nosebag for Mary, filling it with grain and placing a blanket over her back under a rickety lean-to on the south side of the cottage, where there was the least wind.
Nienna prepared a thick broth, and Kell chopped firewood. He got a good blaze burning, and they sat, warm for the first time in what felt like years, bellies full of hot broth and mugs of coffee in dirt-ingrained hands.
'I'd forgotten what it felt like to be a part of civilisation,' said Saark, quietly, and sipped his sweet coffee, relishing the heat and the mixture of bitterness and sweetness all mixed in together. A contrast of pleasures.
Kell snorted a laugh.
'What's so funny?'
'Not long ago, lad, this would have been far from your idea of civilisation. Where's all your raw fish on silver platters now? Where are your buxom serving wenches with rouged lips and powdered wigs? I tell you, a curse on nobility.'
'Spoken like a true working man,' smiled Saark.
Kell stood, and stretched, and Saark eyed the old warrior thoughtfully. He was much leaner than when Saark first met him back in Jalder, hiding in a tannery from a hunting Harvester. The miles, the fights, the climbing of mountains, it had done much to return Kell to a lean, rugged, muscular figure, despite his advancing years. Then Saark's eyes slid sideways to Nienna; here, also there had been a vast change in physical appearance. Whereas she had been slightly plump, and soft, her face carrying the puppy-fat of childhood, now she was slimmer, stronger, more muscular; she carried herself erect and proud, like a fighter. The fat had gone, and there were creases in her face, hard edges around her eyes. A young woman who had seen too much hardship. Still, she was coping, mentally, as well as physically. Saark wasn't sure how long many young women from King Leanoric's court, with their white make-up and long, crafted fingernails, would have lasted in the mountains, or being hunted by Soul Stealers and cankers and rough soldiers from the Army of Iron. No. Not long, he'd wager.
Nienna saw the look, and gave him a dazzling smile. Saark licked his lips. He could still taste her there. It was most pleasant. His ruse about Myriam had worked. Nienna believed him.
Kell moved into the small storeroom, and came out with a pewter flagon. He sniffed it warily, and his face lit up. 'It's whiskey,' he said, in all innocence.
'Oh no,' said Saark. 'You know you shouldn't drink that. You know what it does to you!'
'Just a small one,' said Kell, and smiled easily, and pulled up a chair with a scrape. 'Saark, after all the shit scrapes we've been through, lad, after nearly dying on Skaringa Dak and falling through that mountain, the least I can do is have a drink.'
'It makes you bad,' said Saark.
'No. Too much makes me bad. But I know when to stop. I always know when to stop. It's just sometimes I choose not to.' He lifted the flagon, and took a hefty drink, then lowered it and smacked his lips with the back of his hand, rubbing at his beard. 'By all the gods, that's a rough drop, but it warms a man's belly after a trek through snow, so it does.'
'Here.' Saark took the flagon, and took a hefty drink himself. He nearly choked as the raw moonshine burned his throat, but Kell had been right, and it warmed him right through.
'It's good, right lad?'
'It's like drinking donkey piss, Kell.'
'You should know, mate. You and that Mary lass have got way too close.' He laughed, and winked, and offered the flagon but Nienna waved it away. He took another hefty swig, and this time held it there for a while. As he lowered it, Nienna looked concerned.
'No more, grandfather. Saark was right. It turns you bad.'
'Ach, I'm a big man, I can take the whole flagon and it wouldn't touch the hole in my stomach!'
'Or indeed, the ego in your skull,' said Saark.
'Ha!' He took another big drink, and passed it to Saark, who put the flagon carefully to one side.
'No more, Kell.'
'You big girl!'
Saark smiled. 'Maybe, but I having a feeling that where we are going tomorrow, the last thing you need is a drink; or even worse, a damn hangover!'
Kell shrugged, easily, and sat down. For a while they sat in amiable silence, watching the fire, then Kell stood again. 'I'll go and chop some more wood. You know me. I like to keep active.'
Saark nodded, and Kell stepped outside. The world seemed brighter, more whiter than white. He grinned to himself, and licked at the droplets in his beard. They tasted just grand. Snow was falling heavy now, obscuring the sky, obscuring the world. A fluffy silence filled every space. This cottage clearing felt small, safe and secure.
Kell strolled around to the small woodshed, and glancing back to make sure he went unobserved, pulled a hidden flagon from under a pile of logs. He unstoppered the flagon, took a deep breath, and followed it with a long, gulping drink.
'No good will come of this,' he muttered, but by then – as it always was – it was far too late…
Night fell. The fire burned low. Kell snored heavily on one side of the room, and Saark lay with his back to the fire, eyes closed, unable to sleep. Inside of him he felt something shift and it made him feel nauseous, like he was going to puke. Tick, tick, tick went his steady clockwork-enhanced heart. By all the gods, he thought, it feels too strange.
Saark heard Nienna shift, and kneel up beside the fire. Saark turned himself, and looked at her long hair glowing. She moved to him, and lay beside him, and he threw a glance to Kell but the man had drank more whiskey later that evening, and was now sleeping like a baby – albeit a very drunk one.
'We shouldn't,' he said, as Nienna kissed him; but not like before, this time it was urgent, and this time she pressed herself into him, eagerly, filled with lust, filled with desire.
'We should.' She had waited a long time to get hold of Saark. She wasn't going to let him go now.
They kissed, and she straddled him, and their passion grew and Saark felt himself in that place again, that uncontrollable place and, as he always did, he gave in to it, surrendered unconditionally and kissed Nienna, kissed her hard, with passion, his hands running up and down her flanks, caressing her breasts and she writhed atop him, moaning, and Saark was hard and pressing against her and something intruded on his thoughts and there was a click as he realised his error. Something was wrong. Shit. Kell was no longer snoring…
'Up you get, girl.'
Kell lifted Nienna bodily from Saark, and placed her to one side. His eyes were glowing embers in the gloom of the cottage, his fists were clenched, his beard glinted with droplets of whiskey, and the firelight gave him the air of a demon.
Maybe he is, thought Saark.
'You too. Up you get.'
'We've been here before,' laughed Saark.
'No we haven't. This time I'm going to break your fucking spine, I reckon.'
Saark looked up into those merciless eyes, and swallowed hard. Kell was not a man to back down.
'I implore you, Kell, there are greater things at stake here than Nienna's honour! Think of Falanor! Think of the Vampire Warlords! And let's be honest, look, the girl is fully clothed, all I did was maul her a bit. Squeeze her tits. Get her hot and ready. No harm is done, really, Kell, I beseech you!'
Kell loomed close. 'The harm, fucker, is that you never stop. Ever. And unless I teach you a lesson, you'll come back time and time again. And I can't have that. Now get up, or I'll kick you into a pulp like the fucking dog you are.'
Kell's boot swung, and Saark rolled fast, avoiding the blow. He leapt up, wearing only his trews, and lifted his fists slowly, as did the pugilists he'd watched in the Shit Pits.
'I've got to warn you, Kell. I'm vachine now. Stronger. Faster. Harder.' His own eyes glowed by the light of the fire.
'Show me,' said Kell.
'Stop it!' screamed Nienna, both hands at the sides of her head. 'Stop it, both of you!'
They ignored her.
Kell charged, roaring like a bear and throwing a fast combination of five punches. Saark dodged, left, right, ducked, then leapt back and his back slammed the wall of the cottage. But Kell followed him, a right straight thundering a hair's breadth from Saark's chin and implanting a dent in the plaster of the wall. Saark skipped away,
