Kell's Legend

him.
    “Listen, Kell, it occurs to me the Army of Iron is moving south.”
    “Occurred to me as well, laddie.”
    “And they’re moving fast.”
    “Fast for an army, aye. They’re taking every village as they go, sweeping down through Falanor and leaving nobody behind to oppose them. If the king already knows, he will be mustering his divisions. If he does not…”
    “Then Falanor lies wide open.”
    Kell nodded.
    “He must know,” said Saark, considering, eyes observing the road ahead. They were moving between rolling hills now, low and rimed with a light scattering of snow, patches of green peeping through patches of white like a winter forest patchwork.
    “Why must he?”
    “Falanor is riddled with his troops, sergeants, scouts, spies. Even now, Leanoric will be summoning divisions, and they will march on this upstart aggressor. We can be of no further use.”
    Kell looked sideways at Saark. “You think so, do you?” he murmured.
    Saark looked at him. “Don’t you?”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “We could head west, for the Salarl Ocean. Book passage on a ship, head across the waves to a new land. We are both adept with weapons; we’ll find work, there’s no question of that.”
    “Or you could steal a few Dog Gemdog gems, that’d keep you in bread, cheese and fine perfume.”
    Saark paused. He sighed. “You despise me, don’t you? You hate my puking guts.”
    “Not at all,” said Kell, and reined in his mount. “We need to make camp. The girls are freezing. We’ve put a good twelve leagues between us and the bastards. If we don’t get some warmth we’ll freeze to death; and my arse feels like a blacksmith’s anvil.”
    “Here’s a spot,” said Kat, and they dismounted. Kell sent the young women to a nearby woodland to gather fallen branches, as he rummaged in the mount’s saddlebags, pulling free two onions, salt and a few strips of jerked beef. “Hell’s teeth. Is this all there is? I suppose we left in a hurry.”
    “We were brawling in the street,” said Saark. “We had little warning to gather provisions.”
    Kell looked at Saark, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. About that.” His face twisted. He was unused to apology. “I…listen, I over-reacted. Kat is a beautiful young woman, but I know your sort, out to take what you want, then you’d leave her behind, weeping and broken, heart smashed into ice fragments.”
    “Your opinion of me is pure flattery,” said Saark, coldly.
    “Listen. I lost my temper. There. I said it.” He looked into Saark’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have killed you, lad.”
    “I think you would,” said Saark, carefully. “I’ve seen that look before.”
    Kell grinned. “Damn. You’re right. I would have killed you.”
    “What stopped you?”
    “The arrival of the soldiers,” said Kell, hissing in honesty. “You were the one who brought up this poem, right? This Saga of Kell’s Legend. But have you heard the last verse? It’s rare the bards remember it; either that, or they choose easily to forget, lest it ruin their night of entertainment.”
    “The one about Moonlake and Skulkra? Kell fought with the best?”
    “No. There is another verse.”
    “I did not realise.”
    Kell’s voice was a low rumble as he recited, unevenly, more poetry than song; he would be the first to admit he was no bard. Kell quoted:
“And Kell now stood with axe in hand, The sea raged before him, time torn into strands, He pondered his legend and screamed at the stars, Death open beneath him to heal all the scars Of the hatred he’d felt, and the murders he’d done And the people he’d killed all the pleasure and life He’d destroyed.
    “Kell stared melancholy into great rolling waves of a Dark Green World, And knew he could blame no other but himself for The long Days of Blood, the long Days of Shame, The worst times flowing through evil years of pain, And the Legend dispersed and the honour was gone And all savagery fucked in a world ripped undone And the answer was clear as the stars in the sky All the bright stars the white stars the time was to die, Kell took up Ilanna and bade world farewell, The demons tore through him as he ended the spell And closed his eyes.”
    Kell glanced at Saark. There were tears in his eyes. “I was a bad man, Saark. An evil man. I blame the whisky, for so long I blamed the whisky, but one day I came to realise that it simply masked that which I was. I eventually married, reared two