A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

strange calm among the boles. Lightning flickered, but the thunder's voice was long in coming.
    They rode through an hour of darkness, then found an old campsite near the trail the hunt had left. The Rathyd warriors had been careless in their fury, leaving far too many signs of their passage. Delum judged that there were twelve adults and four youths on horseback in this particular party, perhaps a third of the village's entire strength. The dogs had already been set loose to range in packs on their own, and none accompanied the group the Uryd now pursued.
    Karsa was well pleased. The hornets were out of the nest, yet flying blind.
    They ate once more of the ageing bear meat, then Bairoth once again unwrapped the bear skull and resumed winding straps, this time around the snout, pulling them taut between the teeth. The ends left dangling were long, an arm and a half in length. Karsa now understood what Bairoth was fashioning. Often, two or three wolf skulls were employed for this particular weapon – only a man of Bairoth's strength and weight could manage the same with the skull of a grey bear. 'Bairoth Gild, what you create shall make a bright thread in the legend we are weaving.'
    The man grunted. 'I care nothing for legends, Warleader. But soon, we shall be facing Rathyd on destriers.'
    Karsa smiled in the darkness, said nothing.
    A soft wind flowed down from upslope.
    Delum lifted his head suddenly and rose in silence. 'I smell wet fur,' he said.
    There had been no rain as yet.
    Karsa removed his sword harness and laid the weapon down. 'Bairoth,' he whispered, 'remain here. Delum, take with you your brace of knives – leave your sword.' He rose and gestured. 'Lead.'
    'Warleader,' Delum murmured. 'It is a pack, driven down from the high ground by the storm. They have no scent of us, yet their ears are sharp.'
    'Do you not think,' Karsa asked, 'that they would have set to howling if they had heard us?'
    Bairoth snorted. 'Delum, beneath this roar they have heard nothing.'
    But Delum shook his head. 'There are high sounds and there are low sounds, Bairoth Gild, and they each travel their own stream.' He swung to Karsa. 'To your question, Warleader, this answer: possibly not, if they are unsure whether we are Uryd or Rathyd.'
    Karsa grinned. 'Even better. Take me to them, Delum Thord. I have thought long on this matter of Rathyd dogs,
the loosed packs. Take me to them, and keep your throwing knives close to hand.'
    Havok and the other two destriers had quietly flanked the warriors during the conversation, and now all faced upslope, ears pricked forward.
    After a moment's hesitation, Delum shrugged and, crouching, set off into the woods. Karsa followed.
    The slope grew steeper after a score of paces. There was no path, and fallen tree trunks made traverse difficult and slow, though thick swaths of damp moss made the passage of the two Teblor warriors virtually noiseless. They reached a flatter shelf perhaps fifteen paces wide and ten deep, a high crack-riven cliff opposite. A few trees leaned against the rock, grey with death. Delum scanned the cliffside, then made to move towards a narrow, dirt-filled crevasse near the left end of the cliff that served as a game trail, but Karsa restrained him with a hand.
    He leaned close. 'How far ahead?'
    'Fifty heartbeats. We've still time to make this climb—'
    'No. We position ourselves here. Take that ledge to the right and have your knives ready.'
    With baffled expression, Delum did as he was told. The ledge was halfway up the cliffside. Within moments he was in place.
    Karsa moved towards the game trail. A dead pine had fallen from above, taking the same path in its descent, coming to rest half a pace to the trail's left. Karsa reached it and gave the trunk a nudge. The wood was still sound. He quickly climbed it, then, feet resting on branches, he twisted round until he faced the flat expanse of shelf, the game trail now almost within arm's reach to his left, the bole and cliff at his back.
    Then he waited. He could not see Delum from his position unless he leaned forward, which might well pull the tree away from the cliffside, taking him with it in a loud, probably damaging fall. He would have to trust, therefore, that Delum would grasp what he intended,
and act accordingly when the time came.
    A skitter of stones down the trail.
    The dogs had begun the descent.
    Karsa drew a slow, deep breath and held it.
    The pack's leader would not be the first. Most likely the