‘Quiet,’ she hissed.
Then he heard it, a bright sharp blare; and knew what it was. He fumbled for his linen trousers and stumbled down from the hut into the starlit central clearing. Here the villagers gathered, peering about, quite terrified. Hopping to slip on his boots, Murk found Yusen and Sour. ‘The rally horn!’ he called.
Yusen nodded, grim. ‘They’re under attack.’
Oroth-en came pushing his way through the clamouring crowd. ‘What is this noise?’ he demanded.
‘Our friends are being attacked.’
‘Attacked?’ the elder repeated, quite surprised.
‘Will you guide us back, please?’
Oroth-en instantly set aside his confusion to nod his agreement. ‘Of course. Collect your weapons.’
Yusen gave a quick bow of thanks. He turned to Sour and Murk. ‘Get your gear then return here.’ Both turned and ran. At the hut Murk found Ursa pulling on her thick leather skirting and shirt. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded as he sorted through their commingled gear, all tossed down together in the heat of their first round of lovemaking.
‘I am going.’
Murk pulled on his laced shirt. ‘No, you’re not. Stay here. It’ll be dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ The woman let out a great braying laugh and slapped him on the shoulder so hard he almost fell over. ‘You have no idea how dangerous it is out there, foreigner.’ She hefted her spear. ‘Come!’ and she leaped from the hut.
Oroth-en and a portion of the village’s warriors guided them through the woods. The moment Murk slipped under the surrounding jungle edge he entered a deep shadowed darkness. He gestured, summoning Meanas, and cast a Shadow-derived mage vision over Sour and Yusen, who signed back indicating that they had it. He then hurried to Oroth-en’s side.
‘As a mage, a shaduwam, I can help you see in the night—’ he began, but the elder waved the offer aside.
‘No need. We have no difficulty.’
Indeed, now that Oroth-en said this, Murk realized that his warriors and scouts had all dodged ahead, slipping into the dark with ease. The fact of this now troubled him as he jogged along, struggling to keep up. Soon his breath came short – he was in poor shape after so many days of privation.
Blasts of munitions now echoed from the jungle far ahead. The shockwaves raised howls, cries and shrieks of protest from the many night-creatures. Swarms of bats churned overhead, disturbed from the highest reaches of the canopy. Damn. Gettin’ serious. Who’s attacking? Another village?
Ursa emerged from the brush to come to his side. ‘What is this new noise like thunder, lover?’ she demanded.
‘Munitions – ah, powerful blasts, like magery.’ She grunted her half-understanding. ‘Watch out—’ but she was gone again, dodging into the thick fronds of the undergrowth.
Gods damn them! No one’s listening!
It began to rain. The advance was a nightmare of flashing bodies dodging between trees, slapping branches and dripping leaves. He turned his ankle on a fallen log and limped along as best he could. All around him the locals sent up war whoops and yipping challenges to the night. They clashed the hafts of their spears against the shells and lattices of sticks they wore woven over leather as armour.
Why are they making so damned much noise? Then it came to him – putting up a scare. They were hoping drive off the attackers. He lent his own voice to the shouts.
Far too long later, long after the distant clash and eruptions of munitions had died away, Murk emerged into the meadow and stepped on to the torn mud of the aftermath of battle. Members of the company knelt with those fallen, wrapping wounds or comforting ones too far gone. He sought out Burastan. He found her with Yusen, her face slashed and the cloth and armour of her arm ragged and torn as if some sort of animal had been raging at it.
‘Who was it?’ he demanded, barging into their conversation.
‘Creatures,’ she answered, exhausted. ‘Half-human, half-monster.’
‘D’ivers? Soletaken?’
Her answer was an unknowing, utterly spent shrug.
Nearby, Oroth-en listened to reports from his scouts who slipped into the clearing, whispered to him, then sped off once more. His warriors helped guard the clearing’s perimeter.
‘You have a count?’ Yusen asked Burastan.
She nodded, wiped a bloodied sleeve across her face. ‘Some fifteen seriously wounded. Eight dead.’
Murk peered about for Sour and spotted him already tending to a wounded trooper. Good. The man wasn’t much of a bonesetter, but he was the best they had – gods help them. Strangely, two of the locals were kneeling there helping with the binding and treatment and they appeared to be debating techniques with him.
He then began hunting through the tall grass for the litter and its perilous burden. The troopers had obviously hidden it away, but the power of the object glowed like a dazzling ember in his mage-vision, guiding him. He found Dee and Ostler standing guard.
He asked Dee: ‘Did it … do … anything?’
The big swordsman eyed him as if he were an idiot. ‘Whaddya mean?’
He turned away. ‘Never mind.’
While he was walking off the swordsman called, ‘I will tell ya this, cadre. They wanted it. Them beasties wanted it.’
Murk offered a nod for the information – accurate or not. A thought came to him and he paused, considering. There was someone else he could question here regarding the attack. It – she – had been gone lately, and he was frankly quite happy to leave things at that. But perhaps …
‘Celeste…’ he called through Meanas. ‘Celeste … are you—’
He broke off because in his mage-vision he could see the faint jade glow of something approaching through the grasses. The image of a young girl. Nearby, Dee and Ostler acted as if nothing were happening; they were obviously completely unaware of its – her – presence. He moved off into the dense grasses for more privacy.
He was terrified to have to talk to this thing. Who knew what she might do? She might get annoyed by something he said and blast him from the face of the earth with the flick of a finger. Yet out of everyone here he was the one who ought to be doing this, and so he remembered his mage training and struggled to relax his mind into the state of ‘forced calm’.
The diminutive flickering image stopped before him. She peered about curiously with her big child-like eyes as if fascinated, yet completely mystified, by the mercenary soldiers coming and going. Closer now, he was struck by something familiar in the simple straight style of her hair and plain peasant clothes. She looked like a farm girl from northern Quon Tali. Had it taken this image from his mind? But then he remembered that she’d mentioned another.
‘I am here,’ she said. ‘I have always been here. Whether you were aware of me or not.’
‘I see. So, did you see the attack?’
She frowned prettily. ‘Attack?’
Queen give me strength! How can I put this? ‘Others came. Creatures different from us, and there was fighting. Many were hurt.’
She peered up at him with a directness of gaze that made him want to flee. ‘You are all alike to me.’
Murk felt the strength leaving his knees. Ye gods! Try another tack! ‘So, what have you been doing – if I may ask?’
‘There is another here. A different sort of entity. I have been trying to understand it.’
Ah. Ardata. ‘Yes?’
She shook her head with an awed expression oddly appropriate to a child’s face. ‘Its awareness exists on a level incalculably far beyond you or me.’
Murk flinched as if struck. What? Is this what we are facing?
He asked, his voice faint, ‘Any … progress?’
‘I am wary. I wonder – how might the process of becoming able to understand this awareness, this entity, cause a change in me? And do I wish to be changed?’ She peered up at him suddenly then, as if pleading, appearing so very vulnerable. ‘What would you do?’
If Murk had been terrified and appalled befor
e, all was as nothing compared to what now overwhelmed him. Gods above and below! What to say? And will it be the right choice? Perhaps they had something here that could counter this goddess’s power … Use her? How could I even consider such a thing? Am I no better than what I’ve heard of these Thaumaturgs?
And yet … gods, the temptation! Imagine. The right word here or there and who knew how much power might be his …
He drew a shuddering dizzying breath. ‘I, too, would be wary. As you are.’ He swallowed to ease the tension banded about his chest. ‘I would wait. Watch. Until I knew more about – well, about everything.’
She’d been nodding solemnly with his words and brushing a hand through the grasses. ‘Yes. That was what I was thinking.’ She smiled shyly up at him. ‘Thank you. Your words are a relief.’ She waved her hands as if to encompass all their surroundings. ‘This is all so very new and strange.’
‘I’m sure it is.’
Still nodding distractedly, she wandered off, and Murk watched her go until the glow faded away into nothing and he knew she was gone. He rocked then, almost tottering as his knees wobbled. He doubled over, hands on thighs, and breathed deeply. K’rul guide me! Had that been the right choice? Had he let an unmatched opportunity slip through his fingers? Time would tell. Still weak-kneed, he went to find Yusen.
The captain was standing with Oroth-en. Both were silent, watching the woods. They seemed much alike these two, both guarded and stingy with their words.
‘They have fled far,’ Oroth-en told Murk and he nodded, having already surmised this. He addressed the elder. ‘What are they?’
‘They are the children of the Great Goddess. Queen of the Forest.’
‘Why did they attack?’
The man frowned his uncertainty. The lines and swirls tattooed in blue around his mouth exaggerated the expression. ‘I am not sure. You are foreigners, invaders. They are perhaps defending their lands.’
‘Do they attack you?’
‘They are a danger to anyone in the woods.’
‘But do they attack your villages?’
The suggestion surprised him. ‘Goddess, no. Why should they do that?’
Exactly, Murk thought. Something utterly outside your experience. Why should they? And we possess far more fighting men than you, my friend. He faced Yusen. ‘While it’s dark I want to try to contact one of them. Feel them out.’
The captain’s expressive brows shot up, but he nodded. ‘If you think you can handle it.’
‘Yes – well, I think so.’
‘All right.’
Oroth-en’s gaze had been moving between them, narrowed. ‘What is this?’
‘I’m going to go out for a chat.’
The elder jerked a curt negative. ‘I cannot countenance that. It would be very foolish. They are angry. Something has disturbed them.’
I think I know what that is. ‘Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I am shaduwam, remember?’
The warlord was unconvinced. He shook his head, very worried. ‘Do you know the fate of all the shaduwam, your mages, Thaumaturg or otherwise, who dare enter Himatan?’
Murk knew he was about to find out – and that he wouldn’t like it.
‘The forest consumes all, foreigner.’ He raised his arms to the surroundings. ‘Everyone and everything is consumed. No matter how powerful they may think themselves. The only way to survive here is to accept this. As we have.’
Murk cocked an eyebrow, but that was all. He was too aware of the precariousness of their position to openly argue with the man. He knew his environment, after all. And they were his guests. ‘Well…’ he said, offering a considered nod. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’ He saluted Yusen. ‘Cap’n…’
Yusen just waved him on.
Before he reached the jungle verge a spear haft suddenly snapped across his path and the broad bulk of Ursa blocked his way. ‘What is this I hear of you going alone to the children of the Great Queen?’ she rumbled.
‘I can speak to them.’
‘And they can eat you, lover.’
‘Do not forget I am a shaduwam. I will be safe.’
She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to move from his path. ‘No others have been. Not Thaumaturg or otherwise.’
Murk sighed. Just what I need – a protective mothering lover. Nothing else for it.
He raised his Warren and entered Meanas. To Ursa’s eyes it was as if he simply disappeared. ‘Great Mother!’ he heard her exclaim as he hurried on round her. He hadn’t really disappeared in truth, merely used a weaving of shadows to hide his presence. He no longer dared enter the Shadow realm of Emurlahn proper.
Enmeshed in his shifting slithering cloak of shadows he jogged past scouts watching the dense jungle. He spotted Sweetly up against the wide trunk of a tree. The scout’s gaze seemed to follow him and he raised a hand to tap one ear while shaking his head. Murk just grimaced. Making too much damned noise. Fine. Fucking show-off.
He continued on for nearly the rest of the night. By this time, the nightly rains had long since moved on to the southwest. The bright waxing moon had set. Yet the stars remained sharp and the great hanging arc of the portent hung luminous enough to send shafts of jade light down through the canopy. Murk followed the tuggings of his Warren until he sensed the presence of one of the creatures. Here he stopped and crouched among dense broad fronds to weave a sort of sending of Shadows that would speak for him. He worked to weave the slippery half-light until a shifting presence of dusk hovered before him. It rippled as if in some sort of unearthly breeze, perhaps crossing from Emurlahn. This he sent off towards the D’ivers, or Soletaken, or whatever it was, while drops of cold rain fell on his neck and shoulders from the leaves.
His Warren poised, Murk peered through the Shadow-weaving, searching until he found the creature, sprawled, wounded, panting among twisting roots of a dense grove of golden shower trees. It was human, vaguely, but barely so. A sort of half-bird thing, his upper torso feathered and his head that of some species of bird of prey with a savage curved beak and blood-red eyes. Those eyes followed the slow drifting advance of Murk’s weaving.
‘Compared to the Thaumaturg army of peasants and farmers,’ it said, its voice harsh but weak, ‘you foreigners fight well.’
A Thaumaturg army? Now? ‘Why did you attack us?’
‘Why?’ A stuttering that Murk supposed was laughter shook it, followed by a convulsion of pain as it huddled into a tighter ball. ‘Why? You ask such a stupid question? You invade our lands. You trespass without our leave. And then you have the nerve to think yourselves the victims?’
‘We are trying to get home.’
‘Home? This is not your home. You do not belong here. And you bring this thing with you! We do not want it. Take it away! Go away. Leave us in peace.’
Peace? Gods and demons! ‘I’m sorry. We didn’t know. We do not think of this – a jungle, a wild land – as peaceful.’
‘You are foreigners. Yet we all live the same lives. We are born, we strive, we die. The difference is we do not make war upon our land. We accept it. We are at peace with it.’ The creature’s gaze shifted from Murk, as if peering above him. ‘And here comes peace for me now.’
Struggling to see through the obscuring sending, Murk flinched as something fell upon the thing. A much larger beast, this one scaled mud-grey and olive-green. It raised its bloodied fanged snout from the carcass now clenched in its taloned feet. Nictitating opalescent eyes stabbed at Murk through the sending.
‘You are near, mage,’ it hissed. ‘I can smell you.’
Uh-oh. Time to go.
Sliding from shadow to shadow, Murk succeeded in returning to the clearing where the troop had re-formed a cordon of guards. He slipped through to appear next to Sour – who made a show of casual recognition of his presence without looking up from his work cleaning a ragged savage gash down a merc’s leg.
A touch miffed – how did the man always know? – Murk crouched beside him. ‘Need any help?’
/>
‘No. These local boys and girls really know their stuff.’
Murk poked a finger at the leaves and moss gathered on peeled strips of bark. ‘What’s this?’
‘Local medicines. From what I understand they get all they need from the plants ’n’ such around.’
Murk grunted as an idea struck. ‘No shaduwam.’
‘Exactly. Don’t need ’em. Everyone knows their stuff and can collect it free of charge.’
He eyed the ugly ragged tear of parted flesh across the woman’s lower thigh. ‘Nasty wound. Nails and talons. Not like a clean sword cut.’
Sour nodded as was his wont: sourly. He whispered, low, ‘Anywhere else I’d say goodbye to the leg. But these locals claim this stuff will hold off any fever and rot.’
‘Let’s hope.’ Murk gave the merc a reassuring nod. She was a swordswoman named Cryseth, hailing from the island of Strike in Falar. ‘Have this bound up and good in no time.’
She gave a taut answering jerk of her head and mouthed through clenched teeth, ‘An even exchange, mage.’
Murk continued his nod. Yes, an even exchange. I’ll do my damned best. ‘Where’s the cap’n?’
Sour tilted his head aside. ‘Chattin’ with Oroth-en. Something ’bout boats.’
‘Right.’ He rose but Sour grabbed hold of his jerkin.
‘You get through?’ he asked, low, now pointing his bearded chin towards the litter.
‘Yeah.’
‘And?’
‘Neutral. So far.’
The little man let out a thankful breath. ‘Good. Later.’
Murk grunted an assent and headed off through the tall grasses. His jerkin, he noted, was now smeared in clotted blood where his partner had clenched a handhold. Not a goddamned sign, please, Enchantress.
If Oroth-en and the captain had been talking they weren’t now. Yusen looked stymied, rubbing his neck. The elder appeared wary and watchful. Catching sight of Murk the captain nodded a greeting while Oroth-en’s surprise was softened by a crooked smile.
Yusen cleared his throat. He appeared to have come to some sort of decision as he crossed his arms and gave Murk his full attention. ‘Your report, cadre?’
Murk couldn’t help raising a brow, but declined to comment – for now. Cadre now, is it? ‘They want us gone, sir. Was a warning more than anything else.’
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 299