A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

my
order.'
    A nod, and the Preda spurred his horse towards the
arrayed Edur warriors.
    Brohl Handar studied the K'risnan at his side for a
moment. The bent creature sat hunched in his saddle like
a bloated crow. He was hooded, no doubt to hide the
twisted ravaging of his once-handsome features. A chief 's
son, transformed into a ghastly icon of the chaotic power
before which the Tiste Edur now knelt. He saw the figure
twitch. 'What assails you?' the Overseer demanded.
    'Something, nothing.' The reply was guttural, the words
misshaped by a malformed throat. It was the sound of pain,
enduring and unyielding.
    'Which?'
    Another twitch, passing, Brohl realized, for a shrug.
'Footfalls on dead land.'
    'An Awl war-party?'
    'No.' The hooded head pivoted until the shadow-swallowed
face was directed at the Overseer. 'Heavier.'
    All at once Brohl Handar recalled the enormous taloned
tracks found at the destroyed homestead. He straightened,
one hand reaching for the Arapay scimitar at his side.
'Where? Which direction?'
    A long pause, then the K'risnan pointed with a clawed
hand.
    Towards the supply camp.
    Where sudden screams erupted.
    'Cohorts at the double!' Brohl Handar bellowed.
'K'risnan, you and your warlocks – with me!' With that he
spurred his horse, kicking the startled beast into a canter,
then a gallop.
    Ahead, he saw, the Arapay Preda who had been escorting
the two cohorts had already commanded them into a
half-jog. The warrior's helmed head turned and tracked the
Overseer and his cadre of mages as they pounded past.
    Ahead, the braying of terrified oxen and mules rose,
mournful and helpless, above the sounds of slaughter. Tents
had gone down, guide-ropes whipping into the air, and
Brohl saw figures now, fleeing the camp, pelting
northward—
    —where a perfect Awl ambush awaited them. Rising
from the high grasses. Arrows, javelins, sleeting through
the air. Bodies sprawling, tumbling, then the savages, loosing
war-cries, rushing to close with spears, axes and swords.
    Nothing to be done for them – poor bastards. We need to save our supplies.
    They reached the faint slope and rode hard towards the
row of hospital tents.
    The beast that burst into view directly before them was
indeed a demon – an image that closed like talons in his
mind – the shock of recognition. Our ancient enemy – it must be – the Edur cannot forget –
    Head thrust forward on a sinuous neck, broad jaw open
to reveal dagger fangs. Massive shoulders behind the neck,
long heavily muscled arms with huge curved blades of iron
strapped where hands should have been. Leaning far forward
as it ran towards them on enormous hind legs, the
huge tail thrust straight back for balance, the beast was
suddenly in their midst.
    Horses screamed. Brohl found himself to the demon's
right, almost within reach of those scything sword blades,
and he stared in horror as that viper's head snapped forward,
jaws closing on the neck of a horse, closing,
crunching, then tearing loose, blood spraying, its mouth
still filled with meat and bone, the horse's spine half
ripping loose from the horrid gap left in the wake of those
savage jaws. A blade cut in half the warlock astride that
mount. The other sword slashed down, chopping through
another warlock's thigh, the saddle, then deep into the
horse's shoulder, smashing scapula, then ribs. The beast
collapsed beneath the blow, as the rider – the severed
stump of his leg gushing blood – pitched over, balanced for
a moment on the one stirrup, then sprawled to land on the
ground, even as another horse's stamping hoof descended
onto his upturned face.
    The Overseer's horse seemed to collide with something,
snapping both front legs. The animal's plunging fall threw
Brohl over its head. He struck, rolled, the scimitar's blade
biting into his left leg, and came to a stop facing his thrashing
mount. The demon's tail had swept into and through
their path.
    He saw it wheel for a return attack.
    A foaming wave of sorcery rose into its path, lifting,
climbing with power.
    The demon vanished from Brohl's view behind that
churning wave.
    Sun's light suddenly blotted—
    —the demon in the air, arcing over the crest of the
K'risnan's magic, then down, the talons of its hind feet outstretched.
One closing on another warlock, pushing the
head down at an impossible angle into the cup between
the man's shoulders as the demon's weight descended – the
horse crumpling beneath that overwhelming force, legs
snapping like twigs. The