Kell's Legend

reluctantly.
    “That’s not good,” muttered Kell, sensing a change in Saark’s mood. “Not good at all.”
    They moved through the woods, deep into gloom for an hour, gradually picking a route over roots and branches, through a mixture of junipers, Jack Pine and Tsugas, through rotting leaves from towering twisted oaks and thick needle carpets from clusters of Red Cedar. The woods were old here, ancient, gnarled and crooked, and huge beyond anything Saark had ever witnessed.
    Reaching a natural clearing, Saark halted and gazed at the array of statues, his mouth dropping open. There were seven, arranged in a weird natural circle as if the trees themselves were wary to set root and branch near these twisted effigies.
    “What,” he said, “are those?”
    “The Seven Demons,” said Kell, quietly. He placed a hand on Saark’s shoulder. “Best move quietly, lad. We don’t want to upset them.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Blood-magick is an old beast, no matter what the vachine think. It goes back thousands of years. When you’ve travelled as much as I, you learn a few things, you see a few things;and you begin to understand when to keep your head down.”
    “You’ve been here before?”
    “Yes.”
    “So, is this place haunted, then?”
    “Worse, laddie, so let’s just be quiet, move quickly, get to Nienna and hope we don’t upset anything.”
    “That sounds ominous.”
    “It can only get worse, trust me. The Stone Lion Woods didn’t garner their savage reputation through idle banter, drunken discourse or the loose tongue of a happy mistress.” Kell grinned at Saark, and at his contradiction. He could see it in Saark’s eyes…you’ve conned me, thought Saark. Kell shrugged. “Follow me close, lad. And keep your puppy yelps to yourself.”
    They moved through the circle of statues. Some were big, incredibly old, unrecognisable in their shape or form, weathered, battered, broken, and covered in fungus and moss. Two of the statues were man-sized, a stone representation of twisted, unfathomable monsters; a third was a man, tall and proud, regal almost; another was a lion, and another…something else entirely. A final statue was small, only knee high, and reminded Saark of a deformed embryo, only a touch bigger, and stood on hind legs with joints reversed like those of a dog. He shivered. He felt curiously sick.
    They plunged back into the woods, Kell following his senses, although Saark wondered if Kell was crazy and simply navigating a random path. Regularly Saark checked his back-trail, for albino soldiers, or worse, the cankers which seemed to be hunting them. They walked all day, sometimes slowing to squeeze throughnarrow sections of tangled branches, and leading the skittish horses with care.
    The night fell early, and again the two warriors came upon a circle of seven statues at dusk. Saark began to get twitchy, jumping at lengthening shadows as the trees crowded in, gnarled and crooked, limbs reaching over them, towards them, brushing at faces and clothing, dropping their lodes of snow to the woodland carpet.
    Kell stopped. “We’ll leave the horses here,” he said. They were beside a narrow cross-roads, trails probably formed by wild deer, badgers and boars.
    Saark nodded. “Is Nienna close?”
    “Ilanna is close. I’m hoping the girl is with her.”
    “You mean your granddaughter.”
    Kell stared at Saark. “That’s what I said.”
    They carried on, on foot, until they came to a long corridor in the thick woodland; it was almost rectangular and walled with evergreen leaves and pine branches, holly and juniper and hemlock entwined with honeysuckle and creepers. The air was thick with resin and woodland perfume, cloying, a heady aroma, and Nienna and Kat were both seated on a thick fallen log.
    “Nienna,” said Kell, his voice low, barely more than a growl. His eyes fixed on Ilanna, resting beside the girl; and then transferred back as she turned. Her face was frightened, skin tight, eyes wide; she mouthed at Kell, and he frowned, trying to make out the words.
    Saark crept up beside Kell, crouched at the edge of the leaf corridor. He frowned. “What’s she trying to say?”
    His words, although quiet, reverberated down the natural sound channel. Nienna stood up suddenly and grasped Kell’s axe in tiny hands, turning away from the men towards a distant clearing, rich in its greenery. Something began to click, like pebbles dropped on boulders, and Kell stood and