A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

High Fist beckoned for a messenger.
    'New orders to the officers – the companies are to take buildings – defensible ones. The keep will have to wait – I want roofs over us—'
    Another message-bearer appeared. 'High Fist!'
    'What?'
    'The Pannion legions are assembling, sir – every street in a line from the north gate right up to the keep.'
    'And we hold the west third of the city. They're coming to drive us out. All right.' He faced the first messenger and said, 'Let the officers know so they can adjust their defence—'
    But the second message-bearer wasn't finished. 'High Fist, sir – sorry. There's K'Chain Che'Malle with those legions.'
    Then where is Silverfox and her damned T'lan Imass? 'They could be dragons for all it matters,' he growled after a moment. 'Go,' he said to the first messenger. The soldier saluted and left. The High Fist glared at the other message-bearer, then said, 'Find Twist and inform him we'll need a pass of his heavies – east of our position – just one, though. Tell him that they probably won't make it back, so he'd better hold a wing in reserve.' Dujek raised his visor and studied the sky overhead. Dawn was arriving – the fifth and sixth wings had delivered their troops and were distant specks racing back towards the mountain. That's it, then, we're all in Coral. And if we don't get help soon we'll never leave. 'That's all.' He nodded to the soldier.
     
    The condors circled above the rooftop, crying out to each other, dipping and diving then, wings thudding the air, lifting back towards the paling sky.
    Paran stared up, disbelieving. 'They must be able to see us!' he hissed.
    They crouched against a low wall beyond which was a parapet overlooking the harbour and Coral Bay, and the darkness that had swallowed them was fast fading.
    'They can't see us,' Quick Ben muttered at his side, 'because I'm keeping them from seeing us. But they know we're here ... somewhere.'
    And that's why they're hanging around. Fine. Good. That means they're not busy annihilating Dujek's army.
    The keep shook beneath them, rattling tiles. 'Hood's breath, what was that?'
    The wizard at his side scowled. 'Not sure. That didn't sound like munitions ... but I'd say the compound wall's been breached again.'
    Again? By whom? The detonation had come from the harbour side, east. A billowing cloud of dust slowly lifted into view.
    Paran cautiously lifted his head until he could see past the low wall.
    Out over the bay, seagulls were screaming. The sea beyond, which seemed to be solid ice, was rumbling. Spouts exploded skyward along that south horizon. A storm was building out there. Let's hope it comes here – we could do with the confusion.
    'Get your head down!' Quick Ben hissed.
    'Sorry.'
    'I'm having enough trouble as it is, Captain – we need to stay tight – stop kicking, Detoran – what? Oh. Captain, look north, sir! High up!'
    Paran twisted round.
    A wing of Moranth – no more than specks – were sailing over the city, east to west.
    Six condors were climbing to meet them – but they had a long way to go.
    Smaller specks dropped from the Moranth, down onto the east half of the city.
    Their descent seemed to take for ever, then the first one struck the roof of a building. The explosion shattered the roof and upper floor. All at once, detonations trembled as cusser after cusser struck.
    Sorcery swept from the six condors, raced up towards the distant Moranth.
    Bombs expended, the wing scattered. None the less, more than a score did not escape the sorcerous wave.
    Smoke and dust shrouded the east side of Coral.
    Above the captain and the squad, the remaining condors screamed with rage.
    'That worked, more or less,' Quick Ben whispered. 'Those streets were likely packed solid with Pannion soldiers.'
    'Not to mention,' Paran gritted, 'the rest of the Bridgeburners.'
    'They'd have withdrawn by now.'
    Paran heard the effort in the wizard's hopeful tone.
     
    A cusser had struck the street fifty paces behind Picker and her decimated squads, less than ten paces behind the K'Chain Che'Malle K'ell Hunter that had been closing on them. The undead creature was obliterated by the blast, its mass absorbing most of the lethal, flailing rain of shattered cobbles.
    Fragments of withered skin, flesh and splinters of bone pattered down almost within reach of the Bridgeburners.
    Picker raised a hand to call the soldiers to a halt. She was not alone in needing to catch her breath, to wait until her hammering