Reaper's Gate & Toll the Hounds - By Steven Erikson Page 0,287

ain't the dancing kind. You're as rooted as a tree, and just about as slow, Tarr.'

'I may be slow, Cuttle, but the fools go down eventually, don't they?'

'Oh aye, that they do. Not suggesting otherwise. You're a one-man shield-wall, you are.'

Corporal Stormy was spitting blood. A damned elbow had cracked his mouth, and now two teeth were loose and he'd bitten his tongue. The elbow might have been his own – someone had collided hard with him in the scrap and he'd had his weapon arm lifted high with the sword's point angled downward. Nearly wrenched his shoulder out of its damned socket.

A savage back-swing with the pommel had crunched the attacker's temple and he'd reeled away, one eye half popped out. Shortnose had then cut the Letherii down.

That had been some charge, him and his heavies, Shortnose and the trio of dread ladies each one of whom could both stare down a rutting bhederin bull and beat it into a pulp if it came to that. Making Stormy a very happy sergeant. Bad luck about Sands, though. But we ain't gonna lose any more. Not one. I got my heavies and we can take down whatever they throw at us.

And not just us neither. That Tarr and Koryk . . . Fid's got a good mean pair in those. And that Smiles, she's got the blackrock heart of a Claw. Good squads here, for this kinda work. And now we're gonna turn round and kick 'em dead in the jaw, I can feel it. Fid and Gesler, cooking in Kellanved's old cauldron.

He was delighted the Adjunct had finally cut them loose. In just this way, too. To Hood with damned marching in column. No, cut in fast and low and keep going, aye, and keep their heads spinnin' every which way. So the fools on their trail were coming for them, were they? And why not? Just two puny squads. And them probably in the hundreds by now.

'Kellanved's curse,' he muttered with a grin.

Flashwit's round face loomed into view, 'Say something, Corporal?'

'Malazan marines, my dear, that's us.'

'Not heavies? I thought—'

'You're both, Flash. Relax. It's this, you see – the Malazan marines haven't done what they was trained to do in years, not since before Kellanved died. Trained, y'see. To do exactly what we're doing right now, praise Fener. Them poor bastards Letherii and Edur, gods below, them poor ignorant fools.'

'Smart enough to ambush us,' Uru Hela said from beyond Flashwit.

'Didn't work though, did it?'

'Only because—'

'Enough from you, Uru Hela. I was talking here, right? Your corporal. So just listen.'

'I was just askin'—'

'Another word and you're on report, soldier.'

If she snorted she fast turned it into a cough.

From Gesler up with Fiddler: 'Quiet down there! '

Point proved. Stormy nodded.

Malazan marines. Hah.

Fiddler nodded at the narrow, wending track snaking towards the nearest farmhouse and its meagre outbuildings. 'We jog good and heavy, dragging our wounded, down there. Straight for the farmhouse along that cart path.'

'Like we was still running scared, panicked,' Gesler said. 'Aye. Of course, we got to clear that farmhouse, which means killing civilians, and I have to say, Fid, I don't like that.'

'Maybe we can figure a way round that,' Fiddler replied. 'Bottle?'

'Aye, Sergeant. I'm tired, but I could probably glamour them. Maybe even throw some false ideas in their heads. Like, we went north when we really went south. Like that.'

'Don't ever die on us, Bottle,' Gesler said. To Fiddler, he added, 'I'll go collect munitions from my squad, then.'

'Me and Cuttle,' Fiddler said, nodding again.

'Trip wires?'

'No, it'll be daylight by then. No, we'll do the drum.'

'Hood take me,' Gesler breathed. 'You sure? I mean, I've heard about it—'

'You heard because me and Hedge invented it. And perfected it, more or less.'

'More or less?'

Fiddler shrugged. 'It either works or it doesn't. We've got Bottle's deception, in case it doesn't—'

'But there'll be no coming back to retrieve those cussers, though, will there?'

'Not unless you want to see the bright white light, Gesler.'

'Well,' the amber-hued man said with a grin, 'since there's a chance at seeing the legend come real, with the genius who invented it right here . . . I ain't gonna talk you out of it, Fid.'

'Half the genius, Gesler. Hedge was the other.'

'Second thoughts?'

'Second, ninth and tenth, friend. But we're doing it anyway. When everyone's ready, you lead them ahead, excepting me and Cuttle. To that farmhouse – the near one. I think the far one's abandoned. Could be the owner rebuilt. The fields look