A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Ahlrada Ahn stood, frozen in place, watching,
disbelieving.
    Trull Sengar fought a frantic defence with his spear, as
weapons slashed and thrust at him from both Saur and
Kholb. They were forcing him back – and Ahlrada Ahn
could see, could understand – Trull was seeking to protect
these children – the ones behind him—
    Edur screams – the two T'lan Imass were pushing forward
in counter-attack, one to either side, and it seemed nothing
could stop them.
    Yet still he stood, and then, with a brutal, hoarse cry, he
sprang forward.
     
    Trull Sengar knew these two warriors. He could see the
hatred in their eyes, felt their fury in the weight of their
blows as they sought to batter through his guard – he could
not hold them much longer. And when he fell, he knew the
pitifully young soldiers behind would come face to face
with these Edur killers.
    Where was Apt? Why was Minala holding the demon
back – what more could assail them?
    Someone else was shouting his name now, from among the
packed Edur. A name voiced, not in rage, but in anguish – but
Trull had no time to look, no time even to wonder – Kholb
had laid a blade along his left wrist, opening the flesh wide,
and blood was streaming along the underneath of that forearm,
seeping into the hand's grip on the shaft.
    Not much longer. They've improved, the both of them —
    He then saw a Merude cutlass slash inward from behind
Kholb, taking the warrior solidly in the neck, through –
and Kholb Harat's head rolled on its side, tumbled down.
The body wavered a moment, then crumpled.
    A snarling curse from Saur Bathrada, who spun round,
stabbing low, his sword digging deep into the newcomer's
right thigh—
    And Trull lunged, sinking the point of his spear into
Saur's forehead, just beneath the rim of the helmet. And
saw, with horror, both of the warrior's eyes leap from their
sockets as if on strings as the head pitched back.
    Trull dragged his weapon free as an Edur staggered into
him, gasping, 'Trull! Trull Sengar!'
    'Ahlrada?'
    The warrior twisted round, raising both cutlasses. 'I fight
at your side, Trull! Amends – please, I beg you!'
    Amends? 'I don't understand – but I do not doubt.
Welcome—'
    A sound was building in Trull's head, seeming to assail
him from every direction. He saw a child clamp hands to
ears off to his left, then another one—
    'Trull Sengar! It is the Jhag! Sisters take us, he is coming!'
    Who? What?
    What is that sound?
     
    Onrack the Broken saw the Jhag, felt the power growing
in the figure that staggered forward as if drunk, and
the T'lan Imass moved into his path. Is this their leader?
Jaghut blood, yes. Oh, how the old bitterness and fury rises
again —
    The Jhag suddenly straightened, raising his sword, and
the high-pitched moaning burgeoned with physical force,
pummelling Onrack back a step, and the T'lan Imass saw,
at last, the Jhag's eyes.
    Flat, lifeless, then seeming to light, all at once, with a
dreadful rage.
    The tall, olive-hued warrior surged at him, weapon flashing
with blinding speed.
    Onrack caught that blade on his sword, slashed high in
riposte, intending to take off the Jhag's head – and, impossibly,
that sword was there to meet his own, with a force
that rocked the T'lan Imass. A hand punched outward,
caught the undead warrior on the chest, lifting him clear
from the rock floor—
    A heavy crash against a wall, ribs splintering. Sliding
down, Onrack landed on his feet, crouching to gather himself,
then he launched himself forward once more—
    The Jhag was moving past, straight for Minala's
front line of young soldiers, the keening sound now
deafening—
    Onrack collided with the half-blood, indurate bone and
the weight of a mule behind the force hammering into the
Jhag's midsection.
    And the T'lan Imass was thrown back, thumping hard to
the floor.
    His target had been staggered as well, and Onrack saw its
bared teeth as it whirled and, shimmering fast, closed on
the undead warrior – before he could even rise – that free
hand snapping down, fingers pushing through thick,
desiccated hide, wrapping round his sternum, lifting
Onrack into the air, then flinging the T'lan Imass away –
into the wall once again, this time with a force that
shattered both bone and the stone flank of the fissure.
    Onrack crumpled in a heap, amidst shards of rock, and
did not move.
    But the Jhag had been turned round by the effort, and
now faced a mass of Tiste Edur and Letherii.
     
    Trull Sengar saw the green-skinned