A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

long-lived people who now kneel before short-term interests—'
    'If you find that unusual,' the T'lan Imass muttered, 'then it follows that the one behind the veil has need for you only in the short term – if indeed that hidden power is manipulating the Tiste Edur.'
    'An interesting thought. You may well be right. The question then is, once that short-term objective is reached, what will happen to my people?'
    'Things that outlive their usefulness are discarded,' Onrack replied.
    'Abandoned. Yes—'
    'Unless, of course,' the T'lan Imass went on, 'they would then pose a threat to one who had so exploited them. If so, then the answer would be to annihilate them once they are no longer useful.'
    'There is the unpleasant ring of truth to your words, Onrack.'
    'I am generally unpleasant, Trull Sengar.'
    'So I am learning. You say the souls of two Hounds are imprisoned within these – which ones again?'
    'We now walk between them.'
    'What are they doing here, I wonder?'
    'The stone has been shaped to encompass them, Trull Sengar. No-one asks the spirit or the god, when the icon is fashioned, if it wishes entrapment. Do they? The need to make such vessels is a mortal's need. That one can rest eyes on the thing one worships is an assertion of control at worst, or at best the illusion that one can negotiate over one's own fate.'
    'And you find such notions suitably pathetic, Onrack?'
    'I find most notions pathetic, Trull Sengar.'
    'Are these beasts trapped for eternity, do you think? Is this where they go when they are destroyed?'
    Onrack shrugged. 'I have no patience with these games. You possess your own knowledge and suspicions, yet would not speak them. Instead, you seek to discover what I know, and what I sense of these snared spirits. I care nothing for the fate either way of these Hounds of Shadow. Indeed, I find it unfortunate that – if these two were slain in some other realm and so have ended up here – there are but five remaining, for that diminishes my chances of killing one myself. And I think I would enjoy killing a Hound of Shadow.'
    The Tiste Edur's laugh was harsh. 'Well, I won't deny that confidence counts for a lot. Even so, Onrack of the Logros, I do not think you would walk away from a violent encounter with a Hound.'
    The T'lan Imass halted and swung towards Trull Sengar. 'There is stone, and there is stone.'
    'I am afraid I do not understand—'
    In answer, Onrack unsheathed his obsidian sword. He strode up to the nearer of the two statues. The creature's forepaw was itself taller than the T'lan Imass. He raised his weapon two-handed, then swung a blow against the dark, unweathered stone.
    An ear-piercing crack ripped the air.
    Onrack staggered, head tilting back as fissures shot up through the enormous edifice.
    It seemed to shiver, then exploded into a towering cloud of dust.
    Yelling, Trull Sengar leapt back, scrambling as the billowing dust rolled outward to engulf him.
    The cloud hissed around Onrack. He righted himself, then dropped into a fighting stance as a darker shape appeared through the swirling grey haze.
    A second concussion thundered – this time behind the T'lan Imass – as the other statue exploded. Darkness descended as the twin clouds blotted out the sky, closing the horizons to no more than a dozen paces on all sides.
    The beast that emerged before Onrack was as tall at the shoulder as Trull Sengar's full height. Its hide was colourless, and its eyes burned black. A broad, flat head, small ears . . .
    Faint through the grey gloom, something of the two suns' light, and that reflected from the moons, reached down – to cast beneath the Hound a score of shadows.
    The beast bared fangs the size of tusks, lips peeling back in a silent snarl that revealed blood-red gums.
    The Hound attacked.
    Onrack's blade was a midnight blur, flashing to kiss the creature's thick, muscled neck – but the swing cut only dusty air. The T'lan Imass felt enormous jaws close about his chest. He was yanked from his feet. Bones splintered. A savage shake that ripped the sword from his hands, then he was sailing through the grainy gloom—
    To be caught with a grinding snap by a second pair of jaws.
    The bones of his left arm shattered into a score of pieces within its taut hide of withered skin, then it was torn entirely from his body.
    Another crunching shake, then he was thrown into the air once more. To crash in a splintered heap
on the ground, where he rolled once, then was still.
    There was