A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Soliel, we're now going to your temple.
Boil, where in the Abyss is your horse?'
    Straightening, the girl looked back up the street. 'My
sister's death approaches,' she said.
    The captain followed her gaze. And saw the first of the
Deragoth.
    Oh, I started all this, didn't I?
    Behind them the temple shook to a massive, wallcracking
concussion.
    'Time to go!'
     
    Quick Ben grasped his sister by the hood of her robe, began
dragging her towards the back of the chamber, already
realizing it was pointless. The Hounds had come for him,
and he was in a chamber suffused with otataral.
    Shadowthrone never played fair, and the wizard had to
admit he'd been outwitted this time. And this time's about to
be my last —
    He heard claws rushing closer down the hallway and
looked up—
     
    Brokeface stared at the charging beast. A demon. A thing
of beauty, of purity. And for him, there was nothing else,
nothing left. Yes, let beauty slay me.
    He stepped into the creature's path—
    And was shouldered aside, hard enough to crack his head
against the wall, momentarily stunning him. He lost his
footing and fell on his backside – darkness, swirling,
billowing shadows—
    Even as the demon loomed above him, he saw another
figure, lithe, clothed entirely in black, knife-blades slashing
out, cutting deep along the beast's right shoulder.
    The demon shrieked – pain, outrage – as, skidding, it
twisted round to face this new attacker.
    Who was no longer there, who was somehow now on its
opposite side, limbs weaving, every motion strangely
blurred to Brokeface's wide, staring eyes. The knives licked
out once more. Flinching back, the demon came up against
the wall opposite, ember eyes flaring.
    From down the hallway, more demons were approaching,
yet slowing their ferocious pace, claws clattering—
    As the figure moved suddenly among them. The gleam
of the blades, now red, seemed to dance in the air, here,
there, wheeling motion from the figure, arms writhing like
serpents; and with matching grace, he saw a foot lash out,
connect with a beast's head – which was as big as a horse's,
only wider – and that head snapped round at the impact,
shoulders following, then torso, twisting round in strange
elegance as the entire demon was lifted into the air, backend
now vertical, head down, in time to meet the side
wall.
    Where bricks exploded, the wall crumpling, caving in to
some room beyond, the demon's body following into the
cloud of dust.
    Wild, crowded confusion in the hallway, and suddenly
the figure stood motionless at Brokeface's side, daggers still
out, dripping blood.
    A woman, black-haired, now blocking the doorway.
    Skittering sounds along the tiles, and he looked down to
see two small, bird-like skeletons flanking her. Their snouts
were open and hissing sounds emerged from those empty
throats. Spiny tails lashed back and forth. One darted
forward, a single hop, head dipping—
    And the gathered demons flinched back.
    Another reptilian hiss, this one louder – coming from a
creature trapped in one demon's jaws. Brokeface saw in its
terrible eyes a deathly fear, rising to panic—
    The woman spoke quietly, clearly addressing Brokeface:
'Follow the wizard and his sister – they found a bolt-hole
behind the dais – enough time, I think, to make good their
escape. And yours, if you go now.'
    'I don't want to,' he said, unable to keep from weeping.
'I just want to die.'
    That turned her gaze from the demons facing her.
    He looked up into exquisite, elongated eyes, black as
ebony. And in her face, there was no mirror, no twist of
revulsion. No, naught but a simple regard, and then, something
that might have been ... sorrow.
    'Go to the Temple of Soliel,' she said.
    'She is ever turned away—'
    'Not today she isn't. Not with Ganoes Paran holding her
by the scruff of her neck. Go. Be healed.'
    This was impossible, but how could he deny her?
    'Hurry, I don't know how Curdle and Telorast are
managing this threat, and there's no telling how long it will
last—'
    Even as she said those words, a bellowing roar came from
further down the hallway, and the demons bunched close
before the threshold, yelping in desperate frenzy.
    'That's it,' she murmured, lifting her knives.
    Brokeface leapt to his feet and ran into the altar
chamber.
     
    Disbelief. Quick Ben could not understand what had held
the Hounds up – he'd caught sounds, of fighting, fierce,
snapping snarls, squeals of pain, and in one glance back,
moments before carrying