Kell's Legend

thick. It had vast engine-houses and factories, once home to massive machines which, scholars claimed, were able to carry out complex tasks but were now huge, silent, rusted iron hulks full of evil black oil and arms and pistons and levers that would never move again. Now, the city was century-deserted, its secrets lost in time, its reputation harsh enough to keep any but the most fearless of adventurers away. It was said the city carried plague close to its heart, and that to walk there killed a man within days. It was said ghosts drifted through the mist-filled streets, and that dark blood-oil creatures lived in the abandoned machinery, awaiting fresh prey.
    Kell and Saark had little option. Either ride through a camp of ten thousand soldiers intent on their annihilation; or brave the deserted streets of Old Skulkra. It was hardly a choice.
    They passed the forty-foot defensive walls, corners and carved pillars crumbling under the ravages of time. Huge green and grey stains ran down what had once been elegantly carved pillars. Despite their flight,Saark looked around in wonder. “By the gods, this place is huge.”
    “And dangerous,” growled Kell.
    “You’ve been here before?”
    “Not by choice,” said Kell, and left it at that.
    They swept down a wide central avenue, lined by blackened, twisted trees, arms skeletal and vast. Beyond were enormous palaces and huge temples, every wall cracked and jigged and displaced. Even the flagstones were cracked and buckled, as if the city of Old Skulkra had been victim of violent earth upheavals and storms.
    The horses’ hooves rang on black steel cobbles. The world seemed to drift down into silence. Mist coagulated on street corners. Saark shivered, and turned to look back at the broken gates through which they’d entered. The mist made the vision hazy, obscure. But he could have sworn he saw at least a hundred albino soldiers, clustering there, swords drawn but…refusing to step past the threshold.
    They’re frightened, he thought.
    Or they know something we don’t.
    “They won’t follow us here,” said Saark, and his voice rang out, echoing around the ancient, damp place. It echoed back from crumbling buildings, from towers once majestic, now decayed.
    “Good,” snapped Kell. “Listen. If we can get through the city, we can head northeast, up through Stone Lion Woods. Then we can follow the Selenau River up to Jalder, then further up towards the Black Pike Mountains…”
    “She’s safe,” said Saark, staring at Kell. “They won’t harm her. Myriam has too much to lose by angeringyou further. She knows Nienna is the only bartering tool she has.”
    Kell nodded, but his eyes were dark, hooded, brooding. He could feel the sluggish pulse of poison in his system, running alongside the bloodbond of Ilanna. It was a curious feeling, and even now made his head clouded, his thoughts unclear. Weakness swept over him. Kell gritted his teeth, and pushed on.
    They rode for a half hour at speed, the horses nervous, ears laid back against skulls, eyes rolling. It took great horsemanship to calm them; especially without reins.
    And then, they heard the growls.
    Kell cursed.
    Saark frowned. “What is it?”
    “The bastards wouldn’t come in on their own. Oh no.”
    “So what is it?” urged Saark.
    “The cankers. They’ve unleashed the cankers.”
    Saark paled, and he allowed a breath to ease from his panicked, pain-wracked frame. “That’s not good, my friend,” he said, finally.
    Kell urged his horse on, and they galloped down wide streets, angling north and east. The mist thickened, and the streets became more narrow, more industrial. The buildings changed to factories and stone tower blocks, vast and cold, all windows gone, all doors rotted and vanished an age past. The horses became increasingly agitated, and the occasional growls and snarls of pursuing cankers grew louder, echoing, more pronounced.
    “We’re not going to make it,” said Saark, eyes wide, his tension building.
    “Shut up.”
    They slowed the horses, which were verging on the uncontrollable, until Kell’s mount reared, whinnying in terror, and threw him. He landed with a thud, rolling on steel cobbles, and came up with his axe in huge hands, eyes glowering, but there was nothing there. Darkness seemed to creep in. Mist swirled. The horse galloped off, and was lost in shadows.
    There came a distant slunch, a whinny of agony; then silence.
    Kell spun around, looking up at the