The Crippled God

She was about to kick her horse forward when a rider thundered up on her left. ‘Highness!’



Abrastal stared. A damned Letherii! ‘That was a long ride – what news?’



The messenger – a Bluerose Lancer – saluted. ‘Felicitations from the prince, Highness—’



‘Felicitations? Gods take me – sorry, go on.’



‘Highness, the Pure Forkrul Assail is dead. Only mixed-blood Assail remain in command. The prince hereby informs you that he has disengaged his forces from the Kolansii positions. And that he has established dug-in defences along the onager line on the valley floor and will commit a third of his remaining forces there—’



‘Excuse me, a third?’



The Letherii nodded. ‘Prince begs to inform you, Highness, that he is on his way to your position.’



Abrastal looked round, and then cursed. ‘Take a moment to rest your horse, sir, and then ride with all haste back to Prince Brys. Inform him he’d better hurry.’



But the messenger wasn’t interested in resting, and he wheeled his weary horse round and set out at the gallop.



Damn but those lancers know how to ride. And damn me, young man – if we both survive this, I’m going to give you a ride you’ll never forget .



Abrastal sighed, and then shook herself. With a low growl, she kicked her horse forward. ‘My standard to the front! Get on with you – follow your damned queen!’



Someone had found clothing and armour for the prince. With Aranict close by his side, he stood on the high ground and watched his troops swarming to entrench all along the line of onagers. Lines of soldiers were moving the wounded back on stretchers, while still others retrieved serviceable weapons from the field. And overseeing it all, a young man riding a K’Chain Che’Malle.



Brys was still struggling to regain himself – he did not know how Aranict had managed to save him, or how she even survived her descent into that lifeless warren. While still only half conscious he had heard fragments of conversation, and it seemed that the three foreigners, Faint, Precious Thimble and Amby Bole, had all had a hand in his resurrection. And then he’d caught the name Mael .



Old man, we owe you so much. Why are we Beddicts so important to you? But … it wasn’t me you did this for, was it? It was for Tehol. Your chosen mortal, the one you would have wanted as your own son .



Rest assured, I’m not complaining .



Someone brought him a helm and he took it with a grateful nod. Tugged it on and fastened the clasp.



An officer crowded close. ‘Sir, we have found you a horse – it would do the troops good to see you again as soon as possible.’



Brys shook his head. ‘Our Malazan guest has things well in hand, Lieutenant.’



‘He has issued orders in the prince’s name, sir!’



‘A clever thing to do, under the circumstances. He may be young, but he does command a presence on the back of that lizard. From this moment forward, he is to be considered my second – make this clear to all the other officers.’



‘Yes sir.’



Brys glanced over to see that a horse had been brought forward.



Aranict spoke, ‘Still, beloved, it would be good for them to see you.’



‘I am tempted to place Grub in command of our relieving force,’ he replied. When she stepped closer he held up a hand. ‘I am not recovered – I feel as likely to fall off that horse as stay on it. Oh, I’ll mount up, and as long as the beast isn’t moving under me, why, I should cut a strikingly inspiring figure.’ He shot a look up at the imperial standard and winced. ‘So long as no one looks too carefully.’ He reached out and took hold of her hand. ‘Aranict … I am glad you fought for me.’



‘It was Mael,’ she said. ‘And Faint’s blood. And then, if not for Amby Bole, we still would have failed.’



‘Will you think less of me if I choose to remain here, commanding these defences?’



‘Brys, if I had to, I’d have tied you down to keep you here. Close to me. We’re not saving you just to see you fall to some errant arrow – no, you stay back, issue orders and leave the rest to everyone else.’



He smiled. ‘You have begun to show a stubborn side, Atri-Ceda.’



‘Idiot.’ She lit a stick of rustleaf. ‘The only thing just begun is you noticing it – but that’s what makes the first flush of love so dangerous, and once it fades and you start seeing clearly again, why, it’s too late.’



Still smiling, he took the reins and set a foot in the stirrup, pulling himself up to slump in the saddle with a low groan.