The Crippled God

here, if not some curse that I be made to witness my failure? Onos Toolan, friend. Brother. I will not await you at the Gates – my shame is too great . He drew up his reins. I will not see you die. I am sorry. I am a coward – but I will not see you die . It was time to leave. He swung his mount round.
    And stopped.
    On the high ridge before him was an army, mounted on lifeless war-horses.
    Bridgeburners .
    Seeing Whiskeyjack at the centre, Toc kicked his mount into a canter, and the beast tackled the hillside, hoofs carving the broken ground.
    ‘Will you just watch this?’ he cried as his horse scrabbled up on to the ridge. He drove his charger towards Whiskeyjack, reined in at the last moment.
    The old soldier’s empty eyes were seemingly fixed on the scene below, as if he had not heard Toc’s words.
    ‘I beg you!’ pleaded Toc, frantic – the anguish and frustration moments from tearing him apart. ‘I know – I am not a Bridgeburner – I know that ! But as a fellow Malazan, please! Whiskeyjack – don’t let him die! ’
    The lifeless face swung round. The empty eyes regarded him.
    Toc could feel himself collapsing inside. He opened his mouth, to speak one more time, to plead with all he had left—
    Whiskeyjack spoke, in a tone of faint surprise. ‘Toc Younger. Did you truly imagine that we would say no ?’
    And he raised one gauntleted hand, the two soldiers of his own squad drawing up around him – Mallet on his left, Trotts on his right.
    When he threw that hand forward, the massed army of Bridgeburners surged on to the hillside, lunged like an avalanche – sweeping past Toc, driving his own horse round, shoving it forward.
    And one last time, the Bridgeburners advanced to do battle.
    The thunderous concussion of the god’s death had driven Torrent’s horse down to the ground, throwing the young warrior from the saddle. As he lay stunned, he heard the thumping of the animal’s hoofs as it scrambled back upright and then fled northward, away from the maelstrom.
    And then the rain slammed down, and out over the rising ice beyond the headland he could hear shattering detonations as the ice fields buckled. Whirling storms of snow and sleet lifted from the cliffside, spun crimson twisters – and the ground beneath him shifted, slumped seaward.
    All madness! The world is not like this . Torrent struggled to his feet, looked across to where the children huddled together in terror. He staggered towards them. ‘Listen to me! Run inland – do you hear me? Inland and away from here!’
    Frozen blood slashed down from the sky. Behind him, the wind brought close the sound of laughter from Olar Ethil. Glancing back, he saw that she was facing the Spire.
    Absi suddenly wailed.
    Storii cried, ‘Don’t leave us, Torrent! You promised!’
    ‘I will catch you up!’
    ‘Torrent!’
    ‘ Just run! ’
    Taking up Absi in her thin arms, Stavi plucked at her sister’s filthy tunic. And then they were on their way, vanishing in moments as the red sleet intensified, flinging curtains down that rolled deeper inland, one after another.
    Turning to the east, Torrent stared in astonishment. The entire edge of the headland now sloped steeply towards the bay – but ice was rising beyond that edge, now level with the top of the cliff. Off to his right, the Spire was engulfed in the downpour.
    Hearing the witch’s laughter again, he looked across to where Olar Ethil stood.
    But the ancient hag was no more – a young woman stood in the deluge. ‘ Reborn! ’ she shrieked. ‘ My kin – all reborn! I shall lead them – we shall rise again! ’ She spun to face Torrent, blood like paint on herbold features, and then her head darted like a bird’s. ‘Where are they? Where are the children! My gifts to him – and I will give him more! More children! We shall rule together – the Bonecaster and the First Sword – where are they? ’
    Torrent stared at her, and then, slipping treacherously on the icy ground, he collected up his bow and quiver. ‘They slid,’ he said. ‘They panicked – went down the slope. Down on to the ice – I couldn’t reach them—’
    ‘ You fool! ’
    When she ran towards the ice field, Torrent followed.
    The frozen blood lacerated his face as the wind howled up from the bay. One forearm held up to shield his eyes, he stumbled after Olar Ethil.
    You will give him more ? Is that what all this was about? You love him? You took his life and made him a thing of skin and bones – you