Steven Erikson - Memories of Ice

And now he saw the cost of Rake's gambit. Huge fissures scarred the face of Moon's Spawn, fissures from which water still poured in undiminished volume.

Rising.

Two-thirds now clear of the churned seas.

Slowly spinning, bringing into view, high on one side, a ledge-

Where stood a lone figure.

Memories. gone. In their wake, tens of thousands of souls. Silent.

'To me, then, I will take your pain, now.'

'You are mortal.'

'I am mortal.'

'You cannot carry our pain.'

'I can.'

'You cannot deliver it -'

'I shall.'

'Itkovian -'

'Your pain, T'lan Imass. Now.'

It rose before him, a wave of immeasurable height, rose, towering, then plunged towards him.

And they saw, one and all.

They saw Itkovian's welcoming smile.

Moon's Spawn rose, shrouded in darkness, beyond the city. Caladan Brood stared. Cascading clouds of mist, streams of water falling, fading. Dragons, now, wheeling outward, black, one crimson, waves of Kurald Galain, lashing out, incinerating the demonic condors.

Moon's Spawn, leaning — a massive chunk of midnight stone sloughing from one side, rocking the entire edifice — leaning, sliding, forward, towards the keep-On the killing field below, scattered remnants of soldiers — Malazan, Barghast, Grey Swords, Gruntle and the handful of followers that were all that remained of his legion — had one and all crossed the stone bridge and were converging on the shattered north gate. Unimpeded. The wall east of the gate was empty of mages, of anyone — stripped clean.

Fires lit the city beyond the wall. The sky was filling with Black Moranth, Great Ravens — Kurald Galain spreading out, down, onto Coral-A true unveiling. All of the Tiste Andii, joined in ritual magic — the world has never known this — in all. the millennia since their arrival — never known this. Burn's heart, what will come of thisunveiling?

He continued staring, overcome with a vast, soul-numbing helplessness.

The power flowed towards Korlat. Her eyes flashed as she and her brother swept on the cold, familiar currents of Kurald Galain, towards Moon's Spawn.

Oh, it was dying — she could see that. Dying, but not yet completed its dreadful, deadly task.

She watched it moving, drawing closer to the keep's parapet — to where, she could now see, stood the Seer — the Jaghut, clutching the Matron's Finnest, staring upward, frozen, as the black, towering mountain inexorably approached.

Darkness, come to this world. To this place, this city.

Darkness, that would never dissipate.

Coral. Black, black Coral…

It took no more than a half-dozen heartbeats before Lady Envy realized — as she watched the Bridgeburners crumble before the Urdomen attack — that she had misunderstood Picker's last comment. Not confidence, not even bravado. Rather, a comment rife with fatalism, no doubt typical of these soldiers, but entirely new to Lady Envy.

As comprehension struck her, she acted. A small gesture with one hand.

Sufficient to rupture the flesh of the Urdomen warriors.

They crumpled en masse.

But the damage had already been done.

Two Bridgeburners remained standing, and both bore wounds.

She watched as they began checking their fallen comrades, finally gathering around one, pulling him clear. Only one among those fallen, then, who still breathed.

Heavy boots down the hallway, fast approaching.

Lady Envy scowled, raised her hand again-

'Wait!' Picker screamed. 'That's Mallet! Spin! Over here, you bastards!'

Behind the first two who had appeared — Mallet and Spin, she presumed — staggered two more soldiers in the garb of the Bridgeburners. All were terribly wounded — the Barghast in particular, whose armour was nothing more than fragments and whose body was a mass of cuts and gaping holes. Even as she watched, he staggered, sank to his knees, teeth bared in a smeared grin.

And died.

'Mallet!'

The large man in the lead spun round, reeled at the sudden motion — and Lady Envy noted that he had taken a sword thrust that had gone right through him, just below the right shoulder. He stumbled back towards the Barghast.

'It is too late for him, I am afraid,' Lady Envy called out. 'And you, Healer — Mallet — you are done with your warren and you know it. Gather to me, then, and I shall oblige. As for you, Picker, a more honest answer to my question earlier would have resulted in a far less horrible episode.'

Wiping blood from her eyes, Picker simply stared.

'Ah, well,' Lady Envy sighed, 'perhaps it is best that you have no recollection of that sardonic quip. Come forward all of you — oh!'

She swung about suddenly, as sorcery descended — Kurald Galain — overwhelming in its power.

'Down those stairs!' she cried. 'We must work clear of this! Quickly!'

Four dragging one, the surviving Bridgeburners followed Lady Envy.

Splinters of bone struck the wall. Tool staggered back, crashing against the stone, sword falling from his hands, ringing on the flagstones.

Mok raised both weapons-

— and flew to one side, through the air, spinning, weapons sailing from his hands — to collide with a wall, then slide in a heap among shattered wood and metal.

Tool raised his head.

A huge black panther, lips peeled back in a silent snarl, slowly padded towards the unconscious Seguleh.

'No, sister.'

The Soletaken hesitated, then glanced back.

'No. Leave him.'

The panther swung round, sembled.

Yet the rage remained in Kilava's eyes as she strode towards Tool. 'You were defeated! You! The First Sword!'

Tool slowly lowered himself to collect his notched sword. 'Aye.'

'He is a mortal man!'

'Go to the Abyss, Kilava.' He straightened, back scraping as he continued leaning against the wall.

'Let me kill him. Now. Then once more you shall have no worthy challenger.'

'Oh, sister,' Tool sighed. 'Do you not realize? Our time — it has passed. We must relinquish our place in this world. Mok — that man you so casually struck from behind — he is the Third. The Second and the First are his masters with swords. Do you understand me, Kilava? Leave him. leave them all.'

He slowly turned until he could see Toc the Younger.

The body, speared through on a shaft of wood, did not move.

'The ancient wolf-god is free,' Kilava said, following his gaze. 'Can you not hear it?'

'No. I cannot.'

'That howl now fills another realm, the sound of birth. A realm … brought into existence by the Summoner. As for what now gives it life, something else, something else entire .'

A scrape from the doorway.

Both swung their heads.

Another T'lan Imass stood beneath the arch. Impaled with swords, cold-hammered copper sheathing canines. 'Where is she?'

Tool tilted his head. 'Who do you seek, kin?'

'You are Onos T'oolan.' The attention then shifted to Kilava. 'And you are his sister, the One who Defied-'

Kilava's lip curled in contempt. 'And so I remain.'

'Onos T'oolan, First Sword, where is the Summoner?'

'I do not know. Who are you?'

'Lanas Tog. I must find the Summoner.'

Tool pushed himself from the wall. 'Then we shall seek her together, Lanas Tog.'

'Fools,' Kilava spat.

The patter of claws behind Lanas Tog — she wheeled, then backed away.

Baaljagg limped into the chamber. Ignoring everyone but Toc the Younger, the wolf approached the body, whimpered.

'He is free,' Tool said to Baaljagg. 'Your mate.'

'She is not deaf to that howl,' Kilava muttered. 'Togg has passed into the Warren of Tellann. Then … to a place beyond. Brother, take that path, since you are so determined to find the Summoner. They converge, one and all.'