Return of the Crimson Guard (111 page)

‘Aye.’ A man ran for the mounts.

Movement on the road caught his eye. A pink mist had appeared, swelling, rolling towards them like a cloud. It engulfed screaming soldiers who disappeared before his eyes, their flesh, armour, even bone, flensed into a suspended mist that was heading straight for them. Soldiers jumped aside.
Too long in the same spot, fool!
‘Magery!’ Ullen leapt from the road.

* * *

Shimmer did not lose consciousness but after a moment's reflection this did not surprise her. She was after all joining the Brethren. The dead Avowed chained to their living brothers and sisters. Enslaved by the Vow, by those awful impetuous terms –
eternal opposition.
Cheating Hood, yes, but unable to rest, ever agitating for the Vow.
Remember,
they had always come to whisper in her sleep, tormenting her.

You swore! Remember your Vow
…
Remember
…

A hand turned her over. She blinked up at a pewter sky occluded by a skeletal, withered face.
Hood himself?
‘You are dying,’ said the vision of death. ‘Despite your great vitality, it is draining away.’

‘Are you … Imass?’ she whispered, hoarse.

The dried flesh of the face could not express emotion but Shimmer had the impression of surprise. ‘No. I am Edgewalker.’ Shimmer had nothing to say to that as the name meant nothing. ‘I am sending you back. Your engagement is spilling over into Shadow and that I cannot allow. I want all of you gone. You, that murderous trespasser – even the binder of your Vow – though he is being shielded.’

Shimmer stared up at the bizzare entity. ‘Binder of my Vow? You mean K'azz?’

‘Whatever his name. He must go. I will send you now.’

K'azz!
Shimmer cast out her thoughts as she did when summoning the Brethren.
Are you there? K'azz?

Distant shocked surprise.
Shimmer? Is that you? In truth?

K'azz! Where are you?

Shimmer – I am close, I'm coming! Listen. It was Skinner and Cowl! They betrayed me!

‘You go now,’ Edgewalker intoned in a voice like dry dust falling. A dessicated hand, all sinew and bone, rested upon her chest.

Shimmer tried to move – the effort blackened her vision. ‘Wait!’

Pain made her gasp. Hot smoky air choked her and she coughed, wincing with the memory of the stab wound. ‘Here she is!’ Someone threw herself down next to her: Shell. ‘Back with us!’

‘What's happened?’

‘Shh now.’ She nodded to someone out of Shimmer's vision; she turned her head – Twisty – their best healer. He gave her an encouraging nod. Shell eased her up, handed her a gourd of water. The cacophony of battle assaulted her: closer now, much closer. The Imperials have been advancing. And it was dark, sunset. Twisty opened her armour, slid a hand in around her side. ‘The east flank's collapsed,’ Shell explained. ‘Those Imperial allies, the Moranth, they're pushing to the centre, trying to cut us off from the bridge. And we are hard pressed in the west. But reports are that Cowl and the Veils have a free hand. They say that the High Fist has fallen, the Sword has fallen, Urko has fallen—’

‘Who says!’ Shimmer cut in, wincing and gasping for breath.

Shell wiped smeared dirt from her face and short blond hair, her brows wrinkled. ‘Why, the Veils, of course …’

Shimmer stood, rolled her shoulder on the side Twisty had healed. ‘Yet the Claws found me.’

Further puzzlement, the lines at the woman's mouth deepening. ‘And others, yes …’

‘Who else?’

‘Sart, Betel, Ketch. Those I know of.’

None friends of Skinner.
‘Summon Greymane and Smoky to me – now. And remain with me.’ Shell bowed. Who else could she count on? The majority of her command, she imagined – and hoped. How she wished Cal–Brinn's company had come through! They'd understood each other. Bars and Jup Alat would make a great difference. And Blues’ Blade – what in the Mysteries of D'rek has happened to them? They seemed to have disappeared from the face of the world.

She took hold of Twisty's arm and gently pushed him away.

‘Not yet, Commander,’ he said, anxious.

‘It will have to do.’

He shook his head, moved to speak, but stopped himself and nodded. ‘Very well.’ He helped her up. She studied the field. The current assault looked like a very strong effort to take command of the ground. The Guard could not fight the Empress and themselves at the same time. Should that happen she must consider how to withdraw – but to where? Skinner's arrogant disposition had crippled them. The bridge was too narrow and the Kanese were waiting for them in any case. A fighting withdrawal, then, to a defensible position. And the only real possibility within reach lay to the east…

Still, ought she not make one last effort? She faced a still puzzled Shell. ‘Stay here. Ask Greymane and Smoky to await me here as well. Will you do that?’

‘Of course. You're not …’

‘Await my return. Tell Smoky – he was right all along.’

The mage caught at the mail of Shimmer's arm. ‘Don't go.’

‘What?’

‘You're going to him, aren't you. Don't.’

Shimmer studied the nest of winkles at the woman's entreating eyes, her mouth bracketed by furrows, wanting, perhaps, to say so much more. ‘I have no idea what you're talking about.’

The hand tightened.
‘Shimmer!
You're not the only one Smoky spoke to.’

‘He spoke out of place, then.’ She gently removed the hand.

‘Twins take it, woman! What are you hiding from?’

‘We are wasting time here, mage. See to your duty – as I must mine.’

Shell urged her off with curt wave. ‘Go then, fool! He'll not listen to you.’

Shimmer turned and walked away.
The Vow. Remember your Vow.
She picked up a shield from some fallen soldier, held it between her and the skirmishers as she crossed the field of assembled Blades. Avowed called but she did not answer. Thrown sharpers burst, scattering shards and dirt, but she did not flinch. Bolts hissed, hammering the shield and plucking at her, but she did not pause.

And we were so close
…
so close to finally, utterly, being rid of the Vow that has damned us all.

She found him at the standard, arms crossed, helm lowered as always. Crossbow bolts slashed the air. One struck him full on, glancing away, unable to penetrate the strange night-black glittering mailed armour. His company Avowed were gathered around him – though what Claws would marshal an attempt upon him she could
not imagine. Dancer, of course; Topper, perhaps, if he was still competent – their intelligence told them he'd let himself go completely. Who, then, was left? No one. For an instant she wondered if the man was fully justified in his almost magisterial self-assurance. Who was there to face him? Save – and the thought came with a gut-tightening shock – herself.

‘Shimmer,’ he called. ‘You have left your post.’

‘A full Hand has taken out my guard. The Gold have broken through. We need reinforcements.’

He inclined his helmed head. ‘A timely request. I am collecting blades to meet the threat. I will go with fifteen of my Avowed to break them.’

A wave of tossed munitions suddenly blasted earth and sod skyward over everyone – all ducked save the Avowed. ‘And after that?’ Shimmer shouted, her ears ringing.

‘Then we march north on the Empress's position.’

‘She'll hardly remain to meet you,’ Shimmer said with far more scorn than she intended to reveal.

The man's arms uncoiled, an iron gauntleted hand going to the black stone – polished jet? – that served as his blade's pommel while the other reached to her, clenching. ‘Then Cowl will hunt her down and slay her like vermin!’

Shimmer flinched away.
I see,
‘And then what?’

‘Then? Why, then our ambitions will have been fulfilled.’

‘The
Vow
will be fulfilled, you mean.’ Two bolts struck her shield, momentarily pushing her weight over on to one foot. She hefted the massive rectangle to straighten it.

A pause. The man gestured forward his guard of Avowed mages: Mara, the Dal Hon, her wild matted hair like a lion's mane; Gwynn, in his severe black tunic, sash and trousers; and Petal, grey-haired, crippled Petal leaning on his staff. ‘Do your thoughts not cast beyond the Vow, Shimmer? Have you not considered – what then?’

‘We return to Avore.’

‘Avore has been wiped from the map! There is no more such entity. Kellanved was quite thorough.’ Skinner waved the possibility aside. ‘So, the question remains … what then?’ The helm edged aside to look beyond her and he backed up a step. Shimmer turned. Avowed approached through the dusk and smoke: Halfdan, Bower, Lucky, Shell, Smoky, as well as the broad hulking Greymane who had yet to draw his sword.

No, not now! Now while we dance with the Imperials,
Shimmer bowed to Skinner. ‘My command from the east flank. You say you
march on these foreign allies from across the sea. Very well. We will master the west. What say you?’

Skinner's mail-backed fingers flexed upon the grip of his sword. The helm swung to the west. ‘Very well, Shimmer. Take control of that flank and I will do so in the east. Between the two of us we should hold the field by midnight. Done?’

‘Done.’

The two bowed slightly – the Avowed, all equal in theory, held to no salute. Waving to his gathered Avowed, Skinner marched away. Shimmer watched after him, slowly let out a long oh-so-taut breath that sent agony through her side. She regarded Smoky – the man was scorched and sweaty, robes torn, his nose bleeding – so far of all the Avowed mages he had been pressing the assault, and receiving the brunt of the mage cadre counter-attacks. ‘I told you to remain on post.’

He jabbed a finger after Skinner. ‘Who knows what he might have done …’

‘Now
is not the time.’

‘Then when?’

Dare she tell them? But what if it were no more than delirious wish-fulfillment? K'azz indeed? So close? Gods, let it be true! Yet
…
No
…
it would be too cruel.
‘After the night is won. Agreed?’

A sour scowl. ‘Agreed.’

Shimmer twisted aside as a crossbow bolt shot across her front, plucking at her crimson surcoat. She gestured close Smoky, Bower and Shell. ‘Gather all those you can. Bring them to me on the western flank. There will be a choosing of sides come the dawn!’

They bowed, hurried off. She turned to the Malazan renegade, studied him, hands on hips. He too had picked up a large Malazan infantryman's shield. ‘And what of you? Will you kill Malazan soldiers?’

The man glanced away, his bright sky-blue eyes clearly troubled. ‘I will fight to defend myself,’ he rumbled.

No. Not good enough. Not good enough by far.
‘Then stand in the way and defend yourself, Hood take you!’ She snapped a wave, calling loudly to all, ‘Come! We march to take the west! Smash every unit! Break all organized resistance!’

A great roaring shout answered her, swelling through the ranks. ‘For the Duke!’

Aye – for the Duke. May he return and not prove a mere spectre of all my hopes and fears.