Beside him, Shelemasa said, ‘Warleader – the south flank—’
‘We must choose one or the other,’ Gall cut in. ‘Do you see the ones before us? They cannot hold their lines – but see how, once they are past the Malazans, they will be able to spread out, once more on level ground. They will then form up.’
‘Warleader, the Adjunct—’
‘We cannot help her,’ he said. ‘If there were three thousand of us, yes, we could challenge that flank. But these ones here – at the threshold of open ground – we will meet them there.’ He drew his tulwar, rode out ahead of his pitifully small army, and then wheeled.
‘In the name of Coltaine and the Fall!’
He needed say nothing more. Weapons flashed, the horses tossing their heads as they caught the sudden fever of their riders.
Gall sawed on his reins, pitching his mount round. The beast reared, hoofs scything in the air.
And the Warleader laughed.
Faradan Sort had pushed her way to the edge of the flank – once the Kolansii broke through, she would need to be there, to hold her soldiers, to maintain their resolve – but they do not need me. See their faces! The enemy seeks our underbelly and will be met with iron. And I will be there – this battle shall be mine, to the end.
And then she heard the sound of horse’s hoofs. Looked up, twisted round – and saw the Khundryl Burned Tears at full charge. Even as the first of the Kolansii spilled out from the narrow passage, the horse-warriors – with Gall in the lead – crashed into them.
The impact shook the ground, rippled through bodies all the way to the Malazan ranks.
‘Hold fast!’ Faradan Sort shouted. ‘Now push! Into the enemy! Push!’
The Kolansii advance had been checked – but not for long, she knew. It has to be enough. Now let’s make them pay for that bad footing.
The north-facing side of the Malazan phalanx surged forward, Faradan Sort in their midst, and the Kolansii heavy infantry turned to meet them. But they were staggering, stones rolling underfoot, boulders trapping their legs.
And the Khundryl were in a frenzy, driving ever deeper into their ranks.
Gods! See them fight!
Sergeant Ordinary Grey grasped hold of the corporal’s jerkin, pulled him close. ‘Grid Ffan – where’s your squad?’
The Falari’s eyes were wild, his face bright red. ‘All around us, you Kartoolii spider bait!’
‘Where’s your sergeant?’
‘Dead! Where’s your fucking squad?’
‘With your sergeant,’ snapped Ordinary Grey. ‘Except for my Semk here …’
They were being jostled, ever losing ground. Grid Ffan’s eyes shifted past the sergeant and then widened. ‘Someone sewed up his fucking mouth!’
‘He likes it that way. Now listen – the south flank—’
‘We ain’t got a south flank!’
‘She’s over there – her and that Shadow Dancer and that captain with piss-ice in his beard. The Assail’s finished, but the heavy infantry’s about to fold us up. She named you, Ffan! Just like she named me and Could Howl. You understanding me?’
Grid Ffan shifted round. ‘Hare Ravage! Sample! Find the others – we’re pulling out of this press!’
The squad’s huge mailed fist turned to the corporal. ‘I barely got a swing in! Been waiting for fucking ever, Corporal!’
‘We’ll get you your Hood-damned fight, you Kanese squid-eater – we’re taking on a whole army of heavies!’
‘How many of us?’ Sample demanded, her blue-tinted skin ashen with dust.
Ffan turned back to Ordinary Grey, who answered, ‘Maybe ten.’
The Napan’s grin flashed white, and in a sharp, piercing voice, she cried out, ‘Shades, Brutan, Asp, Shipwreck and Gill Slime! With us! Move, damn you all!’
Pores sagged beside Kindly, who risked a moment to glower down at the man. ‘Get out of here! You’re a damned liability!’
‘Just need – to – catch my breath!’
Beyond Pores, in the seething press, Kindly saw a dozen or so soldiers moving through the ranks away from the front line. ‘What in Hood’s name are they doing?’ But he saw no panic in the faces of the soldiers closest to them – words were shouted back and forth, and the ranks shifted to make room for them to pass.
Pores straightened once more, followed Kindly’s glare. ‘Ordinary Grey … Ffan and Sample. And there’s that scary Semk – it’s the ones she called on, sir.’
‘Is it now?’
Another hard shove from the front staggered them back again.
‘Head back to the camp, Pores – do something useful. Protect the children.’
‘I don’t think – oh, right. Sir—’
‘I’m moving up again – get out of here.’
‘Sir—’
‘That’s it – you’re up on report, soldier! Now go before I kill you myself!’
Lesser Watered Trissin moved past the bones of Brother Aloft – she struggled to not look down, yet could not help herself. Locusts still crawled here and there, out from under the bones or the slack skins of intestines, still crowded the gaping jaws.
She could feel Sister Freedom’s fury and pain as the wounded Pure lashed out – the T’lan Imass would not win that battle – but they were taking all the Forkrul Assail’s concentration. In truth, it was High Watered Melest who was commanding the assault, from the centre.
She saw, ahead of them, a line of four soldiers, and her eyes widened – this is all they have for us? They are mad!
Off to the right, spilling out from the enemy phalanx, came a dozen or so medium infantry.
A laugh burst from her. ‘This is what they offer in opposition?’ She gestured, her mind snapping out the command to spread out, widen the facing line.
They would sweep past these fools, and then wheel round to close on the flank from behind.
The battle was as good as done.
‘Adjunct,’ said Ruthan Gudd, ‘we need to fall back – into the phalanx. We can’t stay out here – we can’t hold that advance—’
But Tavore Paran seemed to be beyond words. Blood flowed down her face, as if all that she had contained, all that she had held inside, was now pushing free.
Gods below. ‘Take her left, Lostara – with Henar on yours. I’ve got the right. Adjunct! Fuck this waiting, let’s charge.’
Her head snapped round, the eyes raw and wild.
And then the four of them were moving forward.
Trissin shouted in shock – they were attacking!
And now she saw – one of the soldiers was sheathed in ice, even unto the long sword in his hand. And another was coming forward with the fluid grace of water, two swords seeming to flow from her hands. Apart from the ice-bound figure, the others were covered in blood – these were the ones who had stood against Brother Aloft. That woman – she commands this army.
What is she doing?
What are they all doing?
Grid Ffan swore in a stream of languages and then yelled, ‘Run, you fools! Catch up to ’em!’ And as they pelted forward, ten regulars racing to join up with their Adjunct and her officers, the corporal found breath to bark out orders.
‘Hare Ravage – go far end and arrive hard! Sample – follow him up! Shades Elar and Brutan Harb – back up the Shadow Dancer and the Bluerose. Shipwreck and Could Howl, stay with me for the Adjunct! You too, Grey.’
Sergeant Ordinary Grey cursed. ‘I outrank you, Ffan!’
‘So what?’
‘Right,’ the man gasped. ‘You all, what Ffan said! Carry on, Corporal!’
‘Asp Slither – got any magic? How ’bout you, Gill?’
‘’S coming back,’ hissed Gill Slime.
And Asp Slither cackled like a strangled swan. ‘Just watch me!’ she crowed.
‘No!’ Ffan shouted – they were only a dozen or so paces away now. ‘Hold back, both of you! Find their fucking commander and hit the fucker with all you fucking got, you fucking got it?’
The Kartoolii mage cackled a second time and loomed close. ‘No, sir. What do you mean?’