A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

Torvald quickly resupplied the dory, then pushed out from the ship's hull, the Teblor at the oars. Within moments the ship was lost from sight, and around them the rain slackened. Five sweeps of the oars and they were out from beneath it entirely, once again on gently heaving seas under a pallid sky. The strange coastline was visible ahead, slowly drawing closer.
     
    On the forecastle of the massive ship, moments after the dory with its two passengers slipped behind the screen of muddy rain, seven almost insubstantial figures rose from the slime. Shattered bones, gaping wounds bleeding nothing, the figures weaved uncertainly in the gloom, as if barely able to maintain their grip on the scene they had entered.
    One of them hissed with anger. 'Each time we seek to draw the knot right—'
    'He cuts it,' another finished in a wry, bitter tone.
    A third one stepped down to the mizzen deck, kicked desultorily at a discarded sword. 'The failure belonged to the Tiste Edur,' this one pronounced in a rasping voice. 'If punishment must be enacted, it should be in answer to their arrogance.'
    'Not for us to demand,' the first speaker snapped. 'We are not the masters in this scheme—'
    'Nor are the Tiste Edur!'
    'Even so, and we are each given particular tasks. Karsa Orlong survives still, and he must be our only concern—'
    'He begins to know doubts.'
    'None the less, his journey continues. It falls to us, now, with what little power we are able to extend, to direct his path onward.'
    'We've had scant success thus far!'
    'Untrue. The Shattered Warren stirs awake once more. The broken heart of the First Empire begins to bleed – less
than a trickle at the moment, but soon it will become a flood. We need only set our chosen warrior upon the proper current
    'And is that within our power, limited as it still remains?'
    'Let us find out. Begin the preparations. Ber'ok, scatter that handful of otataral dust in the cabin – the Tiste Edur sorcerer's warren remains open and, in this place, it will quickly become a wound ... a growing wound. The time has not yet come for such unveilings.'
    The speaker then lifted its mangled head and seemed to sniff the air. 'We must work quickly,' it announced after a moment. 'I believe we are being hunted.'
    The remaining six turned to face the speaker, who nodded in answer to their silent question. 'Yes. There are kin upon our trail.'
     
    The wreckage of an entire land had drawn up alongside the massive stone wall. Uprooted trees, rough-hewn logs, planks, shingles and pieces of wagons and carts were visible amidst the detritus. The verges were thick with matted grasses and rotted leaves, forming a broad plain that twisted, rose and fell on the waves. The wall was barely visible in places, so high was the flotsam, and the level of the water beneath it.
    Torvald Nom was positioned at the bow whilst Karsa rowed. 'I don't know how we'll get to that wall,' the Daru said. 'You'd better back the oars now, friend, lest we ground ourselves on that mess – there's catfish about.'
    Karsa slowed the dory. They drifted, the hull nudging the carpet of flotsam. After a few moments it became apparent that there was a current, pulling their craft along the edge.
    'Well,' Torvald muttered, 'that's a first for this sea. Do you think this is some sort of tide?'
    'No,' Karsa replied, his gaze tracking the strange shoreline in the direction of the current. 'It is a breach in the wall.'
    'Oh. Can you see where?'
    'Yes, I think so.'
    The current was tugging them along faster, now.
    Karsa continued, 'There is an indentation in the shoreline, and many trees and logs jammed where the wall should be – can you not hear the roar?'
    'Aye, now I can.' Tension rode the Daru's words. He straightened at the bow. 'I see it. Karsa, we'd better—'
    'Yes, it is best we avoid this.' The Teblor repositioned himself at the oars. He drew the dory away from the verge. The hull tugged sluggishly beneath them, began twisting. Karsa leaned his weight into each sweep, struggling to regain control. The water swirled around them.
    'Karsa!' Torvald shouted. 'There's people – near the breach! I see a wrecked boat!'
    The breach was on the Teblor's left as he pulled the dory across the current. He looked to where Torvald was pointing, and, after a moment, he bared his teeth. 'The slavemaster and his men.'
    'They're waving us over.'
    Karsa ceased sweeping with his left oar. 'We cannot defeat this current,' he announced, swinging the craft