They three inclined their heads in concurrence, jogged off.
‘They won't find him,’ Smoky said aside.
‘No? Why not?’
‘He's probably standing in line like any other heavy infantryman. He's already hiding from the Veils. He could be any of them.’
‘Lucky is no fool. He'll wait and watch.’
A shrug. ‘I hope so.’ He motioned to Shell. ‘In any case, Shell and I have done a few head-counts and we think we have some thirty of our brothers and sisters.’
‘And Skinner?’
‘Slightly more.’
‘I see. So, we remain split in our sympathies.’ Again, doubt stabbed at her, squeezing her breath and churning her stomach almost to the point of retching. What if she'd been dreaming? Hearing voices? It was Shadow after all. She turned on Greymane, snapping angrily, ‘What of you? Are you a match for a man who breaks armour with his bare hands?’
Nearby eruptions from a wave of tossed munitions shot dust and dirt over everyone. Greymane hefted his scavenged shield, shook dirt from his shoulders. ‘I've never met him,’ he shouted. ‘But from what I've heard – no.’
‘No?’ She was incredulous. ‘Just like that – you admit you could not defeat him. Is this a refusal to fight?’ All remaining nearby Avowed turned to watch warily.
‘I did not say that, Shimmer,’ Greymane said calmly, his hands kept loose at his sides. ‘I merely said there would be no match between us.’
‘So, all you have heard of him leads you to fear him that much.’
‘No, Shimmer. All that I have heard leads me to admire him that much. But I will say this. I vow that I would give my life in defence of you.’
Shimmer remained motionless for a number of heartbeats, her dark gaze slitted on Greymane's own pale unguarded eyes. She let her shield fall then hiked it up again as a crossbow bolt sang past, biting at the crimson silk tail that hung from her helmet's wrapping. She let go a snarled exhalation through clenched teeth. ‘Damn you, Greymane. Must you always walk the knife's edge?’
‘I must be true to myself.’
And look at what it has brought you, renegade! But she left the retort unsaid. The man seemed all too desolately aware of it. She gripped her sheathed Napan whipsword. ‘Then I'll have to take you up on your offer and head to the front ranks until we find our friend …’
He rubbed his broad, flattened nose, wincing. ‘I was worried you'd propose that.’
‘Father Light preserve us!’ Smoky breathed, suddenly fixed upon the east. Shell too stared, speechless. Her hands rose as if to fend off what she was seeing. Shimmer squinted but could only make out a darker patch against the general night. ‘What is it?’
Eyes still on the far edge of the field, Smoky murmured, almost inaudibly, ‘The impossible.’
‘Explain yourself, mage,’ Shimmer snapped.
Blinking, the man turned back to her, ran his soot-blackened hands up through his tangle of wild hair. ‘Someone has unveiled Kurald Galain here on the battlefield. And whoever that mage is, he or she ain't one of ours.’
‘Kurald Galain?’
‘The Tiste Andii Warren of Elder Darkness,’ Shell explained. ‘Home of their Goddess, Mother Dark.’
Shimmer eyed the coalescing, gently turning smear of darkness low over the field. ‘But there are no Tiste Andii here …’
‘Exactly. The impossible.’
Buffets of wind announced the arrival of mages through Warren: Opal, Lor-sinn and Toby. The gathered Avowed mages all cast taut glances to Smoky who agreed with a tart downturn of his mouth to whatever had been communicated. He faced Shimmer. ‘The escalation in magery has begun. Skinner's invoked ritual magics, the Imperials have responded. We, all five of us, together with the recruited mages, Twisty, Palla and whoever else – we'll probably all be needed here.’
‘All of you?’
Smoky dragged a hand across his face. ‘Whoever raised that, Shimmer, is beyond me.’
Shimmer forced herself to remain rigid. Show nothing! They are all looking to you! Could no battle go as planned? We expected sword and shield to settle this engagement. Now Smoky claims things have spiralled to a clash such as the sorcerous conflagrations of old. Well, so be it. Short of the appearance of Tayschrenn she was confident of the Guard's mage cadre. At least that thing, whatever it was, was now Skinner's concern as it stood directly between him and the Imperial pavilion. K'azz, if you really are close – we need you, ‘Very well.’ She nodded to the sergeant with her, Trench, who raised a hand signing ‘advance’.
‘For'ard!’
Greymane followed Shimmer, obviously meaning to guard her back, while the assembled mages flanked her. The Avowed of her command spread out through the phalanx of second and third investiture men and women, rallying all the disparate knots into one swelling, widening wedge of shielded soldiers.
* * *
‘Great Goddess protect us,’ Liss murmured, her head turning abruptly to the east. The three brothers, Hurl noted, had all turned as well.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Amazing … Like nothing I have ever seen, nor expected to see.’
‘What, dammit!’
‘Elder Darkness, Night Eternal, unveiled there on the battlefield.’ She pulled her gaze from the silhouetted hills to look down to Hurl who stood next to her mount. ‘Things, Hurl, are rapidly sliding out of control out on that field. Forces are being summoned that would give even Ryllandaras pause. He is, after all, just one creature.’ She pointed. ‘But out there, magery such as that which consumed armies is being primed for wielding.’
‘So?’
‘So – we must find him before we ourselves are consumed.’
‘Let us …’ said one brother.
‘Leave him …’
‘To die,’ finished the last.
Liss turned on them. ‘He's too cunning. He will flee. I intend to make sure of it!’
‘I, as well,’ Rell added.
The three shrugged, their indifference raising the hairs of Hurl's neck. They moved not one after the other, or raggedly, but identically, at exactly the same moment in exactly the same way despite the sagging paralysis of shoulders, lips and arms. It was as if they were one. And there had always been something eerie about them. Something unsettling. Everyone felt it. For Hurl it was a prickling that struck right at the very centre of her being but which she couldn't exactly pin down. Intuitive. Something was very wrong about them.
Yet what could she do? They'd done nothing suspicious. Nothing to call them on. Quite the opposite, in fact. They'd been vital to the city's defence. And so she was stuck with them. Like horses, she reflected, sourly. They made themselves useful so you couldn't just kill them all. But she knew their true side – she was on to them. ‘So?’ She sighed. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘We should move. He's close. In the north. The brothers and I should be able to find him.’
Find him? Great Lady, they're actually going hunting for him! Well, it was what they came for. Personally, she'd hoped to wait till he got himself tarred by the Imperials then they could just step in and finish him off But there was still hope.
She went to her mount, gathered the reins. The red mare turned its head, watching her. Try anything and I'll kill you – you know it too. The mare shook her auburn mane. Hurl patted the bulging saddlebags strapped tight and padded in sheepskins. Yeah, she meant to make sure of it too.
* * *
A squad healer, name unknown to Ullen, gave his left arm a squeeze to let him know he was done, then moved on the next wounded man. Standing, Ullen spared a glance from then field to see that the man had fashioned a sling to tie the dead meat that was his right arm to his chest. One of Cowl's Veils, a tall slim woman with long white hair, had appeared out of nowhere, slaying guards and staffers, making for him until a saboteur sergeant briefing him, Urfa, had thrown something that burst a spray of razor fragments, some of which had lacerated his arm, slicing tendons and nerves. It left the Veil
staggered, slashed in zig-zags of blood, then, and only then did a full Hand appear to jump her. The resulting melee had tumbled away into the night in a frenzy of leaping bodies, thrown blades and tossed Warren magics.
Ullen saw in that same all-encompassing glance that his command staff of relatively green lieutenants and messengers had been profoundly shaken. First time's always the worst. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention from the night. ‘Now we know what a visit from Dancer must have been like, hey?’ and he offered a self-mocking, almost sad smile. The gathered men and women eyed one another; some wiped at their shining sweaty faces. Then: appreciative chuckles and even blown breaths.
A chorus of ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Reports, people! What's going on?’
The Imperial lieutenant brushed at a trail of blood from a slashed cheek. ‘Reports are we're losing ground in the west. Urko is pulling his people to the centre.’
‘I have unconfirmed accounts that the Sword is wounded, possibly fallen,’ added the Dal Hon lieutenant, Gellan.
‘Moranth and other elements remaining in the east are rallying to the redoubt,’ said another. ‘I have also had intelligence from the Claw that Skinner is leading a phalanx north, making for that very strongpoint.’
Gods, what a clash that will he. It could determine the victor. ‘And that darkness gathered there … ?’
‘We have confirmation that it's one of our own cadre mages, apparently,’ came the grudging admission.
Don't count the mongrels out, you son of an aristocratic house. Even though they don't have vaunted titles like High Mage many actually know their trade. ‘Very good. Have all broken elements assemble on the redoubt. Order the skirmishers to concentrate fire on that phalanx – grind them down!’
‘Aye.’
‘What of the Empress?’ a staffer asked. ‘If the Veils have—’
‘Never mind the Empress,’ Ullen replied, angered. ‘She is fighting her battles as we must fight ours.’ And if you think we've been cursed by Veils – you don't want to be anywhere near her.
‘The Empress sends her compliments,’ said a new voice and Ullen turned, surprised – and pleased – to see the scarred figure of Captain Moss. He extended his left hand and they shook, awkwardly. ‘I have been seconded to your staff.’
‘You are most welcome.’
‘She bade me inform you that you have her fullest confidence. She commends your actions as field-commander.’
Ullen's brows rose. Just what the Imperials on his staff needed to hear. Thank you, Moss. He cleared his throat into his left fist again. ‘Very good, Captain.’ He turned to his people. ‘What of the Kanese?’
‘They have attacked but Avowed still hold the bridge,’ said one.
‘How many?’
‘Reports are,’ and the fellow swallowed, his voice failing, ‘… five.’
‘Five? Five Avowed against twenty thousand?’
‘Ah, yes, sir.’
Hood – are you pleased? What a ferocious confrontation! He didn't envy the Kanese the effort it would take to lever the Avowed from that narrow pass. And how many did they face - thirty? Forty? No, don't go there! Avoid the scenarios of despair. At least these are in the open. These can be cut down from afar. ‘The Kanese will break through soon enough,’ he said. ‘We just have to hold on.’
At least a few of his staff mustered the effort to murmur, ‘Yes, sir.’
* * *
His haunting the field, scanning in turn through Meanas then Mockra, paid off when Possum sensed his quarry to the north-west. Moving quickly through Shadow he arrived on the darkened slope to see Coil bent over still forms lying twisted in the grass – a full Claw Hand. Damn the woman! They need all their strength and here she is eliminating rivals! That is more than enough justification … Drawing his blades he launched himself forward through Shadow. Just as he arrived her own senses moved her to twist, but not quite quickly enough to avoid the thrusting iron as it entered through her ribs in the back and front, puncturing lung and pricking her heart. He wriggled the knives, lacerating the organs to make sure of it.
Coil stared back at him, stunned, horrified, eyes full of the knowledge of her own coming death. ‘You fool …’ she breathed. He thought nothing of such death-babblings. Strange things are said as life flees. Curses, claims to innocence, innermost longings. ‘These … Mallick's … I was all that stood between them … and her.’
Possum withdrew the blades, straightening. What?
Life dimmed in the woman's dark eyes and she fell. She smiled, her teeth red with blood. ‘Chance,’ she gasped, chuckling ruefully. ‘Chance …’ Her shape writhed, blurring, changing. Possum recognized artistry of high Mockra – and that far greater than his – until the body resolved itself clearly once more for him to see lying at his feet the fat messy form of High Mage Havva Gulen.
Soliel forgive him! What had he done? Why hadn't she told him? Told anyone? Because – fool! – she was running her own game just as he. Now what? First, go! Let the fog of war obscure all. He raised his Warren and stepped into Shadow—
To be hammered down by a blunt blow to his side.
He lay gasping amid dirt and clumps of sharp cactus-like grasses that gouged at his exposed skin. A tall thin shape loomed over him. Blinking, he made out a dead ravaged face of desiccated skin, peeled-back lips, yellowed teeth and empty sockets above tattered torn armour and hanging rags. An Imass? Here?
The Imass reached down, grasped a handful of his shirt and pulled him upright. ‘Your trespassings annoy me,’ the thing hissed. ‘Shadow is not to be used so lightly.’ The being shook him like a child. ‘Now go, and do not return.’ And it thrust him away.
Possum staggered, righted himself. He straightened his clothes. ‘And who are you?’
The Imass – was it, though? – clasped a fist of bone and sinew to the sword sheathed at its back. ‘Go! Keep your disputes out of Shadow!’
‘Yes! Yes.’ And Possum waved, removing himself from the Warren. The night slope reasserted itself around him. The cacophony of battle returned. Who – what – in the Enchantress's Name had that been? Renegade Imass? Ascendant of some kind? Revenant? Never mind. Irrelevant. Focus! He attempted to centre himself, calm his breath. Gods, what had he done! Slain the High Mage. A woman who claimed to be helping! Drop it, man. Think of your own back. According to Havva, Mallick held the Claw while he was the puppet! What options did he have? Laseen! She was all that was left to him. He had to reach her.
Possum summoned his Mockra Warren. Shortly afterwards just another soldier of uncertain allegiance scrabbled hunched across the slopes. He was in the west and found the field now commanded by the Guard. The Avowed had entered the fray, sweeping all before them. Skirmishers and Imperial heavies still ran in clumps here and there like field mice, but the only solid formations were Guard squares, and these far separated as a precaution against mage assault. In the east, the cadre mage's deep unmitigated darkness still hung like a flat cloud over his hillock, apparantly doing nothing – a slowly turning vortex of night – while Malazan forces coalesced around the mage-protected strongpoint. To the south-east the tall silver dragon banner of the Guard was advancing before a broadening phalanx.
Just then from the north a brilliant yellow-orange light illuminated the darkness – the Imperial pavilion bursting aflame. It pushed back the night for a half-league all around. The flames climbed like those of an immense bonfire, a celebration of light and vitality, if short-lived. Possum stared, his arms falling to his sides. Oh, Cowl! Master-stroke! So much for such careful preparations and precautions! I bow before your unbending ruthlessness.
What now for poor Possum? Imperial forces routed, the pavilion aflame, and he himself assassin of the Imperial High Mage. What could possibly be left? Was not all lost? A giddy, almost fey mood took him and he laughed aloud. He felt like dancing amid the dead. His anxious oh-so-important worries of rivals amid the order? Utterly irrelevant! A life-time of scheming, positioning, manipulating? A li
fe wasted! His own ambitions, hopes, dreams? Completely thwarted!
He walked down on to the field between the fallen, laughing aloud. Come Cowl! Come Lacy, Tarkhan or Isha! Let us put an end to the comic tragedy!
* * *
Nait knelt in the trampled grass just up from the trench together with a mixed collection of sergeants and officers from three different brigades. Captains Tinsmith and Jay K'epp, or Captain Kepp as everyone called him, and a battered Moranth Gold who gave the name Blossom, were the highest ranking officers present; Commander Braven Tooth was reportedly still active but elected to remain in the field to help rally splintered elements; the Sword was reportedly wounded somewhere amid the carnage of the centre strongpoint where Urko, it was rumoured, was organizing resistance.
Return of the Crimson Guard: A Novel of the Malazan Empire Page 81
