A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

by the Deragoth that had already
arrived – and those last two roars were ... close.
    'Shit.' He could not see Hedge – the last statue, already
riven with impact fissures, suddenly pitched downward as
the munitions at its base exploded.
    'Paran!'
    'All right – open the damned gate!'
    The train of horses reared, then surged forward, slewing
the carriage round as they began a wild descent on the
slope. Swearing, Paran kicked his horse into motion, risking
a final glance back—
    —to see a huge, hump-shouldered beast emerge from the
clouds of dust, its eyes lambent as they fixed on Paran and
the retreating carriage. The Deragoth's massive, broad head
lowered, and it began a savagely fast sprint.
    'Karpolan!'
    The portal opened like a popped blister – watery blood
or some other fluid spraying from its edges – directly in
front of them. A charnel wind battered them. 'Karpolan?
Where—'
    The train of horses, screaming one and all, plunged into
the gate, and a heartbeat later Paran followed. He heard it
sear shut behind him, and then, from all sides – madness.
    Rotted faces, gnawed hands reaching up, long-dead eyes
imploring as decayed mouths opened – 'Take us! Take us
with you!'
    'Don't leave!'
    'He's forgotten us – please, I beg you —'
    'Hood cares nothing —'
    Bony fingers closed on Paran, pulled, tugged, then began
clawing at him. Others had managed to grab hold of projections
on the carriage and were being dragged along.
    The pleas shifted into anger – 'Take us – or we will tear you
to pieces!'
    'Cut them – bite them – tear them apart!'
    Paran struggled to free his right arm, managed to close
his hand on the grip of his sword, then drag it free. He
began flailing the blade on each side.
    The shrieks from the horses were insanity's own voice,
and now shareholders were screaming as well, as they
hacked down at reaching hands and arms.
    Twisting about in his saddle as he chopped at the clawing
limbs, Paran glimpsed a sweeping vista – a plain of
writhing figures, the undead, every face turned now towards
them – undead, in their tens of thousands – undead, so
crowding the land that they could but stand, out to every
horizon, raising now a chorus of despair—
    'Ganath!' Paran roared. 'Get us out of here!'
    A sharp retort, as of cracking ice. Bitter wind swirled
round them, and the ground pitched down on one side.
    Snow, ice, the undead gone.
    Wheeling blue sky. Mountain crags—
    Horses skidding, legs splaying, their screams rising in
pitch. A few animated corpses, flailing about. The carriage,
looming in front of Paran, its back end sliding round.
    They were on a glacier. Skidding, sliding downward at
ever increasing speed.
    Distinctly, Paran heard one of the Pardu shareholders:
'Oh, this is much better.'
    Then, eyes blurring, horse slewing wildly beneath him,
there was only time for the plunging descent – down, it
turned out, an entire mountainside.
    Ice, then snow, then slush, the latter rising like a bow
wave before horses and sideways-descending carriage, rising
and building, slowing them down. All at once, the slush
gave way to mud, then stone—
    Flipping the carriage, the train of horses dragged with it.
    Paran's own mount fared better, managing to angle itself
until it faced downhill, forelegs punching snow and slush,
seeking purchase. At the point it reached the mud, and
having seen what awaited it, the horse simply launched
into a charge. A momentary stumble, then, as the ground
levelled out, it slowed, flanks heaving – and Paran turned
in the saddle, in time to see the huge carriage tumble to a
shattered halt. The bodies of shareholders were sprawled
about, upslope, in the mud, limp and motionless on the
scree of stones, almost indistinguishable from the corpses.
    The train of horses had broken loose, yet all but one were
down, legs kicking amidst a tangle of traces, straps and
buckles.
    Heart still hammering the anvil of his chest, Paran eased
his horse to a stop, turning it to face upslope, then walking
the exhausted, shaky beast back towards the wreckage.
    A few shareholders were picking themselves up here and
there, looking dazed. One began swearing, sagging back
down above a broken leg.
    'Thank you,' croaked a corpse, flopping about in the
mud. 'How much do I owe you?'
    The carriage was on its side. The three wheels that had
clipped the mud and stone had shattered, and two opposite
had not survived the tumbling. Leaving but a single
survivor, spinning like a