A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

.'
    Crone croaked, 'Just heal him and be done with it
– before he gasps out his last breath in front of us!'
    She drew out a quaint flask. 'Endest Silann mixed this
one. It should suffice.' She tugged loose the stopper and
gently set the small bottle's mouth between Spinnock's
lips, and then tilted it to drain the contents, and he felt
that potent liquid slide down his throat. Sudden warmth
flowed through him.
    'Sufficient, anyway, to carry you home.' And she smiled.
    'My last fight in his name,' said Spinnock Durav. 'I did as
he asked, did I not?'
    Her expression tightened, revealed something wan and
ravaged. 'You have much to tell us, brother. So much that
needs . . . explaining.'
    Spinnock glanced at Crone.
    The Great Raven ducked and hopped a few steps away.
'We like our secrets,' she cackled, 'when it's all we have!'
    Korlat brushed his cheek again. 'How long?' she asked.
'How long did you hold him back?'
    'Why,' he replied, 'I lit the torches . . . dusk was just past
. . .'
    Her eyes slowly widened. And she glanced to the east,
where the sky had begun, at last, to lighten.
    'Oh, Spinnock . . .'
    A short time later, when she went to find his sword where it
was lying in the grasses, Spinnock Durav said, 'No, Korlat.
Leave it.'
    She looked at him in surprise.
    But he was not of a mind to explain.
    Above the Gadrobi Hills, Kallor finally managed to drag
free his sword, even as the dragon's massive head swung
down, jaws wide. His thrust sank deep into the soft
throat, just above the jutting avian collar bones. A shrill,
spattering gasp erupted from the Soletaken, and all at once
they were plunging earthward.
    The impact was thunder and snapping bones. The
High King was flung away, tumbling and skidding along
dew-soaked grass. He gained his feet and spun to face the
dragon.
    It had sembled. Orfantal, on his face an expression of
bemused surprise, was struggling to stand. One arm was
broken. Blood gushed down from his neck. He seemed to
have forgotten Kallor, as he turned in the direction of the
road, and slowly walked away.
    Kallor watched.
    Orfantal managed a dozen steps before he fell to the
ground.
    It seemed this was a night for killing Tiste Andii.
    His shoulders were on fire from the dragon's puncture
wounds, which might well have proved fatal to most others,
but Kallor was not like most others. Indeed, the High King
was unique.
    In his ferocity. In his stubborn will to live.
    In the dry furnace heat of the hatred that ever swirled
round him.
    He set out once more for the city.
    As dawn finally parted the night.
    Kallor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    'There is no struggle too vast, no odds too overwhelming,
for even should we fail – should we fall
– we will know that we have lived.'
    Anomander Rake
Son of Darkness
    The continent-sized fragments of the shattered moon
sent reflected sunlight down upon the world. The
fabric of Night, closed so tight about the city of
Black Coral, began at last to fray. The web that was this
knotted manifestation of Kurald Galain withered under
the assault. Shafts broke through and moonlight painted
buildings, domes, towers, walls and the long-dead gardens
they contained. Silvery glow seeped into the dark waters of
the bay, sending creatures plunging to the inky blackness
of the depths.
    New world, young world. So unexpected, so premature,
this rain of death.
    Endest Silann could feel every breach as he knelt on
the cold mosaic floor of the temple's Grand Vestry. He
had once held the waters back from Moon's Spawn. He had
once, long, long ago, guided his Lord to the fateful, final
encounter with Mother Dark herself. He had clasped the
hand of a dying High Priestess, sharing with her the bleak
knowledge that nothing awaited her, nothing at all. He had
stood, gods, so long ago now, staring down at his blood-covered
hands, above the body of a sweet, gentle woman,
Andarist's wife. While through the high window, the
flames of dying Kharkanas flickered crimson and gold.
    The Saelen Gara of the lost Kharkanan forestlands had
believed that the moon was Father Light's sweet seduction,
innocent maiden gift to Mother Dark. To remind her of
his love, there in the sky of night. But then, they had
also believed the moon was but the backside of Father
Light's baleful eye, and could one rise up and wing the
vast distance to that moon, they would discover that it
was but a lens, and to look through was to see other worlds
for whom the moon was not the moon at all, but the sun.
The Saelen Gara