The Bonehunters

by Steven Erikson

  A comforting thought. Too bad he didn't believe a word of it.

  ****

  The Fourteenth had been kicked awake and was now swarm­ing with activity. Head pounding, Sergeant Hellian sat on the side of the road. Eight days with this damned miserable army and that damned tyrant of a captain, and now she was out of rum. The three soldiers of her undersized squad were packing up the last of their kits, none daring to address their hungover, murderously inclined sergeant.

  Bitter recollections of the event that had triggered all this haunted Hellian. A temple of slaughter, the frenzy of priests, officials and investigators, and the need to send all witnesses as far away as possible, preferably into a situation they would not survive. Well, she couldn't blame them — no, wait, of course she could. The world was run by stupid people, that was the truth of it. Twenty-two followers of D'rek had been butchered in their own temple, in a district that had been her responsibility — but patrols were never permitted inside any of the temples, so she could have done nothing to prevent it in any case. But no, that wasn't good enough. Where had the killers gone, Sergeant Hellian? And why didn't you see them leave? And what about that man who accompanied you, who then vanished?

  Killers. There weren't any. Not natural ones. A demon, more likely, escaped from some secret ritual, a conjuration gone awry. The fools killed themselves, and that was the way of it. The man had been some defrocked priest from another temple, probably a sorceror. Once he figured out what had happened, he'd hightailed it out of there, leaving her with the mess.

  Not fair, but what did fairness have to do with anything?

  Urb lowered his massive bulk in front of her. 'We're almost ready, Sergeant.'

  'You should've strangled him.'

  'I wanted to. Really.'

  'Did you? Truth?'

  'Truth.'

  'But then he slipped away,' Hellian said. 'Like a worm.'

  'Captain wants us to join the rest of the squads in her company. They're up the road some. We should get going before the march begins.'

  She looked over at the other two soldiers. The twins, Brethless and Touchy. Young, lost — well, maybe not young in years, but young anyway. She doubted they could fight their way out of a midwives' picnic — though, granted, she'd heard those could be rough events, especially if some fool pregnant woman wandered in. Oh, well, that was Kartool, city of spiders, city that crunched underfoot, city of webs and worse. They were a long way from any midwives' picnic.

  Out here, spiders floated in the air, but at least they were tiny, easily destroyed with a medium-sized stone. 'Abyss below,' she groaned. 'Find me something to drink.'

  Urb handed her a waterskin.

  'Not that, idiot.'

  'Maybe in the company we're joining...'

  She looked up, squinted at him. 'Good idea. All right, help me up — no, don't help me up.' She staggered upright.

  'You all right, Sergeant?'

  'I will be,' she said, 'after you take my skull in your hands and crush it flat.'

  He frowned. 'I'd get in trouble if I did that.'

  'Not with me you wouldn't. Never mind. Touchy, take point.'

  'We're on a road, Sergeant.'

  'Just do it. Practice.'

  'I won't be able to see anything,' the man said. 'Too many people and things in the way.'

  Oh, gods crawling in the Abyss, just let me live long enough to kill that man. 'You got any problem with taking point, Brethless?'

  'No, Sergeant. Not me.'

  'Good. Do it and let's get going.'

  'Want me out on flank?' Touchy asked.

  'Yeah, somewhere past the horizon, you brain-stunted cactus.'

  ****

  'It's not your average scorpion,' Maybe said, peering close but not too close.

  'It's damned huge,' Lutes said. 'Seen that type before, but never one so... huge.'

  'Could be a freak, and all its brothers and sisters were tiny. Making it lonely and that's why it's so mean.'

  Lutes stared across at Maybe. 'Yeah, could be it. You got a real brain in that skull. All right, now, you think it can kill Joyful Union? I mean, there's two of those...'

  'Well, maybe we need to find another one just like this one.'

  'But I thought all its brothers and sisters were tiny.'

  'Oh, right. Could be it's got an uncle, or something.'

  'Who's big.'

  'Huge. Huger than this one.'

  'We need to start looking.'

  'I wouldn't bother,' Bottle said from where he sat in the shadow of a boulder, five paces away from the two soldiers of Borduke's squad.

  They started, then Lutes hissed and said, 'He's been spying!'

  'Not spying. Grieving.'

  'What for?' Maybe demanded. 'We ain't even arrived at Y'Ghatan yet.'

  'Met our new captain?'

  The two looked at each other, then Lutes said, 'No. Knew one was coming, though.'

  'She's here. She killed Joyful Union. Under her heel. Crunch!'

  Both men jumped. 'That murderer!' Maybe said in a growl. He looked down at the scorpion ringed in by stones at his feet. 'Oh yes, let's see her try with Sparkle here — he'd get her ankle for sure, right through the boot leather—'

  'Don't be a fool,' Bottle said. 'Anyway, Sparkle's not a boy. Sparkle's a girl.'

  'Even better. Girls are meaner.'

  'The smaller ones you always see are the boys. Not as many girls around, but that's just the way of it. They're coy. Anyway, you'd better let her go.'

  'Why?' Lutes demanded. 'Ain't no prissy captain going to—'

  'She'd be the least of your problems, Lutes. The males will pick up her distress scent. You'll have hundreds follow­ing you. Then thousands, and they'll be damned aggressive, if you get my meaning.'

  Maybe smiled. 'Interesting. You sure of that, Bottle?'

  'Don't get any stupid ideas.'

  'Why not? We're good at stupid ideas. I mean, uh, well—'

  'What Maybe means,' Lutes said, 'is we can think things through. Right through, Bottle. Don't you worry about us.'

  'She killed Joyful Union. There won't be any more fights — spread the word, all those squads with new scorpions — let the little ones go.'

  'All right,' Lutes said, nodding.

  Bottle studied the two men. 'That includes the one you got there.'

  'Sure. We'll just look at her a while longer, that's all.' Maybe smiled again.

  Climbing to his feet, Bottle hesitated, then shook his head and walked off, back towards the squad's camp. The army was almost ready to resume the march. With all the desultory lack of enthusiasm one might expect of an army about to lay siege to a city.

  A sky without clouds. Again. More dust, more heat, more sweat. Bloodflies and chigger fleas, and the damned vultures wheeling overhead — as they had been doing since Raraku — but this, he knew, would be the last day of that march. The old road ahead, a few more abandoned hamlets, feral goats in the denuded hills, distant riders tracking them from the ridge.

  The others in the squad were on their feet and waiting when he arrived. Bottle saw that Smiles was labouring under two packs. 'What happened to you?' he asked her.

  The look she turned on him was filled with abject misery. 'I don't know. The new captain ordered it. I hate her.'

  'I'm not surprised,' Bottle said, collecting his own gear and shrugging into the pack's straps. 'Is that Strings's kit you got there?'

  'Not all of it,' she said. 'He won't trust me with the Moranth munitions.'

  Thank Oponn for that. 'The captain been by since?'

  'No. The bitch. We're going to kill her, you know.'

  'Really. Well, I won't shed any tears. Who is this "we" anyway?'

  'Me and Cuttle. He'll distract her, I'll stick a knife in her back. Tonight.'

  'Fist Keneb will have you strung up, you know.'

  'We'll make it look like an accident.'

  Distant horns sounded. 'All right, everyone,' Strings said from the road. 'Let's move
.'

  Groaning wagon wheels, clacking and thumping on the uneven cobbles, rocking in the ruts, the lowing of oxen, thousands of soldiers lurching into motion, the sounds a rising clatter and roar, the first dust swirling into the air.

  Koryk fell in alongside Bottle. 'They won't do it,' he said.

  'Do what? Kill the captain?'

  'I got a long look at her,' he said. 'She's not just from Korelri. She's from the Stormwall.'

  Bottle squinted at the burly warrior. 'How do you know that?'

  'There's a silver tracing on her scabbard. She was a section commander.'

  'That's ridiculous, Koryk. First, standing the Wall isn't something you can just resign from, if what I've heard is true. Besides, this woman's a captain, in the least-prepared Malazan army in the entire empire. If she'd commanded a section against the Stormriders, she'd rank as Fist at the very least.'

  'Only if she told people, Bottle, but that tracing tells another story.'

  Two strides ahead of them, Strings turned his head to regard them. 'So, you saw it too, Koryk.'

  Bottle swung round to Smiles and Cuttle. 'You two hear­ing this?'

  'So?' Smiles demanded.

  'We heard,' Cuttle said, his expression sour. 'Maybe she just looted that scabbard from somewhere... but I don't think that's likely. Smiles, lass, we'd best put our plans on a pyre and strike a spark.'

  'Why?' she demanded. 'What's this Stormwall mean, anyway? And how come Koryk thinks he knows so much? He doesn't know anything, except maybe the back end of a horse and that only in the dark. Look at all your faces — I'm saddled with a bunch of cowards!'

  'Who plan on staying alive,' Cuttle said.

  'Smiles grew up playing in the sand with farm boys,' Koryk said, shaking his head. 'Woman, listen to me. The Stormwall is leagues long, on the north coast of Korelri. It stands as the only barricade between the island continent and the Stormriders, those demonic warriors of the seas between Malaz Island and Korelri — you must have heard of them?'

  'Old fishers' tales.'

  'No, all too real,' Cuttle said. 'I seen them myself, plying those waters. Their horses are the waves. They wield lances of ice. We slit the throats of six goats to paint the water in appeasement.'

  'And it worked?' Bottle asked, surprised.

  'No, but tossing the cabin boy over the side did.'

  'Anyway,' Koryk said after a moment of silence, 'only chosen warriors are given the task of standing the Wall. Fighting those eerie hordes. It's an endless war, or at least it was...'

  'It's over?'

  The Seti shrugged.

  'So,' Smiles said, 'what's she doing here? Bottle's right, it doesn't make sense.'

  'You could ask her,' Koryk replied, 'assuming you survive this day's march.'

  'This isn't so bad,' she sniffed.

  'We've gone a hundred paces, soldier,' Strings called back. 'So best save your breath.'

  Bottle hesitated, then said to Smiles. 'Here, give me that — that captain ain't nowhere about, is she?'

  'I never noticed nothing,' Strings said without turning round.

  'I can do this—'

  'We'll spell each other.'

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, then she shrugged. 'If you like.'

  He took the second pack from her.

  'Thanks, Bottle. At least someone in this squad's nice to me.'

  Koryk laughed. 'He just doesn't want a knife in his leg.'

  'We got to stick together,' Bottle said, 'now that we got ourselves a tyrant officer over us.'

  'Smart lad,' Strings said.

  'Still,' Smiles said, 'thanks, Bottle.'

  He smiled sweetly at her.

  ****

  'They've stopped moving,' Kalam muttered. 'Now why would that be?'

  'No idea,' Quick Ben said at his side.

  They were lying flat on the summit of a low ridge. Eleven Moon's Spawns hovered in an even row above another rise of hills two thousand paces distant. 'So,' the assassin asked, 'what passes for night in this warren?'

  'It's on its way, and it isn't much.'

  Kalam twisted round and studied the squad of soldiers sprawled in the dust of the slope behind them. 'And your plan, Quick?'

  'We make use of it, of course. Sneak up under one—'

  'Sneak up? There's no cover, there's nothing to even throw shadows!'

  'That's what makes it so brilliant, Kalam.'

  The assassin reached out and cuffed Quick Ben.

  'Ow. All right, so the plan stinks. You got a better one?'

  'First off, we send this squad behind us back to the Fourteenth. Two people sneaking up is a lot better than eight. Besides, I've no doubt they can fight but that won't be much use with a thousand K'Chain Che'Malle charging down on us. Another thing — they're so cheery it's a struggle to keep from dancing.'

  At that, Sergeant Gesler threw him a kiss.

  Kalam rolled back round and glared at the stationary fortresses.

  Quick Ben sighed. Scratched his smooth-shaven jaw. 'The Adjunct's orders...'

  'Forget that. This is a tactical decision, it's in our purview.'

  Gesler called up from below, 'She don't like us around either, Kalam.'

  'Oh? And why's that?'

  'She keeps cracking up in our company. I don't know. We was on the Silanda, you know. We went through walls of fire on that ship.'

  'We've all led hard lives, Gesler...'

  'Our purview?' Quick Ben asked. 'I like that. You can try it on her, later.'

  'Let's send them back.'

  'Gesler?'

  'Fine with us. I wouldn't follow you two into a latrine, begging your sirs' pardon.'

  Stormy added, 'Just hurry up about it, wizard. I'm getting grey waiting.'

  'That would be the dust, Corporal.'

  'So you say.'

  Kalam considered, then said, 'We could take the hairy Falari with us, maybe. Care to come along, Corporal? As rearguard?'

  'Rearguard? Hey, Gesler, you were right. They are going into a latrine. All right, assuming my sergeant here won't miss me too much.'

  'Miss you?' Gesler sneered. 'Now at least I'll get women to talk to me.'

  'It's the beard puts them off,' Stormy said, 'but I ain't changing for nobody.'

  'It's not the beard, it's what lives in the beard.'

  'Hood take us,' Kalam breathed, 'send them away, Quick Ben, please.'

  ****

  Four leagues north of Ehrlitan, Apsalar stood facing the sea. The promontory on the other side of A'rath Strait was just visible, rumpling the sunset's line on the horizon. Kansu Reach, which stretched in a long, narrow arm westward to the port city of Kansu. At her feet prowled two gut-bound skeletons, pecking at grubs in the dirt and hissing in frustration as the mangled insects they attempted to swallow simply fell out beneath their jaws.

  Even bone, or the physical remembrance of bone, held power, it seemed. The behaviour patterns of the lizard-birds the creatures once were had begun to infect the ghost spirits of Telorast and Curdle. They now chased snakes, leapt into the air after rhizan and capemoths, duelled each other in dominance contests, strutting, spitting and kicking sand. She believed they were losing their minds.

  No great loss. They had been murderous, vile, entirely untrustworthy in their lives. And, perhaps, they had ruled a realm. As usurpers, no doubt. She would not regret their dissolution.

  'Not-Apsalar! Why are we waiting here? We dislike water, we have discovered. The gut bindings will loosen. We'll fall apart.'

  'We are crossing this strait, Telorast,' Apsalar said. 'Of course, you and Curdle may wish to stay behind, to leave my company.'

  'Do you plan on swimming?'

  'No, I intend to use the warren of Shadow.'

  'Oh, that won't be wet.'

  'No,' Curdle laughed, prancing around to stand before Apsalar, head bobbing. 'Not wet, oh, that's very good. We'll come along, won't we, Telorast?'

  'We promised! No, we didn't. Who said that? We're just eager to stand gua
rd over your rotting corpse, Not-Apsalar, that's what we promised. I don't understand why I get so confused. You have to die eventually. That's obvious. It's what happens to mortals, and you are mortal, aren't you? You must be, you have been bleeding for three days — we can smell it.'

  'Idiot!' Curdle hissed. 'Of course she's mortal, and besides, we were women once, remember? She bleeds because that's what happens. Not all the time, but some­times. Regularly. Or not. Except just before she lays eggs, which would mean a male found her, which would mean...'

  'She's a snake?' Telorast asked in a droll tone.

  'But she isn't. What were you thinking, Telorast?'

  The sun's light was fading, the waters of the strait crimson. A lone sail from a trader's carrack was cutting a path southward into the Ehrlitan Sea.

  'The warren feels strong here,' Apsalar said.

  'Oh yes,' Telorast said, bony tail caressing Apsalar's left ankle. 'Fiercely manifest. This sea is new.'

  'That is possible,' she replied, eyeing the jagged cliffs marking the narrows. 'Are there ruins beneath the waves?'

  'How would we know? Probably. Likely, absolutely. Ruins. Vast cities. Shadow Temples.'

  Apsalar frowned. 'There were no Shadow Temples in the time of the First Empire.'

  Curdle's head dipped, then lifted suddenly. 'Dessimbelackis, a curse on his multitude of souls! We speak of the time of the Forests. The great forests that covered this land, long before the First Empire. Before even the T'lan Imass—'

  'Shhh!' Telorast hissed. 'Forests? Madness! Not a tree in sight, and those who were frightened of shadows never existed. So why would they worship them? They didn't, because they never existed. It's a natural ferocity, this shadow power. It's a fact that the first worship was born of fear. The terrible unknown—'

  'Even more terrible,' Curdle cut in, 'when it becomes known! Wouldn't you say, Telorast?'

  'No I wouldn't. I don't know what you're talking about. You've been babbling too many secrets, none of which are true in any case. Look! A lizard! It's mine!'

  'No, mine!'

  The two skeletons scrambled along the rocky ledge. Something small and grey darted away.

  A wind was picking up, sweeping rough the surface of the strait, carrying with it the sea's primal scent to flow over the cliff where she stood. Crossing stretches of water, even through a warren, was never a pleasant prospect. Any waver of control could fling her from the realm, whereupon she would find herself leagues from land in dhenrabi-infested waters. Certain death.