Kell's Legend

His mind reeled and he welcomed the feeling; glorified in the abandon.
    It had been a long time.
    Too long.
    Nienna is feeling ill, said Ilanna, playing to the one emotional fulcrum she knew.
    Kell cursed, and stood, water and oils dripping from his old, scarred, but mightily impressive frame. Most men grew stringy as they aged, their muscles becoming stretched out, their strength gradually diminishing. Not so Kell. Yes, his joints ached, yes arthritis troubled him, but he knew he was as strong as when he was twenty. Strength was something which had never failed him; he was proud of his prodigy.
    Damn you. You lie!
    I do not.
    What’s going on?
    Three men are talking to her. They can see she is drunk on the port Saark bought. They seek to bed her, in sobriety, or not.
    Kell surged from the bath, knocking the bottle of whisky over. It glugged amber heaven to the rugs andKell ignored it. He wrenched on his trews, boots and shirt, grasped his axe, and stormed out and down the stairs.
    Ilanna had been right. The inn was even more crowded, now, noisier, rowdier, no longer a place for a genial meal; now this was a pit in which to drink, get drunk, and flirt with whores.
    Nienna sat, back to the wall, face a little slack. Three men sat around her in a semi-circle; even as Kell strode down the stairs one pushed a glass to Nienna, feeding her drunken state, and she giggled, throwing back the liquor as she swayed. The men were young, late twenties, in rough labourers clothing and with shadows of stubble.
    Kell stopped behind them, and placed his hands on hips. Nienna could barely focus.
    “Grappa?” she said, and grinned.
    The three men turned.
    “I suggest,” said Kell, face dark like an approaching storm, “you move away. I wouldn’t like to cause a nasty scene in the inn where I sleep; it often increases my lodging bill. And if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s an extortionate bill for broken furniture.”
    “Fuck off, grandad, this girl’s up for some fun,” laughed one young man, turning back to Nienna, and thrusting another drink at her. This meant he’d turned his back on Kell. Later, he would realise his mistake.
    Kell’s fist struck him on the top of the head so hard his stool broke, and as he keeled over and his head bounced from floorboards, it left a dent. He did not move. Kell glared at the other two men, who half stood, hands on knives.
    Kell drew Ilanna, and glared at them. “I dare you,” he said, voice little more than a whisper. Both men released knives, and Kell grinned. “I’d like to say this wouldn’t hurt. But I’d be lying.” He slammed a straight right, which broke the second man’s nose, dropping him with a crash, and a powerful left hook broke the third man’s cheekbone, rendering him unconscious. It took less than a second.
    The innkeeper stepped in, holding a helve, but took one look at Kell and lowered the weapon. “We don’t want no trouble,” he said.
    “I intend to give none. You should allow a better class of scum into your establishment,” he said, and gave a sickly smile. “However, I am a fair man, who has not yet lost his temper. Get your daughters to escort my granddaughter to her room, and tend her a while, and I won’t seek compensation.”
    “What do you mean?” asked the innkeeper, touched by fear.
    “My name is Kell,” he said, eyes glowering coals, “and I kill those who stand in my way. I’m going outside for fresh air. To cool off. To calm down. When I return, I expect these three piglets to have vanished.”
    At the name, the innkeeper had paled even more. There were few who had not heard of Kell; or indeed, the bad things he had done.
    “Whatever you say, sir,” muttered the innkeeper.
    Still furious, more with himself than anybody else, and especially at invoking the vile magick of his own name, Kell strode to the door and out, away from the smoke and noise now rumbling back into existence after the fight. He took several deep lungfuls, andcursed the whisky and cursed the snow and cursed Saark…why hadn’t the damn dandy kept an eye on Nienna as he’d promised? And where was Kat?
    “The useless, feckless bastard.”
    Kell glanced up and down the street, then moved to the corner of the inn. Snow fell thickly, muffling the world. Kell stepped towards the stables and thought he heard a soft moan, little more than a whisper, but carrying vaguely across the quiet stillness and reminding him of one thing, and one thing