A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

sprinkled a few drops around the nostrils of their destriers. Heads snapped back, muscles tensed.
    'I have the right flank,' Bairoth said.
    'And I the centre,' Karsa announced.
    'And so I the left,' Delum said, then frowned. 'They will scatter from you, Warleader.'
    'I am feeling generous today, Delum Thord. This village shall be to the glory of you and Bairoth. Be sure that no-one escapes on the other side.'
    'None shall.'
    'And if any woman seeks to fire a house to turn the hunt, slay her.'
    'They would not be so foolish,' Bairoth said. 'If they
do not resist they shall have our seed, but they shall live.'
    The three removed the reins from their horses and looped them around their waists. They edged further onto their mounts' shoulders and drew their knees up.
    Karsa slipped his wrist through the sword's thong and whirled the weapon once through the air to tighten it. The others did the same. Beneath him, Havok trembled.
    'Lead us, Warleader,' Delum said.
    A slight pressure launched Havok forward, three strides into a canter, slow and almost loping as they crossed the stump-filled glade. A slight shifting to the left led them towards the main path. Reaching it, Karsa lifted his sword into the destrier's range of vision. The beast surged into a gallop.
    Seven lengthening strides brought them to the village. Karsa's companions had already split away to either side to come up behind the houses, leaving him the main artery. He saw figures there, directly ahead, heads turning. A scream rang through the air. Children scattered.
    Sword lashed out, chopped down easily through young bone. Karsa glanced to his right and Havok shifted direction, hoofs kicking out to gather in and trample an elder. They plunged onward, pursuing, butchering. On the far sides of the houses, beyond the refuse trenches, more screams sounded.
    Karsa reached the far end. He saw a single youth racing for the trees and drove after him. The lad carried a practice sword. Hearing the heavy thump of Havok's charge closing fast – and with the safety of the forest still too far in front of him – he wheeled.
    Karsa's swing cut through practice sword then neck. A head thrust from Havok sent the youth's decapitated body sprawling.
    I lost a cousin in such a manner. Ridden down by a Rathyd. Ears and tongue taken. Body strung by one foot from a branch. The head propped beneath, smeared in excrement. The deed is answered. Answered.
    Havok slowed, then wheeled.
    Karsa looked back upon the village. Bairoth and Delum had done their slaughter and were now herding the women into the clearing surrounding the village hearth.
    At a trot, Havok carried him back into the village.
    'The chief's own belong to me,' Karsa announced.
    Bairoth and Delum nodded, and he could see their heightened spirits, from the ease with which they surrendered the privilege. Bairoth faced the women and gestured with his sword. A middle-aged, handsome woman stepped forward, followed by a younger version – a lass perhaps the same age as Dayliss. Both studied Karsa as carefully as he did them.
    'Bairoth Gild and Delum Thord, take your first among the others. I will guard.'
    The two warriors grinned, dismounted and plunged among the women to select one each. They vanished into separate houses, leading their prizes by the hand.
    Karsa watched with raised brows.
    The chief's wife snorted. 'Your warriors were not blind to the eagerness of those two,' she said.
    'Their warriors, be they father or mate, will not be pleased with such eagerness,' Karsa commented. Uryd women would not —
    'They will never know, Warleader,' the chief's wife replied, 'unless you tell them, and what is the likelihood of that? They will spare you no time for taunts before killing you. Ah, but I see now,' she added, stepping closer to stare up at his face. 'You thought to believe that Uryd women are different, and now you realize the lie of that. All men are fools, but now you are perhaps a little less so, as truth steals into your heart. What is your name, Warleader?'
    'You talk too much,' Karsa growled, then he drew himself straight. 'I am Karsa Orlong, grandson of Pahlk—'
    'Pahlk?'
    'Aye.' Karsa grinned. 'I see you recall him.'
    'I was a child, but yes, he is well known among us.'
    'He lives still, and sleeps calm despite the curses you have laid upon his name.'
    She laughed. 'Curses? There are none. Pahlk bowed his head to beg passage through our lands—'
    'You lie!'
    She studied him, then shrugged. 'As you