Kell's Legend

sure you’ll get on just wonderfully with such menial labour,” smiled Saark, Kell’s anger apparently lost on him. “It is, of course, no job for a nobleman and dandy of such high repute.”
    “Are you hungry?”
    “Of course! But alas, I cannot cook, have never chopped wood, and my lower back is a tad sore fromall my romantic endeavours. Alas, your jobs, valiant and necessary as they are, are beyond a simple coxcomb like myself.” Saark turned, as if to enter the mouldy bedroom.
    “If you don’t work, you don’t eat,” said Kell, voice low.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Is there a problem with your hearing? Something, perhaps, that needs cleaning out with the blade of my axe?”
    Saark scowled. “I may be a sexual athlete, and I may dress in silks so expensive the likes of you could not afford them even if you worked a thousand years; but I will not be threatened, Kell, and don’t you ever doubt my skill with a blade.”
    “I don’t doubt your skill with a blade, boy, just the skill with your brain. Get out there, and chop some wood, or I swear I’ll kick you down to the river like an old stinking dog and drown you.”
    There was a moment of tension, then Saark relaxed, and smiled. He crossed to the doorway, both young women watching him in silence, and he turned and gave Kell a nod. “As you wish, old man. But I’d do something about that sexual tension; it’s eating you up, and alas, turning you into a cantankerous ill-tempered bore.” His eyes flickered to Kat, lingered for a moment, then he gave a narrow smile and left.
    Within moments, they heard the chopping of wood. Saark had obviously found the wood shed.
    Nienna crossed to her grandpa, and touched his arm. “He means no harm,” she said. “It’s just his way.”
    “Pah!” snapped Kell. “I know his sort; I saw plenty of them in Vor and Fawkrin. He takes, like a parasite, and never gives. There are too many like him, even in Jalder. They have spread north like a plague.”
    “Not any longer,” said Kat, eyes haunted. “The albino soldiers killed them all.” She took the jug from the long bench and left, heading down to the river for water. Kell sighed, and placed Ilanna on the table with a gentle motion. He took Nienna by both shoulders, and looked into her eyes, deep into her eyes, until she blushed and turned away.
    “You did well, girl.”
    “In the university?”
    “All of it,” said Kell. “You were strong, brave, fearless. You haven’t been moaning and whining,” he glanced outside, his insinuation obvious, “and you have proved yourself in battle.” He smiled then, a kindly smile, and Nienna’s old grandpa returned. “Funny, you said you wanted an adventure. Well, you’ve brought us that, little Nienna.” He ruffled her hair, and she gave a laugh, but it faded, twisted, and ended awkwardly.
    This was not a day for laughter.
    Kat washed herself as best she could, then filled her jug at the river, and carrying it back towards the stone cottage she stopped, observing Saark work. He had tied back his long, dark curls, and stripped off his shirt revealing a lean and well-muscled torso. He had broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, and although he claimed never to chop wood, he did so with an expert stroke, his balance perfect, every swing striking trueto split logs into halves, quarters and eighths ready for the fire.
    Kat watched him for a while, the sway of his body, the squirming of muscles under pale white skin, and the serenity of his handsome face in its focus, and concentration. No, she decided; not a handsome face, but a beautiful face. Saark was stunning. Almost feminine in his delicacy, his symmetry. Kat licked her lips.
    He turned, then, sweat glistening on his body despite the chill, and he waved her towards him. Slowly, she approached, eyes down now, feeling suddenly shy and not understanding why.
    “Hello, my pretty,” he said with a wide friendly smile. “Would it be possible to quench my thirst?”
    “Sir?”
    “The water,” he laughed, “can I have a drink?”
    Kat nodded, and Saark took the jug, taking great gulps, water running down his chest through shining sweat. She saw his chest had the same curled, dark hair as his head, and as he lowered the jug he grinned at her, eyes glittering.
    “Do you like what you see?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You were watching me. Whilst I chopped wood.”
    “I was not!” Indignant.
    “How old are you, girl?”
    “I’m eighteen. I’m a woman, not a