A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

out beneath it.
    Karsa made no effort to pull away from the beast seeking to chew off his lower leg. Instead, he pushed himself upright on his one free leg and lunged into the hound. Arms wrapping around the rippling body behind the shoulders.
    With a bellow, the Teblor lifted the hound. Hind legs kicked in wild panic, but he was already wrenching the entire beast over.
    The jaws were torn loose even as Karsa drove the creature down onto its back.
    Flagstones cracked with explosions of dust.
    The Teblor then sank to his knees, straddling the writhing hound, and closed both hands around its throat.
    A snarling frenzy answered him.
    Canines ripped into his forearms, the jaws gnawed frantically, chewing free chunks of skin and flesh.
    Karsa released one hand and pushed it against the hound's lower jaw.
    Muscles contracted as two unhuman strengths collided.
    Legs scored Karsa's body, the claws tearing through leathers and into flesh, but the Teblor continued pushing. Harder and harder, his other hand edging up to join in the effort.
    The kicks went wild. Panicked.
    Karsa both felt and heard a grinding pop, then the flat head of the hound cracked against the flagstones.
    A strange keening sound twisted out from the throat.
    And the warrior pulled his right hand back, closed it into a fist, and drove it down into the animal's throat.
    Crushing trachea.
    The legs spasmed and went limp.
    With a roar, Karsa reared upright, dragging the hound by its neck, then hammering it down once more. A loud snap, a spray of blood and saliva.
    He straightened, shook himself, his mane raining blood and sweat, then swung his gaze to where the other hound had been.
    Only a blood trail remained.
    Karsa staggered over to his sword, retrieved it, then set off on that glistening path.
     
    Kalam and Quick Ben slowly rose from behind the wall and stared in silence after the giant warrior.
    Shadows had begun swarming in the darkness. They gathered like capemoths to the carcass of the Deragoth, then sped away again as if in terror.
    Kalam rolled his shoulders, then, long-knives in his hands, he approached the hound.
    Quick Ben followed.
    They studied the mangled carcass.
    'Wizard...'
    'Aye?'
    'Let's drop off the Napan and get out of here.'
    'A brilliant plan.'
    'I just thought it up.'
    'I like it very much. Well done, Kalam.'
    'Like I've always told you, Quick, I ain't just a pretty face.'
    The two swung about and, ignoring the shadows pouring out of the burgeoning shattered warren of Kurald Emurlahn, returned to where they had left Korbolo Dom.
     
    'Friend?'
    Heboric stared at the four-eyed, squat demon that had leapt onto the path in front of him. 'If we'd met, demon, I'm sure I would have remembered it.'
    'Helpful explanation. Brother to L'oric. He lies in clearing twelve paces to your left. Hesitant revision. Fifteen paces. Your legs are nearly as short as mine.'
    'Take me to him.'
    The demon did not move. 'Friend?'
    'More or less. We share certain flaws.'
    The creature shrugged. ' With reservations. Follow.'
    Heboric set off into the petrified forest after the shambling demon, his smile broadening as it prattled on.
    'A priest with the hands of a tiger. Sometimes. Other times, human hands glowing depthless green. Impressed. Those tattoos, very fine indeed. Musing. I would have trouble tearing out your throat, I think. Even driven by hunger, as I always am. Thoughtful. A fell night, this one. Ghosts, assassins, warrens, silent battles. Does no-one in this world ever sleep?'
    They stumbled into a small clearing.
    L'oric's armour was stained with drying blood, but he looked well enough, seated cross-legged, his eyes closed, his breathing steady. On the dusty ground before him lay a spread of the Deck of Dragons.
    Grunting, Heboric settled down opposite the High Mage. 'Didn't know you played with those.'
    'I never do,' L'oric replied in a murmur. 'Play, that is. A Master has come to the Deck, and that Master has just sanctioned the House of Chains.'
    Heboric's eyes widened. Then narrowed, and he slowly nodded. 'Let the gods rail, he or she had to do just that.'
    'I know. The Crippled God is now as bound as is every other god.'
    'In the game, aye, after so long outside it. I wonder if he'll one day come to regret his gambit.'
    'He seeks this fragment of Kurald Emurlahn, and is poised to strike, though his chances are less now than they were at sunset.'
    'How so?'
    'Bidithal is dead.'
    'Good. Who?'
    'Toblakai.'
    'Oh. Not good.'
    'Yet Toblakai has