The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (1278 page)

Absi suddenly wailed.

Storii cried, ‘Don't leave us, Torrent! You promised!'

‘I will catch you up!'

‘Torrent!'

‘
Just run!
'

Taking up Absi in her thin arms, Stavi plucked at her sister's filthy tunic. And then they were on their way, vanishing in moments as the red sleet intensified, flinging curtains down that rolled deeper inland, one after another.

Turning to the east, Torrent stared in astonishment. The entire edge of the headland now sloped steeply towards the bay – but ice was rising beyond that edge, now level with the top of the cliff. Off to his right, the Spire was engulfed in the downpour.

Hearing the witch's laughter again, he looked across to where Olar Ethil stood.

But the ancient hag was no more – a young woman stood in the deluge. ‘
Reborn!
' she shrieked. ‘
My kin – all reborn! I shall lead them – we shall rise again!
' She spun to face Torrent, blood like paint on her bold features, and then her head darted like a bird's. ‘Where are they? Where are the children! My gifts to him – and I will give him more! More children! We shall rule together – the Bonecaster and the First Sword –
where are they?
'

Torrent stared at her, and then, slipping treacherously on the icy ground, he collected up his bow and quiver. ‘They slid,' he said. ‘They panicked – went down the slope. Down on to the ice – I couldn't reach them—'

‘
You fool!
'

When she ran towards the ice field, Torrent followed.

The frozen blood lacerated his face as the wind howled up from the bay. One forearm held up to shield his eyes, he stumbled after Olar Ethil.

You will give him
more
? Is that what all this was about? You love him? You took his life and made him a thing of skin and bones – you stole his children away – maybe even killed his wife, their mother. You did all this – thinking you could win his heart?

But he had seen her – enough of her, anyway. Reborn, made young, she was not displeasing to the eye, solid, full-breasted and wide-hipped, her hair – before the blood soaked it – so blonde it was almost white, her eyes the colour of a winter sky.
No longer undead. So too, then, Onos Toolan? Now reborn? She took everything away from him, and would now replace it with herself – with the world she would make.

Toc Anaster, did you know this? Did you understand her reasons for all that she has done?

Does it matter?

He reached the ice – she was still ahead, fleet as a hare as she danced her way down the broken, jagged slope. He thought he could hear her, crying out for the children.

Fissures were opening up as the field's own weight began to crush the ice, and the descent was growing ever steeper – off to his right he could see one part of it still climbing as if would reach to the very summit of the Spire itself. Was there a speck there, halfway up that ramp of ice? Someone ascending? He could not be sure.

His feet went out from under him and he slid, rebounding from spars of rock-hard ice. In a blur he was past Olar Ethil, hearing her shout of surprise. His head struck something, spinning him round, and then his feet jammed against a hard edge that suddenly gave way. He was thrown forward, the upper half of his body pitching hard, as what felt like jaws closed on the lower half – snapping shut on his hips and legs.

He heard and felt both thigh bones snap.

Torrent screamed. Trapped in a fissure, the edges now rising above his hips as he sank deeper. He could feel blood streaming down, could feel it freezing.

He had lost grip on his bow and the hide quiver – they lay just beyond his reach.

Olar Ethil was suddenly there, standing almost above him. ‘I heard bones break – is it true? Is it true, pup?' She reached down and took a handful of hair, twisting his torn face around. ‘Is it? Are you useless to me now?'

‘No, listen – I thought I heard them – the children. Absi – I thought I heard him crying.'

‘Where? Point – you can still do that.
Where?
'

‘Pull me out, witch, and I'll show you.'

‘Can you walk?'

‘Of course I can, woman – I'm simply jammed in this crack. Pull me out – we can find them! But quickly – this entire field is shattering!'

She cackled. ‘Omtose Phellack in all its glory – yet who dares face it? A Bonecaster, that is who! I will destroy it. Even now, I am destroying it – that fool thinks he will take that wretched heart? I will defy him! He deserves no less – he is
Jaghut
!'

‘Pull me free, witch.'

She reached down.

Her strength was immense, and he could feel frozen blood splitting, could feel massive sections of skin and flesh torn away as she lifted and dragged him out from the fissure.

‘Liar! You lied!'

Torrent lay on his back. The red sleet was diminishing now – he could see the Jade Strangers and the sun itself. From below his hips he could feel nothing.
Frozen. Bloodless. I haven't got long.

‘Where are they?'

He forced himself on to one elbow, pointed off to the right and slightly downslope. ‘There, behind that rise – stand atop it, witch, and you may see them.'

‘That is all I need from you – now you can die, pup. Did I not say you would?'

‘You did, Olar Ethil.'

Laughing, she set off for the rise of hard-packed snow and ice. Twenty-five, maybe thirty paces away.

Torrent twisted round, dragged himself closer to his bow. ‘I promised,' he whispered. Half-numb fingers closed about the bow's shaft. He scrabbled one-handed for the quiver, drew out a stone-tipped arrow. Rolling on to his back, he lay gasping for a moment. It was getting hard – hard to do anything.

Ice squealed and then cracked and he slid half a pace – back towards that fissure, but now it was wider – now it could take all of him.

Torrent forced the nock's slitted mouth round the gut-string.

She was almost there, tackling the ragged side of the rise.

He used his elbows and shoulders to push himself up against a heap of rubbled ice. Brought the bow round and drew the arrow back.
This is impossible. I'm lying all wrong. She's too far away!
Wretched panic gripped him. He struggled to calm his breath, deafened by the pounding of his own heart.

Olar Ethil scrambled on to the rise, straightened and stared downslope.

He saw her fists clench, half-heard her howl of fury.

Squinting, his muscles starting to tremble, he stared at her shoulders – waiting, waiting – and when he saw them pivot, he released.

 

I will make him pay for the lies!
Olar Ethil, eldest among all the Bonecasters and now reborn, spun round towards Torrent—

The arrow caught her in the left eye.

The stone tip tore through the eyeball, punched through the back of the socket, where the bone was thin as skin, and the spinning chippedstone point drilled a gory tunnel through her brain, before shattering against the inside of the back of her skull.

 

He saw her head snap back, saw the shaft protruding from her face, and by the way her body fell – collapsing like a sack of bones – he knew that she was dead – killed instantly. Gasping, he sagged back.
Did you see that, Toc? Did you see that shot?

Ah, gods. It's done, brother.

It's done. I am Torrent, last warrior of the Awl.

When he slid towards the fissure, he was helpless to resist.

Torrent. Last warrior of the…

 

Stormy bellowed in agony as Gesler dragged him away. The red-haired Falari had been stabbed through his right thigh. But the blood was slow, gushing only when the muscles moved, telling Gesler that the fool wouldn't bleed out before he got him away.

The Ve'Gath were all drawing back – and back…

Because she's coming. Because she's finally joining this fight.

Gods help us all.

Pulling Stormy on to the blood-soaked embankment of the third trench, he looked back upslope.

She was walking alone towards the massed Kolansii. Little more than a child, stick-thin, looking undernourished. Pathetic.

When Gesler saw her raise her hands, he flinched.

With a terrible roar a wall of fire engulfed the highest trench. Scalding winds erupted in savage gusts, rolling back down the slope – Gesler saw the corpses nearest the girl crisp black, limbs suddenly pulling, curling inward in the heat's bitter womb.

And then Sinn began walking, and, as she did so, she marched the wall of fire ahead of her.

Kalyth stumbled to her knees beside Gesler. ‘You must call her back! She can't just burn them all alive!'

Gesler sagged back. ‘It's too late, Kalyth. There's no stopping her now.'

Kalyth screamed – a raw, breaking sound, her hands up at her face – but even she could not tear her eyes from the scene.

The fire devoured the army crouched against the base of the Spire. Bodies simply exploded, blood boiling. Thousands of soldiers burst into flames, their flesh melting. Everything within the fire blackened, began crumbling away. And still the firestorm raged.

Gunth Mach was crouched down over Stormy, oil streaming from her clawed hands and sealing the wound on his leg, but he was already pushing those hands away. ‘Gesler – we got to reach those stairs—'

‘I know,' he said.
Through fire. Well, of course it has to be us.

‘She won't stop,' Stormy said, pushing himself to his feet, swaying like a drunk. ‘She'll take it for herself – all that power.'

‘I know, Stormy!
I know, damn you!
' Gesler forced himself to his feet. He squinted inland. ‘Gods below – what is that?'

‘A ghost army,' Kalyth said. ‘The Matron says they simply came down from the sky.'

‘Send the Ve'Gath that way – all of them, Kalyth! Do you understand – you need to get them as far away from this as possible. If Sinn reaches the heart, that fire's likely to consume the whole fucking land for leagues around!'

She pulled at him. ‘Then you can do nothing. Don't you see – you can't—'

Gesler took her face in his hands and kissed her hard on the lips. ‘Teach these lizards, Kalyth, only the best in us humans.
Only the best
.' He turned to Stormy. ‘All right, let's go. Forget any weapons – they'll get too hot in our hands. We can tear off this armour on the way.'

‘Stop ordering me around!'

Side by side, the two old marines set out.

They climbed across greasy bodies, over ground that steamed, and through air hot as the breath of a smithy's forge.

‘Can't believe you, Ges,' gasped Stormy. ‘You called on Fener!'

‘I wasn't the only one, Stormy! I heard you—'

‘Not me – must've been someone else. You called him and someone fucking killed him! Gesler, you went and killed our god!'

‘Go to Hood,' Gesler growled. ‘Who crossed his finger bones when he swore off that cult? Wasn't that you? I think it was.'

‘You told me you did the same!'

‘Right, so let's just forget it – we both killed Fener, all right?'

Five more strides and there could be no more words – every breath scalded, and the leathers they now wore as their only clothing had begun to blacken.
Now it's going to get bad.

But this is Telas. I can feel it – we've been through this before.
He looked for Sinn, but could not see her anywhere.
Walked out of the flames at Y'Ghatan. Walked into them here. It's her world in there, it always was. But we knew that, didn't we?

I swear I can hear her laughing.

The two men pushed forward.

 

Kalyth cried out when Gesler and Stormy vanished into the flames. She did not understand. She had looked on in disbelief as they had stepped over bodies reduced to black ash – she had seen their tunics catch fire.

‘Matron – what gift is this? What power do they possess?'

‘Destriant, this surpasses me. But it is now clear to me – as it is to all of us – that you chose most wisely. If we could, we would follow these two humans into the firestorm itself. If we could, we would follow them to the edge of the very Abyss. You ask what manner of men are these – Destriant, I was about to ask this very same question of you.'

She shook her head, shrugged helplessly. ‘I don't know. Malazans.'

 

The flames drove him back. And this was a source of fury and anguish. He tried again and again, but his beloved master was beyond his reach. Howling, he raced back and forth along the third berm, the foul stench of his own burnt hair acrid in his nostrils.

And then he saw the pup – the one of tangled hair and piercing voice, the pup that never grew up – running towards the cold, towards the frozen sea.

Had the pup found a way round this burning air?

The Wickan cattledog with the scarred face tore off in pursuit.

There would be a way round – he would find his master again. To fight at his side. There was, for Bent, no other reason to exist.

 

The base around the Spire had been reduced to scorched bedrock – not a scrap of armour remained, nothing but molten streaks of iron tracking the slopes of the blackened stone.

Yet Gesler and Stormy walked through the conflagration. Their leathers had melted on to their bodies, hard and brittle as eggshells, and as the two marines pushed closer to the stairs the clothing's remnants cracked, made crazed patterns like a snake's shedding skin.

Gesler could see the stairs – but she wasn't there. His gaze tracked upward.
Shit.
She was already a quarter of the way up. He punched at Stormy's shoulder and pointed.