A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

piece of your hide,
Redmask. They deserve no less in answer to your words.
    You seek to take my place? You seek to lead? Lead . . . these cowards ? You have learned nothing in your exile. Not a
warrior here will follow you now, Redmask. Not one.'
    'You hired an army,' Redmask said, unable to keep the
contempt from his tone. 'You marched at their sides against
the Letherii. And then, when the battle was offered and
your new-found allies were engaged – fighting for you – you
all fled. Cowards? That is too kind a word. In my eyes,
Hadralt, you and your people are not Awl, not any more,
for no true Awl warrior would do such a thing. I came upon
their bodies. I was witness to your betrayal. The truth is
this. When I am war leader here, before this day's sun
touches the horizon, it will fall to every warrior present to
prove his worth, to earn the right to follow me. And I shall
not be easy to convince. Copper paint on the faces of
cowards – no greater insult could you have delivered to
me.'
    'Climb down,' Hadralt said in a rasp. 'Down off that
Letherii nag. Climb down, Redmask, to meet your end.'
    Instead he drew out a hollowed rodara horn and lifted it
to his lips. The piercing blast silenced all in the encampment
except for the dogs, which began a mournful howling
in answer. Redmask replaced the horn at his belt. 'It is the
way of time,' he said, loud enough for his voice to carry, 'for
old enemies to find peace in the passing of ages. We have
fought many wars, yet it was the first that holds still in the
memory of the Awl, here in this very earth.' He paused, for
he could feel the reverberation beneath him – as did others
now – as the two K'Chain Che'Malle approached in answer
to his call. 'Hadralt, son of Capalah, you are about to stand
alone, and you and I shall draw our weapons. Prepare
yourself.'
    From the ridge, where stood the modest line of Renfayar
warriors, six in all, two other shapes loomed into view,
huge, towering. Then, in liquid motion, the pair flowed
down the slope.
    Silence hung heavy, beyond the thump of taloned feet,
and hands that had rested on the grips and pommels of
weapons slowly fell away.
    'My champions,' said Redmask. 'They are ready for your
challengers, Hadralt. For your copper-faces.'
    The war leader said nothing, and Redmask could see in
the warrior's expression that he would not risk losing the
force of his words, when his commands were disobeyed – as
they would be, a truth of which all who were present were
now aware. Destiny awaited, then, in this solitary clash of
wills.
    Hadralt licked his lips. 'Redmask, when I have killed
you, what then of these Kechra?'
    Making no reply, Redmask dismounted, walking to halt
six paces in front of Hadralt. He unlimbered the rygtha
crescent axe and centred his grip on the hafted weapon.
'Your father is gone. You must now let go of his hand and
stand alone, Hadralt. The first and last time. You have
failed as war leader. You led Awl warriors to battle, then led
them in flight. You betrayed allies. And now, you hide here
on the very edge of the wastelands, rather than meet the
invading Letherii blade to blade, teeth to throat. You will
now step aside, or die.'
    'Step aside?' Hadralt tilted his head, then managed a
rictus smile. 'That choice is not offered to an Awl warrior.'
    'True,' Redmask said. 'Only to elders who can no longer
defend themselves, or to those too broken by wounds.'
    Hadralt bared his teeth. 'I am neither.'
    'Nor are you an Awl warrior. Did your father step aside?
No, I see that he did not. He looked into your soul, and
knew you, Hadralt. And so, old as he was, he fought you.
    For his tribe. For his honour.'
    Hadralt unsheathed his hook-blades. He was trembling
once more.
    One of the copper-faces then spoke. 'Capalah ate in the
hut of his son. In a single night he sickened and died. In
the morning, his face was the colour of blue lichen.'
    'Trenys'galah?' Redmask's eyes narrowed in the mask's
slits. 'You poisoned your father, Hadralt? Rather than meet
his blades? How is it you stand here at all?'
    'Poison has no name,' muttered the same copper-face.
    Hadralt said, 'I am the reason the Awl still live! You will
lead them to slaughter, Redmask! We are not yet ready to
face the Letherii. I have been trading for weapons – yes,
there are Letherii who believe our cause is just. We give up
poor land, and receive fine iron weapons – and now you
come, to undo all my plans!'
    'I see those weapons,' Redmask said. 'In the hands