sideways to another bracing when the entire bridge jumped. The blast knocked him from the top of the timber. He clung on, swinging. Through the roaring in his ears he just made out a scream as someone fell. Pieces of shattered equipment and timber splashed into the river below.
After a brief stunned silence Twofoot bellowed: ‘Up and at ’em!’
Up! Up? A charge? What about me? Suth managed to hook a foot over the brace. The 6th was climbing to the edges of the under-framing, headed over the top. Wait for me, damn you!
*
From the hillside Rillish saw as well as everyone the surge of black figures charging the bridge; the wave of archers darkening the shores on both sides of the Ancy. The flight of bow-fire merely confirmed it. He straightened and beckoned an aide to him. ‘Last report on Greymane?’
‘Sometime tonight is the best estimate, Fist,’ the woman answered. Her eyes remained fixed on the distant bright ribbon of river. Then she swung her gaze to him, entreating. I was once so young; so eager. Now it is only the costs I think of. Would it be worth it? The maths is unforgiving: there are only some fifty of them, after all.
But — as always — there is so much more than mere numbers at stake.
Turning, he nodded to Captain Peles at his side. Then, to the aide: ‘Order the charge. We strike straight to the shore, cut south to the bridge.’
The woman was already dashing off.
‘We’ll hold,’ Peles said, securing her wolf-visored helm.
‘We have no choice now.’
*
From his tent Ussu was watching the attack while sipping a restorative glass of hot tea boiled from a rare poppy found on the foothills of the Ebon range. He dropped the glass in shock when a blast shot smoke and debris blossoming over the bridge. Human figures, carts and equipment flew pinwheeling to splash soundlessly into the river.
Damn the Lady! Was that them or us? Deliberate, or accidental?
As the smoke cleared he could see that the explosion hadn’t completely severed that length of the bridge: a few thick braces still spanned the section. Accidental perhaps — not where it was meant. That, or we Malazans built damned well. Borun came jogging up. Beyond him, fighting had broken out all over the bridge. The rats driven up from cover. Can’t be too many of them.
‘Not us,’ the Moranth commander announced.
‘Unintentional.’
‘For those holding it — undoubtedly.’
Hooves shook the ground as one of the Envoy’s entourage came thundering over to them and brought his mount to a savage halt. It was one of the self-styled Roolian noblemen: a Duke Kurran, or Kherran. The man pointed to Borun. ‘What treachery is this? You had your orders!’
‘We are not the only ones with munitions,’ Borun pointed out, his hoarse voice bland.
‘It is hardly in their interests to demolish the bridge!’
‘They would strand the forces on the far shore,’ Ussu observed. ‘With their retreat cut off they may surrender and we will have lost a third of our army.’
The Duke glared as if Ussu had suggested that very plan to the enemy. Through clenched teeth he ground out: ‘The Overlord will deal with you.’ He yanked the horse’s reins around.
‘We shall be blamed no matter what,’ Borun said, his gaze on the retreating noble.
A Black Moranth runner sped to Borun, spoke to him. The commander turned to Ussu, who was straining another glass of tea. ‘The advance force on the far shore is attacking.’
This time Ussu managed not to spill his tea.
*
Suth pulled himself up and over the bridge railing to roll amid scattered equipment and splayed corpses. Smoke still plumed from the east end where for all he knew the bridge had collapsed. To the west lines had formed amid turned-up wagons. He threw himself into cover next to a cart, shouted to the nearest trooper, a woman binding her own arm: ‘What’s going on?’
‘We’re holding this side,’ she answered; then, eyeing him, added, ‘The 17th?’
‘Yeah.’
She motioned ahead. ‘You’re further on.’
He thanked her and crawled forward. Arrow-fire fell thick and indiscriminate. What do these archers think they’re doing? There’s more of them than us! Ahead, an empty length of bridge swept by bow-fire stood between him and the squads defending the barrier of wagons. He spotted Yana, Goss and Wess amid the fighting. Thank the Hearth-Goddess! It hadn’t been Keri… What to do? No shield! Oh well. Nothing for it! He hunched and bolted out across the open length of bridge.
Arrows peppered the adze-hewn planks as he ran. He didn’t bother dodging; these were all just sent high in the hopes of hitting something. Close to the barrier white fire clamped its teeth into his right thigh and he fell rolling into cover.
‘That was foolish,’ someone said, righting him. It was the young Adjunct; he peered at Suth’s leg, frowned beneath his moustache. ‘You’ve broken the shaft.’ Suth couldn’t answer, the pain was so all-consuming. He thought he was going to throw up. ‘Urfa!’ The Adjunct stood. ‘She’ll take care of you.’
The saboteur lieutenant threw herself down next to him. She pushed him flat none too gently. ‘Why am I doin’ this?’ she grumbled. ‘I’m no Hood-damned nurse!’ Suth was on his stomach with her lying on him, her elbow on his neck; he could hardly breathe let alone speak. A cold blade slashed the back of his trousers. ‘I see it!’ she announced. ‘Just because I’ve done a few amputations!’ She added, lower: ‘I bet our Adjunct boy can sew too! This’ll hurt.’ A blade stabbed the back of his leg. He screamed, adding his voice to the roar of battle surrounding them. She was digging in the meat at the rear of his thigh. Stars appeared in his sight. The clash of fighting receded to a mute hollow murmur. His vision darkened.
*
They fought their way down the riverside. They trampled the camp, kicked over tents and cook fires, kept their backs to the muddy shore. Rillish fought with both swords; Captain Peles and other guards covered his flanks. It seemed to him that this force didn’t particularly want to dispute their route to the bridge.
He didn’t blame them now that it was useless. The blast had surprised everyone. Stones and litter had rained down all around. It seemed to him that the Roolian forces hadn’t really recovered from that explosion. Their officers urged them on but he could imagine the average foot soldier wondering why he should die for a useless piece of wood and stone.
Especially now that they were utterly cut off.
Still, they were more than willing to allow Rillish’s force to rush in to be encircled; that suited their officers. Once their archers began taking shots at him Rillish retreated to the Fourth’s shield wall and ordered everyone to hold ground defending this end of the bridge.
He just hoped Greymane wouldn’t judge him too harshly for delivering damaged goods.
Then a man appeared, escorted by Peles. He was scorched, sleeves burned away, skin blistered and black. Rillish recognized him as Cresh, sergeant of the 11th, one of the teams sent to secure the bridge. The man saluted.
Rillish answered the salute. ‘Good to see you, Sergeant. I’m glad you survived. Too bad they got to it anyway.’
‘No, sir, they didn’t.’
Rillish studied the man; didn’t he have a full beard last he’d seen him? ‘What was that?’
‘Was an accident. Us. Lit off above the bed. We’ve beat down the fires an’ taken a squint. My boy Slowburn says there’s enough of the frame left. Give us time and we’ll have it patched up.’
Rillish stared at the sergeant, then turned to the Roolian lines. Damn. How soon before they see that?
*
Ussu judged it half an hour’s glass and so he turned to Borun while the commander fielded messages and enquired mildly, ‘Why is there still fighting on the bridge?’
The Moranth commander did not even look up. ‘You I will tell the truth — I have been husbanding my own people. This is one battle and we have a war to fight.’
