A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

'The sorcery's effects linger.'
    He looked up, met those eyes – and saw sorrow there,
    the first emotion yet to be revealed from the man. 'I would help you bury—'
    'I need no help. It will not be the first time I have buried companions. Go. Take her.'
    He lifted her in his arms. Her thrashing stilled and she sighed as if sinking into deep, peaceful sleep. Then he stood studying Traveller for a moment.
    The man turned away. 'Thank your god, mortal,' he growled, his back still to Cutter, 'for the sword ...'
     
    An elongated mass of the stone floor had fallen away, down to the black rushing water of the subterranean river. Athwart the gaping hole lay a bundle of spears, around which was tied a rope that reached down into the water, snaking about as the current tugged at it. The air of the rough-hewn chamber was chill and damp.
    Kalam crouched at the edge and studied the swirling water below for a long moment.
    'The well,' Sergeant Cord said from where he stood beside the assassin.
    Kalam grunted, then asked, 'What in Hood's name inspired the captain and lieutenant to climb down there?'
    'If you look long enough, with the torches gone from this room, you'll see a glow. There's something lying on the bottom, maybe twice a man's height in depth.'
    'Something?'
    'Looks like a man... all in armour. Lying spread-eagled.'
    'So take the torches out. I want to see this.'
    'Did you say something, Corporal? Your demon friend has disappeared, remember – vanished.'
    Kalam sighed. 'Demons will do that, and in this case you should be thankful for that. Right now, Sergeant, I am of the opinion that you've all been cooped up in this mountain for far too long. I'm thinking maybe you've lost your minds. And I have also reconsidered your words about my position in your company, and I've reached a decision and it's this.' He turned his head and fixed his gaze on Cord's eyes. 'I'm not in your company, Cord. I'm a Bridgeburner. You're Ashok Regiment. And if that's not enough for you, I am resurrecting my old status ... as a Claw, a Leader of a Hand. And as such, I'm only outranked in the field by Clawmaster Topper, the Adjunct, and the Empress herself. Now, take the damned torches out of here!'
    Cord suddenly smiled. 'You want to take command of this company? Fine, you can have it. Though we want to deal with Irriz ourselves.' He reached up to collect the first of the sputtering torches on the wall behind him.
    The sudden alteration of attitude from Cord startled Kalam, then filled him with suspicion. Until I sleep, that is. Gods below, I was far better off on my own. Where did that damned demon go, anyway? 'And when you've done that, Sergeant, head back up to the others and begin preparations – we're leaving this place.'
    'What about the captain and the lieutenant?'
    'What about them? They were swept away and they either drowned or were sprung loose in some watering hole. Either way, they're not with us now, and I doubt they're coming back—'
    'You don't know that—'
    'They've been gone too long, Cord. If they didn't drown they would have had to reach the surface somewhere close. You can hold your breath only so long. Now, enough with this discussion – get going.'
    'Aye ... sir.'
    A torch in each hand, Cord headed up the stairs.
    Darkness swiftly engulfed the chamber.
    Kalam waited for his eyes to adjust, listening to the sergeant's bootsteps growing ever fainter.
    And there, finally, far below, the glowing figure, indistinct, rippling beneath the rushing water.
    The assassin retrieved the rope and coiled it to one side. About twenty arm-lengths had been played out, but the bundle of spears held a lot more. Then he pried a large chunk of stone from the ragged edge and tied the sodden, icy-cold end of the rope to it.
    With Oponn's luck, the rock was sufficiently heavy to sink more or less straight down. He checked the knots once more, then pushed it from the ledge.
    It plummeted, dragging the coiled rope down with it. The spears clacked tight, and Kalam peered down. The stone was suspended the full length of the rope – a distance that Kalam, and, no doubt, the captain and the lieutenant, had judged sufficient to make contact with the figure. But it hadn't, though it looked close. Meaning he's a big bastard. All right . . . let's see how big. He grasped the spears and began lifting and rolling the bundle, playing out ever greater lengths.
    A pause to study the stone's progress, then more playing out of rope.
    It finally reached