Ian Esslemont - Return of the Crimson Guard

Heuk motioned aside. ‘C'mon. I've had a bellyful of this. One more pronouncement from him and I'll puke. Let's have a drink with those good honest soldiers.’

‘I can just see those history books, too,’ Ho said as they walked along. ‘Kellanved the Terrible. Laseen the Bloody. And Mallick the Benevolent.’

‘Mallick the Just,’ Heuk offered.

A voice bellowed after them. ‘Cadre mage!’

They turned. Bala's palanquin was following, led by the bald, sweating, giant Dal Hon. ‘The High Mage requires your attendance,’ he commanded.

‘This is enough to drive me to an early retirement,’ Heuk murmured.

They waited while the palanquin closed. ‘Groten,’ Bala called through the flimsy white cloth hangings, ‘allow them to approach.’

The guard, Groten, bowed. ‘Yes, mistress.’ He curtly waved them closer.

Sighing, Heuk stepped up, followed by Ho. ‘Yes, Bala.’

‘That's High Mage — please remember henceforth.’ The High Mage, Bala, lay reclined upon pillows, sheer silks arranged decorously. She was a voluptuous Dal Hon woman; Ho noted her six sturdy bearers were sweating furiously. She slowly fanned her face. ‘Since I am now High Mage to all the Empire, I cannot deal with the trivialities of the mage cadre in any one army. Therefore you are now in charge of the cadre for the Fourth. You report to me. And you…’ the fan pointed to Ho. ‘You are not welcome in the cadre. We do not want the likes of you.’

Ho bit down on laughter. He waved his assent.

‘Too much a threat, hey, Bala?’ Heuk said.

‘Do not bore me with your meaningless talk, Heuk. Good day. Our audience is over. Groten!’

The bodyguard loomed over them. ‘Out of the way!’

Ho allowed himself to be edged aside. He watched the palanquin lumber away.

‘I know a soldier,’ Heuk said musingly, ‘who, if he'd seen her just now, would've fainted dead away.’ Gesturing, he invited Ho on.

‘What of Laseen?’ Ho asked.

‘Mallick will probably spare no expense on her mausoleum in Unta. How it would gall her.’

‘All the more reason from his point of view, I suppose.’

‘And what of you?’ Heuk asked.

‘Retirement in Heng. I have a lot of catching up to do there. A lot.’

Heuk eyed him sidelong, scratched at his scraggly stained beard. ‘Really…’

‘Yes, really… Yes!’

Heuk straightened the earthenware jug he held under one arm. ‘Un-huh.’

Kyle and the Lost brothers had waited while the Guard filed through the opened gates to march away through the Imperial Warren. The last to leave were K'azz, Shimmer, Shell and two very battered and bruised Avowed mages named Blues and Fingers.

Throughout the withdrawal, the lines of Malazan infantry and assembled cavalry from Kan and Cawn had watched, shields readied but swords sheathed and lances raised. K'azz approached Kyle who motioned to the surrounding ranks of Imperial soldiery. ‘They let you go.’

The old man nodded. ‘Yes. This Mallick no doubt intends to blame all this bloodshed on Laseen's policies, so he could hardly add to it. But what of you? You're sure you won't come along? You are very welcome.’

‘No, thank you. But if you could move us a touch, though, we'd appreciate it.’

‘I see. Where will you go?’

Kyle shrugged. ‘Not sure. We have to talk it over.’

‘Very well. I'll leave things to Shell here. In any case,’ he held Kyle's shoulders, ‘I owe you more than I can say. You can always call on the Guard. Yes?’

Embarrassed, Kyle just waved all that aside, but nodded his thanks.

K'azz went to the portal, turned and waved. Kyle and the Lost brothers raised their hands in farewell. Shimmer waved then also, bowing, and stepped through. Blues and Fingers followed and that gate snapped shut with a whoosh of displaced air. Shell waited next to hers. She waved them over. ‘I have instructions on where to take you.’

Kyle exchanged looks with Stalker, Badlands and Coots, cocked a brow. Coots stepped up, rubbing his hands together. ‘Where're we off to, lass? Darujhistan? Korel? Aren?’

She just smiled, the lines around her mouth tight. ‘After you.’

Kyle had only the briefest sensation of disorientation then his moccasins touched down on a dusty dirt floor in an empty, long-abandoned room. He spun, taking in the dusty quarters — what was this? Stalker and the brothers joined him, stepping out of nowhere, to flinch as well, hands going to weapons.

‘Where are we?’ Stalker breathed the question aloud for all of them.

Badlands crouched at a gaping window. ‘Eternal Ice take it! We're still here!’

‘What?’ Everyone joined him.

There's the battlefield!’

‘I see Cawn pennants.’

Stalker stepped away from the window. ‘What is this…’

‘The Sanctuary…’ Kyle murmured, peering around. ‘In the east — the butte. What did Shimmer call it?’

‘The Sanctuary of Burn,’ Coots supplied.

‘So why here?’ Stalker asked.

‘’Cause someone else is here,’ said a new voice.

They spun, weapons hissing from sheaths, to see one of the Crimson Guard Brethren. ‘Stoop!’ Kyle exclaimed.

‘Aye, lad.’

‘What in the Wind King's name are you doing here?’

The shade walked up, grinning, dressed in his vest, ragged hanging shirt and tattered trousers as he had been in life. ‘I'm with you, lad.’

Everyone shoved their weapons away. ‘With me?’

‘I'll be taggin’ along with you for a time. K'azz's dispensation.’

‘Really? Just as those other Brethren come to K'azz?’

‘Yeah — for a while. Till the Vow pulls me back, I s'pose.’

‘Just like back home,’ Badlands said aside to Coots, who glared for silence.

‘So, why can we see and hear you then?’ Stalker demanded, ever sceptical.

A translucent shrug. ‘I guess because you was Guardsmen for a time.’

‘So no one else would see or hear you?’ Badlands asked.

‘I dunno. I ain't no mage. Unless they're priests o’ Hood or mages, I s'pose.’

‘Too much like back home,’ Badlands commented behind a raised hand.

‘Shut it Coots answered, and he shook himself, brushing dust from his thick mane of hair.

Kyle went to the window, leaned against the ledge. Out on the plain fires glowed in the gathering twilight. So many. Where had they all come from? ‘Are we here because you are here?’

Stoop scratched his temple with his shortened arm just as he used to in life. ‘Naw. I go wherever you go. There's someone else here. C'mon, I'll take you to him.’

Kyle and the Lost brothers exchanged looks as the shade walked out of the room through one of the open portals. A moment later he reappeared, waved them on. ‘C'mon. This way.’ Stalker motioned Kyle to lead. Kyle opened his hands as if to deny any part in this but he went out first.

Stoop led them through a jumbled labyrinth of tumbled, fallen-down rooms and halls. Some were no more than canted walls open to the sky, others as dark as collapsed mines. The dust and litter of years lay thick upon everything.

After a time Kyle smelled wood smoke and cooking animal fat. Pausing, he turned back to the brothers and touched the side of his nose. They nodded, carefully eased weapons from sheaths. Crouched, he slowly advanced through the thick shadows of a nest of small chambers. The crackling and snapping of a wood fire led him on until he saw the glow ahead. He paused, waited for the brothers to catch up. The shade of Stoop had gone on ahead. Once they were all together Stalker signed for Kyle and himself to take the right and the left while Coots and Badlands would cover the centre. Everyone nodded.

On a silent count, they crashed into the room, weapons raised. A big man sat against the wall of a littered chamber, a small cookfire burning.