Condors overhead, screaming-
— and in those screams, raw terror-
Paran twisted round, looked upon the scene on the parapet. Thirty paces away, on the far edge, crouching, was a figure the captain knew instinctively to be the Seer. Human flesh and skin had sloughed away, revealing a Jaghut, naked, surrounded in misty clouds of ice crystals. Clutched in the Seer's hands, an egg the size of a cusser. At his side, huge and misshapen, a K'Chain Che'Malle — no. The Matron. What flowed from her left Paran horrified and filled with pity. She was mindless, her soul stripped, filled with a pain he knew she could not even feel — the only mercy that remained.
Two heavily armoured K'ell Hunters had been guarding their mother, but were now moving forward, weapons rising, thumping across the roof as, at a stairwell fifteen paces to Paran's left, two figures appeared. Masked, painted from head to toe in blood, each wielding two swords, clambering free of a passageway strewn with the bodies of Urdomen and Seerdomin.
'Hood take us!' Quick Ben swore. 'Those are Seguleh!'
But Paran's attention had already left them, was oblivious of the battle as the K'ell Hunters closed with the Seguleh. The storm-cloud that had towered overhead for so long was still climbing, shredding apart, almost lost in darkness. Something, he realized with a chill, was coming.
'Captain! Follow me!'
Quick Ben was edging along the low wall, following its curve towards the harbourside.
Paran scrambled after the wizard. They halted where they had a full view of the harbour and the bay.
Far out in the bay, the horizon's line of ice was exploding all along its length, in white, spewing clouds.
The waters of the harbour had grown glass-smooth beneath the dark, now motionless air. The web of ropes spanning it — with its shacks and dangling lines and withered corpses — suddenly trembled.
'In Hood's name what's-'
'Shh! Oh, Abyss! Watch!'
And he did.
The glass-smooth waters of the harbour … shivered … swelled. bulged.
Then, impossibly, fled on all sides.
Black, enormous — something — rising from the depths.
Seas thrashed, a ring of foam racing outward. A sudden push of cold wind hammered the parapet, made the structure sway, then tremble.
Rock, ragged, scarred — a Hood-damned mountain! — rising from the harbour, lifting the vast net with it.
And the mountain grew larger, rose higher, darkness bleeding from it in radiating waves.
'They've unveiled Kurald Galain!' Quick Ben shouted through the roaring wind. 'All of them!'
Paran stared.
Moon's Spawn.
Rising.
Rake hid it-
— oh, Abyss below, did Rake hide it!
Rising, water descending down its battered sides in tumbling falls, into mist that flowed as the edifice climbed ever higher.
The Cut. Ortnal's Cut — that chasm-
'Look!' Quick Ben hissed. 'Those cracks…'
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!'