Toll the Hounds

The lance trembled. It was getting too hot to hold, but what else did he have? Some damned daggers-against these things? Gods, what am I even doing here?

But he would stand. He would die here, beside a giant-who was just as doomed. And for what? There is nothing… there is nothing in my life. To explain any of this. He glared at the white Hounds. It’s just a sword. What will you even do with it? Chew the handle? Piss on the blade? He looked across at the huge warrior beside him. ‘What’s your name at least?’

The giant glanced at him. ‘Yes,’ he said with a sharp nod. ‘I am Karsa Orlong of the Teblor. Toblakai. And you?’

‘Crokus. Crokus Younghand.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘I was once a thief.’

‘Be one again,’ said Karsa, teeth bared, ‘and steal me a Hound’s life this night.’

Shit. ‘I’ll try.’

‘That will do,’ the Toblakai replied.

Thirty paces away now. And the white Hounds fa

A gust of charnel wind swept round Cutter; something clattered, rang sharp On cobbles, and then a hand swept down-

The Hounds of Light charged.

As, on the side street to the left, the daughters of Draconus unleashed their warrens in a howling rush of destruction that engulfed the five beasts before them.

Scything blade of notched iron, driving Spi

His blood was draining away from countless wounds. His helm had been bat-tered off, that single blow leaving behind a fractured cheekbone and a deaf ear.

Still he fought on; still he held Kallor before him.

Kallor.

There was no one behind the High King’s eyes. The berserk rage had devoured the ancient warrior. He seemed tireless, an automaton. Spi

Spreading bruises, cracked bones, gaping gouges from which blood welled, soaking his wool gambon, he staggered under the unceasing assault.

It could not last.

It had already lasted beyond all reason.

Spi

But Kallor pressed forward, giving him no distance, and that two-handed sword lashed out yet again.

Spi

The back-slash caught him across his chest.

He was thrown from his feet, landing hard on the slope of the ditch, where he sagged back, blood streaming down his front, and closed his eyes.

Kallor’s rasping breaths drew closer.

Sweat dripped on to Spi

And this alone stayed Kallor’s sword from its closing thrust. Stayed it… for a time.

‘What,’ Kallor asked softly, ‘was the point, Spi

But the fallen warrior did not answer.

‘You could never win. You could never do anything but die here. Tell me, damn you, what was the fucking point?’

The question was a sob, the anguish so raw that Spi

Behind the silhouette with its halo of tangled, sweat-matted hair, the heaving shoulders, he saw Great Ravens, a score or more, flying up from the south.

Closer and closer.

With an effort, Spi

‘He does not deserve you!’

Spi

The High King’s face was ravaged with grief, and all that raged in the ancient man’s eyes-well, none of it belonged. Not to the legend that was Kallor. Not to the nightmares roiling round and round his very name. Not to the lifeless sea of ashes in his wake. No; what Spi

It was, of sorts, a gift.

‘Kallor,’ he said, ‘listen to me. Take this as you will, or not at all. I-I am sorry. That you are driven to this. And… and may you one day show your true self. May you, one day, be redeemed in the eyes of the world.’

Kallor cried out, as if struck, and he staggered back. He recovered with bared teeth. ‘My true self? Oh, you damned fool! You see only what you want to see! In this last moment of your pathetic, useless life! May your soul rage for eternity in the heart of a star, Tiste Andii! May you yearn for what you can never have! For all in-fernal eternity!’

Spi

Kallor’s face looked ready to shatter. He dragged a forearm across his eyes. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Of course not. I will kill you clean. For what you have shown me this night-I have never before faced such a defence.’ And then he paused, edging forward again, his eyes burning in their pits. ‘You had chances, Spi

‘I was not here to do that, Kallor.’

The High King stared, and a glint of comprehension lit in his face. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You only needed to delay me.’

Spi

Kallor snarled. ‘How generous in his mercy is your Lord.’

‘Yes,’ sighed Spi

Silence, then.

Not a sound. A dozen laboured heartbeats. Another dozen. Finally, some odd unease forced Spi

Who stood, head bowed.

‘Yes,’ said Spi

Kallor did not lift his gazc. He did not move at all.

‘And so,’ continued Spi

‘Oh shut up, will you? I am thinking.’

‘About what?’

Kallor met his eyes and bared his teeth. ‘That bastard. The bold, brazen bastard!’

Spi

‘I don’t ever want to see you again, Spi

The Tiste Andii watched him set off then, up the road, to that fair city that even now bled with its own terrible wounds.

Too late to do anything, even if he’d wanted to. But, Spi

Of course, when it came to Kallor, there was no way to know.