‘Destriant – old friend. Shall it be my own people who become the betrayers? Are we to be the knife that fatally strikes Tavore Paran and her Malazans? Run’Thurvian, what must I do?’
You could ride back to the camp, woman, and slide an arm’s length of cold iron through the bastard .
She shook her head. The Grey Helms were bound to strict laws and would not permit themselves to be led by a murderer. No, they would execute her. But at least there would be no Tanakalian. Who would take command? Heveth, Lambat? But then, would they not feel bound to their last commander’s intentions?
Listen to yourself, Krughava! Actually considering outright murder of a fellow Grey Helm!
No, that was the wrong direction, the wrong path. She would have to leave the Perish to whatever fate Tanakalian found for them. But the betrayal – well, that would not be set at her feet.
Krughava faced the Glass Desert. I will ride to her. I will warn her .
And I will stand at her side until the very end .
All doubt vanished from her mind. She collected up her weapons. See how clear the ice has become, Run’Thurvian? I can see its thickness. Upon this, an entire army could march without fear .
Krughava drew a deep breath of cold night air, and then turned to her horse. ‘Ah, friend, I have one thing left to ask of you …’
The Ve’Gath stood with their heads tilted downward, as if contemplating the lifeless earth at their feet, but Gesler knew it was simply the way they slept – or, rather, rested, since as far as he could tell the huge reptilian warriors never closed their eyes. It was unnerving, leading an army like this. Like commanding ten thousand hounds. But they’re smarter than hounds, which makes it even worse . The wings of K’ell Hunters remained well beyond the encampment, seemingly immune to the vicissitudes of food, water and rest – their endurance made him feel soft. But not as soft as Stormy. Listen to that bastard snore – they can probably hear him over in the Letherii camp .
He knew he should be sleeping, but there had been dreams. Unpleasant ones. Disturbing enough to drag him out from his furs, with dawn still two bells away. Now he stood looking upon the massed Ve’Gath legions. They were halted in formation, like vast assemblies of brooding statues, grey as dulled iron beneath the uncanny night sky.
He had been kneeling, as if broken, and the dreamscape surrounding him was a charnel house of torn bodies. The blood had soaked up through his leggings and now thickened against the skin of his knees and shins. Somewhere fire was pouring from the very bedrock and roiling gouts of deadly gases coiled skyward – and in that sky, as he’d looked up, he’d seen … something . Clouds? He could not be sure, but there was something monstrous about them, something that ripped like talons into his chest. He’d seen motion, as if the sky itself was heaving. A gate? Could be. But no gate could be as big as that. It took the whole sky. And why did it feel as if I was to blame for it?
Gesler might have cried out then. Enough to rattle him awake. He’d lain beneath the furs, sweat-soaked and shivering. From the nearby ranks of Ve’Gath came a stirring motion, as the flavours of his distress agitated the sleeping K’Chain Che’Malle. Muttering under his breath, he’d risen to his feet.
An army encamped without cookfires, without tents, or roped pens or the ragged sprawl of followers. It didn’t seem proper. In fact, it didn’t seem real .
The Wickan cattledog, Bent, had found him then. Misshapen snout, one clouded eye, the gleam of canines and splintered teeth – he’d never seen so many scars on a single animal. But as the beast drew up, Gesler remembered back to a late afternoon on the Aren Way.
Hunting survivors. And how pathetic was that – two damned dogs. Among so many corpses the memory haunts me to this day. Two damned dogs .
And then that Trell, there on the wagon .
All of us on the bed, me, Stormy, Truth and that Trell. Willing two dying animals back to life. Truth – he was weeping, but we knew what it was all about. We knew it because we felt it. So many had been taken from us that day. Coltaine. Bult. Lull .
Duiker – gods, finding him crucified like that, at the road’s end, staked to the last of those ghastly trees – no, we couldn’t tell Truth about that. It’s what made the name we’d given him sting us so afterwards. We kept it from him, me and Stormy – but that Trell saw through us. And was good enough to say nothing .
We saved the lives of two dumb dogs, and it was like a new dawn .
He looked down at Bent. ‘Remember that day, you ugly horror?’
The wide head lifted, the motion stretching the torn lips back from the crooked teeth, the misaligned jaw that should have made the dog look comical, but didn’t. No. Instead, it broke the heart. All you did in our name. Too loyal for your own good. Too brave to know any different. And still you failed to protect them. Would you have been happier if we’d let you die? Freed your spirits to run with the ones you loved?
