Soul Stealers: The Clockwork Vampire Chronicles (31 page)

    Then her hands moved to her teeth, and touched gently at the fangs there.

    She looked at the Soul Stealers.

    "You have made me vachine?" she said, softly.

    Shanna nodded.

    "You have removed the cancer from my body?"

    Tash stood, and crossed to her. She held a shard of mirror, which Myriam took and stared into. She sank into that mirror, then, sank into the silvered glass as if being sucked down into a lake of beautiful mercury.

    Myriam stared at her own face. Her flesh had filled out, and although she was pale, she was radiant with health. No longer did gaunt eye-sockets dominate her face with purple rings. Her eyes sparkled like fine-cut gems. When she smiled, her teeth were white and strong, not knuckle-dice wobbling in a corrupt jaw.

    Myriam looked down at herself. Her clothing was battered and tattered and torn, as befitted somebody who had slid down the mountainside. But her hips were full, legs powerful, her fingers strong, the flesh filled out and defined by muscle.

    "There is one more thing you must do," said Tashmaniok, kneeling beside Myriam.

    "Anything," she wept, "anything at all."

    "You must swear your soul to us," she said, voice gentle. "You must swear it by the blood-oil that flows in your veins, by the blood-oil that lubricates your clockwork."

    "I will swear with all my heart!" cried Myriam, and put her face in the palms of her hands as she thanked the vachine for giving her health, strength, and ultimately, her life.

    "Good," said Shanna, also leaning in close. "Now, my little virgin vachine, we have a job for you."

They walked through the darkness, down a narrow rock trail.

    "This is insane," said Saark, for the tenth time.

    "Shut up," growled Kell, for the tenth time.

    "We'll break our bloody ankles, man!"

    "What, so you'd wait here for those vampire bitches to hunt you down, would you?" snapped Kell. "Stop being such a court jester, and get on with the job, lad."

    Saark shrugged, and moved on. In truth, the dark held no problem for him. Not now. Since Shanna bit him, his eyesight, and especially night vision, had increased tenfold. Now, the night was like a green-tinted summer's day. No longer would he have trouble falling over things drunk in the night. Now, there was no night.

    However, despite increased strength and vision and stamina and healing, Saark was having other problems. Like the stench of blood. Here, and now, walking the mountain trails in snow and ice and whipping, freezing wind, he could smell Kell's blood more than anything. But Nienna's was also there, a more subtle, more gentle sweet fragrance; like the scent of roses, when compared to nettles. But with great force of will Saark was learning to master this weakness, or what he saw as a flaw in his new-found gift – or maybe curse? – and was able with great strength of mind to suppress the urges to extrude his still-growing vampire fangs and leap on Kell, devouring his throat and heart-blood.

    The only problem had come when Kell killed the canker, lifting the beast up on the end of his axe and shaking it over his head, emptying its blood and bloodoil and guts over himself in a carnage orgy of gore. The sheer stench hit Saark like a wall, rolled over him like an explosion of rampant forest fire, and it was all he could do to hide his crazy rolling eyes, his extending claws, and not jump on Nienna's back and tear out her spine. In that moment, he wanted Nienna more than anything on earth, with a feeling of emotion and raw need greater than anything he had ever had to endure. Forget sex; sex was as rancid milk to thick clotted cream. This desire for blood, this urge this lust this mockery was more powerful than the sun and the moon. Brighter than the stars.

    Nienna had turned, seen him advancing on her, and smiled weakly, meeting his crazed eyes. It was the smile that did it; broke the spell and caged the savage beast growing inside Saark. Without that
connection
of love and trust, he would have leapt on her and chewed out her soul.

    Now, Saark fought himself.

    He fought the new urges which drove him, using internal logic to battle the growing needs of a blossoming half-infected vampire. All he needed was clockwork integration to make him whole, and he would be a changed person, he realised. All he needed was a Watchmaker, and he would no longer be Saark. Saark would be dead. A stranger would stand in his shell. He would be corrupt. He would be lost.

    "Damn it," muttered Saark, clawing himself, a thrashing of internal turmoil.

    "What's it now, dandy?" snapped Kell, turning and scowling. Saark could see him as clearly as in daylight. He could see the pulse of blood at Kell's throat. It made his mouth go dry with longing.

    "These damn vachine," snapped Saark irritably. "Don't you just fucking hate them?"

    "Every last one," said Kell, turning back to the trail. "They need exterminating like a nest of cockroaches." He moved on, picking his way with care and helping Nienna when she needed help. Behind, Saark's eyes gleamed with malevolence.

They rested two hours before dawn, eating dried salted beef and rubbing warmth back into limbs bitten by cold. Saark had wandered off for toileting, and Kell sat close to Nienna, looking down into her eyes with concern.

    "How are you, girl?"

    "Frightened," she said.

    "We have to do this, you understand?" he said. She nodded. "We have nowhere else to run. The bastards have taken over Falanor; we must fight the invasion at its root."

    "What will you do when we arrive?" she asked.

    "I will find these Watchmakers, I will find those who control the Army of Iron, the people who rule Graal. First, I will ask. And when they snarl in superior arrogance, then, then I will fight, and I will take their top Watchmakers hostage, force them to withdraw their soldiers from our land."

    "Do you really think you can do this?"

    Kell nodded. "I'll give it my best damn shot," he said.

    "A fine plan," said Saark, approaching from the path to the large ring of rocks where they were seated, "with, I can see, only three major flaws."

    "You heard all that?" said Kell.

    "Aye, I heard some."

    "What did you hear?"

    "About finding the Watchmakers, holding them hostage, that sort of thing."

    "By God, lad, you've got some incredible hearing."

    "No, no," said Saark slowly, "I was on my way back."

    "You were all the way over there. Shitting behind that rock. I could smell you. You stink worse than any boy-lover's perfume." Kell shook his head, frowning. "And lad, you move quiet. Did you say you used to be a thief?"

    Saark shrugged, and stroked his chin. "Is it time to move?" he said. "I have a feeling those Soul Stealer bitches are close on our trail."

    "Yes. Not far now," said Kell.

    "Not far from what?"

    Kell stood, and stretched, and his mood visibly darkened. "The Worm Caves," he said. "So don't get too comfortable, lad, because we have a lot of sneaking to do. The Worm Caves are no place for mortals. They ooze death."

    "You can't be serious," said Saark, eyebrows rising. "You mean the Va
lentrio
Caves? Shit. No, Kell. I've heard the tales, about the white worms which inhabit that place. In fact, they were from the same bloody bard who sang about your bloody maudlin
Kell's Legend.
Which just goes to show what a barrel of donkey-shit those songs really are." He grinned, a sour grin. "Maybe there's no danger after all?"

    "Funny," said Kell, and threw Saark his pack. "Believe me, there's danger all right. So empty yourself now; this is no place to be needing a shit break. Let's go."

    Shivering even more, and far from pacified by their talk, Nienna followed Kell, and Saark brought up the rear. The aroma of their blood twitched his nostrils, more tantalising than ever, now. He scowled, eyes narrowed. Damn this curse, he thought bitterly. Damn it to the Dark Halls! Damn it to the Bone Underworld!

The archway was small, and carved in a blank wall of rock with no other noticeable features. It would have been easy to miss the opening, if you hadn't known it was there.

    Saark stood back from the black arch and looked up at finely carved script. His brow furrowed. "I've never seen lettering like that, before," he said, then wrinkled his nose. "Gods, it stinks in there."

    "The
leski
worms," said Kell, voice soft.

    "Have you even seen one of these worms?"

    "Only once. From a distance. They have teeth as long as your forearm – but that's all I saw, I was too busy running in the other direction. They have a poisonous bite, lad, so don't get too close."

    "That's comforting. What does the writing say?"

    Kell shrugged, and started removing unnecessary kit from his pack. "Empty your pack of junk. You're going to need to travel light. There are some narrow places in there, tight places. Places a man could get easily trapped."

    "But I thought you said the worms were big? Fangs as long as a horse's dick, or something?"

    "They are, but they compress their bodies to squeeze through narrow apertures. Like a rat, Saark." His eyes twinkled. "You should know all about that kind of vermin, coming from your Royal Court background. And anyway, to answer your question, the script reads, 'Seek Another Path'."

    "That's it? That's the warning?"

    "That isn't good enough for you? With a stench of death like Dake's arse pumping out?"

    "You have such a way with words, my man." Now, with his pack somewhat lighter, Saark drew his rapier and ran a finger along the blade. He re-sheathed the weapon. "Let's get going. Before I change my mind."

    "You can always head back. Woo those vampire killers with your charm."

    "What, and have them bite me, turn me into one of them? That would be insane!"

    "Yes," said Kell, eyes glinting, "we wouldn't want that, lad, would we? Then I'd have to cut your head off!" He gave a low rumble of laughter, and slapped Saark on the back.

    As they moved to the entrance, and Kell stooped to enter, Ilanna before him, Nienna touched his arm. "Grandfather?"

    "Yes, monkey?"

    She smiled at that. "I'm scared," she said.

    "Don't be. I'll protect you."

    "I know you will. But… I'm still scared."

    Kell turned, and righted himself. He lifted Ilanna, looked at her curious matt black butterfly blades – so unlike any other weapon he had seen. She was older than the mountains, so the legend went. And indestructible. He kissed the blades, then bent down, and kissed Nienna on one cheek. "Just stick close to me, little lady. Don't be frightened of the dark. Kell walks beside you."

    Nienna nodded, eyes full of tears. Her adventure was not quite what she'd expected. Not when so much blood and death was involved. Not when good women like Katrina had to give their life for nothing; for the honour of thieves and murderers. She sighed. And followed Kell into the gloom.

The Valentrio Caves were dark for perhaps a hundred metres, and then the floor seemed to shine with a very pale, sickly light. The darkness closed in fast, with claustrophobia in one fist, and haunting echoes in the other. Within minutes Saark had closed the distance from his rear guard, and was almost treading on Nienna's heels.

    "Kell," he hissed, after perhaps ten minutes where they followed a level, winding passage.

    "What?" said the old warrior.

    "The light. On the floor. By Dake's Balls, what is it?"

    Kell grinned, face a skull in the pale, ethereal glow. "Slime. From the worms. They must secrete it. Or something."

    Saark's face fell. He looked ill. "Shit," he said. "I wish I'd never asked."

    "Don't worry," soothed Kell, seeing Nienna's face from the corner of his eye. "This tunnel system is vast; it stretches for hundreds of miles under the mountains, vertically as well as horizontally. You can travel here for weeks and never see a worm. The
leski
are primitive, they have no understanding. They just eat and breed."

    "Sounds a bit like us sophisticated humans," muttered Saark.

    "Come on. Let's get moving. We have a long way to go."

    They walked, boots making odd sounds on the sticky, luminescent ground. Saark realised, unconsciously, that he had his rapier drawn. He cursed himself, and sheathed the weapon, frowning. At least his rising fear and claustrophobia were good for one thing; they were taking his mind off the sweet, cloying smell of Nienna's blood, distracting him from the everpresent rhythmic thumping of her heart. He shook his head. What are you becoming, Saark? he asked himself, and didn't like to consider the answer.

    They moved for hours, and sometimes the glowing floor would end and they would ease through deepest gloom, guided by mineral veins in the rock and marble walls. Sometimes, the corridors would narrow as Kell predicted, so that both Saark and Kell had great difficulty squeezing through and only Nienna was able to pass with ease. Occasionally, they came to areas where huge boulders had dropped, crushing part of the tunnel and making it near impossible to pass. Several times they had to squeeze beneath a chunk of mountain that, if it shifted, would crush them like an ant beneath a boot. At one point the crushed section was extended, and Saark found himself on his back, scrambling along with limbs scratched and dust falling in his eyes and his panting coming in short, sharp bursts. Panic was an old friend clutching his heart, and he was coughing and choking and pushing up at the immeasurably huge rock above and wondering if he was going to die until Kell's rough hands grasped his scruff, and hauled him the rest of the way under the obstacle.

    Saark sat there, choking, covered in grey dust and looking pathetic. He wiped his sweating, dirt-streaked face, and glanced up at Kell. "Thanks, old boy."

    Kell gave a single nod, and stood, stretching his back. "It's going to get more enclosed ahead."