A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

seen
Redmask's weapons. 'You are him,' he whispered. 'You have
returned to the Awl'dan.'
    'Which clan is this?'
    'Redmask,' the war leader said, gesturing behind him.
'This clan . . . it is yours . . .'
    Receiving naught but silence from the mounted warrior,
Masarch added, 'We, we are all that remain. There are no
shouldermen, Redmask. No witches.' He waved out
towards the flanking herds. 'These beasts you see here, they
are all that's left.' He hesitated, then straightened once
more. 'Redmask, you have returned . . . for nothing. You do
not speak, and this tells me that you see the truth of things.
Great Warrior, you are too late .'
    Even to this, Redmask was silent. He slowly dismounted.
The dogs, which had continued their trepid circling, tails
ducked, either picked up a fresh scent or heard something
from the gloom beyond, for they suddenly broke and pelted
back down the slope, disappearing into the camp. That
panic seemed to ripple through the warriors facing him, but
none fled, despite the fear and confusion gripping their
expressions.
    Licking his lips, Masarch said, 'Redmask, the Letherii are
destroying us. Outrider camps have been ambushed, set
upon and slaughtered, the herds stolen away. The Aendinar
clan is no more. Sevond and Niritha remnants crawled to
the Ganetok – only the Ganetok remains strong, for they
are furthest east and, cowards that they are, they made pact
with foreigners—'
    'Foreigners.' Redmask's eyes narrowed in their slits.
'Mercenaries.'
    Masarch nodded. 'There was a great battle, four seasons
past, and those foreigners were destroyed.' He made a
gesture. 'The Grey Sorcery.'
    'Did not the victorious Letherii then march on the
Ganetok camps?'
    'No, Redmask, too few remained – the foreigners fought
well.'
    'Masarch,' he said, 'I do not understand. Did not the
Ganetok fight alongside their mercenaries?'
    The youth spat. 'Their war leader gathered from the
clans fifteen thousand warriors. When the Letherii arrived,
he fled, and the warriors followed. They abandoned the
foreigners! Left them to slaughter!'
    'Settle the camp below,' Redmask said. He pointed to the
warriors standing behind Masarch. 'Stand first watch
along this ridge line, here and to the west. I am now war
leader to the Renfayar clan. Masarch, where hides the
Ganetok?'
    'Seven days to the east. They now hold the last great
herd of the Awl.'
    'Masarch, do you challenge my right to be war leader?'
    The youth shook his head. 'You are Redmask. The Elders
among the Renfayar who were your enemies are all dead.
Their sons are dead.'
    'How many warriors remain among the Renfayar?'
    Masarch frowned, then gestured. 'You have met us, War
Leader.'
    'Six.'
    A nod.
    Redmask noted a lone dray dog sitting at the edge of the
camp. It seemed to be watching him. He raised his left
hand and the beast lunged into motion. The huge animal,
a male, reached him moments later, dropping onto its chest
and settling its wide, scarred head between Redmask's feet.
He reached down and touched its snout – a gesture that, for
most, would have risked fingers. The dog made no move.
    Masarch was staring down at it with wide eyes. 'A lone
survivor,' he said, 'from an outrider camp. It would not let
us approach.'
    'The foreigners,' Redmask said quietly, 'did they possess
wardogs?'
    'No. But they were sworn followers of the Wolves of War,
and indeed, War Leader, it seemed those treacherous, foul
beasts tracked them – always at a distance, yet in vast
numbers. Until the Ganetok Elders invoked magic and
drove them all away.' Masarch hesitated, then said,
'Redmask, the war leader among the Ganetok—'
    Unseen behind the mask, a slow smile formed. 'Firstborn
son of Capalah. Hadralt.'
    'How did you know?'
    'Tomorrow, Masarch, we drive the herds east – to the
Ganetok. I would know more of those hapless foreigners
who chose to fight for us. To die for the people of the
Awl'dan.'
    'We are to crawl to the Ganetok as did the Sevond and
the Niritha?'
    'You are starving. The herds are too weakened. I lead six
youths none of whom has passed the death night. Shall the
seven of us ride to war against the Letherii?'
    Though young, it was clear that Masarch was no fool.
'You shall challenge Hadralt? Redmask, your warriors – we,
we will all die. We are not enough to meet the hundreds of
challenges that will be flung at us, and once we are dead,
you will have to face those challenges, long before you are
deemed worthy to cross weapons with Hadralt himself.'
    'You will not