The Crippled God

‘A year ago, lying drunk on my cot, I would have agreed with you, Captain. So tell me now, will you fight for her?’



His eyes were thinned as he studied Banaschar, and then he said, ‘With all my heart.’



The gasp that came from Lostara was almost a sob.



The Bonehunters formed up into column. Alone by express order, the Adjunct mounted her horse and remained motionless on it until the last of the wagons they were taking trundled past, and then she took up her reins and swung the animal to face west.



She could see the worn path taken by the marines and the heavies, angling slightly northward but still on a westerly track. They were already out of sight, vanishing into the deceptive folds of the plain. Her hand brushed the empty scabbard at her side, and then away again. She adjusted the strap of her helm, and looked down to examine her worn, oft-mended Malazan uniform. The burgundy was faded, the grey worn to white in places. The leather of her gloves was cracked, sweat- and salt-stained. The armour bands protecting her thighs had rubbed through the underpadding here and there.



She had clasped her cloak to the fittings situated on the harness over her breastbone, and the black wool hung heavy, drawing her shoulders back. Adjusting its weight until it was even, she straightened and ran a hand across the fittings she could reach, tightening them where needed. Reached up and pushed stray wisps of thin hair from her cheeks.



Guiding her horse round, she nudged the animal into a slow trot.



As she passed her soldiers on her left, the Adjunct held her gaze straight ahead.



Faces turned to watch her.



No one called out. Not a word of encouragement, not a single jest, not a question rising up above the thump of boots and the rustle of gear to which she might respond with a word or two.



She held herself straight, moving slowly, making her way towards the head of the column. And of all the journeys she had undertaken, since the very beginning, this one – from the back of the column to its head – was the longest one she had ever travelled. And, as ever, she travelled it alone.



Riding bone-white Jhag horses, the three Forkrul Assail reined in a third of a league ahead of their armies. In their minds, they could hear distant clamour, and they knew that the assault against the Great Spire had begun. But Akhrast Korvalain was trembling with blows from foreign magics, both ancient and new, and so details evaded their questing. The unease drifting between them was, alas, palpable.



‘It does not matter,’ Brother Aloft announced. ‘We have before us a singular task, and in this we shall prevail. If it follows that we must retrace our steps to win once more the Altar of Judgement, then we shall do so.’



Sister Freedom spoke. ‘Brothers, I sense three threats before us, but one will not reach us in time to affect the forthcoming battle, so we can for the moment discount it. It is, however, the smaller of the two elements before us that troubles me. Clearly, they have a specific intention, and the main force marching towards us is positioning itself with the aim of blocking our advance. From this, I conclude that the purpose of the smaller force is of vital importance.’



Brother Aloft slowly nodded. ‘What do you propose, Sister?’



‘We each possess an army, Brothers. If my senses are accurate – and I assure you that they are – any one of us alone is more than a match for the main force ahead of us. However, bearing in mind that our enemy is perhaps formidable in ways we have not yet been made aware of – they did manage to cross the Glass Desert, after all – I advise that we commit two armies to their destruction. The third, perhaps yours, Brother Grave, sets off at a faster pace to hunt down the smaller force – and prevent them from doing whatever it is they plan to do.’



‘And this small force,’ Brother Grave said in his thin voice, ‘they flee northwest, yes?’



‘I doubt it is flight as such, Brother,’ Freedom said, frowning. ‘I continue to sense a measure of confidence in you, Brother Grave, perhaps somewhat overinflated under the circumstances.’



The older Pure snorted. ‘We shall face humans. Thus far, in all my thousands of years of life, I have yet to be impressed by these creatures.’



‘Nevertheless, I implore you to engage with surety tempered by caution, Brother.’



‘I shall be suitably exact in the execution of my mission, Sister Freedom. I shall hunt down this handful of humans and destroy them.’



‘Your words reassure me,’ she replied. ‘Brother Aloft, I welcome your advice in the matter to follow, as much as I do Brother Grave’s. That third element – so disturbingly efficacious against our northern forces – is, as I said, too far away to affect the engagements we anticipate. However, there is the slight risk – as it is known that certain companies among them are mounted – that they would in fact intercept Brother Grave should he lead his forces north from here in his effort to reach his target as quickly as possible. You see, my instincts are that Brother Grave’s foe – despite its paltry size – is in fact the most dangerous element now arrayed before us.’