheezing, eyes closed, the huge fistsized hole in his chest showing shattered breast-bone and the open cage of smashed ribs. Within, his heart beat with a slow, irregular rhythm – like a fist opening, and closing, and opening, and closing. They tossed him to one side, where he rolled over and Nienna ran to him, and nobody stopped her.
'Saark!' she said, face wet with tears. But she could not hold him, for she was bound too tight.
'All is well, Little One,' he grunted, and forced himself into a sitting position. He looked down at his open chest in horror, and when he smiled blood glistened on his teeth.
'Saark, don't die,' she wept.
'I don't think I have much choice in the matter,' he managed, voice hoarse. Then he winked at Nienna, and coughed, eyes closing in pain. 'Did I ever mention you're a stunning young lady? A real catch.'
'You'll never change,' laughed Nienna through tears.
'I wish…' he winced again, the agony plain on his face, 'I wish I had just a few more years. So… so many women, still left, to please.' His head slumped forward, and breath rattled from his lungs.
Kell gazed out over the distant, flooded Silva Valley, and turned back to Graal. Graal and Kradek-ka stood before the Granite Thrones. The pool before the Granite Thrones – down through which Graal summoned the Vrekken – was an empty hole, deep and bottomless, all water sucked free when the Vrekken threw its hydraulic fury at Silva Valley.
Graal and Kradek-ka stood, either side of the hole. They faced the Granite Thrones. They seemed to be waiting. Kell glanced left, to Myriam and Alloria; both were entranced by the sight, by the Summoning, and the air crackled with dark energy. The Vampire Warlords were coming. It was written in the sky. Written in the stone. Kuradek the Unholy. Meshwar the Violent. Bhu Vanesh, the Eater in the Dark. The world would descend into chaos. And the Vampire Warlords would build a new Empire.
Kell looked right. The Soul Stealers were entranced, their bright crimson eyes fixed on the Thrones. This was the moment. This was the time. If Kell could break free now, he could… what? A cold realisation dawned. The Summoning magick had been cast. The spell was done. All the deaths, the blood-oil, the sacrifice… the Soul Gems had done their work, summoned the Vrekken, destroyed the vachine, killed enough vachine souls to bring back the Vampire Warlords from the Chaos Fields – from the Blood Void.
What could Kell possibly do? Even if he murdered Graal and Kradek-ka, it would make no difference. The Summoning was happening. It was an unstoppable Force of Nature. Of Chaos. Of Magick.
I can help you, said Ilanna.
No, you cannot, said Kell.
He is coming, be ready, said Ilanna. Kell scowled. His gaze swept the platform. He could see the stars again, but a blackness like smoke rolled out against the night sky, blocking out the stars in three hazy patterns. Kell blinked. Was he imagining this haze-filled sky? He lowered his eyes, and shook his head, and all the fight had gone out of him. They were here, Saark was dead, he and Nienna had failed. They had thought they were so powerful, so clever, bringing the fight to the enemy – when in fact, all they did was deliver Saark and the Soul Gem to Graal.
And he came, from the edge of the scene, from between the rocks where before there was no passage, and he stepped from smoke and he was barefoot and danced on the glossy slick surface of Helltop. He was six years old, with thin limbs and pale skin, he was ragged and tattered, wore torn clothes and had black, shiny teeth. His eyes, also, were black, and they shone with an ancient wisdom, with the decadent wisdom of the Ankarok. Skanda danced, twirling and weaving, a slow dance to unheard music, perhaps the music of the stars and the magick and the Summoning itself, and Kell watched the little boy with his mouth open, and a sour needle split his brain and Kell scowled, for Skanda was part of this evil too and if Kell could get his axe free he would make them all pay, for the blood and the death. Kell watched Skanda dance, and the Soul Stealers turned and fixed eyes on the little boy, and they drew their silver swords and leapt at him with sudden violent snarls and the world seemed to tilt and come rushing back into place and Kell watched in awe as Skanda danced between the impossibly whirling sword blades, and he leapt and twirled and danced, and the blades hissed and sang around him, a glittering web of death and Skanda lifted his eyes and they met with Kell's, there was a connection and Skanda smiled and he lifted his hands and from his hands flowed… insects. They came in a flood, crawling and skittering, flying and buzzing and stinging, they poured from Skanda's hands and now his mouth opened and they flooded from his throat and rushed past the startled Soul Stealers who dropped to their knees in defensive crouches as Graal suddenly turned, realised what was happening and his face turned from bliss to fear, his eyes darkening, his mouth opening to scream but the insects flooded out, over the plateau and over Kell who panicked, squirming in his bonds as worms and maggots and cockroaches and wasps flowed over him, smothering him with their insect noise and acid and…
Kell blinked. The gold wires fell away, eaten by insects.
Kell looked down, at Ilanna grasped in his mighty, lacerated, blood-drenched hands. Slowly, he looked up, and saw the Soul Stealers, and Graal, staring at him. Skanda danced on, a mournful dance, insects still pouring from his mouth and his little boy's feet slapped pitifully on the slick ground. Graal pointed at Kell. 'Kill him!' he screamed, with a sudden insane fury and the Soul Stealers stood, then leapt at Kell who brought Ilanna up in a savage sweep and stream of sparks, batting aside both swords and knocking the two female killers back.
Kell took a step forward. He lowered his head. 'I am Kell. And I am mightily pissed off.'
The Soul Stealers leapt again, and Kell moved with awesome speed, a blur, an age of pent-up rage and frustration unleashed in a few swift heartbeats. Swords struck Ilanna, were cast aside and she sang as she cut for Tashmaniok's neck but the Soul Stealer back-flipped away, too fast, and her fangs came out and her claws grew long and they could hear the tick tick of stepping gears and clockwork wheels. She leapt at Kell, snarling, and was caught on the flat blades of Ilanna but twisted, one boot between the axe and herself, and pushed herself away into
