Vampire Warlords: The Clockwork Vampire Chronicles (34 page)

  Kell squinted through the smoke. A figure was galloping a grey mare along the edge of the valley's rift. Another arrow slashed through the air, but Dekkar was already moving, launching himself sideways and grunting as he hit the bridge walkway.

  Kell tugged at his bonds, but they were too tight. He struggled, and dropping his head down and back, got the noose from its promise. Dekkar was crawling across the bridge and he hit a panel against one rail. The clockwork bridge cranked and lifted, as a third arrow sailed over and clattered along the walkway a few feet from Dekkar.

  Kell leapt down to Jagor, who was weeping, touching the shaft in his eye tenderly. "Help me!" he wailed at Kell, and Kell drove a knee into his face sending him rolling, embedded arrow slapping the brass bridge and making him scream and scream and scream, and to this backdrop of noise Kell found Ilanna, and sitting and shuffling backwards, he rubbed the bonds across her razor-sharp blades and they parted like simple cotton threads.

  Kell took Ilanna, and rose to his feet.

  He was Thunder. He was the Storm.

  Dekkar was standing, staring at him, his face a fury, the black flanged mace steady in his huge hands.

  Dekkar looked down at Jagor, who had passed into unconsciousness. "I am going to crush you for that, worm."

  "Show me," snarled Kell through strings of saliva.

  With a scream, Dekkar launched an attack. He was huge, mighty, and attacked with such a sudden violent speed it made Kell blink in shock and surprise, stepping back, Ilanna coming up to deflect the mace – which struck in a shower of sparks, and continued onwards forcing Kell down on one knee, teeth gritted, muscles straining and bulging. The mace stopped an inch from his eyes, which flickered up to Dekkar, or rather, Dekkar's boot. The blow sent Kell reeling back across the bridge, rolling, Ilanna gone from his fingers and Dekkar leapt forward, the mace whirring down again. Kell twitched to one side, and the blow left a dent in the brass bridge. It would have crushed Kell's head like a melon. Another blow sent sparks careering from the bridge's rails, and Kell got to his knees, streaked with sweat, panting, anger rising through him in a colossal insane wave. Dekkar was bigger, and stronger, and faster. But Kell was mean. Kell was
fucking
mean. He screamed, spittle lacing his beard, and as the mace whistled over his head in a mighty horizontal stroke he came up from the duck into a lunge, grabbing Dekkar around the midriff and punching the large man backwards, off balance, to hit the ground. The mace flashed up, but Kell caught the shaft against his arm, and it slid from Dekkar's fingers. Kell slammed a right straight down into Dekkar's face, and again, and again, and felt teeth break under impact. Dekkar screamed, and his hand grabbed Kell's balls, the other Kell's throat, and the huge man scrabbled to his knees and hoisted Kell over his head. He threw Kell down the bridge, and Kell rolled over and over, and lay for a moment stunned, his throat and balls on fire and clubbing him with waves of impact pain. Dekkar roared, and ran at Kell who stumbled to his feet. A straight punch jabbed Kell back, a right hook shook him, rocking him on his heels, and Dekkar took Kell's head in his hands and head-butted him, once, twice, three times and let go, grinning, blood and smashed teeth filling his mouth.

  Kell stared up at the huge man. "Is that all you've fucking got?" he screamed, groggy, staggering back.

  "I'll kill you!" roared Dekkar, and slammed another hook which sent Kell reeling sideways, hitting the bridge's rail and rolling along it, slamming against the panel which controlled the movement of the brass bridge. There came a huge, metallic groan and clockwork started to spin, huge gears pumping, mammoth brass pistons hissing and thrusting. The bridge lurched and suddenly spun, leaving a huge gap to the rocky bank and safety. An arrow sailed through the steam, missing Dekkar by a few inches. He scowled, and Kell realised he had found his mace. Dekkar advanced down the bridge at Kell, who was touching his broken nose and gritting his teeth in anger and frustration.

  "Come on!" screamed Kell, as Dekkar broke into a run, but the bridge lurched again, spinning around, a heavy metallic cranking sound echoing through the Valleys of the Moon. Steam hissed from the brass bridge. Along the banks Kell saw hundreds of faces flash past. It was the Blacklippers, and they were watching, motionless, many with mouths open in awe. Kell couldn't see the person who'd saved him. The bridge spun around again. Kell felt sick, and was pitched off balance, landing heavy with a grunt. The bridge tipped, and he was sent skidding down the rough brass ramp, arms and legs kicking, to crash into Dekkar who was pinned against a brass strut. Kell hit him with three straight punches, heavy leaden blows that cracked the man's cheekbone making him howl, then the bridge spun again, lurching and groaning, and Kell was thrown away like a toy doll, down the expanse to hit the rail with such force he thought for a moment he'd broken his back.

  "You have to get off the bridge!" a woman was screaming, and Kell nodded at this immutable logic. He got to his knees, a drool of saliva and pain trailing from his beard, mingled with blood from his smashed nose. He ran along the rail, fighting gravity as the bridge rocked back on mammoth pistons and it was all Kell could do to grab a nearby strut and hold on for his life. The bridge rose, near vertical now, and Kell felt his boots and legs slip away from beneath him so he was hanging, gazing down into a distant inferno with clouds of steam and sulphur.

  "Holy Mother," he whispered, eyes wide, all thoughts of battle forgotten. Ilanna skated along the metal with a scream, and wedged against a brass strut below. Dekkar was also kicking beneath him, and Kell watched Jagor Mad's unconscious body slip and slide, spinning with arms and legs akimbo, until he bounced from a strut, jigged off at an angle, then soared from the edge of the bridge to be lost in the raging inferno below.

  "
Noooo!
" screamed Dekkar.

  But Jagor Mad was gone. Gone, into the furnace.

  Dekkar looked up at Kell. "This is your fault!" he roared.

  Kell said nothing, but looked up, searching for a way to climb from the bridge. The bridge groaned. More clanking came from deep down in the clockwork machine's
bowels
, and then it gave a sudden jerk. Kell nearly lost his grip.

  Then –

  A noise rent the air, long and ululating, almost like a war cry but far too high-pitched and feminine. Kell stared off across the banks of the valley rift, across black rock and ice beyond. Riders were streaming across the snow, and Kell saw the Blacklippers running for their huts, many drawing weapons and Kell squinted through the fumes, and–

  And blinked.

  They were vampires. Twenty of them at least, wearing black cloaks and with hair tied back tight. They were riding horses that were…
red?
Kell focused. No, not red. Pure muscle.
Pure muscle
, without the skin. The beasts were panting, snorting, whinnying in pain and fear. Kell could see the heavy muscle fibres working and he suddenly felt very sick, despite his own problems.

  "Kell, you've got to reach the control panel," a woman was shouting, and Kell turned back to the rocky embankment. He squinted again, and then shook his head. It was Myriam, bow in hand, face earnest.

  "What the hell are
you
doing here?" he yelled.

  "Rescuing you, old man! Reach the panel! I can see the core shafts of the bridge, and they're
bending
, you understand? The whole damn thing is tearing itself free! It's going to fall!" Kell felt the sickness in his stomach rise through him. If the bridge fell into the furnace, well, it was Goodnight Sweet Lady.

  Kell started to climb down, hand over hand, the brass warm to his touch. He could see Dekkar struggling beneath him, and his gaze moved first to the control panel, then left, to Ilanna. Kell gritted his teeth, and struggled to the axe. He took her. He cradled her to his chest. She was warm to his touch. She was thankful.

  "Kell!" screamed Myriam. He glanced up.

  The charging vampires hit the massed Blacklippers in a tight wedge, and he saw,
saw
heads sail up into the air and heard the vampires' high-pitched keening, realising with rising gorge that they were laughing, fucking
laughing
as they slaughtered. The swords of battle rang across the Valleys of the Moon. Steel on steel. Steel biting flesh. Steel breaking bone.

  Kell scrabbled across the brass strut. The bridge groaned and shuddered beneath him. He stared at the controls, but there were small dials and levers and he did not understand. He started to press and twist things at random, and the bridge groaned, gears clanked, and there came a horrible, booming tearing sound. The bridge shuddered, and dropped – then in an eerie silence, tilted to one side and began to fall.

  Kell hung on for his life, wind and sour sulphur fumes blowing through his hair and bloodied beard, and the edge of the bridge clanged against the edge of the valley floor, but behind him it fell away and then snagged with various metallic tearing sounds. Kell looked up, into Myriam's concerned face. "Shit," he snarled. "I can't believe it's you!"

  "Come on. We have only seconds!" She glanced behind herself, fearful of the charging vampires who were cutting a path through the Blacklippers. Men, women and children were slaughtered like diseased cattle. Heads were cut from shoulders, arms and legs from torsos. It was a massacre. It was an abattoir.

  Kell scrambled up the brass planks and leapt, catching Myriam's outstretched hand. She was strong. She hauled him up onto the rocky ridge, and Kell whirled, eyes narrowed, staring at the vampires. The Blacklippers had retreated, forming themselves into a fighting square surrounded by the corpses of their friends. Those with shields had made a wall at the front, and the vampires coolly dismounted and watched with interest, smiles staining faces as they lifted bright, silver swords.

  "Help me up," he croaked.

  Kell jumped, and glared down into Dekkar's face. The huge man was in pain, face twisted and battered and streaked with grime. He had climbed as far as he could, but could not traverse the final leap.

  "Why?"

  "Because they're slaughtering my people!" screamed Dekkar, and held out his hand.

  Kell stared at it. The bridge lurched again, dropping another foot. Great tearing sounds echoed through the rift, and the bridge was vibrating as if alive and fitting. Cogs could be seen, spinning slowly. A huge piston went
thunk.

  Kell glanced at Myriam. "Hold my belt." She grabbed him, hands like iron shackles, and he knelt, leaning forward, hand outstretched. His eyes met Dekkar's. "You'll have to jump."

  "Can I trust you?"

  "No. But you have little choice."

  Dekkar growled an ancient curse, and leapt…

  Kell leant, and the two men grabbed one another, wrist to wrist and stayed locked there for a moment, Kell staring down into Dekkar's wild eyes, muscles screaming as they took the weight. Then Kell hissed, and hauled Dekkar up the wall as behind him the huge brass bridge squealed like a woman in pain, and slowly tilted, sliding backwards with a
whoosh
to vanish into the abyss.

  Kell looked down at his hand, and then up into Dekkar's eyes. He noted the big man carried his mace, and he swallowed. Kell always said he took a lot of killing; well, here was a man hewn from the same granite cast.

  Dekkar turned, and stared at the vampires. They had dismounted, and were smiling as they advanced on the retreating Blacklippers. He released Kell's grip, and Kell hoisted Ilanna and glanced at Myriam, who drew her own sword.

  "It's time for those bastards to die," said Kell.

  "Let's fight," growled Dekkar.

  They charged across the rocky ground, and the vampires smiled wider until eyes fell on Ilanna. One pointed, but Kell, Dekkar and Myriam crashed into them and Kell's axe lashed out, opening a throat, and on the return swing cutting a vampire's head free from its body. There was an explosion of flesh, and Kell grabbed the hair and hoisted the head up high. "See!" he screamed "They can fucking die! Die, I tell you!" Everything was chaos. The vampires seemed to suddenly shrink back, staring at Kell, and Ilanna, and the severed vampire head with fangs still gnashing and gnawing. Kell launched the head into the pit, and kicked over the body which spewed out foul stinking black blood. Kell waded into the mass, Ilanna hewing left and right, thumping into flesh, spattering him with gore. The vampires attacked him with their inhuman speed but Kell was a demon, moving smoothly, seeming to shift here, twitch there, and claws and swords sailed past him by a hair's breadth, but always by a hair's breadth, and he had some inhuman instinct, some natural grace as if he was in perfect tune with the killers and always slipping beyond their claws. Dekkar was close behind, feeding in Kell's wake. As Kell moved forward through the vampires, Ilanna slamming left and right, so anything that went past was crushed under Dekkar's mighty mace. Myriam, also, moved with incredible vachine speed, sword slamming out, cutting throats and piercing hearts. Some vampires shrivelled into decayed mush. Some crumbled into ash.

  In what seemed an instant, Kell broke through their ranks and high-pitched keening rent the air. Five or six fled, leaping onto horses and galloping away only to find a wall of Blacklippers had gathered, and charged at the remaining vampires with swords and axes, cutting them to pieces. Screams pierced the air. Without mercy, the Blacklippers killed the skinless horses, and threw them into the sulphurous rift.

  Kell stood for a moment, panting, then whirled on Dekkar. Ilanna came up. Kell's eyes were bright glowing coals without trust.

  Dekkar placed his mace head against the ground, and leant heavily on the weapon. Suddenly he looked old, and tired; bone-weary. He smiled weakly at Kell, and rubbed his eyes.

  "You did well. For an old man."

  "As did you. For a fat bastard."

  "Ha! Kell, I think we may have got off to a bad start."