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)
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The Stormguard facing Ipshank freed his spear and thrust the priest in the side. The man fell to his knees. Fist Rillish stepped into the gap and the arcing blue-green flames shifted to envelop him. He screamed, smoking, and fell writhing in agony. Captain Peles let out a howl and hacked about her in a blind raging fury.
Then the earth moved. It kicked everyone from their feet, bucking and heaving. A great shriek of pained rock tore through the chamber. Rubble fell over them. A stone struck Suth, felling him. Dust and pulverized stone filled the chamber, swirling through broad beams of daylight. Then the reverberations and tremors eased into stillness and all was silent but for settling rock and the distant crash of surf.
The last tumbling stones clattered into the distance and Suth came to. He shook the dust from his face and helmet. The lancing pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the crushing weight of the block of stone trapping his sandalled foot. Pushing with both hands, he managed to yank it free of the slim gap that stopped the great block from utterly flattening it. Around him, through the swirling dust, men and women groaned, rousing themselves. Daylight streamed through the dust and Suth blinked, trying to make sense of what he saw.
It seemed that the massive tremor had caused a landslide, or fault, and the far wall of the chamber had been shorn away with a portion of the rock it was cut from. Wind gusted through the chamber, lashing the dust away, and Suth had a bird’s view of the broad Fist Sea and its curved mountainous borders. Standing on this new cliff edge was one remaining priest, blood glistening through his torn robes down one side, one hand tight upon the girl, who still gripped the chest to herself, her eyes huge. Four remaining Stormguard stood before them, swords out.
Advancing upon them came Kyle, helmet gone, his black hair a tangled mess of dust and wet blood. Suth found his sword among the broken rock and pushed himself erect to follow. Also staggering up from the rubble came Fist Rillish and Captain Peles.
Before Kyle could engage a waiting Stormguard, the priest gestured and a lance of the green-blue fire shot out to strike him in the chest. He reeled backwards, grunting his pain, but he did not fall.
‘Who protects you?’ the priest bellowed again, enraged, foam at his mouth. ‘It is of the earth! I sense it! Who dares!’
Kyle’s arms fell as he stared, shocked. ‘The earth … ?’ he echoed, wonder in his voice.
At that moment the Stormguard charged. Suth met one in a desperate delaying strategy, giving way, yielding, hoping beyond hope that one of his companions would finish their own opponent and come to aid him. Beside him, Fist Rillish fought with his two swords, exhausted, parrying only, hardly able to raise the tips of those slim weapons. Captain Peles fought doggedly, the only one of them to have retained a shield, which she hunched behind, refusing to give ground.
Kyle, recovering, hacked down the Stormguard and advanced upon the priest. Seeing death coming to him the priest howled his fury and thrust both hands out in a blast that threw up a cloud of dust, blinding everyone and bringing down further rocks, shaking the uncertain perch of the very cave. Suth, blinking, wiped an arm across his eyes, coughing. The Stormguard lashed out with a cut, judging his distance expertly from that mere cough, slicing Suth across his chest. The Korelri raised his sword for the killing stroke but lurched aside instead, falling. It was the priest, Ipshank. The man gripped the Stormguard’s helmed head between his broad wrestler’s hands and twisted, snapping sideways. The crunch of cartilage and vertebrae cracking made Suth flinch. He helped Ipshank to his feet.
Behind the Stormguard, the lashing wind tore the dust away to reveal the Adjunct down and the priest of the Lady exulting, laughing, the child yet at his side, frozen in horror, frozen in terror. That triumphant smile fell away, however, as a new figure bounded in from the side, rolling, closing with the priest – Faro. Before the priest could even react the Claw stitched him with countless knifethrusts. Gaping his disbelief the man stared, unmoving, until Faro kicked him over the edge. Then the Claw turned to look down at the girl and raised his gleaming wet blades.
‘No!’ Fist Rillish yelled, charging past the Stormguard. The Korelri slashed his back as he passed. The Fist yanked the girl from Faro’s side.
Suth engaged the Stormguard, Ipshank limping just behind. ‘Do not touch the chest!’ the priest yelled.
Shrugging, Faro lazily advanced on the Stormguard Suth faced and the Korelri turned to keep the two of them before him. All this time Captain Peles exchanged ringing blows with the only other Korelri standing. They seemed to have made a pact to see who could outlast the other.
Shifting, panting, his foot numb and almost useless, Suth tried to bring the Stormguard’s back to Faro. Ipshank yelled then, next to him, ‘Rillish!’
Suth snapped a quick glance to the cliff edge. The Fist, his hands on the shoulders of the girl before him, was slowly leaning as if drunk. His eyes rolled up white and he tottered backwards, his hands slipping from the girl’s shoulders. He disappeared over the edge.
‘No!’ Peles howled and she smashed the Korelri facing her in a blurred storm of blows, literally crushing him to the ground before charging to the edge. Ipshank ran as well.
‘Yield,’ Suth gasped breathlessly to the last standing Stormguard.
The Chosen snorted from within his helm. ‘Don’t be a fool.’
‘You’re the fool,’ Suth answered, and nodded to Faro.
The Korelri snapped a quick glance to Faro, and as he did so the Claw flicked a hand. The Chosen flinched, his arms jumping like a puppet’s, then he sank to his knees and fell on his side. The handle of a throwing blade protruded from the narrow vision slit of his helm.
Suth limped for the cliff edge. Here he found Captain Peles, her helm thrown aside, white hair a matted sweaty mess, panting, gulping in great breaths. Out over the yawning gulf, straight-armed, she held the child by her shirt. The chest lay to one side.
‘Don’t do it,’ Ipshank was saying in a low calm voice. ‘Don’t give in to it. Don’t. You’ll never forgive yourself.’
Tears ran down the woman’s grimed, sweaty face. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a savage frozen snarl.
No one dared move. Far below the waves pounded, white-capped, insistent. Rocks tumbled and clattered down the freshly exposed cliff.
‘Don’t yield to it,’ Ipshank said, not begging nor commanding, simply matter-of-fact.
The woman drew three great shuddering breaths, seemed on the verge of weeping, then threw the child to Ipshank and stalked away, her hands over her face.
The priest held the girl to him. ‘Get everyone up,’ he told Suth.
A dash of water from a goatskin woke Kyle, who groaned, stirring. Whatever was supposed to have been protecting him appeared to have insulated him from the blast, as his only wound was the gash that split his scalp. Manask had escaped death yet again by virtue of his extraordinary armour, which even in its shredded state had protected him from an immense knife-edged stone that pinned him down. Suth and Kyle levered the stone aside and pulled him up. Pulverized rock rained from the fellow like flour. Goss they woke, then Kyle set to binding his wound. Wess they found buried under great blocks but alive. Corbin lay aside, motionless, covered in rock dust. Suth found Keri unconscious from loss of blood. He went to work binding up her leg.
Faro merely cleaned his blades. Captain Peles sat aside, head sunk in her hands. Ipshank called from the cliff edge where he sat, the girl in his arms, asleep or unconscious. ‘Look at the sea …’
Finished with Keri’s wound, Suth came to the edge. Some disturbance ran like a line across the surface of the inland body of water for as far as he could see. And it was approaching the base of their cliffs with unnatural speed.
‘Manask,’ Ipshank called. He gestured to the chest with a foot. ‘I want this as far out to sea as possible … but don’t touch it!’
Manask bounced his fingertips together as if deep in thought. ‘You know … we could get a fortune—’
‘Manask!’
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He raised his hands in surrender. ‘Just a thought!’
Ipshank pointed. ‘The sea.’
‘Yes, yes. If we must. Simplicity itself!’ the giant answered – though far less a giant now as he was missing his great thick mane of hair, revealing his bald head. And he had lost or kicked aside his tall boots. His layered armour hung from him in loose, torn folds.
The big man selected one of the Korelri spears. He pushed the butt end through a grip of the chest then carefully extended it behind him, sideways. Everyone moved aside.
With a savage flick he snapped the spear forward like a kind of throwing stick, flinging the chest far out from the cliff. Suth followed its fall. So small was the chest, and so great the distances involved, he could not see it striking the surface.
Almost immediately, however, a froth arose among the waves. A glow flashed, bluish and lancing, slashing, as if striking out. Bright shapes coursed among the waves, closing from all sides. Within that patch the water foamed as if boiling.
Kyle stepped up to the edge next to Ipshank and stood watchful, hands at his belt. The squat man eyed the youth, his gaze concerned. ‘We don’t know for certain …’ he began, but the plainsman shook his head and turned away. As he went Suth saw him wipe at his face.
Manask elbowed Ipshank. ‘All finished with this nonsense now? A lifetime’s quest fulfilled, yes?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ the priest ground out.
From the rear of the cavern, behind them all, Captain Peles yelled out: ‘Attend!’
Suth turned on his wounded foot, wincing. There, filing in, came Black Moranth one after the other, until some twenty faced them. Suth would have groaned aloud if he wasn’t so appalled. Captain Peles faced them, sword readied. Kyle joined her, and Wess staggered over to them.
‘I could use my preternatural skills to sneak away – but I will stand by your side,’ Manask told Ipshank.
‘What a comfort.’
Suth glanced around for Faro, to discover that the Claw obviously did not share the giant’s sense of comradeship. He drew his sword to limp up to Wess’ side.
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 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 Tiste Andii.