Vampire Warlords: The Clockwork Vampire Chronicles, Book 3

by Andy Remic

  "Am I so hard to look at?" said Nienna, suddenly, tears in her eyes. "Am I so ugly?"

  "No! No, of course not." Saark moved around the fire, and placed his arm around her shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "You are beautiful," he said.

  She looked up into his face. Tears stained her pink cheeks. "You mean that?"

  "Of course!" said Saark. "It's just, well, Kell, and that axe, and, well…"

  "You always say that," snapped Nienna, and rubbed viciously at her tears, heaving Saark's arm from her shoulders. "I think, for you Saark, it is a convenient excuse."

  "That's not true," said Saark, and placed his arm back over Nienna's shoulder. "Come here, Little One. And before you bite off my head with that savage snapping tongue, it's a term of affection, not condescension." Saark hugged Nienna for a while, and rocked her, and she placed her head against his chest – so recently violated, now repaired with advanced vachine healing.

  • • • •

  Nienna could hear Saark's heartbeat. It was strong. Like him. And she could smell his natural scent, and it made her head spin and her mouth dry. She could see stars. She could look into heaven and taste the ambrosia of a distant, fleeting promise.

  Kell coughed. "Sleep well, did you?"

  Saark eased his arm from Nienna's shoulders. "Don't be getting any wrong ideas, old man."

  Kell leered at him from the dawn gloom. "I wasn't," he said, almost cryptically, and disappeared into the woodland for a piss. Saark glanced at Nienna, as if to say, See? My guardian devil, but she was looking at him strangely and he didn't like that look. He knew exactly what that look meant. It was a look a thousand women had given him over the years, and Saark knew about such things, because he was a beautiful man. But worse. He was a beautiful man without morals.

  He shivered, in anticipation, as a ghost walked over his soul…

  They ate a swift breakfast of dried beef, and set off through the Iron Woods, Saark leading Mary by a short length of frayed rope. The walking was hard; sometimes there were narrow trails to follow, but more often than not these petered out and they had to travel crosscountry, Kell leading the way and cursing as he fought the clawed fingers of the trees and tramped heavy boots through snow and tangled dead undergrowth.

  After a few hours of walking and cursing, they stopped for a break. Or in the case of Saark, for a moan.

  "My feet are frozen! We should build a fire."

  "We haven't got the time," said Kell, face sour.

  "Yes, but if my toes freeze solid I won't be able to walk. Even worse, I saw one man once, used to work over near Moonlake when we had those real bad falls a few years back. He was stranded, out on the Iopian Plains, out there for days he was. His toes went black and fell off!"

  "They fell off?" said Nienna, aghast.

  "I've seen this also. In the army," said Kell, removing his own boots and rubbing his toes. "The trick," he gave Saark a full teeth-grin, "is to keep moving. Keep the hot blood flowing. When you languish on your arse like a drunken dandy, that's when you get into trouble."

  Saark ignored the insult, and gazed around. "But it is pretty," he announced. "Reminds me of a poem…"

  "Don't start," snapped Kell. "I fucking despise poets."

  "But look, old man! Look at the beauty! Look at the majesty of Nature!"

  "The majesty of Nature?" spluttered Kell, and his face turned dark. "Where we're headed, boy, there's little majesty and lots of death."

  Saark considered this, as Mary nuzzled his hand. "And where is that?" he said, finally, when Kell ignored the hint to continue.

  "Balaglass Lake," said Kell.

  "You're insane," said Myriam. "We can't travel there; it's poisoned land!"

  "Whoa," said Saark, holding up a hand. "Poisoned? As in, gets into our bodies and chokes us, kind of poison?"

  "Balaglass Lake is frozen," said Myriam. "But not with ice, with toxins. Even in high summer it remains solid, but as unwary travellers wander across its seemingly solid surface, then a pool will suddenly open up and eat them. I saw it, once. Near the edge. Man fell in, up to his knees; over the next few days, the… water, or whatever it is, ate the flesh from his bones. We strapped him down, used tourniquets, a leather strap between his teeth. He screamed for three nights until we could bear it no more and put him out of his misery." Myriam faltered, and was silent.

  "A happy tale," snapped Saark. "Thank you so much for lifting my mood!"

  "We need to cross it," said Kell. "It's the quickest way."

  "Where to?" said Saark, face a frown.

  "To the Black Pike Mines," said Kell.

  They stood by the shores of Balaglass Lake, but there was nothing to see except a perfectly flat platter of snow. A wind sighed from the edge of the Iron Forest, ruffling Kell's beard as his dark eyes swept the flat plateau.

  "You see?" pointed Myriam, behind her. They looked at the animal tracks. "Nothing heads out onto the frozen lake; it's as if the animals know it's evil and will suck them down."

  "What freezes it, if not the ice?" said Saark, rubbing his chin.

  Myriam shrugged. "Who knows? It has always been thus. Styx said his father, and his father's father, had both always known it as such a place. And that only the foolhardy attempted to cross."

  "How big is it?" said Saark, peering out across the desolate flat plain.

  "Big enough," laughed Kell, and stepped out onto the frozen surface. "See. Solid as a rock."

  Saark stared at him. "It's when you say things like that the ground normally opens up and swallows you! You should not tempt the Fates, Kell. Their sense of humour is more corrupt than a canker's brain."

  "Ah, bollocks," said Kell. "Come on ladies, we have a mission. You want to save Falanor? Well it won't happen if you all stand there picking your noses."

  "I do so under protest," said Myriam, and warily tested the surface with her boot. "Seeing a man scream with only bone sticks as legs taught me never to chance my luck here." Even so, she stepped onto the frozen lake and stood beside Kell. Then Nienna stepped out, and lifted her head proudly, turning to meet Saark's gaze.

  Saark stepped from one boot to the other. "You sure there's no way round?" he whined.

  "Get out here!" thundered Kell, and turning, stalked off across the plate of ice.

  Warily, Saark followed, leading Mary who shied away, trying to pull back. "Shh!" soothed Saark, and slowly, gently, coaxed the donkey out onto the frozen surface.

  Myriam, who was twenty paces ahead, turned. "See. Animals can sense it. Sense the death."

  "Will you fucking shut up!" shouted Saark, irate now as he fought with the donkey. "Shh, girl, come on, girl, it won't hurt you, girl, please come on, trust me, it won't hurt."

  "Is that how you coax all the ladies?" grinned Myriam.

  Saark considered this, and frowned. "That's just a damn and dirty misrepresentation," he said. Then smiled. "Although I have to admit, it works sometimes."

  Kell and Nienna were ahead, Kell striding through the powdered snow without a backward glance, the mighty Ilanna in one fist, his other clenched tight. Nienna trotted by his side, and glancing back, she saw Saark and Myriam following.

  "Does this lake really swallow people, grandfather?" she asked, staring down at her boots. She had come to trust the ground, and the thought of walking on thin ice filled her with a consummate fear.

  "Old wives' tales," said Kell, without looking at her. His gaze was focused on the distant line of trees, a swathe of iron-black trunks no bigger than his thumbnails. Half a league, he reckoned. That was a long way to walk on treacherous, thin ice.

  Behind, Saark and Myriam were making small-talk.

  "Tell me more about the clockwork," said Saark, the rope from a disobedient donkey cutting into his hand and making him wince.

  "What do you need to know?"

  "You think I will die? Without it, I mean?"

  "That is what Tashmaniok and Shanna advised. They may have been lying, though." She peered at Saark. "Why? How do
you feel?"

  "Wonderful! Powerful, strong, at the peak of my prowess! All pain is gone, my wounds have healed except for the odd twinge; I'm thinking maybe this clockwork vampire thing isn't so bad after all. I am faster, stronger, my eyesight more acute; my stamina rarely leaves me, and I have greater resistance to heat and cold."

  "And yet you still moan about your cold toes," observed Myriam.

  "That's because the moaning bastard will whine about anything!" shouted back Kell.

  "By the gods, he has good hearing for a human," frowned Saark.

  "Better watch him, then, when you're sat under the blankets cuddling Nienna."

  Saark stared long and hard at Myriam. "I was simply offering warmth and friendship," he said.

  "Yes," snorted Myriam. "I've seen that sort of friendship a lot during my short, bitter lifetime!"

  Saark's eyes went wide. "Me? Really? You think I'd…" He considered this. "Actually, yes, of course you're right. I would. But you're missing the point. With that huge ugly axe hanging like a pendulum over the back of my skull, well, somehow I seem to lose that all-important urge." He grinned, but watched Myriam's face descend into pain. "Are you well?"

  "Yes! No. It's just, well, I don't want to talk about it."

  Saark replayed the conversation in his mind. Something had upset Myriam. What had it been? With his big flapping lips, he'd managed to put his damn soldier's boot in the horse shit again. Saark frowned, then stopped walking, placing his hands on his hips. Mary clacked to a halt behind him, and Myriam turned, a question in her eyes.

  Saark moved to her, and he was close, and he could smell her scent, a natural wood-smoke, a musky heady aroma mixed with sweat and Myriam's natural perfume. It made him a little dizzy. It made his mouth dry.

  "Yes?" she said.

  "Nothing," he smiled, and leant in close, lips almost touching hers, and he paused, and felt her inch towards him, her body shifting, in acceptance, in readiness, in subtle longing; and this was his permission to continue and he brushed her lips with his, a delicate gesture as if touching the petals of a rose and he felt her sigh. He eased closer, pressed his body against hers, and they kissed, and she was warm and firm under his gently supporting hands, her body taut, muscular, stronger than any woman he'd held before. He heard her groan, and her kiss became more passionate and Saark understood now, understood with the clarity of blood on snow. She had been eaten by the parasite cancer, and retreated like a snail into its shell. Myriam had repressed her lust, her longing, her desires, and it had been a long time since she'd had a real man; a long time since she'd had any man. Saark grinned to himself. I'll show her what a real man is all about, and he kissed her with passion, with delicacy, with an understanding of exactly what women want, how to bring them out, how to allow them to enjoy themselves – and more importantly, enjoy themselves with him.

  She pulled back. "You're a dirty scoundrel," she laughed.

  "Kiss me again."

  She kissed him again, with an urgency now that was suddenly interrupted as Mary shoved her muzzle into Saark's cheek and flapped her lips with a "hrrpphhhhh" of splattered donkey saliva. Saark made a croaking sound, taking a step back, and Myriam laughed a laugh which was a tinkling of gentle chimes.

  "I think she's jealous," smirked Myriam.

  "I think you're right," agreed Saark. "Go on! Shoo! Bloody donkey! Bugger off!"

  Myriam touched Saark's cheek. "I'll be waiting for you. Tonight."

  Saark gave a single nod. "I know, my sweetness."

  The Iron Forest shifted slowly back into view, but Kell had stopped up ahead. The travellers had become strung out, Kell in the lead, followed by a sullen Nienna walking alone, then Saark and Myriam trotting across the flat lake side by side, their faces awash with laughter and good humour. After a few minutes they caught up to Kell, whose dark eyes were surveying the black, seemingly impenetrable mass of the Iron Forest. It was dark, daunting, huge angular trunks and branches like broken claws. A dull silence seemed to ooze from the forest like an invisible smoke. No birds sang. No sounds came to the group, except for…

  "Was that a cracking sound?" said Saark, going suddenly very still.

  "Shh," said Kell.

  They listened. Beneath, somewhere seemingly deep beneath, there came another series of tiny, gentle cracks. The noises were unmistakable, and this time in a quick-fire succession like a volley of crossbow bolts from battlements under siege.

  "Should we run?" said Saark.

  "A very bad idea," said Kell, softly. "We need to walk. Quickly. And I think we should spread out. Distribute the weight."

  "I knew this was a bad idea," said Myriam, ice in her voice.

  "Hold your tongue, woman! It's saved us three days' travel, and every day matters with those bastard vampires out there; or had you forgotten our purpose, so busy were you sticking your tongue into the dandy's foul mouth?"

  "Let's just move," said Saark, holding his hands out.

  They spread out, to a retort of more crackles from under the frozen surface of Balaglass Lake. This time, the sounds were nearer the surface; not deep down, like before.

  "I'm frightened," said Nienna.

  Kell said nothing.

  They moved towards the iron-black trees, spreading apart, listening to the cracking sounds. Some were quiet, distant, deep below the surface; but some were loud, rising in volume suddenly until they made Kell's ears hurt. He increased his pace.

  Saark was jogging, with Kell to his left, Myriam and Nienna to his right. Mary's hooves clumped the ice behind him, and he stopped, suddenly. He felt the ice beneath his boots shudder. Could the impact of Mary's hooves be making it worse? After all, there was some pressure there. Saark turned and stared at the donkey. Mary eyed him warily, and brayed, stamping her hooves as if to ward off cold.

  "Whoa!" said Saark. "Don't do that, girl!"

  "Eeyore," brayed Mary, as if sensing something beneath the surface of the snow, something like a predator closing in on them fast. Saark glanced up. Kell had made the bank, closely followed by Nienna. The bank was a muddy, root-entwined step, maybe waist height. Kell reached down, and hauled Nienna up to safety.

  Saark started to run, then stopped as a crack opened in the surface before him. "Ahh!" he said, more an exhalation of horror than a word, and he took a step back. An evil, sulphurous aroma rose from the crack which zig-zagged before him. It shuddered, the whole toxic frozen lake seemed to shudder, and the crack grew yet wider. Saark ran right, where the crack petered out, and around it with Mary in tow still stamping those heavy hooves. Saark looked up, saw Myriam had reached the bank and Kell hauled her up a lower, ramped section. Her boots scrabbled and slid in the frozen mud. There! Mary would get up that! How did I get so damned far behind? What happened there? Are the gods mocking me again?

  He ran for it. Kell grew closer, beard rimed with ice, face screwed into a mask of concern.

  "Come on, Saark!" hissed Myriam.

  More cracks rang out, like ballistae from siege engines; Saark pumped his arms, and Mary trotted obediently after him – and suddenly stopped, hauling back on the rope, rear haunches dropping, a strangled bray renting the air. Saark was jerked back, nearly pulled off his feet, and he whirled, scowling. "Stupid Mary!" he snapped. "Come on! Come on, damn donkey, or I'll leave you out here to sink!"

  Mary shook her head, braying, and a shower of spit hit Saark like a wet fish. Saark moved behind the donkey, and slapped her rump as hard as he could. Mary coughed, shook her head again, and launched ahead with hooves flying over the ice. Saark ran after her, saw her scramble up the slope, just as the ice opened up before him and his boots sank in up to the knees. He screamed, flailing forwards, stumbling, fingers brushing the bank. And Kell was there, leaning forward, and their hands touched and eyes met. "Oh no!" whispered Saark.

  Kell turned, fumbled with Ilanna. "Grab the axe, lad," he shouted, leaning out. But another crack rent the air, and Saark went under, and was gone beneath the surface of the frozen lake.
r />   "No!" screamed Myriam, but Kell grabbed her jerkin.

  "Whoa lass, you can't go in there!"

  Chunks of ice bobbed, and Mary brayed forlornly. Snow began to fall from a bleak pastel sky, and they stood there on the bank, watching the chunks of ice, listening to more cracking sounds and praying for Saark. Kell grimaced. What had Myriam said? That the man's legs had eaten away after the toxins of the lake came into contact with his flesh? But maybe Saark will be lucky, thought Kell. Maybe he'll drown.

  Myriam strained again, and Kell picked her bodily up, and moved her away from the edge of Balaglass Lake, her legs kicking, eyes furious. "Put me down!" she hissed.