Return of the Crimson Guard (118 page)

‘Yes?’ he demanded.

They halted. Kyle bent over to pant, hands on his knees. Stalker faced the fellow, ‘Well? Is this it?’

Hethe cupped a hand to his ear. ‘What? What was that? You think I can't hear? Well I can! Perfectly!’ He turned around and set off again in his awkward bowed-legged walk.

‘I swear I'm gonna kill ‘im,’ Coots ground out.

K'azz waved them forward. ‘Let's go.’

They continued on. Coots muttered darkly about strangulation and torture, then, louder, ‘I swear he's leadin’ us in circles!’

‘We have no choice,’ K'azz answered tiredly.

Kyle shifted to walk alongside K'azz. The man caught him studying him sidelong. ‘Yes?’

Wetting his lips, Kyle ventured, ‘So – you're really him?’

An amused smile. ‘Yes, Kyle.’

He'd done it! Actually found him! But they were a long way from Quon. ‘I knew Stoop.’

The smile broadened. ‘Yes, Stoop. I learned a lot from him when I was a lad.’

‘Are you really a Prince?’

K'azz tilted his head aside, thinking. ‘Some call me that. I was a Duke. During the wars I defended a principality for a time. But that fell too …’

Kyle glanced away. Oaf! Reminding him of all that.

Coots shouted, pointing ahead: ‘Look there! There's some poor bastard he led out here to die before.’

It was a skeleton in verdigrised armour sprawled in the desert sands. The wind had piled little dunes of dust and sand up over its limbs. Reaching it Hethe stopped, jerking as if startled. They caught up with him.

‘What is it?’ K'azz asked.

In a sighing of sands and creaking of leather-cured sinew and tendons, the skeleton stood. All five of them leapt back, drawing weapons; their scout remained where he stood. The animated corpse took hold of the front of Hethe's robes and raised him from the
ground, shook him like a dog. Coots edged forward for a blow. The thing raised a hand. ‘Hold!’

Out of the bottom of the ragged robes fell the little winged and tailed monkey they'd followed before. It hung its head before the skeleton, kicked at the dirt like a guilty child. ‘This has gone far enough,’ the being said. ‘I do not want Shadow becoming embroiled in this. Now go.’ Brightening, the monkey-thing puffed up its chest and marched off. After it had gone a few paces it shot back a glance, wrinkled up its wizened features, stuck out its tongue, then scampered off at a run.

All six of them watched it go. It seemed to Kyle to shrink down into the distance with impossible speed. He faced the corpse – for upon closer inspection it resembled more a desiccated body, dried cured flesh and all. Like the Imass he'd heard so much of. Thinking of that, he glanced to K'azz who likewise was examining the creature, wonder – and suspicion – on his face. ‘Who are you?’ K'azz asked.

‘My name is Edgewalker,’ came the breathless dry response, like wind over heated sand. ‘Though it means nothing to you. What is important is that you do not belong here. I am sending you back.’

‘About damned time,’ Coots said aside to Kyle.

‘To Quon?’ K'azz asked, but the being merely waved. ‘Quon Tali!’ K'azz shouted, demanding. The grey gloom of the Warren gathered around them, choking off all vision. It was not dark or night, merely so dim Kyle could barely see. Ahead, a pale glow asserted itself; he and the rest headed for it. Kyle found himself in a cave hacked from loose sandy rock. He headed for its opening where starlight shone cold but bright. He had to step over several figures wrapped in thin blankets asleep around a dead fire-pit. He came out into a clear cold night. Cliffs surrounded them, marred by dark openings, a multitude of caves. A road passed before them climbing the incline. In the distance roaring and flashes bruised the night like lightning to both the north and south. K'azz climbed down ahead and now faced the south, staring. They joined him.

The road switchbacked down cliffs to a long, narrow stone bridge over a wide river. The far bank was swarming with figures lit by countless torches. The mass of them were all crowded around the far end of the bridge and filled its length to about the halfway point where the press stopped, held back by what appeared to be just a few men. Avowed? He looked to K'azz; the man was studying the bridge, his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Cole,’ he whispered, ‘Amatt, Lean, Black and Turgal.’

‘Brethren!’ K#x0027;azz roared. ‘Attend!’

Silence and stillness. Dogs ran away, loping through the rocks, tails down. Kyle studied the bridge. Such a mass of soldiers facing such a thin barrier … why not just cut them down with arrows and bolts? But then, the bridge appeared to have stone sides, and the press was so close – any flights of missiles would account for far more of the attackers.

Stalker nudged him, lifted his chin to across the way. Something obscured the many dark cave openings opposite – gauzy grey shapes came emerging from the shadows. They filed down, approaching, silent. Kyle jumped as more stepped out from behind him. Shades in the hundreds. All the Avowed dead. They surrounded the party. All empty dead sockets stared fixed upon K'azz and Kyle could feel the heat, the awful will of that regard. It seemed as if the rest of the party need not even have existed to these shades. Just a year ago such a visitation would have sent Kyle screaming into the night; but by now he felt inured to any horror. He even recognized two of the fallen.

K'azz studied them in turn, nodding to many. ‘This attack is against my wishes. Who leads this invasion?’

Hissed from hundreds of indistinct throats:
‘Skinner
.’

A nod from K'azz, who'd known all along. ‘Obey no more orders from him. He is expelled from our company. He is
disavowed.’
The Brethren inclined their heads in acquiescence.

‘Not so easy, I suspect,’ Stalker whispered aside to Kyle.

‘Now, give my regards to those defending the bridge and ask if they can hold much longer. And send word to all – I am returned.’

The Brethren bowed and as one they bent to a knee. Then, to Kyle's eye they seemed to slowly disperse, disappearing as a haze in the sun. All but one: the shade of a short thin man with one hand – Stoop – who approached, smiling. ‘Well done, lad. Well done. Knew you'd pull it off.’

To this outrageous claim Kyle could only shake his head.

A shade materialized next to K'azz. ‘Cole sends his welcome and asks how many days you require.’

A tight grin from K'azz. ‘Tell Cole I'll send relief as soon as I can.’

The shade remained. K'azz, who had started for the road, stopped short. ‘Yes?’

‘The truth is they are badly wounded and may not last much longer.’

The Crimson Guard commander spun, faced the bridge – glanced back to the north where battle-magics glowed like auroras brought to earth and combat shook the ground.

Kyle glanced between the two as well. Gods, what a choice! He faced Stoop. ‘What do you think?’

The shade examined the bridge and the thousands behind. He scratched his chin. ‘Don't know what's goin’ on up north but we can't let them through.’

‘I agree,‘ K'azz said, making Kyle jump – he didn't think him close enough to overhear. ‘Thank you, Kyle.’ To Stoop: ‘Tell Cole I'm coming.’

‘Queen forgive me,’ Kyle breathed. Beside him, Badlands sent an entreating look to the sky as if asking –
why me, Hood? Why me?

* * *

Ullen was in the north-west when word came of the attack and complete slaughter of the field hospital. He stared for a time wordlessly to the north, numb of all feeling.
What had he not done that he should've? A larger rearguard? More messengers? A tighter distribution of the command? Vve failed my soldiers. The men and women who look to me to protect them.
Standing before him, the pallid-faced messenger cleared his throat. ‘Sir?’

Ullen blinked, confused. ‘Yes?’

‘Your … orders, sir?’

He raised his weak, newly healed right arm to wipe his brow, found it slick with sweat. ‘Relocate the field hospital closer to the reserves.’

‘The only reserves are those with us, sir.’

Ullen looked up. ‘Only my legion?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then … move it … closer to the field.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The messenger saluted, departed.

Ullen studied the south. He would not, could not, face his staff. He clasped his sweaty hands at his back to quell the urge to wipe them on his uniform. The darker smear of night, empty of all stars, still hung over the redoubt in the east – bless that mage whoever he was – he'd saved that flank. Now, if he could only salvage some order out of the west. He could not understand the Guard's reluctance out there on that flank. They could have routed them if they'd pressed their advantage. A phalanx marched now up the middle, standard in prominence, making an obvious effort to lay claim to overall control of the field. And what did they have left to throw against them? Nothing. If they could not be stopped then the Guard would have effectively won. His lines would have been cut in half.

A young girl came running up to his position, one of the Untan irregulars. His guards grabbed hold of her leather hauberk to yank her back. She fought the man, punching him. ‘Commander Ullen!’ she shouted. He waved her through. The oversized crossbow on her back rolled side to side as she came. ‘The Guard, sir – they're fallin’ apart!’

He studied her, disbelieving. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Units are breakin’ up. Crimson Guardsmen runnin’ this way and that. Some even fightin’ each other. I heard Avowed even attacking Avowed.’

‘But that's incredible. Why … ?’ he glanced around, searching for confirmation. ‘Who else says so?’

‘I saw it with my own eyes, sir.’

‘Fist D'Ebbin approaching, sir,’ a lieutenant called out. Ullen dismissed the girl then jogged ahead to meet the Fist. He found the short, round commander surrounded by his bodyguard. All had seen fighting. The Fist's armour was hacked, a cheek and his lips swollen from a blow. The man pulled off his helmet and gauntlets to wipe his face.

‘My compliments, Fist,’ said Ullen, and he meant it.

D'Ebbin gave a small wave as if to say it was of no great importance. ‘Been some kind of falling out among the Guard. Two camps appear to be organizing. One is firming up around the standard with the phalanx. The other is pulling together out of the Blades facing us. That phalanx, though, looks like it's determined to take control of the field.’

‘We have to meet it.’

A curt nod of his bullet-head. ‘Understood.’

‘How many can you spare?’

‘We have to keep the main group contained.’

‘Reinforcements will come once the Kanese have broken through. They should some time soon.’

His hairless bony brows rose. ‘In truth? Then when they come we'll swing east.’

‘Done.’

‘You'll wait?’

Ullen shook his head. ‘We can't leave the challenge unanswered. It would look like capitulation. The men will break.’

‘I understand. The column numbers about two thousand. But you know, my people estimate there are some forty Avowed among them?’

Forty Avowed?
How could any force meet such a potent body? Still, there were twenty thousand Kanese on their way – enough to
keep them pinned down, surrounded. Grind them down one by one. But how long will it take them to break through? He had to hold until the Kan forces arrived. ‘I have four thousand Malazan regulars with me, Fist. The commander's, Anand's, reserve. I will meet them.’

The Fist drew his gauntlets on. ‘I ask that you wait. The day is within your grasp. You have done a masterful job. I commend you. Do not throw it away.’