Kell moved to the edge of the precipice, and grabbed the cable. It seemed ridiculously thin, woven from slippery metal, and he scowled and looked down to the distant courtyard. The vampires still lounged. It felt wrong. Like Kell was stumbling easily into a trap like a courtroom jester. Would they really leave such an opening unguarded? Or were there vampires with crossbows waiting from him to swing out onto the wire?
'I can't do this,' said Kell.
'Why not?' hissed Myriam, who was tying her weapons to herself. 'Secure that bloody axe. If you drop anything, the bastards will hear us and they'll look up. Then we're dead.'
'This is too easy.'
'You call that easy?' snapped Myriam, gesturing to the expanse of swaying cable – perhaps five hundred strides in all, and a good height. Good enough to turn the vampires on the ground far below into stick-men.
'We'll be vulnerable.'
Myriam shrugged. 'That's how us normal mortals feel all the time.' She saw Kell's look, and pressed at one of her vachine fangs. 'Well. You know what I mean.'
Myriam took hold of the cable, and it was cold to the touch. Freezing. She grimaced. 'Come on, axe man. We have a job to do.'
'One thing.'
'Yes?'
Kell grinned. 'I like you, Myriam.'
Her eyes glinted. 'I know you do. You showed me that in oh so many different ways. Just proves what an old man has still got left inside him, if he really tries.'
'No. I mean, we've had our differences. And I still don't trust you for spit.' He held up a finger to silence her complaint. 'But you've come good, Myriam. You may be as unpredictable as a violent raging sea storm, but by the Chaos Halls, I think I like that in a woman.'
'What you're saying is, despite what we've been through, if I betray you now, you'll still lop off my head with that bloody axe?'
'You know I will,' said Kell. 'Now let's move. Before I change my mind.'
Myriam took hold of the cable and swung her legs up, crossing them. Then she began to haul herself along the icy length, hand over hand, with smooth effortless strokes.
Kell took hold, Ilanna strapped tight to his back, and hoisted his legs up. The whole cable sagged, and Kell bobbed, and he cursed, and his muscles ached already. It was one thing in battle to be a huge, stocky, ironmuscled warrior – but such mass did not lend itself well to supporting one's own weight from a high cable.
Kell started to haul himself along. Within minutes the tower fell away, and he was far across the expanse. A cold wind whipped him. His muscles screamed. His bones creaked. His knees and back pummelled him with pain. And worse, the worst thing of all, the cable was freezing, and his hands were frozen. They were rigid, like solid brittle steel cast wrong in the forge, and Kell was struggling to move his fingers, struggling to pull himself across the vast drop.
Kell paused for a moment, and glanced down, just like he knew he shouldn't, but perversely revelling in the danger. If he fell now, he'd make a mighty dent in the cobbles. He grinned. Bastard. Bastards! He wanted to scream into the wind, into the snow, but instead he gritted his teeth and forced iron resolve to tear through him and he continued onwards. Onwards.
Half way.
Kell paused. His hands were as numb as they'd ever been. As numb as ice. As numb as Saark's brain.
'Donkey shit.'
He clamped his teeth shut, blinking fast. He realised the cold was now numbing his brain. He looked up. Myriam was getting close to the portal, and he watched her flip over the lip. She disappeared, and Kell searched for her to reappear with a smile, and an encouraging wave. However, she did not. Kell scowled.
Shit.
He moved, as fast as lethargic muscles would allow, as fast as frozen bear paws would grapple. But the ice was winning. The cold was beating him down, no question.
Three quarters of the way, and Kell could not go on. He could not move and he hung there on a cable, high above vampire hordes and a city at war, and he listened to the wind, and wondered what the hell he was going to do now. And then, worst of all, he heard the sounds of battle from inside the tower. Steel on steel. The clash of blades. Myriam was in trouble!
Kell struggled to move on. To drag himself on. He glanced down. The vampires below had heard the battle as well, and they were looking up at him. One pointed. Several pale faces seemed to be grinning. Some vampires emerged, and they carried bows and Kell groaned. An arrow sailed up, missing him by inches. There came laughter, like a ripple of metal across ice.
Kell tried to force his fingers to move. They would not.
Kell was stuck…
Saark stared at Nienna as if she'd struck him.
'That's the single most incredibly stupid idea I've ever heard in my entire life.'
'But you can't stop me,' she said, voice low, and purring, and dangerous.
'I can stop you,' snapped Saark, 'and I bloody will!'
'No. You'd have to force me down, sit on me, pin my arms to the icy ground. Because I'm going after them, Saark. I'm going to help them. They need my help, I can feel it in my bones!'
'What a load of old rampant horse shit,' snapped Saark, and grabbed Nienna's arm. Her hand flashed up, and it held a blade. The blade touched Saark's throat.
'See? I'm good enough to get past your guard.'
Saark stepped back, hands out, and shook his head. 'Kell told me to keep you here. In the forest. To make sure no harm came to you. He made me promise.'
'This is unbelievable!' stormed Nienna. 'Everybody has gone down to Gollothrim, even the women, to fight! And I'm expected to sit on my hands and play with myself? Well, I won't do it. I'm going after Kell and Myriam. The only way you'll stop me is by killing me.'
'The women are trained archers!' wheedled Saark, and Nienna strode off down the forest trail. Saark ran after her. 'Wait, wait! At least let me grab my rapier.'
'So you're coming with me?'
'Aye, bloody looks like it, doesn't it?'
'Well, a woman should always get what she wants.'
'In my experience, she always does. Only most of the time she learns to regret it.'
Nienna shrugged. 'You know I'm right, Saark. You know we need to be part of this. We can make a difference. We can help Kell.'
'Have you heard yourself?' snapped Saark. ' Help Kell? Have you bloody seen him fight? That rancid old lion needs no help from a little girl like you.'
'Watch your tongue, lest I cut it out.'
'Girl, if Kell learns I allowed you to follow him into that hell hole, then he'll cut out more than my damn tongue.'
'Well let's make sure we make a difference, then,' said Nienna, eyes hard, and by her stance Saark could see she meant trouble. She'd come a long way from the day he'd met her in the tannery in Jalder; then, she'd been soft like a puppy, her eyes gooey and lustful, her skin like virgin's silk. Now, she was hard, and lean, and her eyes were dark. She'd seen too much. Her innocence had been flayed from her, like skin strips under a cat o' nine.
Saark trotted after Nienna through the woods. There seemed little other option.
It did not take long to reach Gollothrim, and they stood in a darkened alley on the outskirts, listening to the sounds of horror reverberating through the streets. Many fights were erupting in the distance. Vampires screamed. Men screamed. Flames roared. The city had erupted into chaos.
'This is a bad idea,' muttered Saark.
'To the tower, you said?'
'That's what Kell told me,' muttered Saark, feeling like a down and dirty traitor, like his tongue would turn black and fall out of his burning mouth. He moved to Nienna, touched her shoulder. ' Please . Let's turn back. This is not the time for us. Not the place.'
