A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

'This has been happening often of late.
You do not remember me, do you, Icarium?'
    'I – I am not sure. A companion ...'
    'Yes. For many years now. Your companion. Taralack
Veed, once of the Gral Tribe, yet now sworn to a much
higher cause.'
    'And that is?'
    'To walk at your side, Icarium.'
    The Jhag stared down at the cup in his hands. 'For many
years now, you say,' he whispered. 'A higher cause ... that
I do not understand. I am ... nothing. No-one. I am
lost—' He looked up. 'I am lost,' he repeated. 'I know
nothing of a higher cause, such that would make you abandon
your people. To walk at my side, Taralack Veed. Why?'
    The Gral spat on his palms, rubbed them together, then
slicked his hair back. 'You are the greatest warrior this
world has ever seen. Yet cursed. To be, as you say, forever
lost. And that is why you must have a companion, to recall
to you the great task that awaits you.'
    'And what task is this?'
    Taralack Veed rose. 'You will know when the time
comes. This task shall be made plain, so plain to you, and
so perfect, you will know that you have been fashioned –
from the very start – to give answer. Would that I could be
more helpful, Icarium.'
    The Jhag's gaze scanned their small encampment. 'Ah, I
see you have retrieved my bow and sword.'
    'I have. Are you mended enough to travel?'
    'Yes, I think so. Although ... hungry.'
    'I have smoked meat in my pack. The very hare you
killed three days ago. We can eat as we walk.'
    Icarium climbed to his feet. 'Yes. I do feel some urgency.
As if, as if I have been looking for something.' He smiled at
the Gral. 'Perhaps my own past ...'
    'When you discover what you seek, my friend, all knowledge
of your past will return to you. So it is prophesied.'
    'Ah. Well then, friend Veed, have we a direction in
mind?'
    Taralack gathered his gear. 'North, and west. We are
seeking the wild coast, opposite the island of Sepik.'
    'Do you recall why?'
    'Instinct, you said. A sense that you are ... compelled.
Trust those instincts, Icarium, as you have in the past. They
will guide us through, no matter who or what stands in our
way.'
    'Why should anyone stand in our way?' The Jhag
strapped on his sword, then retrieved the cup and downed
the last of the herbal tea.
    'You have enemies, Icarium. Even now, we are being
hunted, and that is why we can delay here no longer.'
    Collecting his bow, then stepping close to hand the Gral
the empty tin cup, Icarium paused, then said, 'You stood
guard over me, Taralack Veed. I feel ... I feel I do not
deserve such loyalty.'
    'It is no great burden, Icarium. True, I miss my wife, my
children. My tribe. But there can be no stepping aside from
this responsibility. I do what I must. You are chosen by all
the gods, Icarium, to free the world of a great evil, and I
know in my heart that you will not fail.'
    The Jhag warrior sighed. 'Would that I shared your faith
in my abilities, Taralack Veed.'
    'E'napatha N'apur – does that name stir your memories?'
    Frowning, Icarium shook his head.
    'A city of evil,' Taralack explained. 'Four thousand years
ago – with one like me standing at your side – you drew
your fearsome sword and walked towards its barred gates.
Five days, Icarium. Five days. That is what it took you to
slaughter the tyrant and every soldier in that city.'
    A look of horror on the Jhag's face. 'I – I did what?'
    'You understood the necessity, Icarium, as you always do
when faced with such evil. You understood, too, that none
could be permitted to carry with them the memory of that
city. And why it was necessary to then slay every man,
woman and child in E'napatha N'apur. To leave none
breathing.'
    'No. I would not have. Taralack, no, please – there is no
necessity so terrible that could compel me to commit such
slaughter—'
    'Ah, dear companion,' said Taralack Veed, with great
sorrow. 'This is the battle you must always wage, and this is
why one such as myself must be at your side. To hold you to
the truth of the world, the truth of your own soul. You
are the Slayer, Icarium. You walk the Blood Road, but it is
a straight and true road. The coldest justice, yet a pure one.
So pure even you recoil from it.' He settled a hand on the
Jhag's shoulder. 'Come, we can speak more of it as we
travel. I have spoken these words many, many times, my
friend, and each time you are the same, wishing with all
your heart that you could flee from yourself, from who and
what you are. Alas, you cannot, and so you must, once
more, learn to