Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(91)

‘Eithjar!’ he called. ‘I am searching for Jass! Which way?’

He waited, but none came. Well, I guess they don’t come when called …

He started down the trail.

When the sun rose above the lower ridges of the Salt range he was crossing a valley. A runoff stream churned down its middle, no deeper than his shins, but frigid as it splashed and hissed among the boulders and rocks of its naked bed. Across the stream he stamped his sodden feet to bring feeling back into them. He raised a hand to his mouth and called: ‘Which way?’ His shout echoed among the steep valley walls.

He almost missed it then, in his impatience and disgust. A thin ash-grey shape flickering at the treeline far to the east. He frowned at the indistinct visitation, uncertain whether his eyes were playing tricks upon him. Then the shape raised an arm pointing to the east and was gone.

Orman rubbed his gritty eyes, blinked them. Gods, the east! This high that would be … No! The little fool! Bain Holding! What could he possibly mean to …

He set off at a run the way the shade had pointed. He smashed into the dense brush, limbs snapping and lashing. He vaulted from rock to rock. The way steepened as he approached the valley side. Ahead, past the trees, the ridgeline climbed bare and rocky. Snow yet lingered in the shadows and capped the highest shoulders. The air was frigid, yet it seemed to burn his lungs as he panted onward. And all the while, Svalthbrul’s keen knapped edge sang as it cut the cold air.





CHAPTER VII



FISHER KEL TATH sat in the gloom of the cave lit only by the small sputtering fire. With his fingertips, he massaged tiny circles over his temples. ‘So let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You wrecked on the coast while you were returning home?’

Coots and Badlands, both of the Lost clan, nodded vigorously. ‘Aye,’ Badlands answered.

‘And you’ve been down here for how long? Months?’

The brothers shared guilty glances. Coots started counting on his fingers, frowned, shrugged, then scratched his ridged bald pate.

Fisher stared his disbelief. ‘Why haven’t you escaped? You could climb out, couldn’t you?’

Badlands waved a hand. ‘Oh, yeah. Might fall to our deaths any time, though.’

‘But you don’t intend to stay down here for ever, do you? Don’t you want to get home?’

Another quick guilty glance shot between the brothers. Fisher looked from one to the other. ‘What is it … what aren’t you saying? That is, if it’s any of my business.’

Coots laid more moss and dried bracken on the modest fire. He hung his big gnarled hands over his knees. ‘Well …’ he rumbled, ‘we kinda had a fight with Stalker.’

‘Stalker?’ Fisher echoed. Then he remembered. ‘Stalker Lost – head of the clan.’

Badlands was nodding. ‘Yeah. He was all for coming back. We had us a falling out over it. Back when we was captured by that crazy mage in the Galatan Sweep.’

Coots looked offended. ‘Wasn’t then. Was when we tried pirating but got chased down by that Elingarth navy convoy.’

‘Was not! Was when you shacked up with that queen o’ them troglodytes!’

‘They wasn’t troglodytes – they just had an aversion to sunlight.’

Fisher raised a hand for a pause. ‘Well, you can’t mean to stay, surely? What are you eating?’

Coots looked to the low soot-blackened stone ceiling. ‘Oh … lizards, salamanders, bats, rats, birds, eggs, mushrooms, roots, frogs, and a cliff-climbing mammal kinda like a marmot.’

‘And a mountain goat,’ Badlands added.

Coots snapped his fingers. ‘Right. Forgot about that. There’s mountain goats on these cliffs too.’

Fisher’s brows rose. ‘Ah. I see. So you’re out hunting mountain goats?’

Badlands nodded. ‘Yeah. And there’s fish in the stream below.’ Fisher glanced over to Jethiss who stood to one side, frowning his confusion. ‘But this Bonewight means to take your bones, yes?’

Coots waved that aside. ‘Not till after spring break-up. That’s when the flood coming down the valley might damage the bridge’s foundations. Least, that’s what Yrkki says.’

‘Yrkki?’

‘Yeah. Yrkki. An’ he’s not a bonewight – he’s a bonewright. He’s real particular about that.’

‘He says he knows my name,’ Jethiss said from the darkness where the glow from the fire barely touched him.

Both Coots and Badlands eyed the Andii for a time. Badlands gave a musing frown, ‘Well, if he says he does, then he probably does.’

‘I want it from him.’

Coot blew out a breath, stretched. ‘Real cagey with what he knows is Yrkki. Been hanging around here for ages. Treats us like we’re equals, though. Funny that.’

Fisher took a breath and sang, low and slow: ‘Set in stone to ward the way, spirit guardians await the day.’

Coots and Badlands blinked at Fisher, then Badlands scratched his scalp beneath his bunched hair. ‘I’ve heard that before. That one o’ yours, Fish?’

‘Not originally. I transcribed it from a much older poem.’

Coots cracked his knuckles one by one. ‘Hunh. So you’re sayin’ Yrkki’s a prisoner himself? Set here to guard the way. Set by who?’