The Crippled God

As they advanced, they carried Sharl and her brother with them.



Into the face of the Liosan.



Pithy reached Brevity. Her face was flushed, slick with sweat, and there was blood on her sword. Gasping, she said, ‘Two companies of Letherii, sister – to relieve the centre of the Shake line. They’ve been savaged.’



‘He’s pushing straight for the wound,’ Brevity said. ‘Is that right? That’s Yedan down there, isn’t it? Him and half his Watch – gods, it’s as if the Liosan are melting away.’



‘Two companies, Brev! We’re going to split the enemy on this side, but that means we need to push right up to the fuckin’ hole, right? And then hold it for as long as we need to cut ’em all down on the flanks.’



Licking dry lips, Brevity nodded. ‘I’ll lead them.’



‘Yes, I’m relieving ya here, love – I’m ready to drop. So, what’re you waitin’ for? Go!’



Pithy watched Brev lead a hundred Letherii down to the berm. Her heart was finally slowing its mad jackrabbit dance. Jamming the point of her sword in the sand, she turned to regard the remaining Letherii.



Nods answered her. They were ready. They’d tasted it and they wanted to taste it again. Yes, I know. It terrifies us. It makes us sick inside. But it’s like painting the world in gold and diamonds .



From the breach the roar was unceasing, savage as a storm against cliffs.



Dear ocean, then, call my soul. I would swim the waters again. Let me swim the waters again .



CHAPTER THIRTEEN



There was a love once



I shaped it with my hands



Until in its forms



I saw sunlight and streams



And earthy verges sweet with grass



It fit easily into my pack



And made peaceful



The years of wandering



Through forests in retreat



And down the river’s tragic flow



On the day we broke



Upon the shore of a distant land



I fled cold and bereft



Fighting curtains of ash



Up through the snows of the pass



In the heaps of spoil



Among an enemy victorious



My love floundered



In the cracked company of kin



Broken down blow upon blow



And now as my days lower



Into the sleep of regret



I dream of fresh clay



Finding these old hands



Where the wind sings of love



Forests in Retreat Fisher kel Tath

THE PASSAGE OF THOUSANDS OF HOBNAILED BOOTS HAD WORN through the thin grasses, lifting into the air vast clouds of dust. The breeze had fallen off and, coming down from the north, tracked the columns at virtually the same turgid pace, blinding them to the world.



The horses were growing gaunt, their heads hanging, their eyes dull. When Aranict turned her mount to follow Brys, the beast felt sluggish beneath her, slow to canter. They rode out to the west side of the marching troops and made their way back down the line’s ragged length. Dusty faces lifted here and there to watch them pass, but mostly the soldiers kept their gazes on the ground before them, too weary to answer any stir of curiosity.



She knew how they felt. She had done her share of plodding on foot, although without the added burden of a pack heavy with armour and weapons. They had marched hard to draw up close to the Bolkando Evertine Legion, who in turn had already fallen a third of a day behind the Perish. Shield Anvil Tanakalian was if anything proving harsher than Krughava in driving the Grey Helms. Their pace was punishing, sparing no thought for their putative allies.



Brys was worried, and so was Queen Abrastal. Was this nothing more than the lust for glory, the fierce zeal of fanatics? Or was something more unpleasant at work here? Aranict had her suspicions, but she was not yet willing to voice them, not even to Brys. Tanakalian had not been pleased with the Adjunct’s insistence that Gesler take overall command. Perhaps he intended to make the position irrelevant, at least in so far as regards the Perish. But if so, why would he do that?



They pulled free of the last block of wagons and through the drifting dust they saw the rearguard, a dozen Bluerose lancers, drawn up around three figures on foot. Aranict rose in her saddle and looked westward – the K’Chain Che’Malle were out there, she knew. Out of sight yet still moving in parallel with the Letherii. She wondered when next Gesler, Stormy and Kalyth would visit them. More arguments, more confusion thicker than these clouds of dust .



She shook her head. Never mind all that . Since the morning strangers had been tracking them. And they’ve just bitten our tail . Aranict returned her attention to the three dishevelled newcomers. Two women and one man. They’d arrived with little evident gear or supplies, and as Aranict drew closer she could see their sorry state.