Then an old man slipped out from among the ranks of the Moranth: the Drenn elder, Gheven. ‘I’m sorry we are so late – we were held up by collapsed tunnels.’
Suth stared at the man, uncomprehending. ‘You … brought the Moranth? To help?’
One of the Blacks bowed. ‘I am Commander Borun. We have contracted with our cousins the Blue to lend you aid. I apologize for our tardiness.’
Kyle lowered his blade. ‘You are with the Blues?’
‘Yes. Our obligations to the Overlord ended … dissatisfactorily.’
Suth could not think of anything to say; he exchanged an uncertain look with Wess, who appeared hardly able to stand on his feet, a gash down his entire side running with blood that soaked his leg.
‘See to the wounded,’ the commander told his troops, and they fanned out over the cavern.
Suth brought Gheven to Ipshank.
The old man peered out over the cliff, where lights flashed like an undersea eruption beneath the waters of the Fist Sea. ‘I dared not hope,’ he breathed.
‘Let’s hope they were successful elsewhere as well.’
‘I fear not,’ the old man said, his voice low.
Kneeling at the unconscious girl’s side, Ipshank stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I still sense her. She has not been utterly destroyed.’
‘Where?’
‘The Tower, I think. If I should guess.’
Ipshank grunted his agreement. ‘Hundreds of Korelri guard that place. Too many.’ Rising, he rubbed a hand over his shaven pate. ‘I can’t ask any more of anyone here.’
Gheven was quick to nod. ‘Yes. I understand. We can only hope.’
‘Yes.’ Ipshank raised the girl in his arms, grimacing against his wounds. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He called across the chamber: ‘We should go, Adjunct. Collect the others.’
Kyle signalled his assent to the Moranth commander Borun, who then passed on the Malazan hand-sign move out to his troops.
Suth watched while the Moranth assembled a stretcher from Korelri spears and a cloak and laid Keri on it. Two picked up Corbin. Another raised Goss; Manask waved aside numerous offers of help. They filed out, following Gheven. Suth noticed that Kyle stood peering out over the cliff for some time in a long lonely vigil, and that he was the last to leave.
* * *
Shell stepped out of Blues’ D’riss Warren on to a muddy flattened wasteland of sluggish channels and humped, scoured-clean sand bars. She peered about mutely, as did the rest of the Crimson Guard.
‘Is this the right spot?’ she asked Blues, who’d been the first to emerge.
The man was looking around, still dumbfounded. ‘This is it. I don’t understand – wait! The wave. There must have been a huge wave here as well. The marsh has been swept over.’
In the distance a weak tendril of white smoke climbed into the twilight sky. They slogged their way to it. Lazar carried Corlo. Jemain helped Bars stumble along, his chest now bound. Fingers followed, coughing, leaning from side to side to press alternating nostrils closed and blow.
They found a dreary camp amid the wet sands, consisting of Orzu and a few of his numerous sons. The old man, pipe in mouth, rose to greet them. ‘I knew you would come,’ he said with a smile, holding out his arms.
Blues clapped the man’s back, then held him at arm’s length, frowning. ‘The girl …’
‘Ena,’ Shell said.
‘Ach! She is fine. It is too cold out here for her and the babe.’
‘Baby?’ Shell echoed.
The old man grinned with his stained rotten teeth. ‘Aye, a babe. Shell, she is named. Good name for the Sea-Folk, yes?’
Shell nodded, rather dazed.
‘You still have boats?’ Blues asked.
The man waggled his head. ‘Well … a few.’
Blues waved the matter aside. ‘Don’t worry. We don’t require one any more. We’ll make our own way. We just stopped to let you know …’ His voice tailed off as Fingers, aside, suddenly turned away and raised a hand for silence.
Shell looked over as well: something …
Blues peered south also, his gaze slitting.
‘What is it?’ Orzu asked, pulling his pipe from his mouth.
Shell sensed them now: Crimson Guard, but not. The Disavowed. Those who followed Skinner in his throw to take over the Guard, exiled by K’azz. Her gaze went to Bars. And he is come as well.
Hugging himself, Bars slowly straightened. Awareness came to his eyes. ‘He’s here. The bastard’s here!’
Orzu now clamped his lips shut, his gaze moving between them, calculating.
‘What’s south of here?’ Blues asked, his voice taut.
Orzu shrugged, bewildered. ‘Why, there’s nothing. Nothing at all. Just Remnant Isle. But no one’s there.’
‘Nothing? On the island?’
Orzu pursed his lips. ‘Well … there is the—’ He stopped himself.
Blues turned to eye the man directly. ‘Talk, old man.’
Orzu studied his pipe, turning it in his hands. ‘Trust me, outlanders. You don’t want to go there.’
Bars took a step towards Orzu but Blues raised a hand, halting him. ‘We need to know. Tell us.’
Orzu’s sons had risen as well and hands had gone to belt-knives and staves. The old man waved them down. ‘A tower, foreigner. The Stormguard’s sanctuary, hidden far back from the wall. But you cannot go there. Too many of them.’
‘I’m going,’ Bars ground out, his voice rasping.
‘No you’re not,’ Blues said.
The man gulped an objection, his eyes widening, shocked. ‘What?’
Blues raised a hand. ‘I’m sorry – you’re in no shape.’
Lazar gently set Corlo down next to the fire. ‘We’ll need everyone,’ he said.
‘Blues,’ Shell breathed, ‘you and I and Fingers are under no constraints now.’
The short Napan leaned his head back, looking skyward. Shell held out a hand: a few fat raindrops struck from the darkening clouds. Blues threw down the sticks at his belt, gestured to the Sea-Folk youths. ‘Give me those knives.’
The two looked at Orzu, who waved for them to do so. They handed over the thick curved blades. Blues hefted them, testing their weight and balance, then shoved them into his belt. Jemain handed Bars a sword he’d scavenged in Ice Tower. ‘Lazar and Bars and I will stand together.’ Blues looked to Shell. ‘You and Fingers will switch in and out of Warren, covering us. I’ll take us through.’
Bars turned to Jemain, who’d crossed to Corlo. ‘If I don’t come back … well, you and Corlo will make it back from here.’
Jemain nodded. ‘Yes. And … thank you, Captain.’
Bars swallowed, looking away.
Shell caught the old man’s eye. ‘Say goodbye to Ena and the babe.’
Orzu forced something like an encouraging smile, bowed. ‘Fare you well.’
‘Closer,’ Blues ordered.
They came out on a bare rocky shore that looked to have recently been washed over by a very high tide or large wave: fresh torn seaweed lay draped atop boulders and the dark water-staining rose all the way up to the base of a wide plain tower that sat atop the very centre of this small isle.
Shell immediately raised her Warren, that of Serc, the Warren of Air and Storm, and flickered in and out, covering Blues and Bars and Lazar as they carefully climbed the slope. She knew that elsewhere, hidden, Fingers was doing the same.
She saw the scene in two differing frames. In one, the three men climbed the unremarkable barrier of rough uneven boulders, while in another the telltale marring and scars lingered of enormous energies expended and horrendous damage given and taken. Bodies lay among the rocks – slain Stormriders that she stepped right over. Their armour appeared to be a mixture of their sorcerous scaled ice over mundane materials such as shell, cold-forged copper, and exotic hides. They were fair, with pale hair. The characteristic features she saw among the corpses reminded her of the Ti
ste Andii.
The three reached the top and here Blues called to her. She stepped out of her Warren right next to him. He gestured ahead. Dead Korelri Stormguard were piled before the single, now blasted open, doorway to the tower. ‘Anyone?’ he asked, raising his chin to the tower.
She studied it from her Warren. ‘No. None remain alive within.’
Fingers appeared, gestured, Sighted.
They closed on the tower wall, slid along around it. There, down the slope at an open sorcerous gateway into a roiling greyish Warren – Chaos? – the Disavowed. She recognized the Dal Hon mage Mara with her piled curled mane of hair, and Shijel, who favoured two swords and always fancied himself a match for Blues. More ducked through the gate, disappearing even as she watched.
But last, in his long coat-like glittering black armour, Skinner, holding a chest bound all in silver fittings.
Bars charged out from cover, bounding in great running leaps from boulder to boulder down the slope like some sort of hunting cat. ‘Skinnerrrrrr!’ he roared as he went.
‘Bars!’ Blues yelled, then, ‘Shit!’ And ran out after him. They all followed, clambering pell-mell down the rugged bare rocks.
Skinner’s helmed head snapped round, then leaned back as the man laughed. ‘Bars! Is that you? You look like Hood’s own shit!’
Mara and Shijel paused, but Skinner motioned them in and they disappeared. He edged one step backwards, right to the lip of the flickering portal, while Bars closed. The helm cocked as the man judged his timing. ‘Lost them all, did you, Bars?’ he called. ‘Always were murder on your people …’ and, laughing, he stepped back, disappearing just as Bars came crashing down on the spot.
The gateway snapped away with a rush of air. Bars lay writhing at the water’s edge, snarling, striking the stones. They joined him there, weapons bared, Shell’s heart hammering. Skinner! From her Warren the man’s aura had appeared even stronger than the last time. As for the chest … the quickest snatched glimpse of the astounding potency carried within still left glowing afterimages in her vision.
‘What damned Warren was that?’ Bars snarled from where he lay.
‘The Crippled God’s,’ Shell said. ‘Skinner’s thrown in with him. The Dragons Deck readers claim that the Fallen God has made him King of his new house, the House of Chains.’
Bars pushed himself up, hugging his chest, anguish twisting his face. ‘He’s his errand boy too.’
‘What’s with the chest?’ Lazar asked.
‘A fragment of the entity charading as the Lady,’ said Shell.
‘A fragment?’ Blues repeated, alarmed. ‘As in the other name for the Crippled God … the Shattered God?’
Fingers sat heavily on a boulder. ‘Shit!’
Shell stared across the dark waters of the small crater lake surrounding this isle, to the near-black cloud cover obscuring the night sky, without seeing any of it. All that strength collected by the Crippled God. Added to him! What have they allowed here? What further catastrophes may very well be laid at their feet? She shook her head in mute denial.
Lazar cleared his throat. ‘We should go.’
Blues blinked, shaking off his thoughts. ‘Yeah. We’ll go get Corlo and Jemain.’
‘K’azz must be told of this,’ Shell said.
But Bars waved a negative. ‘Not our fight. We just want Skinner.’
‘K’azz will decide,’ Blues said, finishing the matter, and he waved everyone to him.
Moments later the isle was empty but for the hundreds of corpses, silent but for the ragged surf surging over the rocks. Then kites and crows assembled wheeling overhead, gathering from all around, while an army of white crabs came scrabbling and feeling their way up among the rocks.
EPILOGUE
SUTH LAY IN HIS HAMMOCK AND LUXURIATED IN THREE CONSECUTIVE days of relative inactivity – other than repairing his gear, and the usual make-work of cleaning the vessel. He was on board the Velenth, a Roolian merchantman commandeered for transport. The reassembled Malazan expeditionary force was returning to Quon Tali, and Command had yet to get round to formally reassigning him, Goss, Keri and Wess. He lay, an arm over his eyes, and tried to sleep while the great mass of vessels slowly made its way back through Black Water Strait.
He’d almost succeeded when Sergeant Goss’ voice rumbled: ‘Your presence is requested up top,’ and the man yanked his leg.
Suth fumbled to regard his sergeant: the man was up again now that the few healers they had could access their Warrens. ‘What? Not more damned scrubbing, please.’
But the sergeant looked more serious that he had in days. ‘The High Mage is here. She has some questions for you.’
Suth stilled, knowing the instinctive nervousness every trooper feels when the high and mighty take an interest. ‘What about?’
‘Can’t say.’
‘Did she question you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
The man gave a negative shake of the head. ‘Don’t think I’m stupid enough to dick with a High Mage’s inquiry. Now let’s go.’
Suth pulled on his boots and, hunched over in the cramped quarters, made his way through the maze of hammocks to the companionway. Up top it was still cold, but the air did not have the ruthless bite it used to. It was the wind that made one shiver. The massed cloud cover was still thick, but breaks were appearing, widening the farther south they went. Goss walked Suth to where the High Mage waited next to the ship’s side. With her was the unmistakable figure of the tall and broad Captain Peles, unarmoured in her long padded aketon and leather trousers.
The two were in plain view as all the troopers crammed on to the undersized vessel kept a respectful distance, as did all the sailors passing to and fro in their running of the ship. Suth was quite tense; everyone was full of the High Mage’s accomplishments: single-handedly breaking the shore defences during the landing, saving the fleet from the titanic sea-wave. It seemed the Empire had finally once more found a mage worthy of the title.
Suth saluted them both. ‘High Mage. Captain.’
‘At ease,’ the High Mage said. She invited him to stand with her next to the side of the vessel and turned to face outwards, looking over the water. ‘Only private place on any crowded ship,’ she said with a wink.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Now, firstly, be assured this is no official inquiry … no effort is being made to assign blame or censure. Is that clear?’
Somehow that failed to reassure him. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I merely want a clearer picture of the events at Thol. That is understandable, yes?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
The woman let out a long exasperated breath. She pushed the unkempt mousy curls of her greying hair from her face. ‘Relax, marine. That’s an order.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
A hard one-eyed glare from her. ‘Now, I’ve questioned your squad-mate, Keri – she’s recovering quite well, by the way …’
‘Glad to hear that, ma’am.’
‘And to your best recollection did no one touch this chest after the young child dropped it?’
‘No one, ma’am. Ipshank was most insistent.’
‘Not even Manask when he threw it into the inland sea?’
‘No, ma’am. He used a spear.’
‘I see. And you are sure you saw it fall into the sea?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Quite sure. I saw it thrown and fly out and then the sea foamed like boiling soup. Why, do you sense her?’
The High Mage chose not to take offence at the question. She shook her head. ‘No. It’s just Manask … the man’s notorious …’
‘Ipshank was watching.’
She turned to put her back to the side, nodding. ‘Yes, well, thank the gods for that. He seems to be the only one who can exert any control over the man … And finally, Kyle, the Adjunct. Did you overhear anything from him before he went his own way?’
Suth thought back to the confusion and upheaval of their arrival back in
that flood-panicked town. He and Wess rejoined the garrison – he never saw the Adjunct again. But before they went their separate ways he did overhear him and Ipshank talking. ‘I believe he said something about heading back home.’
‘I see. Thank you, trooper. Now, you accompanied Fist Rillish on a number of missions, did you not?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Well, before you go, and I have told this to Captain Peles here already … But I was the last to see Greymane, and I just want you to know that he spoke well of the Fist before he went. Since you served under him I wanted you to know that.’
‘Thank you, High Mage.’
‘That is all.’
Suth saluted and rejoined Goss.
The rest of the afternoon was spent reordering stores. All that time the High Mage and Captain Peles had the side of the vessel to themselves. They were there long into the evening as well.
Down in the hold, while Wess slept as usual, Goss and Suth watched the crowd gathered around a square of wood inscribed with a circle where cockroaches, released from a bowl in the centre, raced for the edges. The crowd of troopers let go huge roars with every race but they spent most of their time attempting to snatch up the escapees.
Uncrossing his arms, Goss winced and loosened his shoulders. ‘It’ll be a sergeancy for you, certain.’
‘I don’t particularly want it.’
Goss let go an irritated snort. ‘Haven’t you learned anything yet, man? The army doesn’t care what you think. What you think doesn’t matter. You’ll take what they give you even if it’s a dead dog and you’ll say yes, sir, thank you, sir!’
Suth couldn’t help a rueful smile crooking up his lips as he said, ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’
Goss grunted his approval. ‘There you go. Now you’re learning.’
* * *
The freak wave that rolled over the docks of Ring city had smashed boats in their moorings, demolished the wharves, and driven on to wash through the sea-front blocks. The worst of the damage was the countless souls it then washed out to sea as it retreated taking everything with it. Yet only a few days later the first boat dared approach Ring again. They found the great sea-chain fallen and submerged. Carefully, they oared their small fishing vessel onward, over the broad Hole itself, the first to do so since anyone cared to keep records.
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