Return of the Crimson Guard

Talk then turned to the subject that preoccupied all the inhabitants of the continent to the north: the state of the Shieldwall, the strength of the ranks of the Chosen, and of Korelri readiness to repel the Riders this coming winter season. Speculation all the more anxious and uncertain these last years now that the Malazans had drained off so much of the needed Korelan strength.

Ereko watched the chief closely then for some sign that he knew: that word had reached him through the mouths of traders who had traversed the pass before them this season. Word of two outlanders who have been named deserters from the Wall. Traitors condemned by the Council of the Chosen with all swords and hands raised against them within northern lands. Yet the man's eyes betrayed no such knowledge; they glittered with animal cunning, yes, but appeared empty of the triumph and satisfaction that hidden advantage can bring.

Eventually, much delayed, the rambling exchange ended and the chief groaned and grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet. His followers rose with him. Their hands went to knife-grips and hatchet handles, and their eyes to their chief for any sign or direction. Traveller backed away from the fire. ‘Many thanks for your hospitality.’

The chief laughed his exaggerated good humour. ‘Yes, yes. Certainly, certainly.’ He waved away his followers. ‘Good travelling. To the coast. Ha!’

Ereko and Traveller backed away for a short time then returned to their path. Traveller struck a south-west course. They walked in silence, listening. They came to a narrow stream that descended steeply among boulders, foaming and chuckling its way west to the coast, and Traveller followed it.

‘I make it to be two,’ he said after a time.

‘Yes. The youths, I think.’

‘They'll wait till night.’

‘Yes. How many, do you think?’

‘More than the six. That's for certain.’

They pushed through a bracken of fallen trees and dry branches, jumped from rock to rock. ‘Why did you not break things off?’

Traveller's nut-brown features drew down into a pained grimace. ‘I hoped to show him that we were not afraid to travel alone. To make him think about that, and what that might mean.’ He shook his head. ‘But the fool did not appear to be the thoughtful kind.’

‘Perhaps he knows.’

Traveller glanced to him. ‘Then nothing will stop them from coming for us tonight.’

They made camp among a tumble of boulders. Traveller struck a small fire but sat with his back to it. Ereko sat across the fire and sometimes watched the darkness and sometimes watched Traveller. The man sat with his sheathed sword across his lap, waiting, and Ereko wondered again at this man who could show such gentleness and what was called, generally, humanity and yet be willing to cut down a handful of ill-armed and untrained rabble, youths included, none of whom could possibly stand a chance against him.

‘Let us just keep going,’ Ereko urged again across the fire. ‘Why stop at all?’

‘I'll not watch my back all the way to North Citadel. Any fool can get lucky with a bow.’

Ereko eyed him, perplexed. Yes, that was true; at least in Ereko's own case. Though he aged very slowly, he could still be killed by mundane physical trauma. But what of Traveller? Was he not beyond such concerns? Obviously not. He was yet a man. He lived still. Clearly, he remained wary of that unlooked-for bolt from behind. Perhaps no matter how competent — or miraculously exquisite in Traveller's case — one's skills in personal combat, a random bolt or arrow could always spell the end.

Extending his awareness out through the earth, Ereko could sense them: a handful of men down the slope closer to the stream. They were gathered together, hesitant perhaps because of Traveller's and his refusal to sleep. Would they wait until they did? He prayed not; already the delay was agonizing.

He glanced back across the dim glow of the embers to find that Traveller had already reached the same conclusion. He now lay wrapped in his bear-hide cloak, pretending sleep. Ereko followed suit by easing himself down the rock he leant against and although he did not feel the cold or heat as sharply as humans, he pulled up his own broad cloak of layered pelts and let his head droop.

They waited. From a great distance up the mountains a wolf's howl drifted through the night and Ereko wondered if it was one of the shaggy pack that had shadowed them across the ice wastes north of the mountains. Owls called, and an even more distant booming as of an avalanche or the cracking of an ice field echoed among the mountain slopes.

A three-quarter moon emerged from behind thick clouds and Ereko sensed the men advancing. They had been waiting for better light; he cursed himself for not thinking of it.

Traveller threw himself aside as arrows and a crossbow bolt thudded into his bedding. Ereko had already rolled into shadow and now crouched, waiting. He held his spear reversed for he couldn't set aside his pity, yet.