House of Chains

L’oric listened to the man moaning.

Chains snaked over the fallen body of the goddess, until nothing visible was left of her, the black iron links heaped and glistening.

Whatever high wind had lashed the treetops now fell away, leaving only silence.

They all wanted this shattered warren. This fraught prize. But Toblakai killed Febryl. He killed the two Deragoth.

He killed Bidithal.

And as for Korbolo Dom-something tells me the Empress will soon speak to him in person. The poor bastard.

Beneath the High Mage, his lifeblood soaked the moss.

It came to him, then, that he was dying.

Twigs snapped nearby.

‘I’m hardly surprised. You sent your familiar away, didn’t you? Again.’

L’oric twisted his head around, stared upward, and managed a weak smile. ‘Father.’

‘I don’t think much has changed in your room, son, since you left it.’

‘Dusty, I would think.’

Osric grunted. ‘The entire keep is that, I would hazard. Haven’t been there in centuries.’

‘No servants?’

‘I dismissed them… about a thousand years ago.’

L’oric sighed. ‘I’d be surprised if the place is still standing.’

Osric slowly crouched down beside his son, the sorcerous glow of Denul now surrounding him. ‘Oh, it still stands, son. I always keep my options open. An ugly cut you have there. Best healed slowly.’

L’oric closed his eyes. ‘My old bed?’

‘Aye.’

‘It’s too short. It was when I left, anyway.’

‘Too bad he didn’t cut off your feet, then, L’oric.’

Strong arms reached under him and he was lifted effortlessly.

Absurdly-for a man my age-he felt at peace. In his father’s arms.

‘Now,’ Osric said, ‘how in Hood’s name do we get out of here?’

The moment passed.

She stumbled, barely managing to right herself. Behind the iron mesh, she blinked against the hot, close air. All at once, the armour seemed immeasurably heavy. A surge of panic-the sun was roasting her alive beneath these plates of metal.

Sha’ik halted. Struggled to regain control of herself.

Myself. Gods below… she is gone.

She stood alone in the basin. From the ridge opposite a lone figure was descending the slope. Tall, unhurried, the gait achingly familiar.

The ridge behind Tavore, and those on every battered island of ancient coral, was now lined with soldiers.

The Army of the Apocalypse was watching as well, Sha’ik suspected, though she did not turn about.

She is gone. I have been… abandoned.

I was Sha’ik, once. Now, I am Felisin once more. And here, walking towards me, is the one who betrayed me. My sister.

She remembered watching Tavore and Ganoes playing with wooden swords. Begi

No chance, in fact, for much of anything that could now return to her, memories warm and trusting and reassuring.

Instead, Tavore had dismembered their family. And for Felisin, the horrors of slavery and the mines.

But blood is the chain that can never break.

Tavore was now twenty strides away. Drawing out her otataral sword.

And, though we leave the house of our birth, it never leaves us.

Sha’ik could feel the weight of her own weapon, dragging hard enough to make her wrist ache. She did not recall unsheathing it.

Beyond the mesh and through the slits of the visor, Tavore strode ever closer, neither speeding up nor slowing.

No catching up. No falling back. How could there be? We are ever the same years apart. The chain never draws taut. Never slackens. Its length is prescribed. But its weight, oh, its weight ever varies.

She was lithe, light on her feet, achingly economical. She was, for this moment, perfect.

But, for me, the blood is heavy. So heavy.

And Felisin struggled against it-that sudden, overwhelming weight. Struggled to raise her arms-unthinking of how that motion would be received.

Tavore, it’s all right-

A thunderous clang, a reverberation jolting up her right arm, and the sword’s enervating weight was suddenly gone from her hand.

Then something punched into her chest, a stu

Felisin looked down to see that rust-hued blade impaling her.

Her legs gave way and the sword suddenly bowed to her weight.

But she did not slide off that length of stained iron.

Her body held on to it, releasing only in shuddering increments as Felisin fell back, onto the ground.

Through the visor’s slit, she stared up at her sister, a figure standing behind a web of black, twisted iron wire that now rested cool over her eyes, tickling her lashes.

A figure who now stepped closer. To set one boot down hard on her chest-a weight that, now that it had arrived, seemed eternal-and dragged the sword free.

Blood.

Of course. This is how you break an unbreakable chain.

By dying.

I just wanted to know, Tavore, why you did it. And why you did not love me, when I loved you. I-I think that’s what I wanted to know.

The boot lifted from her chest. But she could still feel its weight.

Heavy. So very heavy…

Oh, Mother, look at us now.

Karsa Orlong’s hand snapped out, caught Leoman before the man fell, then dragged him close. ‘Hear me, friend. She is dead. Take your tribes and get out of here.’

Leoman lifted a hand and passed it across his eyes. Then he straightened. ‘Dead, yes. I’m sorry, Toblakai. It wasn’t that. She’-his face twisted-‘she did not know how to fight.’

‘True, she did not. And now she’s dead, and the Whirlwind Goddess with her. It is done, friend. We have lost.’

‘More than you know,’ Leoman groaned, pulling away.

In the basin below, the Adjunct was staring down at Sha’ik’s corpse. From both armies lining the ridges, silence. Karsa frowned. ‘The Malazans do not cheer.’

‘No,’ Leoman snarled, turning to where Corabb waited with the horses. ‘They probably hate the bitch. We ride to Y’Ghatan, Toblakai-’

‘Not me,’ Karsa growled.

His friend paused and then nodded without turning around, and vaulted onto his horse. He took the reins from Corabb then glanced over at Toblakai. ‘Fare well, my friend.’

‘And you, Leoman of the Flails.’

‘If L’oric returns from wherever he went, tell him…’ His voice trailed away, then he shrugged. ‘Take care of him if he needs help.’

‘I shall, but I do not think we will see him again.’

Leoman nodded. Then he said to Corabb, ‘Tell the warchiefs to scatter with their tribes. Out of Raraku as fast as they can manage it-’

‘Out of the Holy Desert, Leoman?’ Corabb asked.

‘Can’t you hear it? Never mind. Yes. Out. Rejoin me on the western road-the ancient one that runs straight.’

Corabb saluted, then pulled his horse round and rode off.

‘You too, Toblakai. Out of Raraku-’

‘I will,’ Karsa replied, ‘when I am done here, Leoman. Now, go-officers are riding to the Adjunct. They will follow with an attack-’

‘Then they’re fools,’ Leoman spat.

Karsa watched his friend ride off. Then strode to his own mount. He was tired. His wounds hurt. But some issues remained unsettled, and he needed to take care of that.