A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

maybe take out ten thousand Beklites, ten, twelve mages and a Septarch. At the possible cost of this army, including Quick Ben here. Gentlemen, is that a fair exchange?'
    'That is for you to decide—' Paran began, but Dujek cut him off.
    'No, Captain. It isn't. Not this time.'
    Quick Ben met the High Fist's eyes. I made a promise to Burn. The captain and I had . . . plans. To keep all of that, I say no right now. And we blow the entrenchments and scamper. But then again, I'm a soldier. A Bridgeburner. And the brutal truth is, tactically, it's more than a fair exchange. We make it for Whiskeyjack. For the siege to come. We save lives. He glanced at Paran, saw the same knowledge in the captain's eyes. The wizard turned back to Dujek. 'High Fist, it is a fair exchange.'
    Dujek reached up and lowered his helm's visor. 'All right, let's get to work.'
    Quick Ben watched the two men leave, then he sighed. 'What do you want, Blend?'
    'Sir?'
    'Don't you "sir" me, woman. Are you planning on rejoining your squad any time soon, or do you want a close look at my impending demise?'
    'I thought I might ... uh, give you a hand.'
    He faced her, eyes narrowing. 'How?'
    'Well...' She drew out a small stone from round her neck. 'I picked up this charm, a few years back.'
    The wizard's brows rose. 'And what is it supposed to do, Blend?'
    'Uh, makes me harder to focus on – seems to work pretty good.'
    'And where did you come by it?'
    'An old desert merchant, in Pan'potsun.'
    Quick Ben smiled, 'Keep it, lass.'
    'But—'
    'If you weren't wearing it, you wouldn't be Blend any more, would you?'
    'I suppose not. Only—'
    'Return to your squad. And tell Picker to keep her lads and lasses tight and out of the scrap – you're to remain on that far flank, watching the city. If the condors suddenly show, get back to me as fast as possible.'
    'Aye, sir.'
    'Go on, then.'
    She hurried off.
    Well, damn me. The lass buys a worthless piece of stone
    from a Gral swindler and suddenly she's invisible. Raw but pure talent, right
    in her bones, and she doesn't even know it.
     
    Hidden beneath fronds and brush, Picker and her squad had a clear view of the Pannion legions, the front lines reaching the base of the treeless ramp that led to the entrenchments. Grey sorcery spun a wall of tangled webbing before the chanting Beklites. The Seerdomin commanders were wreathed in the magic, advancing now on foot ahead of their companies, marching upslope with an air of inexorability.
    On a bank high above the Pannions, Quick Ben looked down, exposed and alone. Or so Blend had told her – the trees on her left blocked the view.
    Suicide. The wizard was good, she knew, but good only because he kept his head low and did whatever he did behind backs, in the shadows, unseen. He wasn't Tattersail, wasn't Hairlock or Calot. In all the years she had known him, she had not once seen him openly unveil a warren and let loose. Not only wasn't it his style, it also wasn't, she suspected, within his capacity.
    You unsheathed the wrong weapon for this fight, High Fist. . .
    Sudden motion in the midst of the first Pannion square. Screams. Picker's eyes widened. Demons had appeared. Not one, but six – no, seven. Eight. Huge, towering, bestial, tearing through the massed ranks of soldiery. Blood sprayed. Limbs flew.
    The Seerdomin mages wheeled.
    'Damn,' Blend whispered at her side. 'They've swallowed it.'
    Picker snapped a glare at the woman. 'What are you talking about?'
    'They're illusions, Lieutenant. Can't you tell?'
    No.
    'It's all that uncertainty – they don't know what they're facing. Quick Ben's playing on their fears.'
    'Blend! Wait! How in Hood's name can you tell?'
    'Not sure, but I can.'
    The Seerdomin unleashed waves of grey sorcery that broke up over the legion, sent snaking roots down towards the eight demons.
    'That will have to knock them out,' Blend said. 'If Quick Ben ignored the attack, the Pannions will get suspicious – let's see how – oh!'
    The magic darted like plummeting nests of adders, enwreathed the roaring demons. Their death-throes were frenzied, lashing, killing and maiming yet more soldiers on all sides. But die they did, one by one.
    The first legion's formation was a shambles, torn bodies lying everywhere. Its onward climb had been shattered, and the reassertion of order was going to take a while.
    'Amazing what happens when you believe.' Blend said after a time.
    Picker shook her head. 'If wizards can do that, why don't we have