Vampire Warlords: The Clockwork Vampire Chronicles by Andy Remic Page A

deeds she did do, the men she did slay,
Every living bright–eyed creature was legitimate prey."
     
      Saark laughed then. His eyes glittered like jewels in the gloom of the snow-enslaved forest. "What a load of old donkey shit. You should complain. You've been misrepresented in legend …"
      Kell slowly stood, boots crunching old pine needles. His eyes burned with fury. With killing rage. His fingers were curled around Ilanna's steel shaft and he lifted her, almost imperceptibly. "You better be careful what you spout, laddie," he growled, and he was gone from the world of humans, he was teetering along a razor blade looking down into a valley of madness. "Somebody might just cut out your tongue."
      "What? For speaking the truth? If you don't help us, Kell, if you leave us to face the Vampire Warlords alone, then we will die. And the problem still remains."
      "I SAID NO!" thundered the old warrior.
      "ARE YOU MAD YET?" screamed Saark suddenly, stepping forward.
      Ilanna swept up, a blur, and stopped a hair's breadth under Saark's chin. The dandy grinned. "You good and mad now, old bear?" he said, voice a little calmer.
      "Yeah, I'm fucking mad," snarled Kell.
      "Then let's go and kill these Vampire Warlords before they do any more damage!"
      Kell stared into Saark's eyes for a long minute. Then he seemed to deflate a little. "I will not put Nienna at risk," he said.
      "What, I am the reason for all of this?" snapped Nienna. The stump of her finger had been neatly bound, and she was sat, rubbing it thoughtfully. "You wish to protect me? Well, you'd better come with us then. Because I'm going with Saark."
      "No, you are not," growled Kell.
      "Yes, I bloody am . I am a woman. I have my own mind. You do not control me. Or is that what this is all about? It's not about me. Now, I'm your surrogate daughter… but you couldn't control your real daughter, oh no, and she went wild and now you seek to pass off your impotence and lack of control and lack of fatherhood on me. Well, I won't have it, grandfather. I am my own person, and to stop me you'll have to kill me."
      Kell sat down by the fire, and stared into the flames, chin on his fist. Firelight glittered in his eyes and Myriam, Saark and Nienna exchanged glances.
      Finally, Kell looked up, and stared at each of his companions in turn. Slowly, one by one, he met their gazes, and they stared back, defiant, heads high, proud. "I simply want to save Nienna," he said.
      Nienna knelt by his side. "To do that, grandfather, you'll have to help us. This thing is wrong, and you know it. We have to do the right thing. We have to kill this evil. I was there, on Helltop; I saw them brought back from the Chaos Halls, just like you, and the terror nearly ripped me in two. These Warlords have not come to Falanor so they can go sleep in comfy beds and have sweet sugary dreams. They are here for blood and death."
      "Just like the vachine," said Kell, sharply.
      "Yes," said Saark. "Just like the vachine. But I fear we are in the middle of something far more complex than we could ever understand; we are in the middle of some ancient feud. Unfortunately, we're the bastards being persecuted, used as pawns, and I cannot sit by and watch good people slaughtered."
      "It will be a hard fight," said Kell, looking around at their faces.
      "Is there any other kind?" grinned Saark.
      "We may all die," said Kell.
      "As I pointed out, you're ever the happy face of optimism. But we're used to you now, Kell. We can put up with your strange ways."
      "You'll have to do what you're told, lad," Kell snapped, pointing with a stubby rough finger. "You hear me?"
      Saark spread his hands, face filled with pain and hurt. "Do I ever do anything else?"
      "Hmph," said Kell, and rubbed his beard, then his eyes, then the back of his neck. "I will regret this. I know it. But if you want to bring down the Vampire Warlords, if you want to spread their ashes