Time to go. Greymane yanked but his hands, sunk in past his wrists, would not give.
He yanked again, pushing off with his legs, but his hands and wrists were caught in the exposed granite bedrock.
He snapped a gaze to the flood rushing down the retaining field. Far along the curve of the curtain wall a watchtower, some five storeys tall, toppled achingly slowly, looking like a child’s toy so far in the distance. The top courses of the curtain, undermined, now gave way in a series of puzzle-pieces. They tumbled, an avalanche of gargantuan stones, into the exposed gap beneath. He had a momentary glimpse of the Stormwall’s interior architecture as the fallen walls revealed its outer casework of dressed stone blocks on either side of a driven fill of rubble.
The wall was breached entirely now, through to the bay beyond.
Greymane yanked again, frantic, but his limbs would not budge. He stared down at his hands, trapped in the raw living stone, and only then did the beautiful poetry of it dawn upon him and he threw back his head to laugh aloud. Oh ye gods, you have outdone yourselves! Laugh at the fool mortal, for only now do I see it. Stonewielder indeed! Yes. You scheming bastards and bitches!
‘Damn you all to Hood’s deepest pits!’
The foaming flood struck him. His feet were swept from under him; he was trapped under the raging flow. Branches and other driven trash smashed into him and he could hold his breath no longer. The air burst from his searing lungs in a froth of bubbles.
He never drew another.
As his consciousness faded he thought he felt hands grasp him there beneath the surface. He did not know if it was his delirious fancy or not, or what it might mean, for all went to dark then and he allowed himself release without regret, without anger, without expectation of anything.
*
The waters of the Ocean of Storms, risen far above ancient levels, tide-swollen, driven by the sorceries of the Stormriders, poured through the gap in a burgeoning flood. The course gouged its way south, always seeking low ground. Entire swaths of forest were swept aside as the flash flood raced downhill, gathering ever greater momentum as it went. Farmhouses, fields, roads, stone walls, all disappeared as this sudden new river scoured a widening channel down to the bedrock of the island.
A chance subtle rise in the landscape spared the fortress city of Storm. Its citizens had just picked themselves up from a rare earth tremor. Many had walked out into the streets to peer at the new cracks in the cobbled roads and arcing-down walls. They heard the distant roar and went to the walls to watch astonished as to the east a new channel thundered past as a true waterfall. And, for a time, the city was entirely cut off from the rest of Korel. These citizens later swore to catching glimpses amid the flow of brilliant sapphire flashes and gliding ominous dark shapes.
Racing far more swiftly than the fastest charger, the churning waters crashed through the last forested reach of land to pour over, then entirely grind away, the shore beaches and sand cliffs down into Crooked Strait. Here the waters melded into the narrow strait, ever rising, forming from shore to shore a great swelling hump of water coursing to the east and to the west. The wavefront climbed higher than the topgallant of the tallest vessel. Entire fishing hamlets disappeared without a ripple beneath this heaving peak more than five fathoms deep. It raced faster than any ship or messenger. It overtook fleeing vessels, submerged low-lying forested islands. Left behind in its passing lay an entirely new coastline, resculpted and washed clean.
Deep in thought, Hiam climbed the narrow circular stairs of Ice Tower. Chosen hurried up and down, pausing to salute, which he answered absently. This tremor; could it really be as bad as the Malazan seems to think? Every mage who practises his or her witchery eventually goes mad — that is the most obvious explanation. Everyone, he imagined, must be thinking of those mystical prophecies: the earth cracking open to swallow the wall. But this was no supernatural event; it was just an earth tremor, common enough in many regions of the world. Unprecedented events were unfolding, yes, but that was no reason for panic.
Reaching the communication chamber he adjusted the flame to burn its highest then bashed open the west shutters. The frigid wind sliced into the chamber again but this time it did not snuff the flame. He lowered the metal sleeve, dug up a scoopful of the flaring dust and tossed it on to the flame. The dust burst into a hissing white glare that made him flinch away, covering his face. Hunched, head turned away, he worked the sleeve up and down, signalling the tower on top of the western pass.
Wind Tower: report.
Wind Tower was the westernmost of the main fortresses.
He waited. The request had to travel the entire length of the wall then back again. The answer came much more swiftly than he had anticipated; it seemed this tremor had put everyone on edge.
Wind Tower not responding.
That was the Tower of Ruel’s Tears, its eastern neighbour.
Tossing more dust on to the flame, Hiam signed: Status?
After a time the answer came: Ruel’s Tears not responding.
That was the Great Tower north of Elri, their main fortress on the Stormwall.
Disbelieving, Hiam threw more dust on to the flame, signed: Status! Status!
A long silence during which the wind moaned and gusted, seeming to mock him. Then, mystifyingly, from the neighbouring tower, the Tower of Stars: Pray!
Hiam threw himself to the western window, stared through the eternal blowing snow to the high pass where the glow of the guard tower shone like a beacon in the overcast gloom. While he watched, it was snuffed into darkness, and something billowed around it: something like a blizzard cascading down the pass along the wall, driving for this last reach of the wall and Ice Tower. Hiam clenched the window: Lady, what was this? A true catastrophe such as struck ages ago? Was this truly the end? Lady, what have we done that you should turn your face from us so?
Lady, forgive us…
The avalanche struck like a wall of white. Hiam was thrown to the floor, which bucked and hammered him. Enormous crackling fractured his hearing and he understood that the gargantuan shelves of blue-black ice that sheathed the tower were breaking off its sides. Further blows rocked and shuddered the tower as these shards, the size of wagons, came thundering down to slam bursting on to the top of the wall.
The quake passed quickly, the last of the shudders reverberating off into the distance like a passing storm, or rockfall. Unwilling to believe it was actually over, Hiam gingerly picked himself from the floor. He went to the window and peered out, half expecting a vista of ruination, but what he saw filled him with admiration and awe.
We still stand! The wall is intact!
Magnificent ancestors, you have not striven in vain! Lady, we have taken the worst and endured! Is this your message? If so, I am ashamed. How pathetic my faith.
Certainly, the damage was horrific. The worst of his imaginings… but nothing like a fracture or failure. Outer machicolations had fallen away; rear buildings had collapsed, coursework along the upper reaches appeared misaligned; cracks worked down the wall of the tower. But this was all merely cosmetic: the basic structural curve of the curtain wall appeared sound. Beyond that curve, however, the waters of the bay appeared unusually disturbed: great counter-waves slammed back and forth, and froth and spume jetted straight up in a clash of forces far out in the bay.
I’ll need to inspect the damage. He ran for the stairs, but before he got two full turns down he found the way jammed by fallen rubble. He stared at the barrier, almost uncomprehending. No! Not now! Not when I’m needed most! He threw himself at the great stone blocks, heaving, pulling.
Lady, no! Please! I beg you to forgive me!
Deep under Ice Tower in the holding cells Shell stood pressed up hard against a glacial wall. That first tremor had terrified her. Here she was far below a stone tower on an ancient crumbling wall perched above a cliff over a sea! And now, though she dared not raise her Warren, she could feel it twitching, pulling at her. Something was happening. Something shattering.
A contingent came filing down from standing the wall. Shell saw Blues among them. The man had a hand to
