The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen

by Steven Erikson

  They ate without conversation.

  At last, sucking and spitting out the last bone, licking grease from his fingers, Bottle sighed and eyed the man opposite him. ‘I saw you go down, sir, under about a hundred Short-Tails.’

  Ruthan raked his beard. ‘Aye.’

  Bottle glanced away, tried again. ‘Figured you were dead.’

  ‘Couldn’t get through the armour, but I’m still a mass of bruises. Anyway, they pounded me into the ground for a while and then just, well, gave up.’ He grimaced. ‘Took me some time to dig free. By then, apart from the dead they were collecting, there was no sign of the Bonehunters, or our allies. The Khundryl looked finished – never saw so many dead horses. And the trenches had been overrun. The Letherii had delivered and taken some damage, but hard to guess the extent of either.’

  ‘I think I saw some of that,’ Bottle said.

  ‘I sniffed you out, though,’ the captain said, not meeting Bottle’s eyes.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I just did. You were barely there, but enough. So I pulled you free.’

  ‘And they just watched.’

  ‘Did they? Never noticed that.’ He wiped his hands on his thighs and rose. ‘Ready to walk then, soldier?’

  ‘I think so. Where are we going, sir?’

  ‘To find the ones still left.’

  ‘When was the battle?’

  ‘Four, five days ago, something like that.’

  ‘Sir, are you a Stormrider?’

  ‘A rogue wave?’

  Bottle’s frown deepened.

  ‘Another joke,’ said Ruthan Gudd. ‘Let’s strip what’s on the travois – found you a sword, a few other things you might find useful.’

  ‘It was all a mistake, wasn’t it?’

  The man shot him a look. ‘Everything is, soldier, sooner or later.’

  Chaos foamed in a thrashing maelstrom far below. He stood close to the ledge, looking down. Off to his right the rock tilted, marking the end of the vaguely level base of the pinnacle, and at the far end the Spar, a gnarled thing of black stabbing upward like a giant finger, seemed to cast a penumbra of white mist from its ragged tip.

  Eventually, he turned away, crossed the flat stretch, twelve paces to a sheer wall of rock, and to the mouth of a tunnel where shattered boulders had spilled out to the sides. He clambered over the nearest heap until he found a dusty oilskin cape jammed inside a crevasse. Tugging it aside, he reached down and withdrew a tattered satchel. It was so rotted the base began splitting at the seams and he scrambled quickly to flat ground before the contents spilled out.

  Coins pattered, baubles struck and clattered. Two larger items, both wrapped in skins and each the length of a man’s forearm, struck the bedrock but made no sound. These objects were the only ones he collected, tucking one into his belt and unwrapping the other.

  A sceptre of plain black wood, its ends capped in tarnished silver. He examined it for a moment, and then strode to the base of the Spar of Andii. Rummaging in the pouch at his hip, he withdrew a knotted clutch of horse hair, dropped it at his feet, and then with a broad sweeping motion used the sceptre to inscribe a circle above the black stone. Then he stepped back.

  After a moment his breath caught and he half turned. When he spoke his tone was apologetic. ‘Ah, Mother, it’s old blood, I don’t deny it. Old and thin.’ He hesitated, and then said, ‘Tell Father I make no apologies for my choice – why should I? No matter. The two of us did the best I could.’ He grunted in humour. ‘And you might say the same thing.’

  He turned back.

  Darkness was knotting into something solid before him. He watched it for a time, saying nothing, although her presence was palpable, vast in the gloom behind him. ‘If he’d wanted blind obedience, he should have kept me chained. And you, Mother, you should have kept me a child for ever, there under your wing.’ He sighed, somewhat shakily. ‘We’re still here, but then, we did what you both wanted. We almost got them all. The one thing none of us expected was how it would change us.’ He glanced back again, momentarily. ‘And it has.’

  Within the circle before him, the dark form opened crimson eyes. Hoofs cracked like iron axe-blades on the stone.

  He grasped the apparition’s midnight mane and swung on to the beast’s back. ‘’Ware your child, Mother.’ He drew the horse round, walked it along the ledge a few strides and then back to the mouth of the tunnel. ‘I’ve been among them for so long now, what you gave me is the barest whisper in the back of my soul. You offered scant regard for humans, and now it’s all coming down. But I give you this.’ He swung the horse round. ‘Now it’s our turn. Your son opened the way. And as for his son, well, if he wants the Sceptre, he’ll have to come and take it.’

  Ben Adaephon Delat tightened his grip on the horse’s mane. ‘You do your part, Mother. Let Father do his, if he’s of a mind to. But it comes down to us. So stand back. Shield your eyes, because I swear to you, we will blaze! When our backs are against the wall, Mother, you have no idea what we can do.’

  He drove his heels into the horse’s flanks. The creature surged forward.

  Now, sweet haunt, this could get a little hairy.

  The horse reached the ledge. Then out, into the air. And down, plunging into the seething maelstrom.

  The presence, breathing darkness, remained in the vast chamber for a time longer. The strewn scatter of coins and baubles glittered on the black stone.

  Then came a tapping of a cane upon rock.

  Chapter Three

  Time now to go out into the cold night

  And that voice was chill enough

  To awaken me to stillness

  There were cries inviting me into the sky

  But the ground held me fast –

  Well that was long ago now

  Yet in this bleak morning the wings

  Are shadows hunched on my shoulders

  And the stars feel closer than ever before

  The time is soon, I fear, to set out in search

  Of that voice, and I will draw to the verge

  Time now to go out into the cold night

  Spoken in so weary a tone

  I can make nothing worthy from it

  If dreams of flying are the last hope of freedom

  I will pray for wings with my last breath

  Cold Night

  Beleager

  SMOKE HUNG IN THICK WREATHS IN THE CABIN. THE PORTHOLES WERE all open, shutters locked back, but the air did not stir and the sweltering heat lapped exposed flesh like a fevered tongue. Clearing her throat against a pervasive itchiness in her upper chest, Felash, Fourteenth Daughter of Queen Abrastal, tilted her head back on the soft, if soiled and damp, pillow.

  Her handmaid set about refilling the pipe bowl.

  ‘Are you certain of the date?’ Felash asked.

  ‘Yes, Highness.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I should be excited. I made it to my fifteenth year, let the banners wave. Not that anything waves hereabouts.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, and then blinked them open again. ‘Was that a swell?’

  ‘I felt nothing, Highness.’

  ‘It’s the heat I don’t appreciate. It distracts. It whispers of mortality, yielding both despondency and a strange impatience. If I’m to die soon, I say, let’s just get on with it.’

  ‘Mild congestion, Highness.’

  ‘And the sore lower back?’

  ‘Lack of exercise.’

  ‘Dry throat?’

  ‘Allergies.’

  ‘All these aches everywhere?’

  ‘Highness,’ said the handmaid, ‘are there moments when all these symptoms simply vanish?’

  ‘Hmm. Orgasm. Or if I find myself, er, suddenly busy.’

  The handmaid drew the water pipe to life and handed the princess the mouthpiece.

  Felash eyed the silver spigot. ‘When did I start this?’

  ‘The rustleaf, Highness? You were six.’

  ‘And why, again?’

  ‘It was that or
chewing your fingernails down to nothing, as I recall, Highness.’

  ‘Ah yes, childish habits, thank the gods I’m cured. Now, do you think I dare the deck? I swear I felt a swell back then, which must yield optimism.’

  ‘The situation is dire, Highness,’ the handmaid said. ‘The crew is weary from working the pumps, and still we list badly. No land in sight, not a breath of wind. There is a very serious risk of sinking.’

  ‘We had no choice, did we?’

  ‘The captain and first mate do not agree with that assessment, Highness. Lives were lost, we are barely afloat—’

  ‘Mael’s fault,’ Felash snapped. ‘Never known the bastard to be so hungry.’

  ‘Highness, we have never before struck such a bargain with an Elder God—’

  ‘And never again! But Mother heard, didn’t she? She did. How can that not be worth the sacrifices?’

  The handmaid said nothing, sitting back and assuming a meditative pose.

  Felash studied the older woman with narrowed eyes. ‘Fine. Opinions differ. Have cooler heads finally prevailed?’

  ‘I cannot say, Highness. Shall I—’

  ‘No. As you said, exercise will do me good. Select for me a worthy outfit, something both lithe and flaunting, as befits my sudden maturity. Fifteen! Gods, the slide has begun!’

  Her first mate, Shurq Elalle saw, was having trouble managing the canted deck. Not enough sound body parts, she assumed, to warrant much confidence, but for all his awkwardness he moved quickly enough, despite the winces and flinches with every step he took. Pain was not a pleasant thing to live with, not day after day, night upon night, not with every damned breath.

  ‘I do admire you, Skorgen.’

  He squinted up at her as he arrived on the poop deck. ‘Captain?’

  ‘You take it with a grimace and not much else. There are many forms of courage, I believe, most of which pass unseen by the majority of us. It’s not always about facing death, is it? Sometimes it’s about facing life.’

  ‘If you say so, Captain.’

  ‘What do you have to report?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re sinking.’

  Well. She imagined she’d float for a while, and then eventually wander down, like a bloated sack of sodden herbs, until she found the sea bottom. Then it would be walking, but where? ‘North, I think.’

  ‘Captain?’

  ‘The Undying Gratitude surely deserves a better fate. Provision the launches. How long do we have?’

  ‘Hard to say.’

  ‘Why?’

  Skorgen’s good eye squinted. ‘What I meant was, I don’t like saying it. Bad luck, right?’

  ‘Skorgen, do I need to pack my trunk?’

  ‘You’re taking your trunk? Will it float? I mean, if we tie it behind the lifeboat? We only got two that’ll float and both are a bit battered. Twenty-nine left in the crew, plus you and me and our guests. Ten in a launch and we’ll be awash at the first whitecap. I ain’t good at numbers but I think we’re off some. Could be people holding on in the water. But not for long, with all those sharks hanging around. Ideal is eight to a boat. We should get down to that quick enough. But your trunk, well, that messes up my figuring.’

  ‘Skorgen, do you recall loading my trunk?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t have one. It was a figure of speech.’

  ‘That’s a relief, then. Besides,’ he added, ‘you probably wouldn’t have the time to pack it anyway. We could roll in the next breath, or so I’m told.’

  ‘Errant take me, get our guests up here!’

  He pointed behind her. ‘There’s the well-born one just coming up, Captain. She’ll float high in the water, that she will, until the—’

  ‘Lower the launches and round up the crew, Skorgen,’ Shurq said, stepping past him and making her way to the princess.

  ‘Ah, Captain, I really must—’

  ‘No time, Highness. Get your handmaiden and whatever clothes you’ll need to stay warm. The ship is going down and we need to get to the launches.’

  Blinking owlishly, Felash looked round. ‘That seems rather extreme.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes. I would imagine that abandoning ship is one of the very last things one would wish to do, when at sea.’

  Shurq Elalle nodded. ‘Indeed, Highness. Especially while at sea.’

  ‘Well, are there no alternatives? It is unlike you to panic.’

  ‘Do I appear to be panicking?’

  ‘Your crew is—’

  ‘Modestly so, Highness, since we don’t quite have the room needed to take everyone, meaning that some of them are about to die in the jaws of sharks. My understanding is, such a death is rather unpleasant, at least to begin with.’

  ‘Oh dear. Well, what can be done?’

  ‘I am open to suggestions, Highness.’

  ‘Perhaps a ritual of salvation…’

  ‘A what?’

  Plump fingers fluttered. ‘Let us assess the situation, shall we? The storm has split the hull, correct?’

  ‘We hit something, Highness. I am hoping it was Mael’s head. We cannot effect repairs, and our pumps have failed in stemming the tide. As you may note, to starboard, we are very nearly awash amidships. If we were not becalmed, we would have rolled by now.’

  ‘Presumably, the hold is full of water.’

  ‘A fair presumption, Highness.’

  ‘It needs to be—’

  A terrible groaning sound reverberated through the deck at their feet.

  Felash’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh, what is that?’

  ‘That is us, Highness. Sinking. Now, you mentioned a ritual. If it involves a certain Elder God of the seas, I should warn you, I cannot vouch for your well-being should my crew learn of it.’

  ‘Really? How distressing. Well, a ritual such as the one I am suggesting may not necessarily involve that decidedly unpleasant individual. In fact—’

  ‘Forgive me for interrupting, Highness, but it has just occurred to me that this particular contest of understatement is about to be fatally terminated. While I have thoroughly enjoyed it, I now believe you have been a truly unwitting participant. How well can you swim, since I believe we shall not have time to reach the launches…’

  ‘For goodness’ sake.’ Felash turned about, gauging the scene on all sides. Then she gestured.

  The Undying Gratitude shuddered. Water foamed up from the hatch. Rigging whipped as if in a gale, the stumps of the shattered masts quivering. The ship grunted as it pitched level again. To either side the water swirled. Shouts of fright came from the two launches, and Shurq Elalle heard the screams commanding axes to the lines. A moment later she saw both lifeboats pulling away, neither one fully manned, whilst the rest of her crew, along with Skorgen Kaban, bellowed and cursed from where they clung to the port gunwale. Water washed across the mid-deck.

  Princess Felash was studying the lay of the ship, one finger to her plump, painted lips. ‘We must drain the hold,’ she said, ‘before we dare lift her higher. Agreed, Captain? Lest the weight of the water break the hull apart?’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Shurq demanded.

  ‘Why, saving us, of course. And your ship, which we still need despite its deplorable condition.’

  ‘Deplorable? She’s just fine, damn you! Or she would be, if you hadn’t—’

  ‘Now now, Captain, manners, please. I am nobility, after all.’

  ‘Of course, Highness. Now, please save my sorry ship, and once that is done, we can discuss other matters at our leisure.’

  ‘Excellent suggestion, Captain.’

  ‘If you could have done this at any time, Highness—’

  ‘Could, yes. Should, most certainly not. Once more we bargain with terrible forces. And once more, a price must be paid. So much for “never again”!’

  Shurq Elalle glanced over at her first mate and crew. The deck they stood upon was no longer under water, and the sound of a hundred pumps thundered the length of
the hull. But we don’t have a hundred pumps and besides, no one is down there. ‘It’s Mael again, isn’t it?’

  Felash glanced over, lashes fluttering. ‘Alas, no. The difficulty we’re having at the moment, you see, stems precisely from our deliberate avoidance of that personage. After all, this is his realm, and he is not one to welcome rivals. Therefore, we must impose a physicality that resists Mael’s power.’

  ‘Highness, is this the royal “we”?’

  ‘Ah, do you feel it, Captain?’

  Thick, billowing fog now rose around the ship – the two lifeboats disappeared from sight, and their crews’ cries were suddenly silenced, as if those men and women ceased to exist. In the dread hush that followed, Shurq Elalle saw Skorgen and her remaining dozen sailors huddling down on the deck, their breaths pluming, frost sparkling to life on all sides.

  ‘Highness—’

  ‘What a relief from that heat, don’t you agree? But we must now be stern in our position. To give up too much at this moment could well prove fatal.’

  ‘Highness,’ Shurq tried again, ‘who do we bargain with now?’

  ‘The Holds are half forgotten by most, especially the long dormant ones. Imagine our surprise, then, when a frozen corpse should awaken and rise into the realm of life once more, after countless centuries. Oh, they’re a hoary bunch, the Jaghut, but, you know, I still hold to a soft regard for them, despite all their extravagances. Why, in the mountains of North Bolkando there are tombs, and as for the Guardians, well—’

  ‘Jaghut, Highness? Is that what you said? Jaghut?’

  ‘Surely this must be panic, Captain, your constant and increasingly rude interruptions—’

  ‘You’re locking us all in ice?’

  ‘Omtose Phellack, Captain. The Throne of Ice, do you see? It is awake once more—’

  Shurq advanced on Felash. ‘What is the bargain, Princess?’

  ‘We can worry about that later—’

  ‘No! We will worry about it right now!’

  ‘I cannot say I appreciate such an imperious tone, Captain Elalle. Observe how steady settles the ship. Ice is frozen in the cracks in the hull and the hold is dry, if rather cold. The fog, unfortunately, we won’t be able to escape, as we are chilling the water around us nigh unto freezing. Now, this current, I understand, will carry us northward, to landfall, in about three days. An unoccupied shoreline, with a sound, protected natural harbour, where we can make repairs—’