The Bonehunters (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #6)

The Bonehunters (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #6) Page 192

Quick Ben was squinting at Fiddler. 'You shaved,' he said. 'Reminds me just how young you are – that beard turned you into an old man.'

He paused, then added, 'Be nice to have Mallet here with us.'

'Forget it,' Strings said, 'he's getting fat in Darujhistan and the last thing he'd want to do is see our ugly faces again.' He coughed. '

And I suppose Paran's there, too, feet up and sipping chilled Saltoan wine.'

'Turned out to be a good captain,' the wizard said after a moment. '

Who'd have thought it, huh?'

Strings nodded up at the woman on the horse. 'Apsalar. So where's Crokus Younghand?'

She shrugged. 'He goes by the name of Cutter, now, Fiddler.'

Oh.

'In any case,' she continued, 'we parted ways some time ago.'

Stormy stepped closer to Gesler. 'We lost him?' he asked.

Gesler looked away, then nodded.

'What happened?'

Strings spoke in answer: 'Truth saved all our skins, Stormy. He did what we couldn't do, when it needed to be done. And not a word of complaint. Anyway, he gave up his life for us. I wish it could have been otherwise…' He shook his head. 'I know, it's hard when they're so young.'

There were tears now, running down the huge man's sunburnt face.

Saying nothing, he walked past them all, down onto the slope towards the encamped Malazans. Gesler watched, then followed.

No-one spoke.

'I had a feeling,' Quick Ben said after a time. 'You made it out of Y'

Ghatan – but the Fourteenth's marched already.'

Fiddler nodded. 'They had to. Plague's coming from the east. Besides, it must've seemed impossible – anyone trapped in the city surviving the firestorm.'

'How did you pull it off?' Kalam demanded.

'We're about to march,' Fiddler said as Faradan Sort appeared, clambering onto the road. 'I'll tell you along the way. And Quick, I' ve got a mage in my squad I want you to meet – he saved us all.'

'What do you want me to do?' the wizard asked. 'Shake his hand?'

'Not unless you want to get bit.' Hah, look at his face. That was worth it.

The bridge was made of black stones, each one roughly carved yet perfectly fitted. Wide enough to accommodate two wagons side by side, although there were no barriers flanking the span and the edges looked worn, crumbly, enough to make Paran uneasy. Especially since there was nothing beneath the bridge. Nothing at all. Grey mists in a depthless sea below. Grey mists swallowing the bridge itself twenty paces distant; grey mists refuting the sky overhead.

A realm half-born, dead in still-birth, the air was cold, clammy, smelling of tidal pools. Paran drew his cloak tighter about his shoulders. 'Well,' he muttered, 'it's pretty much how I saw it.'

The ghostly form of Hedge, standing at the very edge of the massive bridge, slowly turned. 'You've been here before, Captain?'

'Visions,' he replied. 'That's all. We need to cross this-'

'Aye,' the sapper said. 'Into a long forgotten world. Does it belong to Hood? Hard to say.' The ghost's hooded eyes seemed to shift, fixing on Ganath. 'You should've changed your mind, Jaghut.'

Paran glanced over at her. Impossible to read her expression, but there was a stiffness to her stance, a certain febrility to the hands she lifted to draw up the hood of the cape she had conjured.

'Yes,' she said. 'I should have.'

'This is older than the Holds, isn't it?' Paran asked her. 'And you recognize it, don't you, Ganath?'

'Yes, in answer to both your questions. This place belongs to the Jaghut – to our own myths. This is our vision of the underworld, Master of the Deck. Verdith'anath, the Bridge of Death. You must find another path, Ganoes Paran, to find those whom you seek.'

He shook his head. 'No, this is the one, I'm afraid.'

'It cannot be.'

'Why?'

She did not reply.

Paran hesitated, then said, 'This is the place in my visions. Where I have to begin. But… well, those dreams never proceeded from here – I could not see what lay ahead, on this bridge. So, I had this, what you see before us, and the knowledge that only a ghost could guide me across.' He studied the mists engulfing the stone path. 'There's two ways of seeing it, I eventually concluded.'

'Of seeing what?' Ganath asked.

'Well, the paucity of those visions, and my hunches on how to proceed.