Kell's Legend

Testament, and he blinked as if awaking from a dream. “This is Zalherion. Once, he was my brother.The vachine process was good to me. But not, I fear, to him.”
    The canker moved forward, and licked at Graal’s hand like a dog would its master. The canker growled, then, head turning, its eyes fixed again on Dagon and Graal gave a laugh, a sweet sound, his blue eyes sparkling. “No, not him, Zal. We have another one for you.” The canker growled, a distorted lion-sound, and with a squeal of bolts Graal opened the cage.
    The canker leapt out, brass claws gouging rich carpets. It moved with an awesome power and feline grace despite its twisted frame and open wounds, towering over the men, even the Harvester, and gazing down at Graal with something akin to love.
    Graal’s head turned, and the Harvester moved forward, eyes closing, five bone fingers reaching out towards the canker. It growled, backed away a step, hunkered down. Then a moment later, it stood and sprinted from the room leaving grooves in the stone.
    “What did you do?” whispered Dagon, aware that if he survived this encounter, and the one soon to follow, it would be a miracle of life over insanity; of luck over probability.
    “The Harvester imprinted an image of Kell inside the canker’s mind. Now, Zal will not stop until Kell is dead.”
    Dagon lowered his head. Tears ran down his cheeks.
    The small boat sped down the river, but eventually the banks widened and the urgency and violent rocking slowed. Nienna sat, stunned, huddled close to Kat for warmth, and also the mental strength of friendship.She had watched her grandpa, Old Kell, fight the Harvester in something like a dream state, aware at any moment that the creature might smash him from existence, suck the life from his shell with those long razor bone fingers…and yet it was like she was watching a play on a stage, because, to see her grandpa fight was unreal, surreal, something that just wasn’t right. He was an old man. He cooked soup. He told her stories. He moaned about his back. He moaned about the price of fish at the market. It wasn’t right.
    “Are you well?” asked Kat, hugging her briefly.
    Nienna looked up into Kat’s blood-spattered, toxin-splashed face, and nodded, giving a little smile. She took a deep breath. “Yes, Kat. I think. Just. Everything has been crazy. Wild! I can’t believe Grandpa is so…deadly.”
    Kat, remembering her perceived savagery back in the tunnel, her cold realisation that Kell would leave her to die, said nothing, simply nodded. An ice-veil dropped over her heart, smothering another little piece of her humanity with bitter cynicism.
    “We’ll be all right,” said Nienna, mistaking Kat’s inner turmoil and total fear—not at the world outside, but at the man in the boat. “We’ll get through this, you’ll see. We’ll go to university. Everything will be all right.”
    Kat gave a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, Nienna? You, with your sheltered upbringing, your loving mother, your doting grandpa, all caring for you and holding you and being there for you. I never had any of that.” Her voice was astringent. Filled with acid. “I’ve beenalone in this world, alone, for such a very long time, sweet little pampered Nienna. I fought every step of the way just to gain entry to Jalder University; I lied, I cheated, I stole, in order to try and crawl up from the stinking gutter, to make a better life for myself, a better future. Nobody has ever been there for me, Nienna.”
    “What about your aunt? The one who raised you after you parents died? The one who baked you bread, and washed your clothes, and braided your hair with beads?”
    Kat gave another laugh, and gazed off along the frozen river banks. The trees were full of snow, the air full of mist from the fields, and they were leaving the city fast behind, the Selanau River carrying them south. “My aunt? She never existed. I used to live in taverns, haylofts, anywhere I could find. I would sneak into merchant’s houses and use their baths, steal clothes from servants, steal bread from the ovens and soup from bubbling pans. I was a ghost. A thief. An expert thief.” She laughed again, tears running down her cheeks. “I’ve always been alone, Nienna. Always been a fighter. Now…it’s gone, isn’t it? The university? Life in Jalder? All I fought to build, it has been taken away with a click of some dictator’s scabby fingers.”
    “I’m there for you, now,” said Nienna,