A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

pushed himself forward, into the
void—
    —and stumbled onto crackling loam, the air sweet with
forest scents. As with the world they had just left, it was
late afternoon. Continuing to move forward, Ahlrada Ahn
looked around. They were alone, unopposed.
    He heard Icarium ask, 'Where are we?'
    And the Arapay warlock turned. 'Drift Avalii, warrior.
Where resides the Throne of Shadow.'
    'And who guards it?' Taralack Veed demanded. 'Where is
this fierce enemy of yours?'
    Sathbaro Rangar lifted his head, as if sniffing the air,
then he grunted in surprise. 'The demons have fled. They
have fled! Why? Why did they yield us the throne? After
all those battles? I do not understand.'
    Ahlrada Ahn glanced over at Icarium. Demons ...
fleeing.
    'I do not understand this,' the warlock said again.
    Perhaps I do. Oh Sisters, who now walks among us?
    He was startled, then, by a faint whispering sound, and
he whirled, weapons lifting.
    But it was naught but an owl, gliding away down the
wide path before them.
    He saw a flicker of motion among the humus, and the
raptor's talons snapped down. The owl then flapped upward
once more, a tiny broken form clutched in its reptilian grip.
    'No matter,' the Arapay warlock was saying. 'Let us go
claim our throne.' And he set off, hobbling, dragging one
bent leg, down the trail.
     
    Baffled, Taralack Veed faced Icarium. 'What do you sense?
Of this place?'
    The eyes that regarded him were flat. 'The Shadow
demons left with our arrival. There was ... someone ... a
man, but he too is gone. Some time past. He is the one I
would have faced.'
    'Skilled enough to unleash you, Icarium?'
    'Skilled enough, perhaps, to kill me, Taralack Veed.'
    'Impossible.'
    'Nothing is impossible,' Icarium said.
    They set off after the half-dozen Edur who had hastened
ahead to join Sathbaro Rangar.
    Fifteen paces down the path they came upon the first
signs of past battle. Bloated bodies of dead aptorians and
azalan demons. They would not have fallen easily, Taralack
Veed knew. He had heard of egregious losses among the
Edur and, especially, the Letherii. Those bodies had been
recovered.
    A short distance beyond rose the walls of an overgrown
courtyard. The gate had been shattered. Icarium trailing a
step behind, Taralack Veed followed the others into the
compound, then the Jhag reached out and halted the Gral.
    'No further.'
    'What?'
    There was an odd expression on Icarium's face. 'There is
no need.'
     
    Ahlrada Ahn, along with Saur and Kholb, accompanied
the Arapay warlock into the shadowy, refuse-filled chamber
of the throne room. The Seat of Shadow, the soul of Kurald
Emurlahn, the throne that needed to be claimed, before the
sundered realm could be returned to what it once was, a
warren whole, seething with power.
    Perhaps, with this, Rhulad could break the —
    Sathbaro Rangar cried out, a terrible sound, and he
staggered.
    Ahlrada Ahn's thoughts fell away. He stared.
    The Throne of Shadow, there on a raised dais at the far
end of the room ...
    It has been destroyed.
    Smashed to pieces, the black wood splintered to reveal
its blood-red heartwood. The demons yielded us ... nothing.
The Throne of Kurald Emurlahn is lost to us.
    The warlock was on his knees, shrieking at the stained
ceiling. Saur and Kholb stood, weapons out, yet seemingly
frozen in place.
    Ahlrada Ahn strode up to Sathbaro Rangar and grasped
the warlock by the collar, then pulled him onto his feet.
'Enough of this,' he said. 'Gather yourself. We may be done
here, but we are not done – you know this. The warriors
will be thirsting for slaughter, now. You must return to the
gate – there is another throne to be won, and those defending
it will not flee as these ones have done here. Attend to
yourself, Sathbaro Rangar!'
    'Yes,' the warlock gasped, tugging free from Ahlrada
Ahn's grip. 'Yes, you speak truth, warrior. Slaughter, yes,
that is what is needed. Come, let us depart – ah, in the
name of Father Bloodeye, let us leave this place!'
     
    'They return,' Taralack Veed said, as the Tiste Edur reappeared
at the entrance to the temple. 'The warlock, he
looks ... aggrieved. What has happened?'
    Icarium said nothing, but something glittered in his eyes.
    'Jhag,' snarled Sathbaro Rangar as he limped past, 'gather
yourself. A true battle awaits us.'
    Confusion among the ranks of Edur, words exchanged,
then an outcry, curses, bellows of fury. The anger spread
out, a wildfire suddenly eager to devour all that would dare
oppose it. Wheeling about,