The Crippled God

Otataral knife? Why should that be a problem?’
    Quick Ben shrugged. ‘How does one make Otataral?’
    ‘No idea.’
    ‘Of course you haven’t!’ the wizard snapped. ‘You make it by pouring as much magic into one place at one time as you possibly can, and if you’re lucky a threshold is crossed – a firestorm that burns everything out, making—’
    ‘Otataral.’
    ‘Will you stop interrupting me? My point is, what happens when ten thousand dragons and a few hundred Elder Gods decide to get together and do the same thing?’
    ‘Otataral Island? Off Seven Cities? No wonder there’s so much—’
    ‘Be quiet! No. Not Otataral Island – that was just some localizedscrap a million or so years ago. No. What you get, Kalam, is an Otataral Dragon.’
    ‘Hood take me – wait, don’t tell me they went and did that?’
    ‘Fine, I won’t. But that’s still not the point, Kalam.’
    ‘So what is the point, Quick Ben?’
    ‘Only that the dragon’s free and it’s headed this way and, most important, it can smell Otataral. So, every time you use it— Aack! ’
    Kalam had his hands round the wizard’s throat. He dragged his friend close. ‘Hedge was right about you,’ he whispered, as Quick Ben’s eyes bulged and his face darkened. ‘You’re insane, and worse, you think it’s funny!’ Feeble hands clawed at Kalam’s wrists. Snarling, the assassin flung Quick Ben away.
    Staggering, the wizard fell to his knees, coughing, gasping to draw breath.
    Three soldiers came running up, but Kalam held out a hand to halt them. ‘Return to your ranks. He’ll live, and if I kick him while he’s down, it’ll only be once or twice.’ Seeing the look in their eyes, the assassin snorted. ‘Aye, he’s the High Mage. My point exactly. Now,’ his expression hardened, ‘ get lost .’
    The soldiers retreated.
    Kalam turned to glare at Quick Ben. ‘Hedge always kept a sharper back, you know. Had your face painted on it. He used to tell us, if you went and killed him with one of your schemes, with his last act he was going to wing it at the back of your head. You know, I used to think that was a bit extreme.’
    Leaving the gagging man on his hands and knees, Kalam resumed his walk.
    My brother could not have planned for this. To see so much of his work … unravelled. He understood the necessity of balance, but he also understood the wonder that is life itself. No, he could not have meant this to happen . Silchas Ruin glanced over to where Tulas Shorn stood on the bluff’s edge. Escape from death is never the escape you think it is . ‘Would we have done it?’ he called over.
    The undead warrior’s head turned, tilted slightly. ‘We were young. Anything was possible.’
    ‘Then … one of us would have knelt before the body of the other, weeping.’
    ‘That is likely.’
    ‘But now … Tulas, it seems we shall fight side by side, and there will be none to kneel by our bodies, none to weep for us.’
    ‘My Hounds are wandering – I can feel them. Hunting interlopers, dreaming of the chase. They wander the broken fragments of Kurald Emurlahn.’
    Silchas Ruin was silent, wondering where his friend’s thoughts were taking him.
    Tulas Shorn sighed, the breath a long, dry rattle. ‘Do you know what I envy most about my Hounds? Their freedom. Nothing complicated in their lives. No … difficult choices.’
    Nodding, Silchas looked away. ‘We face one now, don’t we?’
    ‘The Eleint will be driven to frenzy. Their entire being will be consumed with the need to kill Korabas – can you not feel it in your own blood, Silchas?’
    Yes .
    Tulas continued, ‘We are left to a matter of faith. I doubt even Anomander could have anticipated that the Elder Gods would be so desperate, so vengeful.’
    ‘And this is what is troubling me,’ Silchas Ruin admitted. ‘We cannot assume that all the Elder Gods acceded to the unchaining of the Otataral Dragon.’
    ‘Does it matter?’
    ‘I’m not sure.’
    Tulas Shorn walked back from the edge. ‘Will any of them regret the annihilation of the gods? I doubt it. Once their children are gone, their resurrection is assured.’
    ‘To inherit what, Tulas?’
    ‘Ah, yes, but they do expect the Eleint to kill Korabas. They require it, in fact.’
    ‘Must we satisfy them?’ Silchas asked.
    Tulas Shorn was silent for a while, and his face taken into death could give no expression, and the eyes were closed doors. ‘My friend, what choice have we? If Korabas survives,