As soon as Lorn was sufficiently distant Crokus ran to the warrior.
Sorry rose slowly into a crouch, then moved forward in silence, her garotte in her hands.
The Hounds howled again, their eager cries closing in from all sides.
Hairlock crouched, indecisive. Then the puppet faced the captain. «You'll have to wait a little longer to die, Captain. I've no intention of allowing things to be rushed. No, I wish to linger over your demise.»
Chance sweaty in his hands, Paran shrugged. To his own surprise, it made little difference to him. If the Hounds arrived to find Hairlock gone, they'd probably take out their frustration on him, and that would be that. «You'll come to regret the opportunity, Hairlock. Whether this sword's magic is meant for you or not, I was looking forward to chopping you into kindling. Is your magic a match for my hatred? It would have been nice to find out.»
«Oh, sudden bravery! What do you know of hatred, Captain? When I return I'll show you precisely what hatred can achieve.» The wooden figure gestured and a dozen feet away another tear opened in the air, this one exuding a fetid stench. «Stubborn mutts,» Hairlock muttered. «Until later, Captain,» and he scurried for the rent.
In the hut, Quick Ben's grin turned savage. He jerked the dagger free with his right hand and, in a single, fluid motion, sliced the-taut strings connecting the sticks.
«Goodbye, Hairlock,» he hissed.
Paran's eyes widened as the puppet flopped on to his stomach. A moment later Hairlock let loose a shriek.
The captain's eyes narrowed. «Looks like somebody cut your strings, Hairlock,» he said.
The Hounds were close. In moments they'd be all over them.
«Your life, Captain!» Hairlock cried. «Fling me into the Warren and your life is yours, I swear it!» Paran leaned on his sword and made no reply.
«Pawn of Oponn,» Hairlock snarled, «I would spit on you if I could! Spit on your soul!»
The earth rumbled, and at once massive shapes moved around Paran, silently closing in on the immobile marionette. Paran recognized Gear, the Hound he'd wounded. He felt the sword in his hands answer that challenge with an eager tremor that reached into his arms. Gear's head swung in his direction as it passed, and Paran saw a promise in its eyes. The captain smiled. If anything draws Oponn out, it will be the fight to come.
Hairlock shrieked one last time, and then the Hounds were upon him. A large shadow passed across the hill and Paran looked up to see Great Raven swooping over them. The bird cawed hungrily. «Too bad.» Paran said to it, «I doubt its remains would be palatable.»
Three Hounds began fighting over the splintered wood-all that was left of Hairlock. The remaining four, led by Gear, now turned to Paran. The captain raised his sword and dropped into a combative crouch. «Come on, then. Through me to the god using me, just once let the to turn in the Twins» hands. Come on, Hounds, let us soak this ground with blood.»
The creatures fanned out into a half-circle, Gear in the centre.
Paran's smile broadened. Come to me, Gear. I'm tired of being used and death doesn't seem so frightening any more. Let's be done with it.
Something heavy pressed down on him, as if a hand had reached down from the sky and tried to drive him into the earth. The Hounds flinched. Paran staggered, unable to breathe, a sudden darkness closing around the edges of his vision. The ground groaned beneath him, the yellowed grasses of the plain lying flat. Then the pressure lifted and chilled air flooded back into his lungs. Sensing a presence, the captain whirled.
«Step aside,» a tall, black-skinned, white-haired man said, as he pushe past to confront the Hounds. Paran almost dropped his sword. A Tis And??
The man wore a massive two-handed sword strapped to his back. He stood before the Hounds, making no move towards the weapon.
The seven had now arrayed themselves before them, but they shifted restlessly, warily eyeing the newcomer.
The Tiste And? glanced at Paran. «Whatever you've done to draw the attention of gods, it was unwise,» he said, in Malazan.
«It seems I never learn,» Paran replied.
The Tiste And? smiled. «Then we are much alike, mortal.»
Mortal?
The Hounds paced back and forth, growling and snapping the air. The Tiste And? watched them, then spoke. «Enough meddling. I see you Rood,» he said to one Hound, mangy brown, scarred and yellow-eye «Take your kin and leave. Tell Shadowthrone I won't tolerate his interference. My battle with Malaz is my own. Darujhistan is not for him.»
Rood was the only Hound not growling. Its glowing eyes bore steadily into the Tiste And?» s.
«You have heard my warning, Rood.»
Paran watched as the Tiste And? cocked his head. Slowly he returned his attention to the captain. «Gear wishes you dead.»
«It's the price I pay for showing mercy.»
The Tiste And? raised an eyebrow.
Paran shrugged. «See the scar he carries?»
«That was your mistake, mortal. You must finish what you set out to do.»
«Next time. What happens now?»
«For the moment, mortal, they find the thought of killing me more desirable than that of killing you.»
«And what are their chances?»
«The answer to that is evident in how long they've been hesitating, wouldn't you think, mortal?»
The Hounds attacked faster than anything Paran could have imagined.
His heart lurched as a flurry of motion closed in around the other man.
As the captain stepped back an invisible fist of darkness exploded behind his eyes, a snapping of massive chains, the groan of huge wooden wheels.
He squeezed shut his eyes against the staggering pain, then forced them open again to see that the fight was over. The Tiste And? had his sword in his hands, its black blade slick with blood-blood that boiled and swiftly became ash. Two Hounds lay unmoving, one to either side of him. A wayward wind drew a wintry breath across the scene with a sound like a gasp, shivering the grasses.
Paran saw that one Hound had been nearly decapitated, while the other had been sliced across its broad chest-it did not look like a killing wound, but the creature's eyes, one blue the other veilow, stared sightlessly skyward.
Rood yelped and the others backed away.
Paran tasted blood in his mouth. He spat, then raised a hand to find blood trickling from his ears. The pain in his head was ebbing. He looked up just as the Tiste And?» s head came round to face him. Seeing death in the man's eyes, Paran stepped back and half raised his sword, though the effort took all his strength. He watched, uncomprehending, as the Tiste And? shook his head. «For a moment I thought: No, I see nothing now:»
Paran blinked stinging tears from his eyes, then wiped his cheeks. He started on seeing that the stain of those tears on his forearm was pink.
«You just killed two Hounds of Shadow.»
«The others withdrew.»
«Who are you?»
The Tiste And? did not answer, his attention once more on the Hounds.
Behind them a cloud of shadow was forming in the air, deepening and thickening in its centre. A moment later it dissipated, and a black, shrouded, translucent figure stood in its place, hands tucked into its sleeves. Shadows commanded whatever face lay hidden beneath the hood.
The Tiste And? lowered his sword's point to the ground. «They were warned, Shadowthrone. I want one thing understood. You may prove my match here, especially if your Rope is about. But I promise you, it will be messy, and there are those who will avenge me. Your existence, Shadowthrone, could become uncomfortable. Now, I've yet to lose my temper. Withdraw your Realm's influence from the proceedings, and I will leave it at that.»
«I am not involved,» Shadowthrone said quietly. «My Hounds found the quarry I sought. The hunt is over.» The god's head tilted to observe the two dead creatures. «Over for all time, for Doan and Ganrod.»