A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

their wake, sprinting to catch up.
    The wagons plunged straight into the face of the
Crimson Rampant heavy infantry.
    Armoured bodies cartwheeled above the press as the
entire saw-tooth formation was torn apart – and now the
bare-chested fanatics riding those wagons launched themselves
out to all sides, screaming like demons.
    The three wedges facing the heavy infantry then thrust
into the chaotic wake, delivering frenzied slaughter.
    Bivatt stared, disbelieving, then snapped, 'Artisan heavy,
advance down at the double, crescent, and prepare to cover
the retreat.'
    The aide beside her stared. 'Retreat, Atri-Preda?'
    'You heard me! Signal general withdrawal and sound the
Crimson Rampant to retreat! Quickly, before every
damned one of them is butchered!'
    Will Redmask follow? Oh, I'll lose heavily if he does – but I'll also hit back hard – on the plain. I'll see his bones burst into flames —
    She heard more wagons, this time to her right. My other advance – 'Sound general withdrawal!'
    Horns blared.
    Shouts behind her. 'Attack on the baggage camp!
Attack—'
    'Quiet! Do you think the Edur cannot deal with that?'
    She prayed Brohl Handar could. Without supplies this
campaign was over. Without supplies, we'll never make it back to Drene. Errant fend, I have been outwitted at every turn —
    And now the sound behind her was rising to challenge
that in the valley below. With sick dread, she tugged her
horse round and rode back, past the signallers' platform.
    Her remaining reserve units had all wheeled round,
reversing their facing. Seeing an officer riding between two
of the squares, Bivatt spurred to catch him.
    'What in the Errant's name is happening over there?' she
demanded. Distant screams, the reek of smoke, thunder—
    The helmed head swung round, the face beneath it pale.
'Demons, Atri-Preda! The mages pursue them—'
    ' They what? Recall them, damn you! Recall them now! '
    Brohl Handar sat astride his horse in the company of eight
Arapay war leaders, four warlocks and the Den-Ratha
K'risnan. The two thousand foot soldiers – Tiste Edur
warriors, categorized in Letherii military terms as medium
to light infantry – were arranged into eight distinct blocks,
fully caparisoned in armour and awaiting the word to
march.
    The supply train's camp was sprawled on a broad, mostly
level hill fifteen hundred paces to the west, the corralled
beasts of burden milling beneath dust and slowly drifting
dung-smoke. The Overseer could see hospital tents rising
along the near side, the canvas sides bright in the morning
light. Above another hill, north of the train's camp,
wheeled two hawks or perhaps eagles. The sky was
otherwise empty, a span of deep blue slowly paling as the
sun climbed higher.
    Butterflies flitted among small yellow flowers – their
wings matched precisely the colour of the petals, Brohl
realized, surprised that he had not noted such a detail
before. Nature understands disguise and deceit. Nature reminds us what it is to survive. The Tiste Edur had well grasped
those truths – grey as the shadows from which they had
been born; grey as the boles of the trees in the murky forests
of this world; grey as the shrouds of dusk.
    'What have we forgotten?' he murmured.
    An Arapay war leader – a Preda – turned his helmed
head, the scarred face beneath its jutting rim hidden
in shadow. 'Overseer? We are positioned as you
commanded—'
    'Never mind,' Brohl Handar cut in, inexplicably irritated
by the veteran's attention. 'What is the guard at the camp?'
    'Four hundred mixed infantry,' the warrior replied, then
shrugged. 'These Letherii are ever confident.'
    'Comes with overwhelming superiority,' another Arapay
drawled.
    The first Preda nodded. 'I do well recall, old friend, the
surprise on their faces the day we shattered them outside
Letheras. As if, all at once, the world revealed itself to be
other than what they had always believed. That look – it
was disbelief .' The warrior grunted a laugh. 'Too busy with
their denial to adapt when it was needed most.'
    'Enough of this,' Brohl Handar snapped. 'The Atri-Preda's forces have engaged the Awl – can you not hear?'
He twisted on his saddle and squinted eastward. 'See the
dust.' He was silent for a dozen heartbeats, then he turned
to the first Arapay Preda. 'Take two cohorts to the camp.
Four hundred Letherii are not enough.'
    'Overseer, what if we are called on to reinforce the
Atri-Preda?'
    'If we are, then this day is lost. I have given you