The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (1214 page)

Through the screen of whizzing flies he saw something in the sky ahead. A darker cloud, a towering, swirling thing. Dust storm? There was no dust. A whirlwind? Maybe. But the air was still. It was in his path, although still some distance away. He watched it, to track its path.

The cloud remained directly ahead.
Just bigger.

It's coming straight at me.

More flies?

The insects surrounding him were suddenly frenzied – and he caught something in their manic buzzing.
You're part of this, aren't you? The finders of life. And once found, you…summon.

He could hear that cloud now, a deeper, more frightening drone quickly overwhelming the swarming flies.

Locusts.

But that makes no sense. There is nothing for them to eat. There is nothing here at all.

All of this felt wrong. Mappo slowed his run, halted. The flies spun round him a moment longer, and then fled. He stood, breathing deep, eyes on the vast spinning pillar of locusts.

And then, all at once, he understood. ‘
D'ivers.
'

Something that looked like white foam was spreading from the base of the locust cloud, surging in tumultuous waves.
Gods below. Butterflies.
‘You're all d'ivers. You're all one thing, one creature – the flies, the locusts, the butterflies – and this desert is where you live.' He recalled the bones upon the edge. ‘This desert…is what you made.'

The butterflies reached him, whipped round him – so many he could no longer see the ground at his feet. The frantic breaths of their wings stole the sweat from his skin, until he began shivering. ‘D'ivers! I would speak to you! Semble! Show yourself to me!'

The locusts blighted half the sky, devouring the sun. Spinning overhead, and then, in a wave of rage, descending.

Mappo dropped to his knees, buried his face beneath his arms, hunched down.

They struck his back like a deluge of darts.

As more poured down, he grunted at their weight. Bones creaked. He struggled for breath, clenched his jaws against the pain.

The locusts stabbed again and again with their jaws, driven mad by the feel and scent of living flesh.

But he was Trell, and his kind had skin like leather.

The locusts could not draw blood. But the weight grew vast, seeking to crush him. In the gap his arms made for his face he stared at inky darkness, and his gasps snatched up dust from the ground. Deafened by the futile clack of bladed jaws, buried in riotous darkness, he held on.

He could feel the mind of the d'ivers now. Its fury was not for him alone.
Who stung you so? Who in this desert drove you away? Why are you fleeing?

The being was ancient. It had not sembled in a long time – thousands of years, perhaps more. Lost now to the primitive instincts of the insects.
Shards opals diamonds gems leaves drinkers –
the words slithered into him as if from nowhere, a girl's sing-song voice that now echoed in his mind.
Shards opals diamonds gems leaves drinkers – go away!

With a deafening roar the vast weight on Mappo's back burst apart, exploded outward.

He sat up, tilted back his head. ‘Shards opals diamonds gems leaves drinkers – go away. Go away. Go!'

A song of banishing.

The cloud heaved upward, twisted, and then churned past him. Another seething wave of butterflies, and then they too were gone.

Stunned, Mappo looked round. He was alone.
Child, where are you? Such power in your song – are you Forkrul Assail? No matter. Mappo thanks you.

He was covered in bruises. Every bone ached.
But still alive.

‘Child, be careful. This d'ivers was once a god. Someone tore it apart, into so many pieces it can never heal. It can't even find itself. All it knows now is hunger – not for you or me. For something else. Life itself, perhaps. Child, your song has power. Be careful. What you banish you can also summon.'

He heard her voice again, fainter now, drifting away.
‘Like the flies. Like the song of the flies.'

Grunting, he climbed to his feet. Drew his sack round and loosened the drawstrings, reached in and lifted out a waterskin. He drank deep, sighed, drank a second time and then stuffed the skin back into the sack. Tightening the shoulder straps again, he faced east, and resumed running.

For the edge of the world.

 

‘Nice sword.'

‘Alas, this one I must use. I will give my two Letherii swords to you.'

Ryadd Eleis leaned back against the knobby stone of the cave wall. ‘How did they get the dragons on that blade?'

Silchas Ruin continued studying the weapon he had unsheathed. The flames of the hearth danced up and down its length. ‘There is something wrong with this,' he said. ‘The House of Hust burned to the ground with everything else – not Kharkanas itself, of course, that city didn't burn. Not precisely. But Hust, well, those forges were a prize, you see. And what could not be held had to be destroyed.'

Ryadd glanced away, at the pearl sky beyond the cave mouth. Another dawn had arrived. He'd been alone for some time. Awakened to find that the Tiste Andii had returned sometime in the night, blown in like a drift of snow. ‘I don't understand what you're saying.'

The white face took on an almost human hue, bathed as it was in the firelight. But those red eyes were as unnerving as ever. ‘I thought I knew all the weapons forged by the Hust. Even the obscure ones.'

‘That one does not look obscure, Silchas,' said Ryadd. ‘It looks like a hero's weapon. A famous weapon. One with a name.'

‘As you say,' Silchas agreed. ‘And I am not so old as to forget the ancient warning about trusting shadows. No, the one who gave me this sword is playing a game.'

‘Someone gave it to you? In return for what?'

‘I wish I knew.'

Ryadd smiled. ‘Never bargain knowing only the value of one side of the deal. Onrack said that to me once. Or maybe it was Ulshun Pral.'

Silchas shot him a look.

Ryadd shrugged, lifting himself to his feet. ‘Do we now resume our journey?'

Sheathing the sword, Silchas straightened as well. ‘We have gone far enough, I think.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I needed to take you away from Starvald Demelain, and now I have done so.' He faced Ryadd. ‘This is what you must learn. The Eleint blood within you is a poison. I share it, of course. My brother and I chose it for ourselves – we perceived a necessity, but that is the fatal lure of power, isn't it? With the blood of T'iam within our veins, we could bring peace to Kurald Galain. Of course, that meant crushing every House opposing us. Regrettable, but that sentiment was as far as the poison would permit us to go in our thoughts. The thousands who died could not make us hesitate, could not stop us from continuing. Killing thousands more.'

‘I am not you, Silchas Ruin.'

‘Nor will you ever be, if I can help it.'

Ryadd walked to the cave's edge, looked out on bleak, jagged rock and blinding sweeps of snow where the sun's light marched down into the valley below. Elsewhere, in shadow, the snow was as blue as the sky. ‘What have you done, Silchas?'

Behind him, the Tiste Andii replied, ‘What I deemed…necessary. I have no doubt that Kilava succeeded in forcing your people out of that realm – they won't die, not there, not then. Udinaas is a clever man. In his life, he has come to understand the pragmatism of survival. He will have led the Imass away from there. And he will find them a home, somewhere to hide from humans—'

‘How?' Ryadd demanded. ‘It's not even possible.'

‘He will seek help.'

‘Who?'

‘Seren Pedac,' Silchas replied. ‘Her old profession makes her a good choice.'

‘Her child must have been born by now.'

‘Yes. A child she knows she must protect. When Udinaas comes to her, she will see how her need and his can be resolved together. She will guide the Imass to a hidden place, and in that place she too will hide, with her child. Protected by Onrack, protected by the Imass.'

‘Why can't we be just left alone?' Ryadd heard the anguish in his own voice and closed his eyes against the outside glare.

‘Ryadd Eleis, there is a kind of fish, living in rivers, that when in small numbers – two or perhaps three – is peaceful enough. But when the school grows, when a certain threshold is reached, these fish go mad. They tear things apart. They can devour the life in a river for a league's length, and only when their bellies start bursting do they finally scatter.'

‘What has that to do with anything?' Ryadd turned to glare at Silchas Ruin.

The Tiste Andii sighed. ‘When the gate of Starvald Demelain opens, the Eleint will come through in vast numbers. Most will be young, by themselves little threat, but among them there will be the last of the Ancients. Leviathans of appalling power – but they are incomplete. They will arrive hunting their kin. Ryadd, if you and I had remained, seeking to oppose the opening of that gate, we would lose our minds. We would in mindless desire join the Storm of the Eleint. We would follow the Ancients – have you never wondered why, in all the realms but Starvald Demelain itself, one will never find more than five or six dragons in one place? Even that many demands the mastery of at least one Ancient. Indeed, to be safe, Eleint tend to travel in threes.' Silchas Ruin walked up to stand beside Ryadd, and stared out at the vista. ‘We are the blood of chaos, Ryadd Eleis, and when too many of us gather in one place,
the blood boils
.'

‘Then,' Ryadd whispered, ‘the Eleint are coming, and there's no stopping them.'

‘What you say is true. But here you are safe.'

‘Me? What of you?'

Silchas Ruin's hand found the grip of his scabbarded sword. ‘I must leave you now, I think. I did not plan it, and I am not pleased at the thought of abandoning you—'

‘And all that we spoke of before was a lie,' cut in Ryadd. ‘Our perilous mission – all of it, a lie.'

‘Your father understood. I promised him that I would save you, and I have done so.'

‘Why did you bother?'

‘Because you are dangerous enough alone, Ryadd. In a Storm…no, I could not risk that.'

‘Then you intend to fight them after all!'

‘I will defend my freedom, Ryadd—'

‘What makes you think you can? With what you said of the Ancients—'

‘Because I
am
one, Ryadd. An Ancient.'

Ryadd stared at the tall, white-skinned warrior. ‘Could you compel me, Silchas Ruin?'

‘I have no desire to even so much as attempt it, Ryadd. Chaos seduces – you have felt it. And soon you may witness the fullest expression of that curse. But I have learned to resist the seduction.' He smiled suddenly, and in an ironic tone added, ‘We Tiste Andii are skilled at denying ourselves. We have had a long time to get it right, after all.'

Ryadd drew his furs close about himself. His breath plumed in the bitter cold. He concentrated a moment, was answered by a billowing of the hearth's flames behind him. Heat roiled past.

Silchas glanced back at the sudden inferno. ‘You are indeed your mother's son, Ryadd.'

He shrugged. ‘I was tired of being chilled.' He then looked across at Silchas. ‘Was she an Ancient Eleint?'

‘The first few generations of Soletaken count among the Ancients, yes. T'iam's blood was at its purest then, but that purity is short-lived.'

‘Are there others like you, Silchas? In this world?'

‘Ancients?' He hesitated, and then nodded. ‘A few.'

‘When the Storm arrives, what will they do?'

‘I don't know. But we who were not trapped within Starvald Demelain all share our desire for independence, for our freedom.'

‘So they will fight, like you.'

‘Perhaps.'

‘Then why can I not fight beside you?'

‘If I must defend you while defending myself – well, it is likely that I would fail on both counts.'

‘But I am Menandore's son—'

‘And formidable, yes, but you lack control. An Ancient will see you – will see all that you are – and it will take you, tearing out your mind and enslaving what remains.'

‘If you did the same – to me – imagine how powerful you would then be, Silchas.'

‘Now you know why dragons so often betray one another in the heat of battle. It is our fear that makes us strike at our allies – before they can strike at us. Even in the Storm, the Ancients will trust not one of their equals, and each will possess scores of lesser slaves, as protection against betrayal.'

‘It seems a terrible way to live.'

‘You don't understand. It is not simply that we are the blood of chaos, it is that we are
eager
to boil. The Eleint revel in anarchy, in toppling regimes among the Towers, in unmitigated slaughter of the vanquished and the innocent. To see flames on the horizon, to see the enkar'l vultures descending upon a corpse-strewn plain – this charges our heart as does nothing else.'

‘The Storm will unleash all that? On this world?'

Silchas Ruin nodded.

‘But who can stop them?'

‘My other swords are beside your pallet, Ryadd Eleis. They are honourable weapons, if somewhat irritating on occasion.'

‘
Who can stop them?
'

‘We'll see.'

‘How long must I wait here?'

Silchas Ruin met his eyes with a steady, reptilian stare. ‘Until the moment you realize that it's time to leave. Be well, Ryadd. Perhaps we will meet again. When next you see your father, do tell him I did what I promised.' He hesitated, and then added, ‘Tell him, too, that with Kettle, I believe now that I acted…hastily. And for that I am sorry.'

‘Is it Olar Ethil?'