know, as I, the Army of Iron will head south. We have but a few days; they will consolidate their position, leave their own garrison in command of Jalder, and travel the Great North Road. We need to be gone from here by then; their scouts will spread out, and will certainly find us. We are easy to spot.” He thought. “Well, you are.”
Kell nodded, and when he replied his voice was cool. He found it hard to hide his distaste for the popinjay. Kell was a simple man who wore emotions on his face, and on his fists. He told it like it was. “What do you have in mind, Saark?”
“Much as it pains me to say this, for there is little actual personal profit in it for me, but…we should ride south. We should warn King Leanoric. It is the right thing to do.”
Kell picked up a sharp bread knife, toyed with it between his fingers. He seemed uneasy. “Surely, the king already knows? His northern capital has been sundered.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. If the Army of Iron surprises Leanoric…well, they can plough through Falanor like a knife through a sleeping man’s eyeball. Our armies would topple. People enslaved. All that kind of tiresome business of Empire. Could you live with that on your conscience, Kell?”
“You’re a fine one to speak of conscience.”
“For a cuckolded husband? No. For the slaughter of an entire population? Use your head, Kell. And anyway…there may be a warm spot in the Hall of Heroes for somebody who does the Heroic Thing.” He winked. “One must always try and please the gods. Just in case.”
“You’re a worm, Saark.”
“Maybe. But a man needs all the help he can get. We must warn Leanoric. He will need to gather the Eagle Divisions; if surprised, he could be sorely routed. What life then for a dandy on a mission?”
Kell nodded, and his eyes met Saark’s. “You are from the south, aren’t you lad?”
“Yes. Hard to hide the Iopian burr.”
“Have you met the king?”
“Once,” said Saark, his voice dropping soft, eyes becoming dreamy. “Many moons ago, old horse.”
The fire was burning low. Outside, the wind howled and hail rattled in bursts against the windows like a smash of arrows. Kell came awake, one arm cold, head foggy. The whisky had done him few favours. It rarely did.
What had woken him?
Kell sat up, from where he lay before the fire. He could hear Nienna’s rhythmical snoring in the bedroom. Across from him, Saark turned in his sleep, but did not wake. Kell stood, and reached for his axe, then crouched beside Saark and shook him.
“Mmm?”
“Shh. I heard something.”
“Probably a rat.”
“There are no rats. I checked.”
“Probably a chicken.” He shook off Kell’s grip. “Let me go back to sleep.”
“Might be an albino soldier with a dagger for your throat,” whispered Kell in Saark’s ear.
Saark rolled over, pulled on his boots, and drew his rapier. “You are the fun soul of any party, Kell, you know that? Shit then. Let’s go check it out.”
“Wake the girls.”
“Why? Women are best left asleep after the night’s work is done, in my opinion.”
“We may need to leave fast.”
Saark moved to the bedroom, woke the girls and watched without embarrassment as they dressed in the gloom, leaning against the doorway, his eyes lingering on breasts. Kell moved to the front door and stopped. He stared at the wooden planks, which rattled in the wind; outside, hail bombarded the world and Kell tilted his head, frowning, eyes narrowing, then was suddenly moving, twisting, diving aside at high speed as the door—including torn hinges and wrenched locks—imploded with a squeal and crash, the whole thing slamming across the room and missing Kell by inches, to crash into the far wall where it exploded into chunks and splinters. Kell lifted his axe, Saark whirled around, face drawn, sword high, and there in the entrance stood…the canker, Zalherion. It growled, a low metallic sound underlain with a thrashing of delicate brass gears.
“What the hell-” hissed Saark.
The canker leapt, its bulk smashing stones from the door surround as Kell rolled right, axe thundering in an arc to slam flesh with a thump and spray of bright blood; Saark’s rapier slashed the creature’s flank, carving a long razor-line down bulging muscle and the creature roared, head thrashing as it turned, bulky and huge in the room as it stomped chairs to tinder. Saark whirled. To Nienna and Kat, he hissed, “Out the window! Run down to the boat, now, as if