The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (1207 page)

He called out to her, but she fled the throne room. And ran.

Shallow steps climbing…a wooden door. A lock.

‘Sandalath?'

‘The priestesses can heal the wound.'

‘What priestesses?'

‘The Liosan won't stop. Nothing can make them stop. The Watch knows – all the Shake do. They have accepted it. They are going to die for us. Every last one of them. We cannot permit that. Where is Gallan? Where is Silchas? Where is my brother—'

Then Withal's arms were about her, lifting her from the throne, holding her tight. She felt weak as a child, but he was strong – stronger than she'd ever imagined was possible for a human. She felt something crumble within her and let out a soft gasp.

‘I went looking for ghosts,' she said. ‘I – I found them, I think. Mother help me. Save me – it's too much—'

‘
Sand
.' The word was a sob.

‘We need to run,' she said. ‘That's all we need to do, my love. Run. Tell Twilight – raise a flag of truce – I will yield Kharkanas to the Liosan. They can have it, and I hope they
burn it to the fucking ground
!'

‘Sand – this is Yedan's battle now, and he will not parley with the Liosan. He is a Shake prince. He wields a Hust blade – it was the witches who explained to me what that meant—'

‘Hust? A Hust sword?'
Did I know that? I must have. Did I?

‘Forged to slay Eleint – without them the Andii could never have killed all those dragons at the Sundering. They could never have fought back. Yedan's sword knows what's coming—'

‘
Stop it!
'

‘It's too late—'

‘Yedan—'

‘He knows, Sand. Of course he knows. The witches are desperate – Yan Tovis accepts none of this—'

‘Because she's not a fool!' Sandalath pushed Withal back. ‘
We need to run!
'

He shook his head.

She glared round. Guards looked away. Servants ducked their heads. She bared her teeth. ‘You must think me mad. Do you? But I'm not. I see now, as clearly as Yan Tovis does. Is this all the Shake are to be to us? Wretched fodder doomed to fail? How dare we ask them to fight?' She spun, glared at the domed ceiling. ‘Mother Dark!
How dare you?
'

The shout echoed, her only reply.

‘The Shake will fight,' said Withal into the silence that followed. ‘Not for you, Sand. Not for the Queen of High House Dark. Not even for Kharkanas. They will fight for their right to live. This once, after generations of retreating, of kneeling to masters. Sand –
this is their fight
.'

‘Their deaths, you mean. Don't you? Their deaths!'

‘And they will choose where it is to be, Sand. Not me. Not you.'

What makes us do this? What makes us set aside the comforts of peace?

‘Sand,' Withal said in a quiet voice, ‘this is their freedom. This one thing. Their freedom.'

‘Go back to them, then,' she croaked, turning away. ‘Be their witness, Withal. They've earned that much at least. Remember all that you see, for as long as there's life left to you.'

‘My love—'

‘No.' She shook her head, walking from the throne room.

Hostages. We are all hostages.

 

Yedan Derryg leaned the blade of his sword against his shoulder, his jaws bunching rhythmically, his eyes narrowing as he studied the breach. ‘Signal the front lines. They're coming.'

The blurred shapes of the dragons skittered like wind-torn clouds behind the veil of Lightfall. He counted five in all, but suspected there were more. ‘It will be in strength this time,' he said. ‘They will seek to advance ten paces to start, and then form a crescent as the ranks behind them spill out, spread out. Our flanks need to deny that. Push in along the Lightfall itself, sever the vanguard.'

‘That's asking a lot,' muttered Brevity beside him.

Yedan nodded.

‘Maybe too much,' she continued. ‘We're none of us trained as soldiers. We don't know what we're doing.'

‘Captain, the Liosan are no different. Helmed and armed doesn't make an army. They are conscripts – I could see as much the first time.' He chewed on the thought and then added, ‘Soft.'

‘You saying they don't want any of this?'

‘Like us,' he replied, ‘they have no choice. We're in a war that began long ago, and it has never ended, Captain.'

‘Pithy says they look no different from the Tiste Andii, barring their snowy skin.'

He shrugged. ‘Why should that matter? It's all down to disagreeing about how things should be.'

‘We can't win, can we?'

He glanced at her. ‘Among mortals, every victory is temporary. In the end, we all lose.'

She spat on to the white sand. ‘You ain't cheering me at all, sir. If we ain't got no hope of winning against 'em, what's the point?'

‘Ever won a scrap, Captain? Ever stood over the corpses of your enemy? No? When you do, come find me. Come tell me how sweet victory tastes.' He lifted the sword and pointed down to the breach. ‘You can win even when you lose. Because, even in losing, you might still succeed in making your point. In saying that you refuse the way they want it.'

‘Well now, that makes me feel better.'

‘I can't do the rousing speeches, Captain.'

‘I noticed.'

‘Those words sound hollow, all of them. In fact, I do not believe that I have ever heard a commander or ruler say anything to straighten me up. Or make me want to do for them what they wanted done. So,' he said amiably, ‘if I won't die for someone else, how can I ask anyone else to do so?'

‘Then what're we gonna die for here?'

‘For yourselves, Captain. Each and every one of you. What could be more honest than that?'

After a time, she grunted. ‘I thought it was all about fighting for the soldier beside you. And all that. Not wanting to let them down, I mean.'

‘What you seek not to let down, Captain, is your sense of yourself. How you see yourself, even when you see yourself through the eyes of the people around you.' He shook his head. ‘I won't argue against that. So much comes down to pride, after all.'

‘So, we're to hold against the Liosan – we're to hold the First Shore – out of some kind of feeling of pride?'

‘I would like to hear a truly rousing speech, one day,' Yedan mused. ‘Just once.' Then he sighed. ‘No matter. One can't have everything, can one?'

‘I see 'em – coming through!'

Yedan started walking down the slope. ‘Hold back the Letherii until I need them, Captain.'

‘Yes sir!'

The Liosan vanguard burst through the breach with a roar.

 

Seeing the shadows wheeling above the Liosan, Brevity flinched.
Dragons. That ain't fair. Just ain't.
She turned and made her way down to the Letherii legion.

They were like Pithy now. They had that thing in their eyes – Brevity could not find words to describe it. They'd fought for their lives, but not in that daily struggle to put food on the table, not in those quiet moments when the body surrendered to some illness. This was a sudden thing, a savage thing. That look she saw now, she didn't know what it was.

But she wanted some of it.

Errant's nudge, I must be mad.

Sharl had always been the older sister, the capable one. When her mother had wandered off in the way drunks did, leaving them on their own, Sharl had reached out to take in her two younger brothers.

The Shake understood the two sides of the Shore. The drawing close, the falling apart. Those sides lived in their blood, and in all the ghettos where dwelt the remnants of her people the fates washed back and forth, and sometimes it was all one could do to simply hang on.

She had led them out of childhood. But more than that, she had tried to lead them away from something else, something far crueller. The sense of failure that hung thick in the neighbourhood, the kind of failure that slunk through alleys with drawn knives, that stepped over bodies lying in the rubbish. The kind of failure that unleashed hatred upon those who would seek a better life, those who would dare rise above their wretched station.

She had seen a clever boy beaten to death outside her shelter. By his cousins.

Letherii missions sent people into the communities. Building roads out, roads to take the Shake away from their misery. It was pointless. Sharl had seen as much, again and again. Outsiders never understood how a people could eat themselves from the inside out.

She was thinking about that as she set her boots in the sand and adjusted the heavy pike in her hands. Flanked by her brothers, with all of the Shake formed up to face this enemy of strangers. They stood on the First Shore, bathed in the eerie rain of Lightfall, and she wondered if this was to be the last moment for her and the boys. How quickly would her family vanish from the world of the living? Which of them would be the first to fall? Which the last?

I'm scared. By the deeps, I am scared.

Capable Sharl, oh, see how that lie shines on this day. I will try to keep them alive. I will do all I can.

Mother, they said they found your body in a ditch outside the town. Where were you going? What road were you building?

‘Casel, Oruth, I love you both.'

She felt their eyes as they looked upon her, but she held her gaze fixed on the breach.

Someone shouted, ‘Here they come!' But the cry was unnecessary, as the wound split to the first spear points, and the Liosan surged out with terrifying howls. A tall warrior was in the lead. His face twisted, his eyes lit like fire, his mouth stretched open as he brought up his spear.

He was staring at Sharl, who stood opposite as he lunged forward.

She would have run if a path were open to her. She would have fallen to her knees if mercy were possible. She would have shouted, pleaded for an end to this terrible need to fight, to kill. She would have done anything to end this.

Her brothers screamed, and those cries were so raw with terror that Sharl felt buffeted, battered by this instant of utter, horrifying vulnerability—

Mother, weaving, stumbling down the road. Her clothes reeking, her breaths a wet rattle.

The Shake cannot run from themselves.

‘Sharl!'

She lifted the pike at the last moment. The warrior had not even noticed the weapon, or its deadly length. Even as he lifted his spear, the broad iron head took him just beneath his sternum.

The impact rocked her back, thundered through her bones.

The surprise in his face made her want to weep, so childlike, so helpless.

His sagging weight pulled the pike down. She tore it free, her breaths coming so fast the world was spinning.
He didn't see it. How could he not have seen it?

All at once there was fighting along the line, spreading out from the centre. The Liosan were trying to push them back. Their fury deafened her. They fought like rabid dogs. She stabbed out again and again with the pike. The point scored off shields, was batted aside by bronzesheathed shafts. Liosan ducked past it, only to be met by the hacking swords of her brothers.

Piss drenched the inside of her left thigh –
shame, oh, shame!

They yielded a step – the entire line – as if by command. But she heard nothing beyond the roar engulfing her, the clash of weapons, the grunts and gasps. This was a tide, driving them back, and like the sand beneath them the Shake were crumbling.

The pike's long shaft was slick with blood. The point was wrapped in gore.

The muscles of her forearms and shoulders burning, she raised the weapon once more, saw a face, and stabbed into it. Edge grating past teeth, biting into the back of a mouth, the flaring flanges slicing through cheeks. Blood poured from the Liosan's nose, misted up into his eyes. He snapped his head back, choking, dropping his weapons as he fell to his knees. His hands went to his shattered mouth, seeking to hold in place the dangling lower jaw, the flaps of tongue.

Casel lunged low and pushed his sword's point into the Liosan's neck.

And then her brother was falling. An animal cry came from his throat and he twisted as a Liosan advanced to stand over him, grinding her spear point down through Casel, who writhed like a pinned eel.

Sharl swung the pike, and she screamed as the point slashed the Liosan just under her chin, opening her windpipe.

Hands took Casel's ankles and dragged him back. A stranger came up to take her brother's place.

No – not a stranger—

A marled sword blade swung past her, caught a Liosan closing on her. Sliced through him from shoulder to hip. The backswing sent the top half of a head and helm spinning away. A third swing severed two hands gripping a spear. Three fallen Liosan, opening a gap.