The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (450 page)

‘More than you know,' Leoman groaned, pulling away.

In the basin below, the Adjunct was staring down at Sha'ik's corpse. From both armies lining the ridges, silence. Karsa frowned. ‘The Malazans do not cheer.'

‘No,' Leoman snarled, turning to where Corabb waited with the horses. ‘They probably hate the bitch. We ride to Y'Ghatan, Toblakai—'

‘Not me,' Karsa growled.

His friend paused and then nodded without turning around, and vaulted onto his horse. He took the reins from Corabb then glanced over at Toblakai. ‘Fare well, my friend.'

‘And you, Leoman of the Flails.'

‘If L'oric returns from wherever he went, tell him…' His voice trailed away, then he shrugged. ‘Take care of him if he needs help.'

‘I shall, but I do not think we will see him again.'

Leoman nodded. Then he said to Corabb, ‘Tell the warchiefs to scatter with their tribes. Out of Raraku as fast as they can manage it—'

‘Out of the Holy Desert, Leoman?' Corabb asked.

‘Can't you hear it? Never mind. Yes. Out. Rejoin me on the western road—the ancient one that runs straight.'

Corabb saluted, then pulled his horse round and rode off.

‘You too, Toblakai. Out of Raraku—'

‘I will,' Karsa replied, ‘when I am done here, Leoman. Now, go—officers are riding to the Adjunct. They will follow with an attack—'

‘Then they're fools,' Leoman spat.

Karsa watched his friend ride off. Then strode to his own mount. He was tired. His wounds hurt. But some issues remained unsettled, and he needed to take care of that.

The Teblor swung himself onto Havok's back.

 

Lostara walked down the slope, the cracked ground crunching underfoot. At her side marched Pearl, breathing hard beneath the weight of Korbolo Dom's bound, limp form.

Tavore still stood alone on the flats, a few paces from Sha'ik's body. The Adjunct's attention had been fixed on the Dogslayer trenches, and on the lone, ragged standard rising from the highest ground at the central ramp's summit.

A standard that had no right being here. No right existing at all.

Coltaine's standard, the wings of the Crow Clan.

Lostara wondered who had raised it, where it had come from, then decided she didn't want to know. One truth could not be ignored, however.
They're all dead.
The Dogslayers. All. And the Adjunct did not need to even raise a hand to achieve that.

She sensed her own cowardice and scowled. Skittering away, again and again, from thoughts too bitter with irony to contemplate. Their journey to the basin had been nightmarish, as Kurald Emurlahn swarmed the entire oasis, as shadows warred with ghosts, and the incessant rise and fall of that song grew audible enough for Lostara to sense, if not hear. A song still climbing in crescendo.

But, at the feet of…
of everything.
A simple, brutal fact.

They had come too late.

Within sight, only to see Tavore batter Sha'ik's weapon out of her hands, then thrust that sword right through her…
name it, Lostara Yil, you damned coward. Name it! Her sister. Through her sister. There. It's done, dragged out before us.

She would not look at Pearl, could say nothing. Nor did he speak.

We are bound, this man and I. I didn't ask for this. I don't want it. I'll never be without it. Oh, Queen forgive me…

Close enough now to see Tavore's face beneath the helm, an expression stern—almost angry—as she turned to watch their approach.

Officers were riding down, though slowly.

There would be time, Lostara realized, for a private conversation.

She and Pearl halted six paces from the Adjunct.

The Claw dumped Korbolo Dom onto the ground between them. ‘He won't wake up any time soon,' he said, taking a deep breath, then sighing and looking away.

‘What are you two doing here?' the Adjunct asked. ‘Did you lose the trail?'

Pearl did not glance at Lostara, but simply shook his head in answer to Tavore's question. A pause, then, ‘We found her, Adjunct. With deep regret…Felisin is dead.'

‘Are you certain?'

‘Yes, Adjunct.' He hesitated, then added, ‘I can say one thing for certain, Tavore. She died quickly.'

Lostara's heart felt ready to explode at Pearl's quiet words. Jaws clenching, she met the Adjunct's eyes, and slowly nodded.

Tavore stared at them both for a long moment, then lowered her head. ‘Well, there is mercy in that, I suppose.'

And then sheathed her sword, turned away and began walking towards her approaching officers.

Under her breath, so low that only Pearl could hear her, Lostara said, ‘Yes, I suppose there is…'

Pearl swung to her suddenly. ‘Here comes Tene Baralta. Stall him, lass.' He walked over to Sha'ik's body. ‘The warrens are clear enough…I hope.' He bent down and tenderly picked her up, then faced Lostara once more. ‘Yes, she's a heavier burden than you might think.'

‘No, Pearl, I don't think that. Where?'

The Claw's smile lanced into her heart. ‘A hilltop…you know the one.'

Lostara nodded. ‘Very well. And then?'

‘Convince them to get out of Raraku, lass. As fast as they can. When I'm done…' he hesitated.

‘Come and find me, Pearl,' she growled. ‘Or else I'll come looking for you.'

A flicker of life in his weary eyes. ‘I will. I promise.'

She watched his gaze flit past her shoulder and she turned. Tavore was still twenty paces from the riders, who had all but Baralta halted their horses. ‘What is it, Pearl?'

‘Just watching her…walking away,' he replied. ‘She looks so…'

‘Alone?'

‘Yes. That is the word, isn't it. See you later, lass.'

She felt the breath of the warren gust against her back, then the day's heat returned. Lostara hitched her thumbs in her belt, and waited for Tene Baralta.

Her once-commander would have wanted Sha'ik's body. A trophy for this day. He would be furious. ‘Well,' she muttered, ‘that's just too damned bad.'

 

Keneb watched her approach. There was none of the triumph there he thought he would see. Indeed, she looked worn down, as if the falling of spirit that followed every battle had already come to her, the deathly stillness of the mind that invited dire contemplation, that lifted up the host of questions that could never be answered.

She had sheathed her sword without cleansing it, and Sha'ik's blood had run crooked tracks down the plain scabbard.

Tene Baralta rode past her, on his way, Keneb suspected, to Sha'ik's body. If he said anything to the Adjunct in passing, she made no reply.

‘Fist Blistig,' she announced upon arriving. ‘Send scouts to the Dogslayer ramps. Also, a detachment of guards—the Claw have delivered to us Korbolo Dom.'

Ah, so that was what that man was carrying.
Keneb glanced back to where the duel had taken place. Only the woman stood there now, over the prone shape that was the Napan renegade, her face turned up to Tene Baralta, who remained on his horse and seemed to be berating her. Even at this distance, something told Keneb that Baralta's harangue would yield little result.

‘Adjunct,' Nil said, ‘there is no need to scout the Dogslayer positions. They are all dead.'

Tavore frowned. ‘Explain.'

‘Raraku's ghosts, Adjunct.'

Nether spoke up. ‘And the spirits of our own slain. Nil and I—we were blind to it. We'd forgotten the ways of…of seeing. The cattle dog, Adjunct. Bent. It should have died at Coltaine's feet. At the Fall. But some soldiers saved it, saw to the healing of its wounds.'

‘A cattle dog? What are you talking about?' Tavore demanded, revealing, for the very first time, an edge of exasperation.

‘Bent and Roach,' Nil said. ‘The only creatures still living to have walked the Chain the entire way. Two dogs.'

‘Not true,' Temul said from behind the two Wickan shamans. ‘This mare. It belonged to Duiker.'

Nil half turned to acknowledge the correction, then faced Tavore once more. ‘They came back with us, Adjunct—'

‘The dogs.'

He nodded. ‘And the spirits of the slain. Our own ghosts, Adjunct, have marched with us. Those that fell around Coltaine at the very end. Those that died on the trees of Aren Way. And, step by step, more came from the places where they were cut down. Step by step, Adjunct, our army of vengeance
grew
.'

‘And yet you sensed
nothing?
'

‘Our grief blinded us,' Nether replied.

‘Last night,' Nil said, ‘the child Grub woke us. Led us to the ridge, so that we could witness the awakening. There were
legions,
Adjunct, that had marched this land a hundred thousand years ago. And Pormqual's crucifed army and the legions of the Seventh on one flank. The three slaughtered clans of the Wickans on the other. And still others. Many others. Within the darkness last night, Tavore, there was war.'

‘Thus,' Nether said, smiling, ‘you were right, Adjunct. In the dreams that haunted you from the very first night of this march, you saw what we could not see.'

‘It was never the burden you believed it to be,' Nil added. ‘You did not
drag
the Chain of Dogs with you, Adjunct Tavore.'

‘Didn't I, Nil?' A chilling half-smile twisted her thin-lipped mouth, then she looked away. ‘All those ghosts…simply to slay the Dogslayers?'

‘No, Adjunct,' Nether answered. ‘There were other…enemies.'

‘Fist Gamet's ghost joined them,' Nil said.

Tavore's eyes narrowed sharply. ‘You saw him?'

Both Wickans nodded, and Nether added, ‘Grub spoke with him.'

The Adjunct shot Keneb a querying look.

‘He can be damned hard to find,' the captain muttered, shrugging. ‘As for talking with ghosts…well, the lad is, uh, strange enough for that.'

The Adjunct's sigh was heavy.

Keneb's gaze caught movement and he swung his head round, to see Tene Baralta riding back in the company of two soldiers wearing little more than rags. Both were unshaven, their hair long and matted. Their horses bore no saddles.

The Fist reined in with his charges. His face was dark with anger. ‘Adjunct. That Claw has stolen Sha'ik's body!'

Keneb saw the woman approaching on foot, still twenty paces distant. She looked…smug.

Tavore ignored Tene Baralta's statement and was eyeing the two newcomers. ‘And you are?' she asked.

The elder of the two saluted. ‘Captain Kindly, Adjunct, of the Ashok Regiment. We were prisoners in the Dogslayer camp. Lieutenant Pores and myself, that is.'

Keneb started, then leaned forward on his saddle. Yes, he realized, through all that filth…‘Captain,' he said in rough greeting.

Kindly squinted, then grimaced. ‘Keneb.'

Tavore cleared her throat, then asked, ‘Are you two all that's left of your regiment, Captain?'

‘No, Adjunct. At least, we don't think so—'

‘Tell me later. Go get cleaned up.'

‘Aye, Adjunct.'

‘One more question first,' she said. ‘The Dogslayer camp…'

Kindly made an involuntary warding gesture. ‘It was not a pleasant night, Adjunct.'

‘You bear shackle scars.'

Kindly nodded. ‘Just before dawn, a couple of Bridgeburners showed up and burned out the locks.'

‘What?'

The captain waved for his lieutenant to follow, said over one shoulder, ‘Don't worry, they were already dead.'

The two rode into the camp.

Tavore seemed to shake herself, then faced Keneb. ‘You two know each other? Will that prove problematic, Captain?'

‘No.'

‘Good. Then he won't resent your promotion to Fist. Now ride to your new legion. We will follow the fleeing tribes. If we have to cross this entire continent, I will see them cornered, and then I will destroy them. This rebellion will be ashes on the wind when we are done. Go, Fist Keneb.'

‘Aye, Adjunct.' And he gathered his reins.

‘Weapons out!'
Temul suddenly shouted.

And all spun to see a rider cantering down from the hill where Sha'ik had first appeared.

Keneb's eyes thinned, even as he drew his sword. There was something wrong…a skewing of scale…

A small squad from Blistig's legion had been detailed as guard to the Adjunct, and they now moved forward. Leading them was one of Blistig's officers—none other, Keneb realized, than Squint. The slayer of Coltaine, who was now standing stock still, studying the approaching horse warrior.

‘That,' he growled, ‘is a Thelomen Toblakai! Riding a damned Jhag horse!'

Crossbows were levelled.

‘What's that horse dragging?' asked the woman who had just arrived on foot—whom Keneb now recognized, belatedly, as one of Tene Baralta's officers.

Nether suddenly hissed, and she and her brother flinched back as one.

Heads. From some demonic beasts—

Weapons were readied.

The Adjunct lifted a hand. ‘Wait. He's not drawn his weapon—'

‘It's a stone sword,' Squint rasped. ‘T'lan Imass.'

‘Only bigger,' one of the soldiers spat.

No-one spoke as the huge, blood-spattered figure rode closer.

To halt ten paces away.

Tene Baralta leaned forward and spat onto the ground. ‘I know you,' he rumbled. ‘Bodyguard to Sha'ik—'

‘Be quiet,' the Toblakai cut in. ‘I have words for the Adjunct.'

‘Speak, then,' Tavore said.

The giant bared his teeth. ‘Once, long ago, I claimed the Malazans as my enemies. I was young. I took pleasure in voicing vows. The more enemies the better. So it was, once. But no longer. Malazan, you are no longer my enemy. Thus, I will not kill you.'