Return of the Crimson Guard

not safe?’

Ullen returned his gaze to the field. ‘That is not my concern. My job is to win this engagement if at all possible.’ And he headed off again — he'd been standing in one place long enough. The assembled staff and messengers of command could choose to follow or not.

He climbed up on to the south road, a high point, its bed raised by Imperial engineers. The deep amber slanting light of late afternoon now gathered over the broad slope. Cries snapped his attention to the centre field where a swirling in the light revealed a Warren opening. Darkness blossomed and out came something night-black and angular, winged. A demon. And not one of ours. The staff officers shouted their alarm. Ullen turned on them, ‘Have the skirmishers concentrate their fire on that thing!’

The Dal Hon woman saluted, ‘Aye’, ran for the nearest mount.

Good. A lesson from Choss: even if you know it's not enough — do something! And where was their damned mage cadre? Done in by the Veils already?

While the entire field of gathered men and women watched, the thing swooped over Urko's heavies and stooped, slashing left and right. It then rose, carrying a victim that it dismembered in full view of all, limbs spinning, fluids splashing. Ullen swore that his complete command flinched at the spectacle. Damn it to Hood! They had to show everyone they possessed the firepower to counter that thing! That display alone was enough to break morale,

Wings beating heavily, the demon swung next to the east where V'thell's Gold were mauling the Guard phalanx. Sharpers burst beneath it among the ranks indiscriminately, revealing missed throws of munitions. Where was their blasted mage cadre! As the creature passed over a hillock something struck it and a flash of actinic light made Ullen wince and glance away. A grating shriek such as cracking stone echoed over the slope. When he looked back the thing was flailing, white flames engulfing it, pieces dropping away in fluid globules. It began to sink, limbs spasming as its outline changed, thinning, drooping. It struck the ground, bowled over irregulars and crashed into a shieldwall of Malazan regulars who hacked at its twitching flesh. A great cheer went up among the Imperial forces. Everyone on both sides had paused in horror and fascination to watch the spectacle. Gods, a melter. What an awful way to go. He marked that hillock, bare but ringed by a dark line, a trench. Something odd about the crest struck him. The grasses bowed, fluttering as if in a constant hard wind — fanning! Bala.

‘Name a strong reserve unit,’ he called out.

‘We have a detachment of Gold,’ someone answered from the mix of Ullen's own personal guard and the command staff surrounding him.

‘Send it to defend that hillock on the east flank. Someone's established a redoubt there on the field.’

‘A redoubt, sir? Isn't our goal to advance?’

‘Push back the Avowed? Hardly. But we can break them up. Penetrate their lines. As to the redoubt,’ Ullen lifted his chin to the west, ‘night is coming.’

His thoughts obviously returning to the horrors of last night, the officer paled and bowed. ‘Aye, sir.’

A disgraced ex-High Mage and a saboteur squad dug in. A strong position. Should V'thell succeed they might be able to lever the Guard from the road. ‘What news from the bridge? What of the Kan forces?’

A pause as staffers discussed things among themselves. ‘Latest intelligence is that they've yet to commit,’ the Imperial lieutenant said.

Ullen stopped pacing the set cobbles of the road. ‘What?’

Confusion, exchanged panicked glances. ‘Sorry, sir-’

‘You are all agreed on this?’

Nods all around. Damn the tightfisted calculating bastards! ‘Send messages across the river. By arrow, if you must. The Empress demands they initiate an attack on that bridge! Further — any continued delay will be considered rebellion and we will march on Kan next!’

‘Sir!’ someone objected, shocked. ‘Ah, that is, do we have the authority…’

Ullen pointed to the south. ‘We could lose any and all Hood-damned authority we may have thought we had. Now go!’

‘Aye.’ A man ran for the mounts.

Movement on the road caught his eye. A pink mist had appeared, swelling, rolling towards them like a cloud. It engulfed screaming soldiers who disappeared before his eyes, their flesh, armour, even bone, flensed into a suspended mist that was heading straight for them. Soldiers jumped aside. Too long in the same spot, fool! ‘Magery!’ Ullen leapt from the road.

Shimmer did not lose consciousness but after a moment's reflection this did not surprise her. She was after all joining the Brethren. The dead Avowed chained to their living brothers and sisters. Enslaved by the Vow, by those awful impetuous terms — eternal opposition. Cheating Hood, yes, but unable to rest, ever agitating for the Vow. Remember, they had always come to whisper in her sleep, tormenting her.

You swore! Remember your Vow… Remember…

A hand turned her over. She blinked up at a pewter sky occluded by a skeletal, withered face. Hood himself? ‘You are dying,’ said the vision of death. ‘Despite your great vitality, it is draining away.’

‘Are you… Imass?’ she whispered, hoarse.

The dried flesh of the face could not express emotion but Shimmer had the impression of surprise. ‘No. I am Edgewalker.’ Shimmer had nothing to say to that as the name meant nothing. ‘I am sending you back. Your engagement is spilling over into Shadow and that I cannot allow. I want all of you gone. You, that murderous trespasser — even the binder of your Vow — though he is being shielded.’

Shimmer stared up at the bizzare entity. ‘Binder of my Vow? You mean K'azz?’

‘Whatever his name. He must go. I will send you now.’

K'azz! Shimmer cast out her thoughts as she did when summoning the Brethren. Are you there? K'azz?

Distant shocked surprise. Shimmer? Is that you? In truth?

K'azz! Where are you?

Shimmer — I am close, I'm coming! Listen. It was Skinner and Cowl! They betrayed me!

‘You go now,’ Edgewalker intoned in a voice like dry dust falling. A dessicated hand, all sinew and bone, rested upon her chest.

Shimmer tried to move — the effort blackened her vision. ‘Wait!’

Pain made her gasp. Hot smoky air choked her and she coughed, wincing with the memory of the stab wound. ‘Here she is!’ Someone threw herself down next to her: Shell. ‘Back with us!’

‘What's happened?’

‘Shh now.’ She nodded to someone out of Shimmer's vision; she turned her head — Twisty — their best healer. He gave her an encouraging nod. Shell eased her up, handed her a gourd of water. The cacophony of battle assaulted her: closer now, much closer. The Imperials have been advancing. And it was dark, sunset. Twisty opened her armour, slid a hand in around her side. ‘The east flank's collapsed,’ Shell explained. ‘Those Imperial allies, the Moranth, they're pushing to the centre, trying to cut us off from the bridge. And we are hard pressed in the west. But reports are that Cowl and the Veils have a free hand. They say that the High Fist has fallen, the Sword has fallen, Urko has fallen-’

‘Who says!’ Shimmer cut in, wincing and gasping for breath.

Shell wiped smeared dirt from her face and short blond hair, her brows wrinkled. ‘Why, the Veils, of course…’

Shimmer stood, rolled her shoulder on the side Twisty had healed. ‘Yet the Claws found me.’

Further puzzlement, the lines at the woman's mouth deepening. ‘And others, yes…’

‘Who else?’

‘Sart, Betel, Ketch. Those I know of.’

None friends of Skinner. ‘Summon Greymane and Smoky to me — now. And remain with me.’ Shell bowed. Who else could she count on? The majority of her command, she imagined — and hoped.