Assail Read online

  About the Book

  Tens of thousands of years of ice is melting, and the land of Assail, long a byword for menace and inaccessibility, is at last yielding its secrets. Tales of gold discovered in the region's north circulate in every waterfront dive and sailor's tavern and now adventurers and fortune-seekers have set sail in search of riches. And all they have to guide them are legends and garbled tales of the dangers that lie in wait - hostile coasts, fields of ice, impassable barriers and strange, terrifying creatures. But all accounts concur that the people of the north meet all trespassers with the sword - and should you make it, beyond are rumoured to lurk Elder monsters out of history's very beginnings.

  Into this turmoil ventures the mercenary company, the Crimson Guard. Not drawn by contract, but by the promise of answers: answers that Shimmer, second in command, feels should not be sought. Also heading north, as part of an uneasy alliance of Malazan fortune-hunters and Letherii soldiery, comes the bard Fisher kel Tath. With him is a Tiste Andii who was found washed ashore and cannot remember his past and yet commands far more power than he really should.

  It is also rumoured that a warrior, bearer of a sword that slays gods and who once fought for the Malazans, is also journeying that way. But far to the south, a woman patiently guards the shore. She awaits both allies and enemies. She is Silverfox, newly incarnate Summoner of the undying army of the T'lan Imass, and she will do anything to stop the renewal of an ages-old crusade that could lay waste to the entire continent and beyond.

  Casting light on mysteries spanning the Malazan empire, and offering a glimpse of the storied and epic history that shaped it, Assail brings the epic story of the Empire of Malaz to a thrilling close.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Dramatis Personae

  Prologue

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Also by Ian C. Esslemont

  Copyright

  This one is for the old gaming gang at the University of Manitoba: Doug and Doug, Jeff, Oliver, Grant, Ron, Martin, Henry, Craig, Laurence, Neil, Shurjeel and Arne.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I wish to offer my gratitude to my advance readers for their observations and comments, Sharon Sasaki and A. P. Canavan. You helped more than you think.

  I give my love to my wife, Gerri Brightwell, without whose support and understanding this novel, and those preceding it, would never have been possible.

  And to you Malaz readers. It has been a privilege to unveil these stories. I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Lady’s Luck

  Kyle

  Given name, Kylarral-ten, of Bael lands, south of Assail

  Tulan Orbed

  Master of the Lady’s Luck

  Reuth

  Ship’s navigator, and Tulan’s nephew

  Storval

  First Mate

  Gren

  Steersman

  In the North

  Orman

  Son of Orman Bregin

  Old Bear

  A legendary man of the mountains

  Keth and Kasson

  The Reddin brothers

  Gerrun

  Also known as Shortshanks

  King Ronal

  Also known as ‘King Ronal the Bastard’

  Lotji Bain

  Nephew of Jorgan Bain

  Of the Iceblood Holdings

  The Sayers

  Buri

  Legendary elder of the clan

  Jaochim

  Master of the clan

  Yrain

  Mistress of the clan

  Vala

  Sister to Yrain

  Jass

  Son of Vala

  Bernal Heavyhand

  A clan retainer, or hearthguard

  The Heels

  Cull Heel

  Also known as Cull the Kind

  Yullveig

  Wife of Cull, also known as Yullveig the Fierce

  Erta

  Daughter of Cull and Yullveig

  Baran

  Son of Cull and Yullveig

  The Overland Raiders

  Marshal Teal

  A Letherii aristocrat

  Enguf the Broad

  A Genabackan pirate

  Malle of Gris

  A Malazan aristocrat

  Holden of Cawn

  A mage of Serc

  Alca of Cat

  A mage of Telas

  The Sea Raiders

  The Sea Strike

  Burl Tardin

  Captain

  Whellen

  First Mate

  Gaff

  Second Mate

  The Silver Dawn

  Jute Hernan

  Captain

  Ieleen

  Navigator, wife of Jute

  Lurjen

  Steersman

  Buen

  First Mate

  Letita

  Master of weapons

  Dulat

  A sailor

  The Resolute

  Tyvar Gendarian

  Commander of the Blue Shields and Mortal Sword of Togg

  Haagen Vantall

  Steward of the Blue Shields

  The Ragstopper

  Cartheron Crust

  Captain

  Orothos

  First Mate

  The Supplicant

  Timmel Orosenn

  Also known as the Primogenitrix, ruler of the island of Umryg

  Velmar

  Priest and servant to Lady Orosenn

  The T’lan Imass

  The Kerluhm

  Ut’el Anag

  Lanas Tog Bonecaster

  The Ifayle

  Tolb Bell’al

  Bonecaster

  The Kron

  Pran Chole

  Bonecaster

  The Crimson Guard

  K’azz D’Avore

  Commander

  Shimmer

  Second-in-command

  Blues

  New captain of the Second Company

  Bars

  Also known as ‘Iron Bars’, formerly of the Fourth Company

  Cowl

  High Mage and Master Assassin

  Gwynn

  A mage

  Petal

  A mage

  Black the Elder

  Black the Lesser

  Sept

  Cole

  Amatt

  Lean

  Keel

  Turgal

  The Crimson Guard Fourth Company

  Cal-Brinn

  Captain and mage

  Jup Alat

  Lieutenant

  Laurel

  Leena

  Of Mael’s Greetings

  Ghelath Keer

  Master

  Havvin

  Ship’s pilot

  Levin

  Apprentice pilot

  Others

  Silverfox

  The ‘Summoner’ created to end the T’lan Imass war

  Luthal Canar

  Representative of the Canar trading house, of Lether

  Lyan

  A female warrior from north Genabackis, a shieldmaiden

  Dorrin

  King in exile of Anklos, Lyan’s ward

  Fishe
r kel Tath

  A well-travelled bard

  Jethiss

  A Tiste Andii castaway

  Kilava

  Ancient living Bonecaster of the Imass

  Mist

  A sorceress

  Anger and Wrath

  Mist’s sons

  The Sharrs

  A mage family

  The Sheers

  A mage family

  Giana Jalaz

  A former lieutenant in the Malazan army

  PROLOGUE

  North territory of a new land

  Of the Jaghut wars:

  Seventh century of the 12th Lamatath campaign

  33,421 years before Burn’s Sleep

  THE WOMAN RAN at a steady unhurried pace. Her breath came as long level inhalations through the mouth and out through her wide nostrils. Sweat darkened the front and back of her buckskin shirt. Her moccasins padded silently over stones and pockets of exposed sandy soil. That she was running up a wide rocky mountain slope, and had been for most of the day, attested to iron strength and endurance. She dodged round slim poles of young pine, white spruce and birch. She jumped rocks and slid and scrambled up steep gravel talus fans. She knew she could outpace her pursuers, but that she would never shake them from her trail. Yet still she ran on.

  She knew that once they tired of the chase, they would take her. She judged it ironic that the same desperate urge to continued existence that drove her also lay behind their relentless pursuit – though they had relinquished their claim to it long ago.

  Still she scrambled on up the slope, for one hope remained. One slim unlikely chance. Not for her survival; she had given that up the moment she glimpsed the hoary eldritch silhouettes of her pursuers. The one slim chance lay for vengeance.

  Knife-edged broken rock cut her fingers as she scrabbled for handholds. It flayed her moccasins. The surrounding steep slopes of tumbled stone and talus heaps were just now emerging from winter; ice clung to shadowed hollows and behind the taller boulders. Snow still lay in curved dirty heaps, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding gravel. She took vigour from the chill bite of the high mountain air, knowing it perfectly natural rather than any invoked glacial freeze. Taking cover in a stand of pine, she paused to risk a glance behind: no movement stirred upon the slope below, other than a smallish herd of elk just now clattering their way down-valley. No doubt disturbed by her passage.

  Yet she knew she was not alone. She also knew her pursuers need not show themselves to run her down. She’d hoped, though, they would at least grant her this one small gesture.

  A lone figure did then step out from the cover of tumbled glacial moraine. It was as if she’d willed its appearance. The tattered remains of leathers flapped about its impossibly lean frame. A dark ravaged visage scanned the slope, rising to her. The white bear hide that rode atop the head and shoulders hung as aged and wind-dried as its wearer. She and he locked gazes across the league that separated them – and across a far larger unbridgeable gulf as well.

  So far behind? she wondered. Then she understood and in that instant threw herself flat.

  Something shattered against the rocks next to her. Flint shards thinner than any blade sliced her buckskins and flenced the skin beneath.

  She jumped to her feet and returned to scrambling up the slope. She reached a ridge that was a mere shoulder of the far taller slope: a jagged peak that reared far above. Here she paused a second time, exhausted, her lungs working, drawing in the icy air.

  Then she screamed as a spear lanced through her thigh, pinning her to the bare stony surface. She fell back against a rock and took hold of the polished dark haft to draw it. A skeletal hand knocked hers aside.

  The same fleshless visage that had caught her gaze below now peered down at her. Empty dark sockets regarded her beneath the rotting brow of a white tundra bear. Necklaces of yellowed claws hung about the figure’s neck – presumably the claws of the very beast it wore – while the scraped hide of the beast’s forelimbs rode its arms down to the paws tied with leather bindings to its own hands. Ribs darkened with age peeked through the mummified flesh of its torso. Rags of leather buckskin lay beneath the hide, all belted and tied off by numerous leather thongs. A long blade of knapped flint, creamy brown, its tang wrapped in leather, stood thrust through a belt. ‘Why flee you here, Jaghut?’ the Imass demanded.

  ‘I flee destruction,’ she answered, her voice tight with suppressed pain.

  Others of the Imass warband now walked the ridge. The bones of their feet clattered on the rocks like so many stones. ‘Caves above, Ut’el,’ one of their number announced, pointing a flint blade higher up.

  The Imass, Ut’el, returned its attention to her. ‘You would seek to lure us to ambush,’ it announced.

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I am disappointed. You have brought death to your kin as well.’ It faced one of the band. ‘Take scouts. They are occupied?’

  This Imass dipped its hoary skull where the flesh and hair had fallen away in patches. ‘Yes, Bonecaster.’

  Bonecaster! the woman marvelled. A mage, shaman, of the breed! If she should bring this one to destruction then all would have been worth the struggle.

  The bonecaster returned its attention to her. She sensed its mood of disappointment. ‘I had thought you a more worthy prize,’ it murmured, displeased.

  ‘As we had hoped for more worthy successors.’

  ‘Victory is the only measure of that, Jaghut.’

  ‘So the victors would soothe themselves.’

  The undying creature raised its bony shoulders in an eloquent shrug. ‘It is simply existence. Ours or yours.’

  She allowed herself to slump back as if in utter defeat. ‘You mean the elimination of all other than you. That is the flaw of your kind. You can only countenance your family or tribe to live.’

  ‘So it is with all others.’

  ‘No, it is not. You are merely unable to see this.’

  ‘Look about, Jaghut. Raw nature teaches us …’ Ut’el’s whisper-faint voice dwindled away as he slowly raised his fleshless face to the higher slope.

  ‘How fare your scouts, Bonecaster?’ she asked, unable to keep a savage grin from her face.

  ‘They are gone,’ he announced. His gaze fell to her. ‘Others are there.’ He now shook his nearly fleshless head in admiration, and, it seemed to her, even horror. ‘My apologies, Jaghut. I would never have believed any entity would dare …’ He drew his flint blade. ‘You are a desperate fool. You have doomed us all – and more.’

  ‘I am merely returning the favour.’

  All about, the remaining Imass warriors flinched as if stung, drawing their blades of razor-thin flint. ‘Purchase us what moments you can,’ he told them flatly. His brown tannin-stained visage remained fixed upon her.

  The warriors dipped their heads. ‘Farewell,’ one answered, and they disappeared into snatches of dust.

  Above, figures now came pouring from the cave mouths: stone-grey shapes that ran on oddly jointed legs, or all four limbs at a time.

  ‘I am tempted to leave you to them,’ Ut’el said. ‘But we Imass are not a cruel people.’

  ‘So you would absolve yourselves over the centuries, yes?’ She took hold of the spear haft. ‘That is fortunate. Because we Jaghut are not a judgemental people.’ And she heaved herself backwards in one motion, yanking the spearhead from the ground to tumble off the ledge, spear in hand.

  He swung, but the blade cut just short of her as she fell off the narrow ridge. Her buckskins snapped in the wind. ‘I leave you to …’ she yelled as she plummeted from sight down the sheer thousand-foot drop.

  … your doom, Ut’el Anag, Bonecaster to the Kerluhm T’lan Imass, finished for her. He turned to face the high slope. The grey tide of creatures had finished his band and now closed upon him.

  In what he considered his last moments, he raised his flint blade to his face. He watched how the knapped facets reflected the clouds overhead, how the reflections
rippled like waves on clear lake water.

  No. This is not yet done. I so swear.

  He stepped into the realm of Tellann as the first of the clawed hands snapped closed upon the space he once occupied.

  * * *

  Hel’eth Jal Im (Pogrom of the White Stag)

  51st Jaghut War

  6,031 years before Burn’s Sleep

  Here evergreen forest descended mountain slopes to a rocky shore. Shorebirds hunted for crabs and beetles among tide-pools and stretches of black sand beaches. From their perches on tree limbs and among the taller rocks larger birds of prey watched the shorebirds and the glimmer of fingerlings in the shallows.

  A morning mist hung over the bay. The air was still enough for sounds to cross from one curve of the shore to the other. The figure that arose from the seaweed-skirted boulders was not out of keeping with the scene. The tattered remains of leathers hung from its withered, mummified shoulders and hips. A nut-brown flint blade hung thrust through a crude twisted-hair belt tied about its fleshless waist. Over its head of patches of stringy hair and exposed browned skull it wore a cap cut from the cured grey hide of a beast more at home on sundrenched savanna than temperate boreal forest.

  Similar figures arose, one by one, here and there about the shore. They gathered around the first arrival, and though gender was almost impossible to tell among their fleshless desiccated bodies, skin little more than paper-thin flesh over bone, this one was female and her name was Shalt Li’gar, and she was of the Ifayle T’lan Imass.