A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

impossibly huge, black, whipping in the air with explosions of red dust, crisscrossing the sky. Horror filled his soul.
    There was no wind. The sails hung limp. The ship lolled on lazy, turgid seas. And the storm was coming.
    A sailor approached with a tin cup filled with water, lifted it up to Torvald, who took it and brought it to Karsa's scabbed, crusted lips. The brackish liquid entered his mouth, burning like acid. He drew his head away from the cup.
    Torvald was speaking in low tones, words that slowly grew comprehensible to Karsa. '... long lost to us. Only your beating heart and the rise and fall of your chest told us you still lived. It has been weeks and weeks, my friend. You'd keep hardly anything down. There's almost nothing left of you – you're showing bones where no bones should be.
    'And then this damned becalming. Day after day. Not a cloud in the sky ... until three bells past. Three bells, when you stirred, Karsa Orlong. When you tilted your head back and began screaming behind your gag. Here, more water – you must drink.
    'Karsa, they're saying you've called this storm. Do you understand? They want you to send it away – they'll do anything, they'll unchain you, set you free. Anything, friend, anything at all – just send this unholy storm away. Do you understand?'
    Ahead, he could see now, the seas were exploding with each lash of the black, monstrous chains, twisting spouts of water skyward as each chain retreated upward once more. The billowing, heaving clouds seemed to lean forward over the ocean, closing on their position from all sides now.
    Karsa saw the Malazan captain descend from the fore-deck, the blue-tinged skin on his face a sickly greyish hue. 'This is no Mael-blessed squall, Daru, meaning it don't belong.' He jerked a trembling finger at Karsa. 'Tell him he's running out of time. Tell him to send it away. Once he does that, we can negotiate. Tell him, damn you!'
    'I have been, Captain!' Torvald retorted. 'But how in Hood's name do you expect him to send anything away when I'm not even sure he knows where he is? Worse, we don't even know for sure if he's responsible!'
    'Let's see, shall we?' The captain spun round, gestured. A score of crewmen rushed forward, axes in hand.
    Torvald was dragged down and thrown to the deck.
    The axes chopped through the heavy ropes binding the platform to the mast. More crew came forward then. A
ramp was laid out, angled up to the starboard gunnel. Log rollers were positioned beneath the platform as it was roughly lowered.
    'Wait!' Torvald cried out. 'You can't—'
    'We can,' the captain growled.
    'At least unchain him!'
    'Not a chance, Torvald.' The captain grabbed a passing sailor by the arm. 'Find everything this giant owned – all that stuff confiscated from the slavemaster. It's all going with him. Hurry, damn you!'
    Chains ripped the seas on all sides close enough to lift spray over the ship, each detonation causing hull, masts and rigging to tremble.
    Karsa stared up at the tumbling stormclouds as the platform was dragged along the rollers, up the ramp.
    'Those chains will sink it!' Torvald said.
    'Maybe, maybe not.'
    'What if it lands wrong way up?'
    'Then he drowns, and Mael can have him.'
    'Karsa! Damn you! Cease playing your game of mindless-ness! Say something!'
    The warrior croaked out two words, but the noise that came from his lips was unintelligible even to him.
    'What did he say?' the captain demanded.
    'I don't know!' Torvald screamed. 'Karsa, damn you, try again!'
    He did, yielding the same guttural noise. He began repeating the same two words, over and over again, as the sailors pushed and pulled the platform up onto the gunnel until it was balanced precariously, half over the deck, half over the sea.
    Directly above them, as he uttered his two words once more, Karsa watched the last patch of clear sky vanish, like the closing of a tunnel mouth. A sudden plunge into darkness, and Karsa knew it was too late, even as, in the sudden terror-stricken silence, his words came out clear and audible.
    'Go away.'
    From overhead, chains snapped down, massive, plunging, reaching directly for – it seemed – Karsa's own chest.
    A blinding flash, a detonation, the splintering crackle of masts toppling, spars and rigging crashing down. The entire ship was falling away beneath Karsa, beneath the platform itself, which slid wildly down the length of the gunnel before crunching against the foredeck railing, pivoting, then plunging for the