The Crippled God

Blood sprayed into the air and Lostara staggered, blinded. Whose blood? What- And now it was pouring down her cheeks and she saw Henar thump down, turning to her a shredded face. Oh, gods, it’s my blood — we’re all-

Impossibly, the Adjunct straightened against that devastating onrush of wordless sound, drew her sword round, and sought to close.

The Forkrul Assail was still almost forty paces away.

We can’t do this. Even Tavore — we can’t-

Ruthan Gudd reached the Adjunct’s side in his armour of ice — but that too was riven with cracks, breaking away in a hail of shards. He seemed to be reaching for her, as if to drag her back — away from this — but no retreat was far enough.

The Assail roared again.

Lostara Yil’s own scream was lost even to her own ears.

She felt her body skidding across the broken, tortured ground.

Against this — we are done with. Not even the Adjunct. Not even Ruthan Gudd. He slays us. Cotillion-

But not even a god could hear her prayers now.

Fifty paces behind, driven to his knees by the power of Akhrast Korvalain, Banaschar wiped blood from his eyes. He had tried to get closer — tried to move up and join with the Adjunct and her companions — but he had failed.

Failure. I know that word — spent many a night sitting at its table-

A figure stepped past him.

Badalle hummed softly to herself, and that gentle sound pushed away all that the Quisitor flung at her. Ahead, she could see how the power was hurting Mother — even with all her magic-deadening blood, her extraordinary will, Mother was being torn apart.

She gave words to her wordless song. Simple words, three to find the fourth, when the fourth was all that mattered. ‘Opals gems diamonds shards. Opals gems diamonds shards.’ You have forgotten so much. Until only hunger and pain remains. I know those two things. I know them well. We have shared them, you and I.

‘Opals gems diamonds shards. Opals gems diamonds shards.’

I sent you away once. I told you to take your hurt and your hunger away from us. Because we deserved neither.

Someone hurt you long ago. Someone hurt Rutt long ago. Someone hurt Saddic, and Held, and all the others. Someone must have hurt me, too.

‘Opals gems diamonds shards. Opals gems diamonds shards.’

I sent you away. Now, I summon you. See the bringer of pain. See the deliverer of hunger. The Quisitor. I know him. I remember him. He came among my people. He told them they had to die. To answer ancient crimes.

Perhaps he was right.

But that did not mean he had the right.

‘Opals gems diamonds shards. Opals gems diamonds shards.’

Do you know his kind? I think you do. Do you awaken now to ancient hurts? I think you do. I summon you. They like their justice. Now, my friend, deliver it.

‘Opals gems diamonds shards. Opals gems diamonds Shards!’

And above the Forkrul Assail, the sky darkened.

Banaschar stared as the swarm of locusts descended — where they had come from, how they had been summoned, he knew not. Their sound was a seething whisper, and then a swarming, howling cacophony. He saw the Forkrul Assail cease his attack, saw the man look up.

And then the swarm plunged down in an enveloping cloud, a storm of wings that suddenly blossomed crimson.

Brother Aloft screamed, and as he screamed the locusts crawled into his mouth, poured inside, mandibles slashing. Blood soaked the creatures, helped them slide down his throat. Choking, blinded and deafened, he fell to his knees. They chewed inside — his windpipe, and now his stomach. They blocked his nostrils, fought to enter his ears. Their bites cut through his eyelids and burst the eyes behind them. They swarmed into the sockets.

The god of the Forkrul Assail was coming home.

The locusts formed a seething pillar, which fell as the body it shrouded toppled to one side. Flashes of red gristle, of pink bone, and then the creatures were lifting away on their wings, rushing into the Kolansii infantry — but those soldiers, well armoured, their shields up before their faces, pushed through and the locusts spun, the whirr of their wings reaching a higher pitch, as if giving voice to their frustration.

Abruptly the swarm lifted, swirled into the air overhead.

Badalle could feel their need — it was without end — and she knew that if they remained in this place she would lose control of them — they would devour everyone.

Go now. You cannot stay.

The roar reached a pitch that shivered the air — a scream of impotence — and then the whirling cloud spun away.

Just beyond the bones of the Forkrul Assail, the Kolansii infantry advanced, and before them stood four figures sheathed in blood.

Mother, when this is done — when you and all your children have fallen — I shall with my last breath summon them again. To deliver our revenge.

Warleader Gall sat on his horse, eyes on the heavy infantry pushing past the embattled female Forkrul Assail. Their ranks were disordered, broken by the steep pitch of the hillside on their right, crowding to avoid the hill where fought their commander and the T’lan Imass. Large stones that had long ago rolled down from the summit further slowed their advance.

He could see the flank of Malazans turning to ready for the inward attack — but he could also see that the intention of the enemy was to win through to the rear of the defenders.

Beside him, Shelemasa said, ‘Warleader — the south flank-’

‘We must choose one or the other,’ Gall cut in. ‘Do you see the ones before us? They cannot hold their lines — but see how, once they are past the Malazans, they will be able to spread out, once more on level ground. They will then form up.’

‘Warleader, the Adjunct-’

‘We cannot help her,’ he said. ‘If there were three thousand of us, yes, we could challenge that flank. But these ones here — at the threshold of open ground — we will meet them there.’ He drew his tulwar, rode out ahead of his pitifully small army, and then wheeled.

‘In the name of Coltaine and the Fall!’

He needed say nothing more. Weapons flashed, the horses tossing their heads as they caught the sudden fever of their riders.

Gall sawed on his reins, pitching his mount round. The beast reared, hoofs scything in the air.

And the Warleader laughed.

Faradan Sort had pushed her way to the edge of the flank — once the Kolansii broke through, she would need to be there, to hold her soldiers, to maintain their resolve — but they do not need me. See their faces! The enemy seeks our underbelly and will be met with iron. And I will be there — this battle shall be mine, to the end.

And then she heard the sound of horse’s hoofs. Looked up, twisted round — and saw the Khundryl Burned Tears at full charge. Even as the first of the Kolansii spilled out from the narrow passage, the horse-warriors — with Gall in the lead — crashed into them.

The impact shook the ground, rippled through bodies all the way to the Malazan ranks.

‘Hold fast!’ Faradan Sort shouted. ‘Now push! Into the enemy! Push!’

The Kolansii advance had been checked — but not for long, she knew. It has to be enough. Now let’s make them pay for that bad footing.