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. 1 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 hlackrock 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, 1 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.’