Return of the Crimson Guard

Glowering, Coots picked up the tray and carried it out the door. ‘Figures. First decent meal in months…’

Stalker now turned his attention to Ereko. ‘What do you think?’

During all of this, Traveller merely ate, eyes downcast. It was as if the man had given up on everything and was willing to accept whatever might come to him; it was either the worst sort of pathetic fatalism, or a kind of enlightened understanding that expectations, plans, ambitions, were no more than deluding vapours that, in the end, could not change anything. It was maddening to Kyle that he couldn't decide which.

Ereko lifted a pot of a thick yellow cream that Kyle thought might be yogurt. He sniffed it, set it down. ‘I have been away for a very long time, of course. But I have heard rumours. It seems they may be true. This portion of the continent is ruled by a magiocracy, an oligarchy of powerful mages who bend all their resources and research to unravelling the mysteries of Ascendancy. It is said they are masters of the Paths of Denul, and even conduct rather horrifying surgeries and experiments upon the bodies of their people to that end. No doubt they see Ascendancy as their way to power and immortality, and so on.’

‘Yet he ignored you,’ Kyle said.

Ereko laughed, smiling. ‘Ascendancy holds no interest for me, Kyle. To them, I am probably just some sort of wretched failure. Nothing more than that.’

‘You are the Eldest of all living things here of the world, Ereko,’ Traveller suddenly announced. ‘Father to us all.’

‘Father?’ Kyle echoed, his wonder and amazement obvious.

Ereko waved the words aside. Our friend is speaking poetically, Kyle. When one considers such ancient times one's only recourse is the language of poetry. Thus legends, myths, creation accounts, history. All are no more than stories shaped to justify the present appearance of things.’

Rolling his eyes, Stalker tossed back a drink. ‘I was hoping for rather more practical information.’

Ereko laughed, smiling self-consciously. ‘Sorry, yes. To the point then. They are torn. They want to move against us — but they are of course anxious as to our capabilities. The question for us is which faction will prevail. The voices for caution or the voices for action.’

‘They will act.’ This from Traveller as he sat, head lowered, studying one of the land's unfamiliar yellow fruits. ‘When it becomes clear that we will perhaps get away, a small faction will take matters into their own hands and will move. Once they do so the rest will have no choice but to commit themselves.’

Kyle stared, unable to breathe. ‘You have seen it?’

The eyes rose, met his. The intensity of that gaze drove Kyle's gaze aside, but not before he glimpsed a well of terrifying emotion kept locked under an almost inhuman control. ‘I have seen it all before, Kyle.’

Ereko gestured to the cushions. ‘Sleep for now, lad. You can have the last watch.’

Having eaten and now sitting comfortably on soft cloth Kyle already felt his eyelids drooping. He lay back and curled up without argument — Ereko would wake him if anything happened. Sleep took him almost instantly.

A tap of his foot woke Kyle. Stalker stood looking down at him; the scout gestured him out and left. Kyle grabbed up his armour, helmet and weapon belt and followed. Outside, a false dawn of diffuse light made the sea look strangely flat, the beach lifeless and the jungle a dark mystery. Stalker unbuckled his tall conical helmet. ‘Been quiet.’

Over his linen shirt and padded aketon, Kyle pulled on his hauberk of iron rings laced to leather, adjusted the leather wrappings at his legs. ‘No one at all?’

‘Only if you count the soldiers surrounding us.’

‘What? When?’

An indifferent shrug. ‘Who knows? Right away maybe. Coots has been watching them all night. Says it ain't right the way none of them have moved. Not even to take a piss, apparently. Coots thinks that's downright unnatural for any soldiers.‘ Stalker gestured around. ‘You can maybe make them out on the dunes and the forest edge.’ His watch done, the scout ducked inside. Kyle adjusted the weight of his tulwar on his left hip, pulled on his helmet. For the thousandth time he wished he had a shield, a bow or even a fistful of javelins. Squinting, he could just distinguish the tall dark shapes standing still as tree trunks in the mist and pre-dawn gloom. Big bastards, with good discipline, sounds like. He didn't relish having to tangle with them.

Nothing stirred during Kyle's watch. The day brightened and the sun rose like a ball of fire over the jungle. Kyle thought it a wondrous sight, quite unlike anything he'd seen on the prairie. It was as if the entire east jungle was aflame. Traveller eventually emerged behind him. The tall swordsman was tying back his long, kinked black hair. He gestured Kyle in with a nod. ‘Break your fast.’

Over the remains of the platters Badlands and Coots worked the edges of their weapons with the small sharpening stones they carried with their gear; Badlands his two long-knives and Coots his single-edged longsword with an extended two-handed grip. Out of their rolls also came helmets — iron and bronze, with faceguards that curved down to nasal shields. ‘Haven't seen those recently,’ Kyle observed.

‘Haven't faced a stand-up fight recently,’ Coots said. ‘We prefer to avoid them.’

Badlands pulled his helmet on. ‘Yeah. They can get you killed.’

Kyle almost burst out laughing: the helmet looked two sizes too small on the hairy burly fellow, like a bull wearing a pot. After mastering himself Kyle reflected that he mustn't look much better in his hand-me-down mismatched armour. He drew his tulwar, examined its edge — as bright and keen as the day Smoky inscribed it. Nothing seemed able to mar it. He turned to Ereko who sat cross-legged with no weapon in sight.

‘Where's your spear?’

The Thel Akai looked up and in his golden eyes something flashed that stabbed Kyle to his heart before it was hidden away and the familiar wintry smile returned to his lips. ‘Not here, Kyle. Not in my homeland.’

The brothers continued fussing with their equipment. Stalker checked the positioning of more weapons than Kyle had even guessed he might be carrying. He wondered what they were waiting for then, then Traveller re- entered the tent, and he understood.

The man examined each of them in turn, his face dark with churning emotions Kyle couldn't name, a kind of impatient anger, even disgust. The lines that bracketed his mouth slashed down like cuts. He nodded his approval and the Lost brothers jumped to the tent flap, flanking it with hands on their weapons. Stalker ducked out first. Traveller exited, then Kyle and Ereko. The brothers brought up the rear.

Jhest awaited them down the beach near the Kite. He stood next to a collection of bundled fruits, foodstuffs and wooden casks that Kyle presumed held water. Also present were the tall soldiers, positioned in a wide semicircle. They wore no uniforms or colours, only a strange sort of armour made from a mosaic of small stones, each a slightly differing shade of green, varying from dark sea-blue-green to a pale yellow- olive. Helms completely enclosed their faces and gauntlets their hands — all of the same shimmering mosaic surface. The weapons at their waists were hidden in wooden sheaths clasped in worked bronze, but from the shape they appeared curved and perhaps flaring out toward the point.

Jhest bowed. ‘I trust you slept well and are refreshed. Please do not be alarmed by the presence of our soldiers. They are here to help load your vessel. You must find them somewhat familiar, yes? They are inspired by the many insights gained by those Malazan allies, the Moranth.’

‘Yes,’ Traveller answered curtly. Thank you for the food and water. We will be leaving now.’

‘If you must. But I must ask that you reconsider your goal.’

Traveller, who had bent to a cask, straightened to face Jhest. ‘Yes?’ Ereko picked up two casks, one under each arm, and began loading the Kite. Kyle and the Lost brothers all spread out around Traveller.

‘You really do not expect to succeed, do you? It is impossible. You would only be throwing away your existence in a futile gesture. Your presumption is beyond arrogance. It is a sad waste.’

Traveller was silent for some time. Kyle, his back to them and eyes fixed on the soldiers, could only hear their exchange. He adjusted his footing — the sand was strangely loose and yielding now, unlike earlier when they had landed the Kite. Traveller finally answered, his voice so low Kyle barely caught it, ‘Do not come between me and my vengeance, Jhest. My response will be felt not just by you, but by all those who speak with you as well — and who are no doubt listening at this very moment. Think on that!’ he suddenly yelled, startling Kyle.

‘That is the question, is it not?’ Jhest answered, his voice still eerily flat, unperturbed. ‘Are we interposing ourselves when said goal is then abandoned? An interesting philosophical point, yes? Room enough, perhaps, for