The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10)

The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10) Page 285

Korlat looked across the river. ‘Into the city, Lord.’

‘And Spinnock?’

‘He has followed – to beseech the queen. To make sense of this – Nimander, listen to me. Your Soletaken kin, they have succumbed to Silanah’s power – she now commands a Storm. If we now veer, you, myself, Dathenar and Prazek – we shall be forced to fight them. In the skies above Kharkanas, we shall annihilate each other. This must not be .’

Nimander forced himself to his feet. ‘No. Silanah. She must be stopped.’

‘Only the Queen can command her to stop, Nimander.’

‘Then … take me to her.’

When Korlat hesitated, he studied her, eyes narrowing. ‘What is it, Korlat? Who is this Queen of Darkness?’

‘I fear … no matter. Go, then, Nimander. Convince her to release Silanah.’

‘But – where will you go?’

‘The war. I will go with Dathenar and Prazek. Lord, I believe I know where the battle will be found. I hope that I am wrong. But … go. Walk where your father walked .’

How long ago was it? She could not remember. She was young. The night before she had taken a boy to her bed, to remind herself that not everything was pain. And if she later broke his heart, she’d not meant to. But this was a new day, and already the night just past seemed centuries away .

She’d been with her brother’s hunting party. On the spoor of tenag. The day was warm, the sun bright and pleased with itself .

They heard his laughter first, a deep thing, hinting of thunder, and they followed it down into a depression thick with chokecherry and dogwood. A figure, lying against a slope. He was Imass, like them, but they did not recognize him, and this in itself was startling. Disturbing .

She could see at once, when she and her kin gathered close, that his wounds were fatal. It was a wonder he still lived, and an even greater wonder that he could laugh as he did, and through all the agony in his eyes, that mirth still shone when he looked up at them .

Her brother was first to speak, because that was his way . ‘ What manner of stone do you wear? ’

‘ Stone? ’ the dying man replied, showing a red smile . ‘ Metal, my friends. Armour. A Tel Akai gift .’

‘ Where have you come from? ’

‘ Clanless. I wandered. I came upon an army, my friends .’

‘ There is no army .’

‘ Jaghut. Tel Akai. Others .’

They were silenced by this. The Jaghut were despised. Feared. But an army of Jaghut? Impossible .

Were they now at war? Her clan? Her people? If so, then they would all die. An army of Jaghut – the words alone opened like Omtose Phellack in her soul .

‘ I joined them ,’ said the man, and then, lifting a mangled hand, he added, ‘Set no crime at my feet for that. Because, you see, I am the last left. They died. All of them. The Jaghut. The Tel Akai. The Jheck. All … dead .’

‘ What enemy has come among us? ’ her brother asked, his eyes wide with fear .

‘ None but that has always been with us, friends. Think well on my words. When you slay a beast, when you hunt as you do now, and blood is spilled. When you close upon the beast in its dying, do you not see its defiance? Its struggle to the very last moment? The legs that kick, the head that tries to lift, the blood frothing from the nostrils? ’

They nodded. They had seen. And each time they had felt something fill their hearts, choke in their throats. One needed to bite back on that. Things were as they were .

‘ Bless the Jaghut ,’ the stranger said, his head falling back. He laughed , but it was short, frail. ‘Why defy death, when you cannot help but fail? They would tell you why. No. They would show you why – if only you had the courage to see, to stand with them, to understand the true enemy of all life.’ His eyes found her, her alone, and once more he managed a smile. ‘Now I will die. I will … fail. But I beg of you,’ and his eyes glistened, and she saw that they were beautiful eyes, especially now , ‘ a kiss. Many a woman cursed me in my youth. Even as they loved me. It was … glorious .’

She saw the life draining from those eyes, and so she leaned forward, to catch its leaving. With a soft kiss. His breath was of blood. His lips were cracked, but they were warm .

She held that kiss, as that warmth left. Held it, to give him as much of her as she could .

Her brother pulled her away, held her in his arms the way he used to, when she was much younger, when she was not so guarded with her own body .

They took the armour, before leaving his body to the wild. And she claimed that armour for her own. For that kiss .