A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

friend.'
    Leoman studied the old warrior for a time, then he nodded. 'Until Y'Ghatan, then, Mathok.'
    'You ride to Sha'ik?'
    'I must.'
    'Tell her—'
    'I will.'
    Mathok nodded, unmindful of the tears glistening down his lined cheeks. He straightened suddenly in his saddle. 'Dryjhna once belonged to us, Leoman. To the tribes of this desert. The Book's prophecies were sewn to a far older skin. The Book was in truth naught but a history, a telling of apocalyptic events survived – not of those to come—'
    'I know, my friend. Guard well the Book, and go in peace.'
    Mathok wheeled his horse to face the west trail. An angry gesture and his riders followed as he rode into the gloom.
    Leoman stared after them for a long moment.
    Howls shattered the night.
    Corabb saw his commander suddenly bare his teeth as he glared into the darkness ahead. Like two beasts about to come face to face. Spirits below, what awaits us?
    'Weapons!' Leoman snarled.
    The company thundered forward, along the trail Corabb had now traversed what seemed countless times.
    The closer they drew to the oasis, the more muted the sound of their passage, as if the darkness was devouring all sound. Those howls had not been repeated, and Corabb was beginning to wonder if they had been real at all. Perhaps not a mortal throat at all. An illusion, a cry to freeze all in their tracks —
    The vanguard entered a defile and suddenly quarrels sprouted from riders and horses. Screams, toppling warriors, stumbling horses. From further back in the column, the clash of swords and shields.
    Dogslayers!
    Somehow, Corabb and his horse found themselves plunging clear. A figure darted close to his left and he shrieked, raising his weapon.
    'It's me, damn you!'
    'Leoman!'
    His commander's horse had been killed beneath him. He reached up.
    Corabb clasped Leoman's arm and vaulted him onto his horse's back.
    'Ride, Bhilan! Ride!'
     
    Black-armoured horse warriors plunged through the low wall, massive axes whirling in their gauntleted hands.
    Quick Ben yelped and dived for cover.
    Cursing, Kalam followed, Korbolo Dom's bound body bouncing on his shoulders. He flung himself down beside the wizard as hoofs flashed over them, raining sand and bits of mortar.
    Then the heavy cavalry was past.
    Kalam pushed the Napan off his back and twisted onto his side to glare at Quick Ben. 'Who in Hood's name were those bastards?'
    'We'd best lie low for a time,' the wizard muttered with a grimace, rubbing grit from his eyes. 'Raraku's unleashed her ghosts—'
    'And are they the ones singing? Those voices are right inside my head—'
    'Mine, too, friend. Tell me, had any conversations with a Tanno Spiritwalker lately?'
    'A what? No. Why?'
    'Because that is what you're hearing. If it was a song woven around these ancient ghosts we're seeing, well, we'd not be hearing it. In fact, we'd not be hearing much of anything at all. And we'd have been chopped into tiny pieces by now. Kalam, that Tanno song belongs to the Bridgeburners.'
    What?
    'Makes you wonder about cause and effect, doesn't it? A Tanno stole our tale and fashioned a song – but for that song to have any effect, the Bridgeburners had to die. As a company. And now it has. Barring you and me—'
    'And Fiddler. Wait! Fid mentioned something about a Spiritwalker in Ehrlitan.'
    'It would have had to have been direct contact. A clasping of hands, an embrace, or a kiss—'
    'That bastard sapper – I remember he was damned cagey about something. A kiss? Remind me to give Fiddler a kiss next time I see him, one he'll never forget—'
    'Whoever it was and however it happened,' Quick Ben said, 'the Bridgeburners have now ascended—'
    'Ascended? What in the Queen's name does that mean?'
    'Damned if I know, Kalam. I've never heard of such a thing before. A whole company – there's no precedent for this, none at all.'
    'Except maybe the T'lan Imass.'
    The wizard's dark eyes narrowed on his friend. 'An interesting thought,' he murmured. Then sighed. 'In any case, Raraku's ghosts have risen on that song. Risen ... to battle. But there's more – I swear I saw a Wickan standard back near the Dogslayer trenches just as we were hightailing it out of there.'
    'Well, maybe Tavore's taken advantage of all this—'
    'Tavore knows nothing of it, Kalam. She carries an otataral sword, after all. Maybe the mages she has with her sense something, but the darkness that's descended on this oasis is obscuring everything.'
    Kalam grunted. 'Any other good news to