* * *
To Kyle the coast of this land seemed to consist of nothing more than league after league of empty sand beaches leading up to dense jungle. Ereko skilfully wove the Kite through gaps in reefs as they skirted north-west. White and black seabirds hovered and dived in their wake. Peering over the gunwale was like staring down from a great height – undersea mountains of coral passed majestically beneath them. The sun glared with a ferocity Kyle had never known. It seemed to bake the top of his head. The brothers had used leather strips to tie rags over their heads and Stalker had even removed his armour and now sat in his leathers, a sash around his head and face like a scarf. Only Traveller and Ereko seemed unmoved by the oppressive heat. Kyle itched with sweat and rashes seemed to be creeping over his entire body.
‘Won't we land now?’ he asked Ereko yet again, rubbing a finger over his cracked lips. ‘We're low on water.’ Blood smeared his fingers.
‘This is a dangerous land, Kyle,’ the Thel Akai giant answered, as patiently as the first time Kyle had asked. ‘We have to be careful.’
Careful! Kyle almost pointed to the bow where Traveller reclined in the shade of a sailcloth. With an obvious master swordsman like him on board? And you, a giant nearly twice the height of a man? And these three veterans from Assail who quit the Crimson Guard because they found it boring? Gods and Spirits, what kind of a land was this?
Still, they did not pull in – even when the last of the water was shaken from the last keg. The afternoon golden light faded to the red sunsets that came with disorienting suddenness. He almost asked again why Ereko made no effort at landing and would they simply career along like this until they all died of exposure when he realized that no one else was asking. Everyone else, even fiercely independent Stalker, seemed content to defer to the giant's experience. Clenching his teeth, Kyle sat back against the warm, damp and now mouldy planking of the Kite.
As the evening deepened Kyle dozed in the deadening heat and humidity. A grunt from one of the Lost brothers woke him. Everyone was staring ahead. Kyle sat up straighten Distant torches lit the edge of a long low spit of sand. Behind the torches stood a large tent, the thin cloth of its sides billowing lightly in the weak night wind. Ereko turned the bow to shore.
Traveller stood, rearranged the simple padded mail hauberk he wore beneath his dark leathers, and belted his long, slim black-hilted sword at his side. Kyle found he could not take his eyes from that weapon. As the bow scraped up into sand Traveller leapt down into the wash to steady the vessel. Stalker and the brothers joined him. They pulled the Kite as far up the strand as they could. Kyle belted on his own tulwar and jumped into the wet sand. Ereko stepped down unarmed. When his feet touched ground the giant stood still for a time, head lowered. Kyle thought he heard him whispering something that may have been a prayer. Straightening, his usually smiling lips were set, his brow lined. He had the air of a man facing a trial. Traveller led the way to the tent.
As they neared, a man stepped from the open flap. He was a large fellow, tall and well-padded in fat. The torchlight glimmered on his bright silk robes and his round head was shaved. His flesh held the hue of oiled ironwood. He bowed. ‘Welcome to you all,’ he said in accented Talian. ‘Welcome to the lands you call Jacuruku.’
Within, carpets covered the sand. Lamps on tall iron tripods lit the large interior. Pillows lay scattered, as were silver platters containing covered bowls, cups and carafes. Traveller eased himself down to sit cross-legged. Their host sat opposite. Stalker, Coots and Badlands sat together uneasily, glancing about. The tent was tall enough to accommodate Ereko who sat near the entrance. Kyle sat with him.
‘Greetings all,’ their host continued. ‘Please … eat, drink. My name is Jhest Golanjar. How it is I know your language you are wondering. That is simplicity. It is the language spoken by an invading army that conquered a neighbouring kingdom decades ago. They rule as a caste of warrior-aristocrats who enforce their will with sword and magery. All in the name of that kingdom's ancient Goddess – the Queen Ardata. Know you them?’
Their host seemed to be addressing everyone, but his dark glittering eyes remained fixed upon Traveller. Coots, his mouth stuffed full of bread and meat sauce, slurred, ‘No.’
Untroubled, Jhest continued. ‘In our language we call them the Isture′ Forlan Edegash. In your language,’ he lifted a meaty hand to Kyle, ‘the Crimson Guard.’
Kyle stared, speechless, then he remembered the sigil still pinned to his chest and he felt his face redden in embarrassment. Fool, to have kept it!
‘Are we enemies, then?’ Traveller asked, his voice low, yet Kyle now felt attuned to the man's moods and he heard the coiled warning behind the question.
Jhest's smile was broad and easy, yet oddly flat. He raised both hands. ‘Not at all. We admire the Isture′ for what they have accomplished.’
‘Which is?’ Ereko asked.
Jhest answered without so much as a glance to the Thel Akai; it was as if the giant did not exist. ‘They have advanced far in the path that is our … how shall I put it? … our passion – my brothers and sisters’ speciality of interest and research.’
‘That being?’ Stalker prompted.
Again, the broad yet oddly empty smile. The man's black eyes unmoving on Traveller. ‘Why, the Paths of Ascension, of course.’
No one spoke for a time. Badlands and Coots ate noisily; Stalker picked up a flatbread and tore off a bite. Kyle poured himself a drink that proved to be some sort of sweetened water. Traveller pressed a hand to his brow, sighing. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Jhest, but we are tired and should sleep. Perhaps tomorrow we could trouble you for water and supplies?’
‘Of course.’ The man stood, brushed at the folds of his robes. ‘Until tomorrow, then. Goodnight.’ Bowing, he left the tent.
Chewing a mouthful, Stalker caught Badland's eye and cocked his head to the flap. Badlands crossed to the opening. ‘Gone.’
‘Anyone around?’ Stalker asked.
‘Hard to say. It's damned dark. Probably someone.’
Grunting his assent, Stalker gestured Coots out. ‘You two, first watch.’
Glowering, Coots picked up the tray and carried it out the door. ‘Figures. First decent meal in months …’
Stalker now turned his attention to Ereko. ‘What do you think?’
During all of this, Traveller merely ate, eyes downcast. It was as if the man had given up on everything and was willing to accept whatever might come to him; it was either the worst sort of pathetic fatalism, or a kind of enlightened understanding that expectations, plans, ambitions, were no more than deluding vapours that, in the end, could not change anything. It was maddening to Kyle that he couldn't decide which.
Ereko lifted a pot of a thick yellow cream that Kyle thought might be yogurt. He sniffed it, set it down. ‘I have been away for a very long time, of course. But I have heard rumours. It seems they may be true. This portion of the continent is ruled by a magiocracy, an oligarchy of powerful mages who bend all their resources and research to unravelling the mysteries of Ascendancy. It is said they are masters of the Paths of Denul, and even conduct rather horrifying surgeries and experiments upon the bodies of their people to that end. No doubt they see Ascendancy as their way to power and immortality, and so on.’
‘Yet he ignored you,’ Kyle said.
Ereko laughed, smiling. ‘Ascendancy holds no interest for me, Kyle. To them, I am probably just some sort of wretched failure. Nothing more than that.’
‘You are the Eldest of all living things here of the world, Ereko,’ Traveller suddenly announced. ‘Father to us all.’
‘Father?’ Kyle echoed, his wonder and amazement obvious.
Ereko waved the words aside. Our friend is speaking poetically, Kyle. When one considers such ancient times one's only recourse is the language of poetry. Thus legends, myths, creation accounts, history. All are no more than stories shaped to justify the present appearance of things.’
Rolling his eyes, Stalker tossed back a drink. ‘I was hoping for rather more practical information.’
Ereko laughed, smiling self-consciously. ‘Sorry, yes. To the point then. They are torn. They want to move against us – but they are of course anxious as to our capabilities. The question for us is which faction will prevail. The voices for caution or the voices for action.’
‘They will act.’ This from Traveller as he sat, head lowered, studying one of the land's unfamiliar yellow fruits. ‘When it becomes clear that we will perhaps get away, a small faction will take matters into their own hands and will move. Once they do so the rest will have no choice but to commit themselves.’
Kyle stared, unable to breathe. ‘You have seen it?’
The eyes rose, met his. The intensity of that gaze drove Kyle's gaze aside, but not before he glimpsed a well of terrifying emotion kept locked under an almost inhuman control. ‘I have seen it all before, Kyle.’
Ereko gestured to the cushions. ‘Sleep for now, lad. You can have the last watch.’
Having eaten and now sitting comfortably on soft cloth Kyle already felt his eyelids drooping. He lay back and curled up without argument – Ereko would wake him if anything happened. Sleep took him almost instantly.
A tap of his foot woke Kyle. Stalker stood looking down at him; the scout gestured him out and left. Kyle grabbed up his armour, helmet and weapon belt and followed. Outside, a false dawn of diffuse light made the sea look strangely flat, the beach lifeless and the jungle a dark mystery. Stalker unbuckled his tall conical helmet. ‘Been quiet.’
Over his linen shirt and padded aketon, Kyle pulled on his hauberk of iron rings laced to leather, adjusted the leather wrappings at his legs. ‘No one at all?’
‘Only if you count the soldiers surrounding us.’
‘What? When?’
An indifferent shrug. ‘Who knows? Right away maybe. Coots has been watching them all night. Says it ain't right the way none of them have moved. Not even to take a piss, apparently. Coots thinks that's downright unnatural for any soldiers.‘ Stalker gestured around. ‘You can maybe make them out on the dunes and the forest edge.’ His watch done, the scout ducked inside. Kyle adjusted the weight of his tulwar on his left hip, pulled on his helmet. For the thousandth time he wished he had a shield, a bow or even a fistful of javelins. Squinting, he could just distinguish the tall dark shapes standing still as tree trunks in the mist and pre-dawn gloom. Big bastards, with good discipline, sounds like. He didn't relish having to tangle with them.
Nothing stirred during Kyle's watch. The day brightened and the sun rose like a ball of fire over the jungle. Kyle thought it a wondrous sight, quite unlike anything he'd seen on the prairie. It was as if the entire east jungle was aflame. Traveller eventually emerged behind him. The tall swordsman was tying back his long, kinked black hair. He gestured Kyle in with a nod. ‘Break your fast.’
Over the remains of the platters Badlands and Coots worked the edges of their weapons with the small sharpening stones they carried with their gear; Badlands his two long-knives and Coots his single-edged longsword with an extended two-handed grip. Out of their rolls also came helmets – iron and bronze, with faceguards that curved down to nasal shields. ‘Haven't seen those recently,’ Kyle observed.
‘Haven't faced a stand-up fight recently,’ Coots said. ‘We prefer to avoid them.’
Badlands pulled his helmet on. ‘Yeah. They can get you killed.’
Kyle almost burst out laughing: the helmet looked two sizes too small on the hairy burly fellow, like a bull wearing a pot. After mastering himself Kyle reflected that he mustn't look much better in his hand-me-down mismatched armour. He drew his tulwar, examined its edge – as bright and keen as the day Smoky inscribed it. Nothing seemed able to mar it. He turned to Ereko who sat cross-legged with no weapon in sight.
‘Where's your spear?’
The Thel Akai looked up and in his golden eyes something flashed that stabbed Kyle to his heart before it was hidden away and the familiar wintry smile returned to his lips. ‘Not here, Kyle. Not in my homeland.’
The brothers continued fussing with their equipment. Stalker checked the positioning of more weapons than Kyle had even guessed he might be carrying. He wondered what they were waiting for then, then Traveller re-entered the tent, and he understood.
The man examined each of them in turn, his face dark with churning emotions Kyle couldn't name, a kind of impatient anger, even disgust. The lines that bracketed his mouth slashed down like cuts. He nodded his approval and the Lost brothers jumped to the tent flap, flanking it with hands on their weapons. Stalker ducked out first. Traveller exited, then Kyle and Ereko. The brothers brought up the rear.
Jhest awaited them down the beach near the Kite. He stood next to a collection of bundled fruits, foodstuffs and wooden casks that Kyle presumed held water. Also present were the tall soldiers, positioned in a wide semicircle. They wore no uniforms or colours, only a strange sort of armour made from a mosaic of small stones, each a slightly differing shade of green, varying from dark sea-blue-green to a pale yellow-olive. Helms completely enclosed their faces and gauntlets their hands – all of the same shimmering mosaic surface. The weapons at their waists were hidden in wooden sheaths clasped in worked bronze, but from the shape they appeared curved and perhaps flaring out toward the point.
Jhest bowed. ‘I trust you slept well and are refreshed. Please do not be alarmed by the presence of our soldiers. They are here to help load your vessel. You must find them somewhat familiar, yes? They are inspired by the many insights gained by those Malazan allies, the Moranth.’
‘Yes,’ Traveller answered curtly. Thank you for the food and water. We will be leaving now.’
‘If you must. But I must ask that you reconsider your goal.’
Traveller, who had bent to a cask, straightened to face Jhest. ‘Yes?’ Ereko picked up two casks, one under each arm, and began loading the Kite. Kyle and the Lost brothers all spread out around Traveller.
‘You really do not expect to succeed, do you? It is impossible. You would only be throwing away your existence in a futile gesture. Your presumption is beyond arrogance. It is a sad waste.’
Traveller was silent for some time. Kyle, his back to them and eyes fixed on the soldiers, could only hear their exchange. He adjusted his footing – the sand was strangely loose and yielding now, unlike earlier when they had landed the Kite. Traveller finally answered, his voice so low Kyle barely caught it, ‘Do not come between me and my vengeance, Jhest. My response will be felt not just by you, but by all those who speak with you as well – and who are no doubt listening at this very moment. Think on that!’ he suddenly yelled, startling Kyle.
‘That is the question, is it not?’ Jhest answered, his voice still eerily flat, unperturbed. ‘Are we interposing ourselves when said goal is then abandoned? An interesting philosophical point, yes? Room enough, perhaps, for the risk.’
‘Finished,’ Ereko called. Kyle and Stalker, on one side, began edging backwards.
‘You risk far more than you comprehend,’ Traveller said, sounding almost regretful.
‘It would not be a risk otherwise.’
Beneath Kyle's sandals the beach shook, churning. A hissing flow of sands sank his feet to the calves. He jumped, staggering, to keep his footing. A shocked yell from Ereko snapped his head around. Traveller was gone. Kyle gaped at Ereko who stared at the empty sand.
‘No,’ the giant mouthed, appalled.
‘You fools!’ the giant roared at Jhest. ‘You have no idea who – what – you are interfering with!’
‘What may, or may not, happen far away in another land is of no interest to us,’ said the mage and he gestured. As one, weapons slid from the soldiers’ wooden and leather sheaths. Ereko sank to his knees, pressed his hands to the sands.
‘Get him on board,’ Stalker snarled, drawing his curved blade. Kyle grasped an arm, but he might as well have been pulling at a tree trunk. The giant dug at the yielding sand, yanking free of Kyle's grip.
‘You really did not think we would be so foolish as to cross swords with him, did you?’ Jhest said – his voice still as flat as when they exchanged pleasantries last night.
‘Oh, just kill the bastard, will you?’ Stalker said over his shoulder. Kyle ignored him, a hand at Ereko's arm.
‘We must go – please!’
The soldiers advanced, swinging, and the Lost cousins parried once, twice, holding their ground, ripostes gouging scatterings of the small stones to the sands.
Jhest's bland smile drew down and his smooth brow furrowed. ‘What is this?’ he murmured.
Ereko raised his head and Kyle was shocked by the rage roiling in his molten eyes. ‘You and your cabal have erred, Jhest. You should not have chosen D'riss. Any Warren but that. For you seem to have forgotten who, in truth, / am.’
‘You are Thel Akai, yes. An ancient race of this land – a useless remnant of a sad past.’
‘And who were we before we named ourselves, before any other sentient kind arose? Our forebears were the children of the earth!’
‘Kyle!’ A yell from Stalker. One of the soldiers had caught Badlands in a bearhug. The man stitched the armoured giant in thrusts of his long-knives but to no visible effect. Kyle darted forward, drawing. He swung at a shoulder and the tulwar slid through the stones with a grating screech. The arm hung half-dismembered, accompanied by a gout of black blood as thick as tar. Badlands fell to the sand and lay stunned. Kyle stared. He was so amazed that a ponderous attack from another of the armoured giants almost decapitated him. He ducked, swung two-handed at the leading leg and severed it at the knee. The soldier collapsed to lie flailing in the sands like an upturned beetle.
‘What? How is this?’ Jhest gaped his disbelief.
Kyle leapt to one of three soldiers Stalker had kept at bay, severing an arm at the elbow and crippling a leg on the backswing.
‘No!’ Jhest bellowed. ‘You are not of the Isturé!’
Unhesitating, Kyle continued hacking the lumbering giants – none of whom uttered a sound or even flinched from their attack though it was obvious they were doomed. Once down, the brothers finished them off.
After the last, Kyle spun on Jhest. He was exhausted, his arms numb and tingling from the jarring impacts of swings that he'd had to give every ounce of his strength. The Jacuruku mage eyed him in turn. ‘You should not have been able to do that,’ he said flatly. ‘It is therefore the blade. Allow me to examine it.’
‘Allow me to kill him,’ Stalker said to Kyle, panting his own weariness.
‘Not yet.’ He crouched beside Ereko who still knelt on his hands and knees, his arms sunk to his elbows. ‘What should we do?’ he asked, pleading.
Ereko did not answer. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth clenched, lips drawn back in a rictus of effort. ‘Almost,’ he hissed on a breath. ‘Almost…’
Jhest clapped his hands, barking an order. Stalker raised his sword. ‘Wait!’ Kyle yelled.
‘Why is this shit still alive?’ Stalker demanded.
‘Damn right,’ Badlands added.
‘Because we may need him.’
‘For what?’
‘To retrieve Traveller.’
Hesitating, Stalker slammed home his blade. ‘Damn the Dark Hunter!’
Jhest, however, appeared utterly unconcerned. His gaze was directed far off to the jungle-line beyond. A one-sided smile crooked up his thick lips. Kyle, a cold presentiment shivering his flesh, slowly turned following the mage's gaze.
‘Trouble,’ Coots said laconically, spitting.
Movement shivered the treeline all up and down the beachfront for as far as Kyle could see in either direction. Armoured soldiers identical to those dismembered around them stepped forth. Tens, hundreds. ‘Ereko!’
But still enmeshed in his efforts the giant did not answer.
‘You have no choice but to abandon him,’ Jhest observed blandly.
Snarling, Stalker drew and thrust in one movement. The mage did not flinch. Instead, he looked down calmly at the sword impaling his abdomen and cocked one brow. ‘You will find me a great deal more difficult to kill than my servants.’
Stalker stepped back. His blade sucked free, glistening with a clear, thick ichor. ‘Kyle …’
‘Wait!’
Ereko, grunting his effort, was withdrawing his arms from the sands. His hands came free, clasped in a shared wristlock with another's arm – Traveller's. Up and down the shore, the beach shuddered, rippling beneath everyone. Even the mage, Jhest, was rocked. ‘No!’ he bellowed. ‘Impossible!’
Beneath Ereko was revealed a gap, a wound into darkness. Sands disappeared, sucked in a growing vortex that appeared to lead to … dark nothingness. Kyle leaned forward to lend a hand.
‘No!’ Ereko gasped. ‘It will take you.’
Traveller's other hand appeared, pushed down against the surface. Gasping, Ereko straightened his legs, drawing the man free. The gaping void disappeared with an explosion like the burst of a Moranth munition. The report of its closure echoed from the tree-line. Traveller lay supine while Ereko straightened, drawing in great bellowing breaths.
‘They're still comin’,’ Coots drawled into the silence.
The swordsman pushed himself to his feet. Jhest watched, his face eager, almost avid, lustful. ‘You live,’ he breathed, awed.
Traveller rolled his shoulders, wincing. ‘My life is now my own, magus. It can no longer be taken by anyone.’
The statement seemed to transport the mage. His eyes lit up and open glee twisted his mouth into a frog-like leer. ‘Then it is true! It can be done!’
Traveller seemed merely to gesture and the mage's head flew from his shoulders to roll to the sands. ‘Not by you.’ He sheathed his sword.
‘Time to run away,’ Coots suggested.
Blinking, Kyle stared at the headless torso of the mage that remained standing, immobile. He had the unnerving impression that should he touch it a hand would leap up to grab him. Glancing away he saw the army of armoured soldiers almost within reach. ‘Run!’ They leaned their shoulders to the Kite, pushed it out into the surf. The Lost brothers pulled themselves in. Ereko, Kyle saw, glanced back and cursed, slogging away. Traveller had remained on the shore.
Cursing as well, Kyle threw himself back into the surf. When he arrived Ereko was pleading with the swordsman. ‘It is of no use!’
‘Go,’ Traveller said. ‘I will deal with all of these and their masters as well.’
‘There is no need!’ Ereko was fairly weeping.
‘They came between myself and my vengeance.’
‘Traveller!’ Kyle called sharply.
The dark-skinned swordsman pulled his gaze from the relentless advance of the soldiers. He glanced to Kyle, puzzled, ‘Yes?’
‘Your vengeance is elsewhere, isn't it?’
A hand rose from his sword grip to massage his brow. He clenched his eyes shut, pinching them.
‘Well?’
The front ranks of soldiers met and trampled the body of Jhest. They drew their weapons in a clash of iron that echoed all up and down the treeline. Traveller allowed Ereko to drag him backwards into the surf. ‘Yes. Elsewhere …’ he murmured, sounding confused.
The waves buoyed them, darkening Traveller's leathers. Ereko continued pulling the man backwards. Kyle forced himself out against the waves. Glancing back, his chest clenched at the sight of the statue-like soldiers marching on, not even hesitating, to push into the surf. ‘Don't stop!’
The cousins reached for them over the side of the Kite, Ereko slapped their hands aside. ‘Trim the sail!’
Springing up, Kyle grasped hold of a rope. Ereko had an arm around Traveller who still held his head, his eyes closed. The sail snapped, filling. The Kite pulled on Kyle. Behind them the soldiers marched on, disappearing beneath the waves rank after rank. Hanging from the side, Kyle could not help but raise his legs as tightly as he could from the water.