Return of the Crimson Guard: A Novel of the Malazan Empire

by Ian C. Esslemont

  ‘And you! Speak not of deception^ was the last thing Kyle heard spat from within the tent.

  Stumbling, crawling, he followed the woman. Broken wood and tatters of cloth littered the beach; it looked as though a shipwreck had crashed ashore. None of it seemed to obstruct the woman yet Kyle had to pick his way carefully. At one point the wind brought a long-drawn-out mournful howling like that of a hound. The woman's head snapped aside, to the north, and she raised a pale languid hand as if waving something away, then continued on. Kyle joined her far down the strand, the surf licking his sandals. ‘Where am I?’ he gasped.

  Back to him, scanning the sea's starry horizon, she said, ‘It is a dream, Kyle. Only a dream. Nothing more.’ She turned her oval, achingly beautiful, veiled face to him. ‘And you are haunted.’

  ‘By you?’

  A teasing smile; a cool hand at his brow. ‘Among others,’ and she gestured down the beach. Kyle squinted – there, through the curtains of blowing sand, a figure, shouting, a hand at his mouth. An old man, one-handed …

  ‘Stoop! Yes, I see you! What? What is it?’

  ‘He was banished to Hood's most distant Paths,’ the woman explained. ‘Yet not utterly, for the Vow holds him still in bindings that cannot be broken. And so he is caught between Realms. Cast away yet linked to you.’

  ‘To me?’

  ‘Yes. He chose you to speak to – as is the custom among the fallen Avowed. Their “Brethren” I believe they are named.’

  Brethren. So, that is who they are.

  She extended a naked arm, pointed a long finger out to the expanse of water. ‘And there you are.’

  Kyle squinted out to the dark sea. Far out, past the phosphor glow of breakers at a reef, was the pale patch of a sail passing east to west. ‘What? Is that me?’

  His vision blurred and he fell to his knees. ‘Sleep now, soldier,’ the Goddess whispered, and he pitched forward into the surf. Water splashed his face.

  ‘Kyle? Kyle!’ He opened his eyes: Ereko's anxious face loomed above him, his long stringy hair hanging down. The giant shook water from his hand. ‘How are you now, lad?’

  Kyle wiped his wet cold face, blinking. ‘Fine, fine. What is it? What happened?’

  ‘What happened?’ Pain clenched Ereko's brow and looked away. ‘What happened was my fault. I am sorry. It was … more perilous … than I imagined. But it turned out well in the end. My Lady won't thank me for it, though.’

  ‘Who was that thing?’

  ‘That was the poison corrupting the Warrens, Kyle, and more. The Outsider. Some call him the Chained God, others the Crippled God, for he, or it, is broken, shattered. His presence here has infected this land.’

  ‘He seemed … sick.’

  ‘We are no doubt a sickness to him – for he is from elsewhere. He was brought here unwillingly, and now suffers eternally. Myself, I pity his plight.‘ Ereko took Kyle's arm in his huge hand, his eyes searching. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle. I did not expect such a strong reaction from all involved. But it forced her to act and now all is well. It is Traveller. He's awake, and he's asking for you.’ Ereko handed him a skin of water. Kyle gulped it down then crab-walked hunched to the bow. Traveller sat with the Lost brothers, propped up against the bow, a blanket at his shoulders. His long dark hair was plastered across his brow, hung lank about the blanket. He appeared exhausted but his eyes were sharp and clear. Kyle squatted in front of him.

  ‘How are you?’ the man asked.

  ‘How am J? Fine. What about you?’

  Traveller looked past him to the stern where Ereko watched. ‘I am fine now as well,‘ he said, his eyes on the Thel Akai. ‘They were just dreams. Bad dreams. I see that now.’ He offered Kyle a hand; Kyle took it and he squeezed. ‘My thanks.’

  ‘Thanks? For what?’

  ‘For your patience. Your faith.’

  Confused, Kyle shrugged. He moved to leave but Traveller held his hand. ‘We are close now. Very close. Whatever happens do not interfere. This is between Ereko and me. Yes?’

  Kyle shrugged again. ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He released Kyle's hand.

  Still confused, Kyle headed back to his blanket. Stalker had moved to lie there, an arm over his face. ‘Maybe we can all get back to sleep now,’ the man grumbled. Kyle looked to Ereko who winked.

  The next morning saw a coast of ruins. Sun-bleached pillars of cyclopean stones stood canted amid dunes. Jetties of stone lay submerged just visible beneath the clear cerulean surface, overgrown by coral and seaweed. Inland, the remains of an immense dome of blindingly white stone hung half collapsed at an angle. Next to Ereko, Kyle peeled one of the local fruits. He looked to the giant who nodded. The Dolmans of Tien. We are close. Close to many things.’

  After the ruins of the ancient city they came to where a smooth plain of hard wind-scoured sands met the coast. Here all remains of occupation ended and menhirs, or stone pillars, stood, isolated and distinct. Coming around the headland of a bay Kyle saw that the menhirs continued on in even more numbers, like a forest of stone, for as far as he could see inland. The Dolmans,’ Ereko said. He swung the tiller for the shore.

  ‘And K'azz?’

  ‘From what you have told me I imagine he must be imprisoned within one of these.’

  Kyle stared. Imprisoned within one of these? ‘But there's thousands of them!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How will we even know where to begin?’

  Ereko tapped Kyle as lightly as he could on the back, rocking him. ‘Do not despair, lad, we'll know.’

  A collection of ramshackle huts occupied the beach whose ragged inhabitants stood staring, too beaten down or famished even to run. Jumping ashore, Traveller adjusted his hauberk beneath his salt-stained leathers, drew the mottled magenta blade a hand's breadth from its black wooden sheath and slammed it home. Before the man turned away Kyle glimpsed a clenched ache on his features that made him wince. Having secured the Kite, Ereko tried speaking with a few of the cringing fisher-folk but quickly abandoned the effort.

  ‘They know nothing,’ he told them. The interior, the Dolmans, are just sources of terror for them. They have turned their backs upon them.’

  ‘What do we do then?’ Kyle asked, unable to keep an edge of irritation from his voice.

  His back to them, Traveller said, ‘We will follow Ereko.’

  Stalker, at Kyle's side, nodded silent assent. He signed to the brothers, who checked their blades then jogged off to the right and left. ‘I'll bring up the rear.’

  Kyle was surprised. ‘Shouldn't you—’

  ‘Walk with me, Kyle,’ Traveller invited.

  Smiling his reassurance to Kyle, Ereko set off ahead. Traveller handed Kyle a strip of smoked fish taken from the bundles supplied by Jhest. He took a bite and handed it back as they walked.

  The pillars were built of stones carved to sit one atop the other, diminishing smoothly on six facets to a blunt tip just taller than Ereko himself. They stood some five paces apart in immensely long rows running east-west and north-south. Looking carefully Kyle could discern a curve to the east-west rows, as if they described a series of nested arcs, or vast circles. ‘What is this?’ he asked of Traveller.

  Ereko answered, ‘A cemetery, mainly. However, it served many other functions for those who built it. Ritual centre, timepiece, observatory, calendar, temple and prison.’

  ‘Did your people build it?’

  ‘Goddess, no, Kyle. We were not builders. No, this was raised ages ago by a people long gone. Humans, like yourself, of a close lineage.’

  ‘You have been here before?’

  The Thel Akai glanced back, a smile of amusement at his lips. ‘No.’

  ‘Then where are you leading us?’

  A shrug of the massive shoulders. ‘To the centre. I find that the centre is often a good place to start.’

  ‘Do not worry,’ Traveller said, also smiling at Kyle's discomfort. ‘Ereko knows what he is doing. Can you say the same?’

 
‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that I gather you intend to try to rescue or release this Prince K'azz D'Avore, commander of the Crimson Guard. Do you think that wise?’

  ‘Wise?’

  The man's dark-blue eyes watched him sideways, gauging. His beard of silver and black bristles gave him a grave, priestly look. ‘Yes.’

  ‘The Guard's become a band of murderers. Skinner has—’

  ‘Skinner? Traveller interrupted, then mastered himself with an effort.

  ‘Yes … He killed one of their own right before my eyes. Only K'azz can restore the Guard to what it should be.’

  Traveller's gaze was averted, but in it, and in his tight down-turned mouth, Kyle read sadness coupled with a strange amusement, as if at some grim joke known only to himself. ‘Indeed. To what it should be. And what might that be, I wonder?’

  ‘I – I don't know, but it would have to be an improvement. Only the Duke can bring Skinner to heel.’

  ‘Can he? I wonder …’

  Ahead, Ereko stopped, raising a hand. Coming abreast of him Kyle saw that they had reached the innermost ring of pillars. Before them lay a flat circular plaza the size of a city centre floored entirely by pale, off-white, wind-scoured gravel. The gathering shadows of the afternoon revealed that the pavement was not smooth, but that the stones were intricately set in lines. Some lines bisected the expanse, some curved, some were straight, each was marked out only in shadow by the arrangement of the stones. Indeed, from where Kyle stood, it appeared as if a forest of lines, some gently curving arcs or tight curls, others straight as sword blades, crawled about the gravelled floor of the plaza like, well, an infinity of paths. But all were marked only in shadow. The stones were all identical, all the same shade of creamy off-white. One could not tell which stone was part of which line. And even as they all stood staring in fascination, Coots and Badlands coming to stand with them, the sun moved a fraction and all the lines writhed with it like shadows jumping to new tracery.

  ‘Incredible,’ Ereko breathed. ‘Would that I had known its makers. A construct worthy of the great artificer Icarium.’

  ‘Do we cross?’ Stalker asked.

  ‘Our goal is across the way.’

  ‘We go around,’ Traveller said.

  Kyle felt unaccountable relief at that pronouncement. But he also felt a deeper unease, for here was a man who surely must have no need to fear anything, yet even he was wary of this place. They slowly traced their way around half the circumference. All the while, Kyle watched the plaza: no bird landed, no leaf blew, no twig or dry weed tumbled across the expanse. All was still. It was as if the space were somehow sealed off from the normal littered, overgrown expanse of sand surrounding it.

  Eventually, Ereko stopped at a pillar that, as far as Kyle could see, was no different from any other. He knelt to study its base for a time. ‘This is where we must dig, I believe.’

  ‘Dig?’ Kyle asked in disbelief.

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘But, is he … dead … ?’

  The giant frowned. ‘From what you have told me of these Avowed, I presume not.’

  ‘Then …’ Words failed Kyle. Father Wind! To be buried alive for so long, unable to die. His mind must be gone …

  The brothers set to without question. They fell to their knees, began dragging armfuls of sand aside. Seeing Kyle watch, Coots commented aside, ‘The sooner we're outta here the better …’ Kyle got to his knees to help. An arm's length down they met harder ground, firm tough dirt, a deeper hue of yellow, damp and cold. Out came boot-knives and short blunt eating blades. The fighting blades stayed sheathed. It came to look to Kyle as if the Thel Akai must have been right in selecting this one particular pillar out of the countless thousands, for the ground was broken, the lower matrix mixed with the sands from above. Someone had dug here before them.

  They reached a flat stone barrier, roughly hewn. Feeling about the edges Badlands revealed a paving stone or lid, roughly square, about an arm's length in each direction. He pushed his fingers under one edge and, straining, lifted. The stone grated, rose and fell leaning. Badlands edged aside to reveal a small dark cavity, like a large urn. Within, arms wrapped tightly around knees tucked to its chest, was a desiccated corpse.

  Badlands gestured. ‘This the guy?’

  ‘How should I know? I've never seen him!’

  ‘He don't look so good,’ Coots said, brushing sand from his beard.

  ‘Oh, you think so? Ereko?’ But the Thel Akai had turned away and was scanning the grounds. ‘Ereko?’

  The giant glanced down, his amber eyes churning with heavy sadness. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle. I'd hoped you'd be successful. It would make … well, I'm sorry.’

  Puzzled, Kyle peered about the surrounding dunes, his eyes narrowing. ‘What's going on?’

  Traveller had stepped down and crouched over the corpse. He lifted its skull to examine its ravaged face, wrenched its right hand free to examine it, then straightened.

  ‘Well?’ Kyle asked.

  Traveller too was looking aside. ‘It might be him,’ he said, distractedly. ‘Hard to say.’

  ‘What's going on, Lady take it!’

  Stalker's head snapped up and he leapt aside, facing east, a hand at his sword. The brothers crouched behind the cover of the piled sand. Traveller straight-armed Kyle to fall backwards into the pit. ‘Hey!’

  Peering up over the lip, Kyle saw that a wind had arisen, a twisting dust-devil that kicked up clouds of sand. Within, darkness gathered, a ragged gap that Kyle recognized as the opening of a Warren. Greyness moiled behind the fissure. Then, with a clap, it was gone and the sands settled. An armoured man now occupied the space between two pillars. He was tall, gaunt, looking exceptionally old. His face was dark and lined, ravaged by age, and his long grey hair hung lank. His mail shirt hung to his ankles, a plain bastard sword was at his side. He approached, scanning everyone briefly. The open scorn of his gaze set Kyle's teeth on edge. The eyes fixed upon Ereko and a hungry smile twisted the old man's mouth. He called something in a language unknown to Kyle.

  ‘Talian is a common tongue here,’ Ereko answered.

  The man paused, inclined his head fractionally. ‘Very well … I had lost hope, Ereko. Yet here you are. Seems we've played the longest waiting game in history, you and I.’

  ‘I play no games, Kallor.’

  ‘Coy to the end, then. Come,’ he gestured Ereko forward impatiently, ‘let me complete my last remaining vow.’

  ‘Let me take him,’ Stalker said, straightening.

  Ereko shot out a hand. ‘No! No one must interfere. This is between him and me.’

  ‘You aren't armed, Ereko,’ Kyle called.

  The giant turned a wistful smile to Kyle. ‘It is all right. Don't worry, Kyle. This is what I have chosen.’ He took a long ragged breath. ‘I'll not meet you with a weapon in my hand, Kallor. That would dishonour the memory of why I am here.’

  The man shrugged. ‘As you will. It would make no difference, in any case.’

  ‘Traveller, do something!’ Kyle begged.

  The swordsman did not answer. Kyle was shaken to see tears staining the man's face. He gripped and regripped the hilts of his sword. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle,’ he ground out, almost gasping. ‘This was our agreement.’

  ‘Well, I made no such Hood-damned agreement…’ Kyle climbed from the pit, went for his tulwar. Traveller grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him. Pain flamed in his shoulder. ‘Damn you!’ he gasped.

  ‘I sometimes think that is so,’ the man answered in a voice almost broken in emotion.

  Ereko stepped forward, arms open. ‘Come then yourself, High King. I know no fear.’

  Despite facing an unarmed opponent, the one named Kallor retreated. Perhaps he wondered if this were some sort of elaborate trap. Or was incapable of understanding what was unfolding. After a few steps back he scowled anew, drew his sword. ‘Do not think that I will be moved by such a display.’

  ‘Be assured that in your case I am
under no such misapprehension.’

  Badlands and Coots jumped atop the piled sands, weapons out. ‘Hold!’ Traveller barked.

  ‘He's gonna get killed!’ Badlands called.

  ‘It is his decision.’

  ‘No,’ Kallor snarled, shifting forward. ‘It is mine!’