A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

slightly off to one side.
    Paran nudged his mount forward and Toc followed after unslinging and stringing his bow. As Toc caught up with the captain, Paran saw that his companion had nocked an arrow.
    The closer they approached the less like a tree the charred thing looked. The limb that reached out from it had familiar lines. Paran's gaze narrowed some more, then he cursed and spurred his horse. He closed the distance quickly, leaving behind a startled Toc.
    Arriving, he dismounted and strode up to what he now saw were two bodies, one gigantic. Both had been burned beyond recognition, but Paran held no illusions as to who the other was. All that come close to me, all that 1 care for ... 'Tattersail,' he whispered, then fell to his knees.
    Toc joined him, but remained in the saddle, standing in the stirrups and scanning the horizon. A minute later he dismounted and walked a slow circle around the embracing bodies, stopping at the dark smudge they'd seen from a distance. He crouched to study it.
    Paran raised his head and struggled to keep his eyes on the figures. The limb belonged to the giant. The fire that had consumed them both had blackened the arm for most of its length, but its hand was only slightly scorched. Paran stared at the grasping fingers and wondered what salvation the giant had reached for in its moment of death. The freedom that is death, a freedom denied me. Damn the gods, damn them all. Numbed, he was slow to realize that Toc called to him.
    It was an effort to rise to his feet. He staggered to where Toc still crouched. On the ground before the man was a torn burlap sack.
    'Tracks lead from this,' Toc said shakily, a strange expression on his face. He scratched vigorously at his scar, then rose. 'Heading north-east.'
    Paran looked at his companion without comprehension. 'Tracks?'
    'Small, like a child's. Only ...'
    'Only what?'
    The man hugged himself. 'Those feet were mostly bones.' He met the captain's blank stare. 'As if the soles were gone, rotted or burned away – I don't know ... Something horrible has happened here, Captain. I'm glad it's heading away, whatever it is.'
    Paran turned back to the two entwined figures. He flinched. One hand reached up to touch his face. 'That's Tattersail,' he said, in a flat voice.
    'I know. I'm sorry. The other one is the Thelomen High Mage Bellurdan. It has to be.' Toc looked down at the burlap sack. 'He took leave to come out here and bury Nightchill.' He added quietly, 'I don't think Nightchill needs burying any more.'
    'Tayschrenn did this,' Paran said.
    Something in the captain's voice brought Toc round.
    'Tayschrenn. And the Adjunct. Tattersail was right. They would not have killed her otherwise. Only she didn't die easily, she never took the easy path in anything. Lorn's taken her from me, just like she's taken everything else.'
    'Captain ...'
    Paran's hand unconsciously gripped the pommel of his sword. 'That heartless bitch has a lot coming to her, and I mean to deliver it.'
    'Fine,' Toc growled. 'Just let's be smart about it.'
    Paran glared at him. 'Let's get going, Toc the Younger.'
    Toc glanced one last time into the north-east. This wasn't over, he told himself, shivering. He winced as a savage, painful itch rose beneath his scar. Though he tried, he found he could not reach through to it. And a formless fire burned behind his empty eye-socket – something he had been experiencing often lately. Muttering, he strode to his horse and climbed into the saddle.
    The captain had already swung his own mount and the trailing horse southward. The set of the man's back spoke volumes to Toc the Younger, and he wondered if he hadn't made a mistake in accompanying him. Then he shrugged. 'Well,' he said, to the two charred bodies, as he rode past, 'it's done, ain't it?'
     
    The plain below lay sheathed in darkness. Looking to the west, Crone could still see the setting sun. She rode the highest winds, the air around her bitter cold. The Great Raven had left Caladan Brood's company two days ago. Since then, she'd detected no sign of life in the wastes below. Even the massive herds of Bhederin, which the Rhivi were in the habit of following, had disappeared.
    At night, Crone's senses were limited, though it was in such darkness that she could best detect sorcery. As she winged ever southward she scanned the land far below with a hungry eye. Others among her brethren from Moon's Spawn regularly patrolled the plains in service to Anomander Rake. She'd yet to see