Kell's Legend

them, obscuring the world.
    Nienna reined her horse into a canter as she neared the woods, then stopped, stooping to stare under the trees. She could see nothing. “Saark?” she hissed, then louder, “Saark?”
    A little way up, Styx emerged, smiled and waved. Nienna cantered over to him and dismounted, her eyes never leaving the mark of the Blacklipper, his stained dark lips.
    “Where’s Saark?”
    “Further in the woods. We’ve set up camp. Come on, before enemy scouts see you.”
    Myriam dismounted behind, and they led their horses into the gloom of the Silver Fir forest. Pigeons cooed in the distance, then all was silent, their footfalls muffled by fallen pine needles.
    “Up here.” Styx led them along an old deer trail, and they emerged in a small clearing where an ancient, fallen pine acted as a natural bench. Jex was cooking stew over a small fire, and Nienna looked around.
    “Where is he?”
    The blow slammed the back of Nienna’s head, and she felt her face pushed into needles and loam, and there was no pain. She remembered scents, pine resin, soil, old mud and woodland mould. When she blinked, groggy, and came back into a world of gloomy consciousness, she realised she was tied, her back leant against the fallen pine. She groaned.
    “We have a live one,” grinned Styx, crouching before her. Nienna spat in his face, and his grin fell, his hand lifting to strike her.
    “Enough,” snapped Myriam, voice harsh. “Go and help Jex pack the horses.” Styx departed in silence, and Nienna ran her tongue around a mouth more stale than woodland debris.
    “Why?” said Nienna, eventually, looking up at Myriam.
    “You are my best bartering tool. When Kell has finished playing battleground hero, he will come looking for you. By taking you north, I guarantee he will follow.”
    “Is it not enough to poison us?” snapped Nienna, eyes narrowed and full of hate.
    “It is not enough,” said Myriam, gaunt face hollow, eyes hard.
    Nienna’s gaze transferred to Saark, seated, slumped forward, face heavily beaten. He lifted himself up a little, drool and blood spilling from his mouth, and smiled at her through the massive swellings on his face. One eye was swollen shut, and blood glistened in his dark curls. His hands were tied behind his back, but even as he shifted he winced, in great pain.
    “Saark, what happened to you?”
    “Bastards jumped me.” He grinned at her, though it looked wrong through his battered features. “Hey, Nienna, fancy a kiss?”
    She snorted a laugh, then shook her head. “How can you joke, Saark?”
    “It’s either that or let them break me.” His eyes went serious. “And I’d rather die. Or at least, rather die than be ugly.” He glanced up at Myriam, and winked at her with his one good eye. “Like this distorted bitch.”
    Myriam said nothing, and Styx and Jex returned with their horses. Styx grabbed Nienna roughly, and she kicked and struggled. He punched her, hard, in the face and she went down on her knees gasping, blinded. He dragged her back up again. “We can do this awake, or unconscious. I know which one I’d rather choose,” growled the Blacklipper.
    Nienna was helped into the saddle, and Styx mounted behind her. His hands rested on her hips, and he grinned, leaning close to her ear. “This is intimate, my sweet. The first of many adventures between us, I think.”
    “You wave your maggot near me, and I’ll bite it off,” she snarled.
    Styx’s grin widened, and he squeezed her flesh with strong fingers. “Like I said. We can do this awake, or unconscious.”
    Myriam crossed to Saark, and crouched before him. “Look at me.”
    “I’d rather not. The cancer has eaten your face. There’s nothing the vachine can do for you now, my love.”
    “Bastard! Listen, and listen good. We’re taking Nienna north, to the Cailleach Pass. The poison will take three weeks to kill Kell. The ride is around fifteen days. He can meet us by the Cailleach Pass northwest of Jalder; there, I have a partial antidote that will extend his—and Nienna’s—lives. Enough to get us through the mountains at least. You understand all this?”
    “I understand, bitch.”
    “Good.” She smiled with tombstone teeth. “And here’s a little present to remember me by.” She pulled free a dagger, and slammed it between Saark’s ribs. He grunted, feeling warm blood spread from the embedded blade, and as Myriam pulled it free he gasped, toppling onto his side where he lay,