Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(175)

The flickering light of flames now sent shadows whipping over them. Tossed torches came arcing out from behind the ranks. Some thumped to the ground in splashes of sparks and ash, but others struck the grassed roof of the Greathall to catch, sputtering and smoking.

‘Looks like they’ve changed tactics,’ Badlands observed.

Kyle carefully sheathed the white blade. He studied the steep roof. ‘Shouldn’t we go up there?’

‘You’ll be poked full of arrows, lad.’

More torches came flying overhead, together with skins of what must have been some sort of oil. The roof suddenly roared to life in orange flames.

‘Have to find Cal,’ Badlands said, and jogged off.

‘Hold the line!’ an Avowed shouted above the crackling of the flames. Kyle staggered to the earthworks and peered over: the Letherii soldiery had assembled a short distance off in double ranks, bows held before them, arrows nocked. The shifting light of the flames danced from their helmets. They were ready to repel any attempt at escape.

The roof was now a deafening inferno. Its heat pummelled Kyle’s back. Drifting sparks stung his neck and billowing black smoke choked him. A tap on his shoulder revealed Badlands returned. He yelled into Kyle’s ear: ‘Time for that desperate break out somebody mentioned a while back.’ He motioned for Kyle to follow and led him to the rear of the Greathall.

He found Stalker, Fisher, Jethiss and Cal-Brinn assembled there. All appeared to have taken wounds of greater or lesser severity. Cal-Brinn was crouched, a hand above his head against the heat and drifting embers. ‘They are expecting us!’ he shouted over the conflagration battering them with its yammering fury.

‘We can’t wait!’ Stalker answered.

‘I know!’

The wool surcoat of one of the Avowed standing guard nearby suddenly burst aflame. The man calmly yanked it over his head and tossed it aside.

‘I will try to raise my Warren,’ Cal-Brinn called out. ‘It may be too much – you might have to carry me!’

‘No!’ Jethiss pushed forward. ‘Allow me. I managed this once before …’

Kyle remembered Coots falling and the darkness descending – yes, he’d somehow summoned sorcery before.

The man stood utterly still, concentrating, Kyle imagined. Everyone, meanwhile, danced and batted at embers of burning hay and wood that came drifting down to sting flesh and singe hair. Yet Jethiss did not stir, even when embers touched upon him, sending up wisps of smoke to join the black clouds churning about them.

Kyle came to despair: they’d be consumed before anything manifested! He wiped coals from the mail of his sleeves and his gloves smoked. Perhaps it was his dimming vision then, but the light changed. The blinding incandescence of the inferno seemed to brighten even more as black streams of night snaked away over the bared bloodied ground. He’d banished the darkness?

Barely audible over the thunder just above their heads came shouts of panic from out beyond the earthworks. Jethiss turned to them, gesturing outwards. ‘It is done.’

Cal-Brinn raised an arm, signing, and the Avowed converged. Coughing almost uncontrollably, Kyle joined the rush over the mound. He did not know what to expect out beyond the defences but complete chaos and confusion was not it. The Letherii lines had disintegrated; soldiers ran all about, falling, flailing, batting at twisting ribbons of dark that twined about them like snakes.

Cal-Brinn gestured and the remaining Avowed formed a perimeter round their small party and they quickly pushed through to the forest beyond. Few blows were exchanged, though arrows did fly their way from distant portions of the ranks far from their point of escape. Kyle did a hasty count and came up with twelve of the Guard; they’d lost four in the defence.

They jogged on. No one suggested a halt, despite pronounced limps and ragged breaths. At length, Cal raised his fist and the party staggered to a stop. Kyle leaned over, hands on his knees, gasping. Some collapsed to the ground. Despite his dizzying exhaustion, he turned to study their rear: a glow through the trees in the valley below betrayed the Greathall. He glimpsed no torches in the woods between. Perhaps Marshal Teal was content in having driven them off. Groaning, straightening his back, he crossed to where Stalker and Cal-Brinn spoke in low tones.

‘You need not come,’ Stalker was saying. ‘You have done enough.’

‘We would see you safe,’ Cal answered, his tone firm.

‘We will be safe in the heights.’

‘What was that?’ Fisher demanded, straightening from examining the wounded side of an Avowed.

Stalker drew his fingers down his moustache, his lips tightening. ‘We’re heading to the heights. Any survivors from the other Holdings will have made their way there.’

Fisher waved his arm in a broad arc. ‘Strike east or west. All directions are open. Head for the coast. Escape this region!’

‘But avoid the spine of the Bone range,’ Badlands muttered.

Through this Stalker was shaking his head. ‘No, Fisher. We can’t avoid it any longer. It’s our legacy – and yours too, lad,’ he added, speaking to Kyle. ‘We share the blood.’

‘What of it?’ Badlands asked.

Stalker began cleaning his blade on a handful of grass. ‘I mean it’s coming to a head – isn’t it, Fish? What do you say?’

The bard drew breath to speak, but checked himself. Kyle almost thought his expression fearful before he suddenly turned away.