Stonewielder Read online

  Also by Ian C. Esslemont

  NIGHT OF KNIVES

  RETURN OF THE CRIMSON GUARD

  For more information on Ian C. Esslemont and his books,

  see his website at www.malazanempire.com

  STONEWIELDER

  A NOVEL OF THE MALAZAN

  EMPIRE

  Ian C. Esslemont

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Epub ISBN 9781407084107

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS

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  Published in Great Britain in 2010 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers. A 300-copy slipcased two-volume signed edition is available from PS Publishing.

  Copyright © Ian Cameron Esslemont 2010

  Ian Cameron Esslemont has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBNs 9780593064443 (cased)

  9780593064450 (tpb)

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  To Gerri

  with love

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Greatest gratitude to Gerri for her unswerving support. Thanks to Derick Burleson for graciously allowing me to adapt one of his pieces to this setting. I would also like to acknowledge the fans of the World of Malaz, its readers, and those active on its online forums. Your energy and enthusiasm keep Steve and me inspired.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Also by Ian C. Esslemont

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Maps

  Dramatis Personae

  Prologue

  Book One: The Sea

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Book Two: The Land

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Book Three: And All the Shores Between

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  About the Author

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Of the Malazan Expeditionary Force

  Greymane / Orjin Samarr

  High Fist, Commander of Expeditionary Force

  Kyle

  Adjunct to the High Fist

  Nok

  Admiral, Commander of Naval forces

  Swirl

  Admiral of Moranth Blue forces

  Rillish Jal Keth

  Divisional Fist of the Fourth Army

  Khemet Shul

  Divisional Fist of the Eighth Army

  Devaleth

  Cadre mage

  Malazan 17th Squad, 4th Company, 2nd Division, Fourth Army

  Betteries

  Company Captain

  Goss

  Sergeant

  Pyke

  Heavy infantry

  Yana

  Heavy infantry

  Suth

  Heavy infantry

  Lard

  Heavy infantry

  Dim

  Heavy infantry

  Wess

  Heavy infantry

  Len

  Saboteur

  Keri

  Saboteur

  Faro

  Scout

  Others

  Urfa

  Lieutenant of 4th Company saboteurs

  Twofoot

  Sergeant of the 6th

  Coral

  Sergeant of the 20th

  Tolat

  A Barghast scout of 4th Company

  Of the Malazan Sixth Army

  Yeull ’ul Taith

  Overlord

  Ussü

  High Mage and Adviser

  Borun

  Commander of Black Moranth

  Enesh-jer

  Envoy of the Overlord

  On the Stormwall

  Hiam

  Lord Protector of the Stormwall, Commander of all Korelri

  Quint

  Senior officer (Wall Marshal) of the Stormwall

  Shool

  Aide to Hiam

  Toral Stimins

  Master Engineer

  Iron Bars

  Champion of the Stormwall, and Crimson Guard Avowed

  Corlo

  A prisoner and Crimson Guardsman

  Jemain

  A prisoner and member of Bars’ crew

  Hagen

  Ex-Champion of the Stormwall

  Tollen

  A Malazan prisoner

  In the Kingdom of Rool

  Bakune

  Chief Assessor of Banith

  Karien’el

  Lieutenant, later Captain, of the City Watch

  Hyuke

  A city watchman

  Puller

  A city watchman

  Starvann Arl

  Abbot of Our Lady the Saviour Cloister and Hospice

  Ipshank

  An ex-priest of Fener

  Manask

  A thief

  Of the Jourilan Army of Reform

  Beneth

  Spiritual leader

  Hegil Lesour ’an ’al

  Commander of the cavalry

  Martal

  Commander of the army, the ‘Black Queen’

  Ivanr

  Ex-Grand Champion of the Jourilan Imperial Games

  Carr

  A lieutenant of the army

  Of the Crimson Guard

  Blues

  Fingers

  Lazar

  Shell

  The Synod of Stygg

  Totsin Jurth the Third

  Brother Carfin

  Sister Gosh

  Sister Esa

  Sister Nebras

  Brother Jool

  In the Shadow Realm

  Kiska

  One-time bodyguard to Tayschrenn, High Mage of the Empire

  Jheval

  An agent of the Queen of Dreams

  Of the Sea-Folk

  Orzu

  Patriarch of his clan

  Ena

  A young mother of the clan

  PROLOGUE

  The Elder Age

  Height of the Jacaruku Crusades

  The Many Isles

  ULI KNEW IT FOR A BAD OMEN THE MOMENT HE SAW IT. HE’D been readying his nets for the pre-dawn fishing when the unnatural green and blue aura bruised the sky. It appeared out of the lightening east and swelled, beco
ming more bloated with every passing moment. The bay was choppy as if as agitated as he, and he’d been reluctant to push his shallow boat out into the waves. But his family had to eat, and cramped stomachs belch no end of complaints.

  Through the first of the morning’s casts he kept his face averted from the thing where it hung in the discoloured sky, blazing like the baleful eye of some god. The catch that morning was poor: either his distraction, or the fish fleeing the apparition. In either case he decided to abandon the effort as cursed, threw his net to the bottom of the craft, and began paddling for shore. The blue-green eye now dazzled brighter than the sun; he shaded his gaze from the points of alien light glimmering on the waves. He paddled faster.

  A strange noise brought his frantic, gasping efforts to a halt. A great roaring it was, like a landslide. He glared about, searching for its source. The alien eye now seemed to fill half the sky. No remnant of the sun’s warm yellow glow touched the waters, the treed shore, or the dark humps of the distant islands. Then, with unnatural speed, the surface of the bay stilled as if cowed. Uli held his breath and ducked side to side in his tiny craft.

  The eye broke apart. Shards calved trailing blue flames, arcing. A roaring such as he had never before endured drove him to clap his hands to his head and scream his pain. A great massive descending piece like an ember thrown from a god’s fire drove smashing down far to the east. A white incandescent blaze blinded Uli’s vision. It seemed as if something had struck the big island.

  Just as his vision returned, another glow flashed from behind. It threw his shadow ahead like a black streamer across the bay. Turning, he gaped to see a great scattering of shards descending to the west while others cascaded on far above. He rubbed his pained eyes – could it be the end of the world? Perhaps it was another of the moons falling, as he’d heard told of in legends. He remembered his paddle; Helta and the little ’uns would be terrified. He returned to churning water with a desperate fury, almost weeping his dread.

  The hide boat ground on to mudflats far sooner than usual. Mystified, he eased a foot over the side. Shallows where none had ever stretched before. And the shore still a good long hike away. It was as if the water were disappearing. He peered up and winced; in the east a massive dark cloud of billowing grey and black was clawing its way up into the sky. It had already swallowed the sun. Untold bounty lay about him: boatloads of fish gasping and mouthing the air, flapping their death-throes.

  Yet not one bird. The birds – where had they gone?

  The light took on an eerie, darkly greenish cast. Uli slowly edged round, turning his head out to sea, and all hope fell from him. Something was swelling on the waters: a wall of dirty green. Floods such as the old stories tell of. Mountains of water come to inundate the land as all the tales foretell. It seemed to rear directly overhead, so lofty was it. Foam webbed its curved leading face, dirty white capped its peak. He could only gape upwards at its remorseless, fatal advance.

  Run, little ’uns, run! The water comes to reclaim the land!

  * * *

  Approx. 400 years BW (Before the Wall)

  The Empty Isles

  Temal pushed himself upright from the chilling surf and crouched, sword ready. He gazed uncomprehendingly around the surface of the darkening waters, wiping the cold spray from his face. Where have they gone? One moment he’s fighting for his life and the next the sea-demons disappear like the mist that preceded them. Weak coughing sounded from his flank. He slogged among the rocks to lift a soaked comrade: Arel, a distant cousin. Though almost faint with exhaustion, Temal dragged the man to shore. Survivors of his war band ran down to the surf to pull both to the reviving warmth of a great bonfire of driftwood.

  ‘What happened?’ he stammered through chattering teeth.

  ‘They withdrew,’ answered Temal’s older sword-brother, Jhenhelf. His tone conveyed his bewildered disbelief. ‘Yet why? They had us.’

  Temal did not dispute the evaluation; he was too tired, and he knew it to be true. He had less than twenty hale men in his band and too many of those inexperienced youths.

  ‘They will return with the dawn to finish us,’ Jhenhelf continued from across the fire. Temal held his old comrade’s gaze through the leaping flames and again said nothing. At their feet Arel coughed, then vomited up the seawater he’d swallowed.

  ‘What of Redden?’ one of the new recruits asked. ‘We could send for aid.’

  Faces lifted all round the fire, pale with chill and fear.

  ‘They could be with us by dawn …’

  ‘Redden is just as hard-pressed as us,’ Temal cut in strongly. ‘He must defend his own shore.’ He glanced from one strained face to another. ‘Redden cannot spare the men.’

  ‘Then—’ began one of the youths.

  ‘Then we wait and rest!’ Jhenhelf barked. ‘Arel, Will, Otten – keep watch. The rest of you, get some sleep.’

  Grateful for the support of his old friend, Temal eased himself to the ground. He thrust his sandalled feet out to the fire and tried to ignore the agonizing sting of salt licking his many cuts and gashes. He felt the heat work upon him and hunched forward, hand across his lap at the grip of his sheathed sword, and through slit eyes he watched the mist climb from his drying leathers.

  He had no idea why the damned sea-demon Riders attacked. Despite them, it was an attractive land. The peninsulas and islands were rich and cultivable. It was ready to be wholly settled but for a few ignorant native tribals. His father and his grandfather before him had fought to keep their tenuous foothold. As leader of his extended clan he had to think of the future: enough futile wandering! They would hang on to these islands and all the lands beyond. Dark Avallithal with its haunted woods had not suited, nor the savage coast of Dhal-Horn, nor the brooding Isles of Malassa. Here flew their standard. Here his forebears burned their boats. He would not allow these Riders to force them out; they had nowhere to go.

  Temal jerked awake, knocking aside Jhenhelf’s touch. It was almost dawn. ‘An attack?’ He struggled up on legs numb and stiff.

  His lieutenant’s face held an unfamiliar expression. ‘No.’ He lifted his chin to their rear, to where the grass-topped cliffs of the shore rose; to the meadows and forests and farmland beyond, all of which would soon be dead and withered should the sea-demons be allowed to work their witchery unmolested.

  Everyone, Temal noted, stared inland, not out to sea where they should be keeping watch for the first pearl-like gleams of the Riders’ approach. ‘What is it?’

  Jhenhelf did not answer, and it occurred to Temal that the strange expression on his friend’s coarse, battle-hardened face might be awed wonder. He squinted up to the top of the cliffs’ ragged silhouette. A figure stood there, tall beneath dark clouds in the red-gold of the coming dawn’s light. The proportions of what he was seeing struck Temal as strange: whoever that was, he or she must be a giant to rear so high from so far away …

  ‘I’ll go,’ he said, his gaze fixed. ‘You keep guard.’

  ‘Take Will and Otten.’

  ‘If I must.’

  Dawn was in full flush when they reached the crest, and when they did Will and Otten fell silent, staring. Though the shore breeze was strong, a repulsive stench as of rotting flesh struck Temal. He clenched his lips and stomach against the reek and forced himself onward alone.

  The figure was gigantic, out of all proportion, twice the height of the Jaghut or other Elders he’d heard talk of, such as the Toblakai or Tarthinoe, and vaguely female with its long greasy tresses hanging down to its waist, its thrusting bosom, and the dark tangle of hair at its crotch. Yet its flesh was repulsive: a pale dead fish, mottled, pocked by rotting open sores. The fetor almost made Temal faint. At the thing’s side rested a large block of black stone resembling a chest or an altar.

  Temal glanced out to sea, to the clear unmarred surface gleaming in the morning light, where no hint of wave-borne sea-demons remained. He glanced back to the figure. Dark Taker! Could this be she? The local goddess some
settlements invoked to protect them? That many claimed offered sanctuary from the Riders?

  The broad bloodless lips stretched in a knowing smile, as if the being had read his thoughts. Yet the eyes remained empty of all expression, lifeless, dull, like the staring milky orbs of the dead. Temal felt transformed. She has come! She has delivered them from certain annihilation at the lances of the sea-demons! Not knowing what to say he knelt on one knee, offering wordless obeisance. Behind him Will and Otten knelt as well.

  The figure took a great sucking breath. ‘Outlander,’ it boomed, ‘you have come to settle the land. I welcome you and offer my protection.’ The Goddess gestured with a gnarled and twisted hand to the block at her feet. ‘Take this most precious sarcophagus. Within rests flesh of my flesh. Carry it along the coast. Trace a path. Mark it and build there a great wall. A barrier. Defend it that behind it you may rest protected from those enemies from the sea who seek to ravage this land. Do you accept this my gift to you and all your people?’