The Crippled God

As they closed, eight more Liosan veered, and the air filled with the roars of dragons.



Yan Tovis dragged herself over corpses, trying to reach her brother’s horrifyingly motionless form. The two witches were taking the last from her – she felt each sorcerous wave they lashed into the flanking dragons, heard the Soletaken screaming in pain and outrage, and knew that all of it was not enough .



But they were stealing from her this one last act – this journey of love and grief – and the unfairness of that howled in her heart.



Soldiers fought around her, sought to protect their fallen queen. Bodies fell to either side. It seemed that the Liosan were now everywhere – the Shake and Letherii lines had buckled, companies driven apart, hacked at from all sides.



And still he seemed a thousand leagues away.



Draconic sorcery detonated. The bed of bodies beneath her lifted as one, and then fell back with a sound like a drum. And Yan Tovis felt a sudden absence. Skwish. She’s dead .



A trickle of strength returned to her, and she resumed pulling herself along.



Her bones were rattling to some distant sound – or was it inside her? Yes, inside, yet still … distant. As far away as hope. And that is a shore I will never reach . It shook through her. Shook even the corpses beneath her, and those to the sides.



Two stood to either side of her, two of her own, the last two, fighting.



She did not have to look to know who they were. The love filling all the empty spaces inside her now could take them in, like flavours. Brevity, who imagined that her friend Pithy was still with her, still fighting for the dignity they had always wanted, the dignity they’d once thought they could cheat and steal their way to find. Sharl – sweet, young, ancient Sharl, who knew nothing of fighting, who knew only that she had failed to save her brothers, and would not fail again.



There were all kinds of love, and, with wonder, she realized that she now knew them all.



Before her, five simple paces away – could she walk – lay the body of her brother.



Another concussion.



Pully. I am sorry .



There is no glory in dying young, unless you were old first .



No witches now to steal her strength. She lifted herself up, on to her hands and knees, and made for Yedan. As she drew up alongside, she saw the hand nearer her move.



Pulled herself up, knelt at his side, looked down into his face, the only part of him that had not been chewed and crushed beyond recognition. She saw his lips moving, leaned close.



‘Beloved brother,’ she whispered, ‘it is Yan.’



‘I see it,’ he whispered.



‘What do you see?’



‘I see it. Yan. It’s there, right before me.’ His broken lips smiled.



‘Yedan?’



‘At last,’ he sighed, ‘I am … home.’



Their queen and the body of their prince, they were now an island upon the sea, and the last of them gathered round, to hold its ever shrinking shoreline. And, above it all, three black dragons warred with ten white dragons, and then there were only two against ten.



Surrounding the island and its shore, the Liosan pushed in on waves of steel and fury. Theirs was the hunger of the ocean, and that was a hunger without end.



But the ground trembled. It shivered. And the source of that steady, drumming thunder was coming ever closer.



Leaning like a drunk on the dais, Nimander struggled for a way through this. It would seem that he had to veer, and soon, and then he would have to somehow resist Silanah’s will. He would have to fight her, try to kill her. But he knew he would fail. She would send his own kin against him, and the horror of the blood that would then spill was too much to bear.



Sandalath Drukorlat still sat on the throne, muttering under her breath. I could kill her. After all, do I not already have Tiste Andii blood on my hands? And then, should we by some miracle prevail here, why, a usurper could take this throne. That, too, has been done before .



And the new kingdom of Kharkanas shall be born in the ashes of murder. Yes, I could do that. But look upon her, Nimander – she does not even remember you. In her madness, I am my father. Sandalath, do you truly not remember? Withal and I – we lied to you. A terrible accident, the suicide that never was .



Shall I lie to you again?



No, I cannot .



There were ghosts in this palace – in this very room. He had never before felt such palpable presence, as if countless ages had awakened to this moment. As if all of the fallen had returned, to witness the end of every dream.



‘Apsal’ara,’ he whispered. ‘I need you.’



Came an answering whisper, ‘ It’s not her you need .’