A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

row, launching
himself forward, through the air, onto an angled roof
that exploded with guano dust as he struck it, scrambling
along the incline, two long strides taking him to the peak,
then down the other side—
    And onto the wild maze, the crackled, disjointed back of
the vast Mouse—
    Claws, crouched and waiting, lunged in from all sides.
Big, the biggest assassins Kalam had seen yet, each wielding
long-knives in both hands. Fast, like vipers, lashing out.
    Kalam did not slow down – he needed to push right
through them, he needed to keep going – he caught
weapons against his own, felt blade edges gouge tracks
along his armour, links parting, and one point, thrust hard,
sank deep into his left thigh, twisting, cutting in an upward
motion – snarling, he writhed in the midst of the flashing
weapons, wrapped an arm about the man's face and head,
then, as he pushed through with all his strength, he pulled
that head in a twisting wrench, hearing the vertebrae pop.
Kalam half-dragged the flopping corpse by its wobbly head,
into his wake, where he dropped it.
    A long-knife from the right slashed into the side of his
head, slicing down to sever his ear. He counter-thrust and
felt his weapon skid along chain.
    Hood take them! Someone used me to make more of me —
    Continuing down, to the edge, Kalam then launched
himself through the air, over the gap of an alley. He landed,
pitching and rolling, on the flat roof of a sagging tenement,
centuries old, the surface beneath him layered with the
gravel of broken pottery. Multiple impacts followed,
trembling along the rooftop, as his hunters came after him.
Two, five, seven—
    Kalam regained his feet and turned, at bay, as nine
assassins, spread into a half-circle, rushed him.
    Nine Kalams against one.
    Hardly.
    He surged forward, straight ahead, to the centre of that
half-circle. The man before him raised his weapons in
alarm, caught by surprise. He managed to parry twice with
one long-knife, once with the other as he desperately backpedalled,
before Kalam's succession of attacks broke
through. A blade sinking into the man's chest, impaling his
heart, the second one stabbing beneath the jaw-line, then
twisting upward and pushing hard into the brain.
    Using both jammed weapons, Kalam yanked the man
around, into the path of two more Claws, then he tore free
his long-knives and charged into one flank of attackers
with blinding speed. A blade-edge sliced into his left calf
from one of the pursuers – not deep enough to slow him
down – as he feinted low at the Claw closest to him, then
thrust high with his other weapon – into the eye socket of
the man a step beyond the first assassin. The long-knife
jammed. Releasing his grip, Kalam dipped a shoulder and
flung himself into the midsection of the next attacker. The
impact jolted through his bones – this Hood-cursed bastard's
huge – yet he sank even lower, his freed arm sliding up
between the man's legs, up behind. Blades tore down along
his back, links popping like ticks on hot stones, and he felt
the Claw seeking to shift the angle of those weapons, to
push them inward – as, legs bunching beneath him, Kalam
then heaved the hunter upward, off his feet – up,
Kalam loosing a roar that tore the lining of his throat, using
his weapon-hand to grasp the front of the man's shirt – up
– and over.
    Legs kicking, the Claw's head pitched forward, colliding
with the chest of a pursuing assassin. Both went down.
Kalam leapt after them, pounding an elbow into the forehead
of the second Claw – collapsing it like a melon husk
–while he sank his remaining long-knife into the back of
the first man's neck.
    A blade jammed into his right thigh, the point bursting
through the other side. Kalam twisted fast to pull the
weapon from the attacker's hand, drew both legs up as he
rolled onto his back, then kicked hard into the Claw's belly,
sending the figure flying. Another long-knife thrust at his
face – he flung up a forearm and blocked the weapon,
brought his hand round and grasped the Claw's wrist,
pulled him closer and gutted him with his own long-knife,
the intestines spilling out to land in Kalam's lap.
    Scrambling upright, he pulled out the weapon impaling
his thigh – in time to parry a slash with it, then, backing
away – his slashed and punctured legs almost failing
beneath him – he fell into a sustained defence. Three
hunters faced him, with the one he had kicked now regaining
his feet, slowly, struggling to draw