Return of the Crimson Guard

At Hurl's stare, Ahl smiled lopsidedly, the one side of his mouth edging up, and he winked his good eye. ‘We could've held off any besiegers. But not those damned undead Imass of the emperor's.’

Queen preserve her! One of the old city mages who defended Heng so long ago. And, a friend of Silk? So, he, too… But of course he as much as confessed such to her. Yet it was one thing to hear of it abstractly. Another to see it in action. ‘Set me down here.’ Ahl shot her a questioning look. ‘We have to hold this section for the retreat.’ He grunted his understanding. She waved an Urban Levy to her as Ahl gently sat her against the parapet. ‘Any regulars here?’ A frightened nod. ‘Good. Go get one.’ She asked Ahl, ‘Can you do anything for me?’

He shook his head. ‘Not my… speciality.’

‘Well, bind it, would you?’

The mage began undoing the lacings and buckles of her armour. A Malazan regular, a woman, arrived to kneel next her. Hurl waved her close. ‘Forces should be retreating to us,’ she said, her voice falling. ‘We must hold this section.’

‘Aye, Captain.’ She squinted aside, smiling, ‘I think I see them.’ Another regular arrived.

‘Who're you?’ Hurl slurred.

‘Fallow,’ he said, and brushed aside Ahl's hands. ‘Squad healer.’

Hurl laughed, almost vomiting in pain from the convulsion. Fallow held something, a vial, under her nose. She jerked up a hand to slap it away. ‘Don't dope me!’

‘Then stop bloody moving!’ Fallow pulled up Hurl's undershirt, began wrapping her middle. He jerked his head to Ahl, asked low, ‘Who's the civilian?’

‘Mage,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe Soletaken.’

‘Hood's dead breath…’

‘What's going on? Have to know.’

The man's hands were warm on her stomach and side. Hurl felt the pain retreating. He was looking away. ‘They're close now. A slow retreat in ranks. Banath is organizing crossbowmen…’

A terrible thought struck Hurl. ‘Close?’

‘Yes.’

‘Past the stair-tower?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good Burn, no!’ She struggled to rise. Fallow's hands pressed her down.

‘Don't you dare ruin my work! What is it?’

‘Shaky! In the stair-tower. We have to-’

‘It's lost. The Talians have it.’

All the strength fled from Hurl. ‘Oh shit, Shaky…’

They lifted her, set her on a rough litter made from two shields over spears. Ahl retreated at her side. She caught his eye. ‘Where's Silk? Where's Storo, Jalor, Rell? We've lost the wall!’

‘You think… you're alone? The Inner Round Gate… as well. It was… priority. Rell broke them there… fighting now… to take the Outer. Troop rafts on the Idryn. The River Gate… must hold.’

Great Fanderay, it was worse than she imagined. She let her head fall back on the litter. So, now they knew what it was like to face the Old Malazans. Terrifying. They charge over you like a flashflood. What a gambit. And it may yet succeed.

They reached the short tower that secured the most westerly reach of the wall together with the north arch of the bridge supporting the River Gate. Hurl planned to hold the Talians here. She ordered barricades assembled. Banath's slow methodical retreat fell back to them. He gathered what levies he could as he went. The salute he offered Hurl was as crisp as his earlier ones despite a round shield hacked to kindling, a bloody slash across his mouth exposing both upper and lower teeth, and two missing fingers. Hurl decided that maybe it hadn't been an act after all. ‘Well done, Sergeant.’

Banath nodded, saluted, and turned to the soldiers, pointing and shoving men. Hurl realized that with a wound like that the man could no longer make himself understood. She gestured Fallow to see to him. Arrows sang into the tower over the barricade. A tossed incendiary burst flaming oil over the piled table, barrels and chairs. Everyone flinched, then quickly straightened to return fire through the flames. More Malazan regulars, crossbows rattling on their backs, climbed the ladder to the trap in the tower roof to pour fire down on the walkway. After a time it became quiet out on the curve of the curtain wall beyond the knot of mixed Talian troopers and Heng levies besieging the barricade. But now sharp yells reached them: shouts full of sudden panic and open fear.

‘What is it? What's going on out there?’ Hurl demanded, hoarse.

The female Malazan soldier came to her side. ‘Don't know. It's dark. All the torches have been thrown aside. There's no light.’

‘I smell oil,’ a soldier called from the barricade. ‘Lots.’

‘What is that?’ another said.

‘What's going on?’ Hurl snarled. ‘Look!’

The female regular stood tall, peering. ‘Something's pouring down the walls from the walkway. Water?’

Hood's Laughter! Shaky! ‘Get down!’ Hurl shouted. ‘Everyone! Take cover!’

Ahl turned to her, his good eye narrowed. ‘Why?’

Brilliance suddenly silhouetted the man. A yellow-white chiaroscuro of blinding light and shadow seared Hurl's vision. A roar such as that of a landslide slammed into the barricade, pushing it backwards. Soldiers rolled away slapping at themselves, clothes aflame. Screams quavered an undertone of hopeless pain beneath the furnace roar. A howling thing of flame crashed through the fallen barrels and furniture and thrashed about until soldiers stabbed it repeatedly. Ahl, a hand raised to shield his eye, turned to look down to Hurl once more. ‘You saboteurs… you fight dirty,’ and he frowned his distaste.

Likewise I'm sure, friend.

In the morning orders arrived to withdraw to the southern Inner Round Gate. Talk was they were abandoning the entire Outer Round. Too many rods of wall and not enough men. Hurl grated at the news; all those men dead, Shaky's sacrifice, and for what? All to hand the wall over to the Talians?

A dishevelled, hollow-eyed Storo met her as she was being carried to the gate. He took hold of her shoulder. ‘I heard you took one in the side.’

‘A gift from Amaron.’

He winced, looking away. ‘Yeah. Well, I guess we've all got one coming. Listen, don't take it bad. It was chance. You just happened to have that section last night. That's all. Could've been anyone. Don't take it personal.’

She laughed hoarsely. ‘I'll try not to.’ She eyed the man, gauging his strength. He was exhausted and had taken a slash across the arm — he'd been in the fighting — but he didn't have the look of a man sliding down into despair. ‘We lost Shaky.’

‘Yeah. I heard.’

‘We were betrayed. The Urban Levy…’

He raised a hand. ‘I know. We'll get to the bottom of it.’

‘And don't you take it personal. There was nothing you could do about it. Betrayal's always the way sieges end.’

The man smiled his rueful agreement and his eyes brightened for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck then pulled down his mail hood to scratch his head. ‘Yeah. I understand. Who could beat Choss and Toc, eh? But listen.’ He waved her bearers on, walked alongside the litter. ‘They did us a favour. We were stretched too thin out there on the Outer anyway. And they tipped their hand too early with that move. To gain what, the Outer Round?’ He waved the success aside. ‘They should've held out for the Inner. Now we know.’

‘We should've suspected…’

‘We did.’

Hurl raised her head to eye Storo directly. ‘What do you mean? Do you mean that city mage, Ahl? What's his story? Do you trust him?’

Storo would not meet her eye. ‘You'll have to ask Silk.’

‘I will… What happened, anyway?’

A shrug. ‘Cohorts isolated your section at the Outer Round while a second group secured the North Gate.