the rear to shatter on the rocks below. Through the slurry of deathly cold water she saw the shimmering armour of a Stormrider standing before her.
She threw her head back, gasping in air, panting, her limbs shivering almost uncontrollably. The entity peered down, regarding her. Its sword remained sheathed at its side, no lance in evidence. Its helm shifted as it looked about. Then it raised an arm, the scaled armour flashing iridescent, seeming to salute her, and backed away.
Fingers appeared at her side, supported her. Together they watched while the entity reached the outer shattered crenellations and stepped back to fall away.
‘What was that all about?’ Fingers asked, stuttering.
‘I think they’re done here.’
‘So’re we,’ Fingers growled. ‘C’mon.’
Down one way they saw the Stormguard righting themselves where they blocked the one access leading off the wall. Of the Malazans Shell saw no sign. Fingers motioned the other way; there Lazar fought splashing through the thinning waters, duelling two Stormguard both still glowing with the aura of the Lady. She and Fingers raised their Warrens.
Their combined strike smashed the two Chosen from the wall, casting them tumbling out into the white- capped waves, where they disappeared. Holding her numb side, Shell joined Lazar to peer down over the broken lip of the wall to the waters foaming below. ‘Thanks, you two,’ Lazar said, breathing heavily. ‘Those boys just wouldn’t go down.’
‘Neither would you,’ Fingers remarked, as he came limping up behind.
Lazar drew off his full helm and steam plumed in the frigid air from the sweat soaking his hair and running down his face. He drew in great breaths, blowing and gasping; then, peering out over the inlet, he froze. ‘Damn Hood…’
Shell looked over and her flesh prickled with true terror. A wave was approaching up the narrow bay — a wave unlike any she’d seen before. More a mountain of water, webbed in slush and topped in white spume, already looming far taller than the wall itself.
‘Oponn’s throw,’ Fingers breathed.
Lazar punched Shell’s arm, making her wince. ‘Let’s go!’
They met Blues and Bars at the tower entrance. Jemain was following behind, carrying an unconscious Corlo, one of whose legs now ended at a wrapped stump. ‘We have to go,’ Fingers told Blues. ‘Now.’
‘What about the Malazans?’ Shell asked. She looked to where four Korelri Stormguard remained, Quint included, holding the stairs. Only a few fallen Malazan bodies were visible.
‘They ran for the high pass,’ Blues said.
‘Good luck to them,’ Fingers added.
Shell warned: ‘Blues — take us.’ Quint had motioned to his brother Stormguard and they were approaching.
‘All right, all right!’ Blues answered. ‘We’re gone. Stand close.’
Quint rounded the side of the tower to find the wall… empty. The foreigners had fled; they’d used their alien Warren witchery to escape. Movement out over the inlet caught his eye and he stared. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing — the scale was all wrong. No wave could possibly be that tall, that immense. A small voice whispered in the back of his mind: It is the prophesied end of the Stormwall come upon them after all. First the earth shakes then the waters come to reclaim the land — was that not the ancient warning of the end of the world?
Quint looked to his spear, its gouged and battered blade, the Lady’s Grace thinning, so faint, then to this titanic approaching crag of water greater than any he had seen in over fifty years, rearing now over him taller than six fathoms.
Damn you…
He raised the spear, shaking it in the searing extremity of his rage.
Damn everyone! Damn everything! Damn The mountain of water slammed into the wall to tumble, undercut, overflowing like a waterfall, washing, scouring, unstoppable. When it thinned, draining to both sides from the course of the wall, the stone core remained, uneven, punished, gouged of everything, empty of all movement.
On into the evening a fresh layer of snow began to fall over all: the grey undisturbed waters of the inlet, and the bare stones of the wall where no footfalls marred it. Through the night it froze into a fresh clean layer of frost and ice.
All through the fighting below Hiam knelt, praying. He prayed for forgiveness. For penance. And for guidance. He ignored the cries, the blasts and the upheaval. Hands clasped, eyes screwed shut, entreating, begging. Lady! Please answer! How have we displeased you? Where have we transgressed? Please! In the name of our devotion. Will you not grace me with your guidance?
At one point something enormous ploughed into the tower in an avalanche roar that seemed the end of the world. The impact drove Hiam against a wall and left the tower tilted, threatening to fall at any moment, but he did not turn from his single-minded observance. Surely his zeal would be rewarded now, at this moment of testing.
After a time he knew not how long — nor did he care — an answer came. The Lady’s voice whispered as if into his ear: You failed me, Lord Protector!
He bowed to the floor, abject in his piety. ‘My Lady! How? How did we fail? What was our transgression? Let us make amends.’
Amends? You failed! They are upon me! You let them through! You swore to protect me!
‘M’Lady, our holy concord remains between us. We will protect the lands as we swore-’
The lands? The lands? You protect me! Me! And you have failed even at that simple task, you wretched fool.
Hiam sat up, puzzled. ‘We swore to protect all the lands — under your blessing and guidance, of course.’
The lands? You fool! Your blood protected me from my old enemies! And now they are coming!
‘Our blood protected… you?’
Yes! Fool! Blood sacrifice forestalls them. But now they are through! What is left to me? Who will- Wait! I sense them close. The ancient enemy. They have followed me even unto here. How will I hide? You! Why did you not die for me? Do so — now!
And the Lady’s presence snapped away, leaving Hiam reeling. His mind couldn’t catch at anything. His hands went to his neck. All this time… then all this time… No. It was too terrible to contemplate. Too horrific. A monstrous crime.
He rose from the floor, backed to a wall as if retreating from an invisible enemy. It was a lie. A deception. Somehow. But no. That had been the Lady. He knew her presence.
He had finally come to the true foundation of his faith and he wished he’d never done so.
His scorched thoughts turned to all the brethren who had preceded him — good men and women all. So many. Down through the ages. His heart went out to them in an ache of love that could not be borne. Countless! All trusting to the truth of their cause… Yes, trusting and… used.
He crossed to a gaping window, stared out at the snow-flecked night without seeing it. He knew what to do. What was one more death? He would die — but not for her.
No. Most certainly not for her.
Hiam climbed up on to the windowsill and threw himself from the tower, to tumble down into the heaving white-capped waters below.
Dockworkers among the maze of waterfront wharves serving the Korelri capital of Elri were still discussing the morning’s tremor — how the tall pilings wavered like ships’ masts! — when, before their eyes, the tide suddenly withdrew to an extent unheard of in any account. Fish lay jumping and gasping in the tidal muck abandoned by the waters. The rotted stumps of ancient docks reared like ragged teeth far out into the mudflats of the bay. Citizens still dazed from the shaking gathered on the waterfront to watch this eerie phenomenon.
A strange greenish cast grew in the sky to the west. A sound like a distant windstorm gathered. People
