The literal end of the world. Absurd. Though, nights ago, a shaking of the ground and yells of horror and alarm throughout the camp woke everyone. Such manifestations were thought to represent the displeasure of the Lady.
The landings would have been more than ten days ago now. Just where were these invading Malazans, their new rivals? Had scouts reached the bridge? Had their commander – could it really be Greymane? – ordered a spear-like dash for control of this single crossing over the Ancy?
And why was Yeull so reluctant to destroy it?
Climbing a rise he came to a small contingent of Roolian horse halted at its crest. In their midst sat Borun, looking rather uncomfortable atop a broad, muscular stallion. Ussü walked his mount ahead until he shared their view down into the Ancy valley stretched out below, the broad river flowing south towards Mirror Lake at the foot of the Black range. Mid-valley it broadened over a course of shallow rapids spanned by the long slim timber and stone bridge raised by Malazan engineers of the Sixth what seemed so long ago. Beside it, on the west shore, the bailey and stone keep of the fortress of the Three Sisters, named for the rapids. Surrounding the fortress sprawled a small town of farmers and businesses catering to travellers of this main trader road.
Borun dismounted and joined him. ‘Any sign of them?’ Ussü asked.
‘None. We seem to have beaten them here.’
‘I’m surprised. They must be aware of the bridge’s importance.’
‘Perhaps,’ the Black Moranth commander mused, ‘they assume it already destroyed.’
Ussü eyed the blunt side of the commander’s helm. Yes. If it were up to them it would have been blown immediately. ‘You still have munitions?’
The helm tilted an assent. ‘We yet have some crates we salvaged from our wrecked vessels.’
‘I suggest you put them to use.’
Borun faced him direct; Ussü could discern no detail behind the narrow vision slits of his helm. ‘The Overlord has not given his permission to mine the bridge.’
Ussü smiled faintly. ‘We can always blame the Malazans. Their saboteurs can’t leave any bridge unblown.’
A sound escaped Borun’s helm as he rocked slightly. It took a moment for Ussü to recognize the gravelly hoarse rasping as laughter. It was the first time he’d ever heard it. ‘Let us go down and examine this fortress, then. Shall we?’
‘Yes, High Mage.’
To Ussü’s critical eye, the fortress of the Three Sisters was more a glorified tax hut than a defensible fortification. Its walls were thin, single-layered. It possessed a ditch, yes, but the causeway leading up to the gate was far too wide for his liking. And streaming up this causeway came a steady line of refugees carrying their few worldly goods wrapped in rags, heaped in donkeys, or pulled in carts. To Ussü’s surprise they were also allowed to drive cattle, goats, and sheep up into the bailey. Where would the fodder come from to feed all these animals? Flanked by Borun, he urged his mount ahead through the press. He reflected that, if the worst came to the worst, at least they could eat the animals.
Within, makeshift huts crowded what should be an open marshalling field. Smoke rose from a blacksmith’s hut across the way. A long barracks of a sort ran down one side. Across rose the motte, topped by a square stone tower keep. A slimmer inner causeway led up to its gate. Ussü directed his mount to that dirt ramp and to the black-robed figures standing upon it, each bearing a staff.
Upon reaching the base, Ussü bowed in his saddle. The four bearded priests remained unmoving. ‘Greetings. I am Ussü, adviser to our Overlord. This is Commander Borun.’
One of the priests gave a slight nod. ‘Greetings, Ussü, Borun. I am Abbot Nerra. I command this fortress.’
Ussü blinked his surprise. ‘What of Captain Hender?’
‘He has been relieved.’
Ussü strove to keep his face blank. Hender was a veteran of the Sixth. He would have sent these refugees onward, not allowed them to clog up a military outpost. The disarray, the admission of all these civilians – so many mouths to feed! – now made sense.
‘And where is the Envoy?’ Nerra demanded.
Turning in his saddle, Ussü saw that indeed the Envoy, surrounded by his entourage, was just now entering the bailey. He gestured to the gate. As the Envoy drew near, the priests of Our Lady descended the ramp until their heads were close to level with those mounted. Abbot Nerra bowed to Enesh-jer, who received the obeisance as if it were no less than his due. ‘My lord Envoy,’ Nerra began, ‘the fate of this flock, all those loyal to Our Blessed Lady, is in your hands.’
The Envoy’s lean features drew back in a skull-like grin. ‘We will stop these invaders. Heretics and unbelievers all.’
Ussü glanced from face to face. Could these men really be in earnest? When Enesh-jer arrived with the Sixth he knew nothing of this local cult. Still, it was said that there was no fanatic like the converted. He looked to Borun then wondered why he bothered: it was impossible to read the armoured Moranth. If he could distinguish anything from the man’s posture, it was disengagement and boredom.
‘Do not concern yourself, Abbot,’ Enesh-jer was saying. ‘We will establish a bridgehead across the Ancy. No invaders will reach Roolian lands.’
‘Excuse me, m’lord.’ Ussü spoke up, astonished. ‘Surely you do not plan to march forces across the bridge. They will be isolated upon the far side. If the bridge is not to be blown we must remain on this shore, defend here.’
Something like a hissed sigh escaped the Envoy’s slit lips and his eyes bulged in his skull face. ‘No doubt,’ he enunciated, nearly strangled by his passion, ‘our Overlord sees some value in your opinions on esoteric topics, Adviser. But in matters of tactics and disposition of forces I suggest you remain silent.’
Inwardly Ussü fumed, but he also felt a distinct chill as all eyes studied him – many with open enmity. Keeping his face flat, he bowed.
Enesh-jer nodded stiffly, accepting Ussü’s apparent deference. ‘I will remain to command the fortress with, ah, your permission, Abbot.’ Nerra bowed. ‘Very good. There remains, then, the matter of the near shore …’
Ussü kicked Borun’s armoured boot. The Moranth commander loudly cleared his throat. ‘I would ask for the honour, Envoy. With your permission.’
The Envoy gave a wave to signal his granting of said honour.
Ussü bowed again to take his leave and reined his mount round. He was ignored. As he crossed the bailey Borun joined him. ‘This fortress is a death trap,’ Ussü murmured to the Moranth commander. They urged their way forward through the press of wide-eyed civilians and complaining animals. As they reached the ramp across the ditch, he studied the narrow wall of set stones and shook his head. ‘There will be no siege. It will be a sacking.’
‘Perhaps they will hold them on the far shore,’ Borun answered, his voice even more hoarse than usual as he tried to keep it low.
Ussü sighed. ‘Perhaps. But if I were Greymane – if he survived to land – then I would send marines ahead to cross to the north and south to make a lunge for the bridge while the main forces closed. And if they succeed in that, we must withdraw swiftly. I suggest to the south, then west.’
‘Then that recourse of which you spoke. Just in case.’
‘Yes. I would also require a tent in your camp, Borun. Where I can work unmolested. And prisoners.’
‘Prisoners? Who?’
‘Any. It does not matter. So long as they are strong. I mean to do some scrying.’
Borun inclined his helmed head. ‘As you request, High Mage.’
For the night watch Suth crept down with Len and Yana to the forward nook of rocks where a viewpoint was kept on the bridge over the Ancy far down the valley below. They relieved a team from the 11th, three women. Suth tried to meet the gaze of one as she was of Dal Hon. But she looked through him as if he wasn’t there and he knew why: she was a veteran while he had yet to truly prove himself.
Yana peered out over the rocks. ‘Nice of them to mark out their lines wi
th torches like that for us.’
Len, lying flat with his chin on his folded forearms, said, ‘They’re working day and night. Digging ditches, making stake rows, traps, burning all the brush cover. Digging in.’
‘Damn fools.’
Suth looked to Yana. ‘Why?’
‘The river splits their forces in two.’
‘So? They can retreat over the bridge.’
Len and Yana just shared a glance.
‘What I can’t figure,’ Len said, ‘is why that bridge is standing at all.’
‘Maybe it’s a trap,’ Suth offered.
‘Not worth the risk. You’d only get a few hundred troops.’ He was shaking his head. ‘Hard to believe ex-Malazans are in charge down there.’
Yana snorted. ‘They’re outlaws. Deserters. Good for nothing.’
But Len was unconvinced. He kept shaking his head, lips pursed.
Suth sat back to wrap his cloak more tightly about his shoulders. It was winter season here in Fist. A chill wind blew out of the north. Locals named it cursed. Not that he’d met that many locals. They tended to run away; thought them some sort of demons come to eat their young. Through their entire advance west across Skolati all they found were deserted hamlets, abandoned farmsteads. Everyone had fled to the hills or taken to the cities in the south. Suth found it incomprehensible. But then he came from a land that had known countless sweeping conquests and changes of rulership while this one was so insular they’d even forgotten their current rulers had invaded a generation ago.
All three stiffened as someone hissed from their rear. It was Keri. ‘Officers coming – pull your pants up.’ She scrambled away into the dark.
The three eyed one another. Officers? Yana mouthed, annoyed.
Then footsteps descending among the rocks, three sets. Len just raised his eyes to the night sky, turned away. Suth watched, saw who it was emerging from the dark and reflexively straightened, then forced himself to relax as he remembered the battle rules against identifying officers. It was their captain, Betteries, their Fist, Rillish Jal Keth, and the representative of their overall commander, the Adjunct.
Yana straightened as well while Len, exercising the code of complete indifference affected by saboteurs, ignored the newcomers. Captain Betteries signed for Suth and Yana to stand down, invited the Fist and the Adjunct to a lookout some distance off. Suth pretended to return to the watch but studied the three out of the corner of his eye. Betteries was gesturing to the valley below as if explaining tactics; the Fist was also adding comments, and nodding. The Adjunct just listened, his dark sun- and wind-burnished face revealing nothing. Suth’s gaze strayed to the twinned swords sheathed at the Fist’s belt. Untan duelling blades. Formidable weapons. Long, narrow, twin-edged and needle-pointed. Able to both cut and thrust. Once polished perhaps, but now battered, the leather sheaths hacked and worn. As for the Adjunct’s weapon; Suth pulled his gaze from the curved sword whose ivory pommel and grip seemed to glow with an inner light.
‘Now we’re in for it,’ Len murmured.
‘You think this is it?’ Suth answered, low.
‘Yeah. The main force must be in striking distance.’
‘So – when?’
The saboteur frowned his uncertainty. ‘Sooner than we’d like, no doubt.’
The Adjunct gestured then, suddenly, catching all their eyes. The young man was pointing off to the dark. Then he crooked a finger. Out from a slim shadow between rocks straightened Faro. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. The three officers spoke briefly then picked their way back. Captain Betteries lingered long enough to give Faro a snarled dressing-down before heading off. Their squad ‘scout’ leaned back against a rock, pulled out his shortstemmed pipe, and began packing it.
Suth cast Len and Yana a questioning look: both shrugged, so he headed over. Faro ignored him while he worked on his pipe. ‘Well?’ Suth asked after a time. The man didn’t answer. ‘What do you want? A damned bag of Imperial suns?’
The man glanced up, bared his bright pointed teeth. ‘A little wet behind the ears to be makin’ demands, don’t you think?’
‘I’d say we’re squadmates now and it would help the squad to know the plan.’
Faro snorted, looked past Suth to Len and Yana, both of whom were now standing, shrugged. He clenched the pipe in his teeth, unlit. ‘Tomorrow night. The main columns are gonna dash in.’
‘And us?’ Len asked, stepping up next to Suth.
Faro smiled again, this time evilly, Suth thought. ‘You boys have to make sure that bridge is still there when it’s time for Greymane to cross it. That or get blown up with it.’
‘Blown up?’
Faro nodded, grinning his pointy grin. ‘Oh yeah. There’ve been rumours of Moranth Black forces among these Roolians and Sixth veterans. Now it’s confirmed. Odds are they got their munitions too.’ He raised his chin in a question to Len. ‘How do you like that? Bein’ on the receivin’ end for a change, hey?’
The old saboteur kept his face carefully blank. ‘Let’s not start a panic,’ he drawled. ‘How’d you get spotted anyway? Thought you were better than that.’
Faro just pulled his lips back even more. ‘That Adjunct. Talk is he was Crimson Guard. They say the ghosts of their own dead watch over them.’
For some reason the idea of that sent a cold shiver down Suth’s back. It seemed to him that that would be the last thing he’d want.
Ussü had to bring all his waning influence to bear just to be allowed entrance into the main keep of the Three Sisters. Once within he was kept waiting through half the night while he knew not what was discussed in the Envoy’s hall. How to reconquer Skolati, perhaps. Or such premature nonsense.
Finally, past the mid-night ring on the candles, he was summoned into the Envoy’s presence. Members of the Lady’s militant religious order, these Guardians of the Faith, stood watch at the door to his quarters. Escorted in, Ussü bowed. He blinked in the glare of many more candles and lamps, then found the Envoy warming his hands at a brazier. The man was surrounded by sumptuousness: woven hangings depicted scenes from the Lady’s ages-long war against the enemy, the demon Stormriders. Thick rugs and cushions lay strewn about. Bright icons of the Lady gleamed on tables, on the walls, each with its own cluster of slim white candles representing the purity of faith. The Envoy wore a heavy wrap of dark wool though the room was stifling. Two Guardians of the Faith stood within to either side of the doors. ‘This is my devotional time, High Mage,’ the man said. ‘So please be quick.’
Ussü decided to try compliance first and therefore set aside all complaints or cutting remarks. ‘I have been busy, m’lord …’ for an instant the chilling vision of five pale corpses piled haphazardly near the wall of a tent flashed before his vision but this he also thrust aside and continued, ‘scrying, m’lord. Scrying our surroundings. Attempting to divine what is to come. I have glimpsed the enemy. They are close. I believe an attack is imminent.’ He took a cautious breath, and in the Envoy’s silence, plunged on: ‘M’lord, you must withdraw from the east shore. Any retreat, or rout, will press our forces into the river. Only a handful will make it across the bridge—’
Envoy Enesh-jer had shot up a hand for silence. He faced Ussü, glaring what the mage could only name hatred. ‘You have scried, have you?’ Taking a step closer, he studied Ussü as if he were an object of disgust. ‘Why Our Lady tolerates your perverted dabbling in these demon-arts is beyond my understanding. However, her tolerance and compassion is infinite. And so I must honour it. As to the deployment of our forces, mage … you have far overstepped your authority. You have no say in this at all.’
Ussü almost gaped his amazement. Did the Envoy actually believe what he was saying? He’d thought all these airs mere calculation for advancement. Had the man in truth found faith? It could happen, Ussü supposed. But ‘dabbling in arts’? What nonsense was this? Clenching his teeth to keep his voice low, Ussü grated, ‘Enesh-jer … stop pretending to be a local. You were born in Gr
is. I knew you as a young lieutenant in the Sixth. What insanity is this you are talking?’
The Envoy flinched away as if struck. He waved to the guards. ‘Leave us!’
As the Guardians closed the door behind them Enesh-jer lurched to a table, poured himself a glass of wine and downed it. This seemed to calm him. ‘Ussü – you are a mystery to me. Where are all our other cadre mages, hm? Where have they gone?’ And he laughed. ‘Oh, yes! I remember. I was there. The Lady’s power, Ussü! She has crushed them all. She is paramount here. No one can touch her. She is real! What are these other so-called gods? Hood? A bony face on the merely inevitable. Burn? Nothing more than lip service to an ancient hearth-spirit. And Shadowthrone?’ He laughed. ‘Well, I need not even comment. Ussü, what are all these other gods but rivals angered by her supremacy?’ He thrust an arm to the east. ‘And them! Out there! They too will fall to her. No one can defeat her in these lands. Over all these ages everyone who has tried has fallen! Even he … even Greymane was thrust aside.’ The Envoy opened his arms as if to say none of this mattered anyway. ‘And even if we should lose Rool to this new invasion force, the Korelri remain. You know what the Stormguard are like. What they can do. They cannot be defeated!’
Ussü could only shake his head. So, not so much faith as a bowing in submission to a greater power. Yet is there any distinction? Is not worship no more than a prettified effort at cringing ingratiation? Perhaps now is not the time for the philosophical question. No matter. These arguments I know and understand. ‘Enesh … the Stormguard only defend the wall. They will not fight your war for you.’
The Envoy now smiled with a kind of animal slyness. He stepped close. Sweat gleamed on his narrow hatchet face. His eyes were wide, the pupils huge. He took Ussü’s hands in his. ‘Poor fool! How you cling to your delusions. Yet you too have adapted to these new truths.’ He raised Ussü’s arms to reveal the blood staining the sleeves of his robes. The stigmata of his latest … efforts. ‘You too are implicated, friend. You too are with us. Up to your bloody elbows.’
The Malazan Empire Series: (Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder, Orb Sceptre Throne, Blood and Bone, Assail) (Novels of the Malazan Empire) Page 151