The Crippled God
‘I needed to get your attention,’ the Mortal Sword replied. ‘With you, subtle don’t work.’
‘How would you know? You ain’t tried it yet. Not once, in all the years I’ve been cursed by your company.’
‘Well,’ said Gesler, squinting at the mass of Che’Malle Furies thumping past, ‘turns out I got a solution for that. An end to your curse.’
‘You can’t run away! You can’t leave me here—’
‘No, it’s you I’m sending away, Stormy.’
‘What?’
‘I’m the Mortal Sword. I can do things like that.’
‘Send me where?’
‘To her, to what’s left of her.’
Stormy looked away, south across the empty, dismal plain. He spat again. ‘You really don’t like me much, do you?’
‘We have to find out, Stormy. Aye, I could go myself, but you’re the Shield Anvil. There will be the souls of friends, hanging around like a bad smell. Will you just leave the ghosts to wander, Stormy?’
‘What am I supposed to do with them?’
‘How should I know? Bless them, I suppose, or whatever it is you have to do.’
Destriant Kalyth was riding back to where they’d dismounted. She was looking at each of them in turn, back and forth, frowning at the red welt and split cheek under Stormy’s left eye. She drew up her Ve’Gath mount. ‘Don’t you two ever just talk? Spirits below, men are all the same. What has happened?’
‘Nothing,’ Stormy replied. ‘I have to leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘It’s temporary,’ said Gesler, swinging himself back into the bone and scale saddle that was his mount’s back. ‘Like a mangy pup, he’ll show up again before too long.’
‘Where is he going?’ Kalyth demanded.
‘Back to where we came from,’ Gesler replied. ‘Back to the Bonehunters. They got hurt bad. We need to find out how bad.’
‘Why?’
Stormy glared up at Gesler, waiting for the bastard to come up with an answer to that question, but the Mortal Sword simply growled under his breath and kicked his charger into motion.
As he rode away, Kalyth fixed her attention on Stormy. ‘Well?’
He shrugged. ‘When there’s trouble ahead, Destriant, it’s good to know how your allies are faring.’
His reply clearly disturbed her, though she seemed unable to explain why. ‘You will need an escort.’
‘No, I won’t.’
‘Yes you will, Shield Anvil. Your Ve’Gath needs to eat. I will have Sag’Churok assign three K’ell Hunters to you, and two drones. When do you leave?’
He walked to his mount. ‘Now.’
She hissed some Elan curse and kicked her Ve’Gath into motion.
Grinning, Stormy mounted up and set out. Classic Malazan military structure at work here, woman. Short, violent discussion and that’s it. We don’t wait around. And Gesler? I’m gonna bust your jaw .
Grub watched Stormy’s departure and scowled. ‘Something’s up.’
Sinn snorted. ‘Thanks. I was just falling asleep, and now you’ve woke me up again. Who cares where Stormy’s going?’
‘I do.’
‘They’re mostly dead,’ she said. ‘And he’s going to confirm that. You want to go with him, Grub? Want to look at Keneb’s corpse? Should I go with you? So I can see what the vultures have done to my brother? The truth is in your heart, Grub. You feel it just like I do. They’re dead.’
At her harsh words Grub hunched down, looked away. Rows of Che’Malle, Ve’Gath soldiers, their massive elongated heads moving in smooth rhythm, their hides coated in dust that dulled the burnished gold of the scales on their necks and backs. Weapons slung down from harnesses of drone-hide, swinging and rustling. Ornate helms hiding the soldiers’ eyes. But every soldier’s eyes look the same. Seen too much and more’s coming and they know it .
Uncle Keneb, it’s all over for you now. Finally. And you never really wanted any of it anyway, did you? Your wife left you. All you had was the army, and you died with it. Did you ever want anything else?
But he didn’t know the truth of any of that. He hadn’t lived enough of his own life. He tried getting into the heads of people like Keneb – the ones with so many years behind them – and he couldn’t. He could recite what he knew of them. Whirlwind. Slaughter and flight. Loves lost, but what do I know about that?