Kell's Legend

golden oil, swirled in her eyes. She glanced up, a swift movement, lethargy gone as energy infused her, as blood infused her. “I’ll need to take more,” she said, quietly.
    Preyshan nodded. “Why not stay here, with us? You will be safe here, Anu. You know that.”
    For an instant she saw the longing in the big man’s eyes, but then it was gone, a neat mask replaced, the portcullis gate closed. Anukis licked her lips, tracing the last of the Red and swallowing. Inside, she felt greased. Oiled. Whole again.
    “I cannot. The Engineers have Shabis…”
    Preyshan nodded, and taking the woman’s elbow, guided her to one side of the low chamber. Here,where a breeze blew in from deep subterranean mountain tunnels, where they could not be overheard, Preyshan leant against the wall and interlaced his fingers.
    “If you stay, Anukis, I will fetch Shabis for you.”
    “How-”
    He reached out, placed a finger against her lips. “You vachine are powerful, yes. But you do not understand my heritage; or my history.” His eyes glittered. “The Engineers hold no fear, for me. Nor does Vashell.”
    Anukis shook her head. “If I allowed you to do this, I would place you all in great jeopardy. Your whole world…”
    “I know this. We know this. Our existence is a dangerous one at best. But still…” He touched her arm. “You know I would do this for you. For your father, the great man, but mainly…for you.”
    “I understand.” Anukis stepped forward, reached up on tip-toe, and kissed him on his black necrotic lips. “You are a great man, Preyshan. I am lucky to be…loved, by such as you.”
    Preyshan opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes narrowed, shifting over Anukis’s shoulder.
    “Breach!” screamed a voice, followed by a metallic screech and a twanging sound as five crossbows disgorged industrial quarrels. Three vachine, tall, athletic, hands curved into gleaming metal claws, skin peeled back from faces revealing long, curved steel fangs bared and growling, screaming, leapt from the tunnel. Crossbow bolts riddled them, and one vachine was punched back, slamming the wall, body a torn andtwitching marionette of tattered flesh and twisted, bent gears; savaged clockwork. The others leapt amongst the men in great bounds, claws slashing left and right sending severed limbs flying, and long fangs descending on throats, ripping out windpipes in a sudden harsh attack. Swords hissed from sheaths as the two vachine paused, hunkered on all fours like beasts, heads rotating, eyes glittering, tiny cogs and wheels humming in their skulls. The Blacklippers converged, sword and axes drawn, spears held in clammy hands, faces grim with a need to kill these invaders-
    Preyshan ran forward, his own sword held in one great paw, his face merciless in the cold glow of brass lamps. The vachine leapt, fangs tearing at arms and throats in a mad flurry of ripping flesh and savagery and inhuman speed; swords slammed, spears stabbed, and Preyshan, as if with some primeval instinct, turned back towards the iron gates—open, now, with this sudden breach of violence.
    His soul fell from his world.
    In the tunnel, more vachine eyes glittered. And with a roar they flooded the chamber, ten, twenty, fifty of the clockwork vampires, bowling over and through the Blacklippers ripping at flesh tearing heads from bodies steel fangs and brass claws tearing easily through unprotected flesh and succulent raw bone…
    Preyshan skidded, turned, sprinted back towards Anukis who stood, shocked, mind not registering what her eyes could see. “We’ve got to get out of here!” he screamed at her, pounding across stone, but as he reached her he faltered, and his eyes met hers, and there was confusion there, and sudden pain, andhe glanced down at the brass blade emerging from his chest. Blood bubbled around the wound, and his mouth opened allowing blood to roll through his thick beard. He reached out towards Anukis, and their fingers met, but Preyshan carried on falling to the floor and hit with a heavy slap. He lay still.
    Anukis fell to her knees amidst the sounds of slaughter, tears on her pale cheeks, and she stroked Preyshan’s beard. Gradually, a presence drifted through her confusion, and into her consciousness. Sobbing, she glanced up.
    Vashell smiled, placed his boot on Preyshan’s back, and pulled free his short brass sword, weighing the weapon thoughtfully.
    “What a surprise, finding you here in this den of iniquity. And I see,