A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

leaned forward. 'You've come to liberate my people from my tyrannical rule. Alas, I am not one to relinquish such things. Not to you, not to anyone.' He settled back, waved a languid hand. 'Thus, what you would refuse me, I now refuse you.'
    Though the truth was before K'rul's eyes, he could not believe it. 'What have—'
    'Are you blind?' Kallor shrieked, clutching at the arms of his throne. 'It is gone! They are gone! Break the chains, will you? Go ahead – no, I surrender them! Here, all about you, is now free ! Dust! Bones! All free!'
    'You have in truth incinerated an entire continent?' the sister Elder whispered. 'Jacuruku—'
    'It is more, and never again shall be. What I have unleashed will never heal. Do you understand me? Never. And it is all your fault. Yours. Paved in bone and ash, this noble road you chose to walk. Your road.'
    'We cannot allow this—'
    'It is done, you foolish woman!'
    K'rul spoke within the minds of his kin. It must done. I will fashion a ... a place for this. Within myself.
    A warren to hold all this? Draconus asked in horror. My brother —
    No, it must be done. Join with me now, this shaping will not be easy —
    It will break you, K'rul, his sister said. There must be another way.
    None. To leave this continent as it is . . .no, this world is young. To carry such a scar . . .
    What of Kallor? Draconus inquired. What of this . . . this creature?
    We mark him, K'rul replied. We know his deepest desire, do we not? And the span of his life?
    Long, my friends.
    Agreed.
    K'rul blinked, fixed his dark, heavy eyes on the High King. 'For this crime, Kallor, we deliver appropriate punishment. Know this: you, Kallor Eiderann Tes'thesula, shall know mortal life unending. Mortal, in the ravages of age, in the pain of wounds and the anguish of despair. In dreams brought to ruin. In love withered. In the shadow of Death's spectre, ever a threat to end what you will not relinquish.'
    Draconus spoke. 'Kallor Eiderann Tes'thesula, you shall never ascend.'
    Their sister said, 'Kallor Eiderann Tes'thesula, each time you rise, you shall then fall. All that you achieve shall turn to dust in your hands. As you have wilfully done here, so it shall be in turn visited upon all that you do.'
    'Three voices curse you,' K'rul intoned. 'It is done.'
    The man on the throne trembled. His lips drew back in a rictus snarl. 'I shall break you. Each of you. I swear this upon the bones of twelve million sacrifices. K'rul, you shall fade from the world, you shall be forgotten. Draconus, what you create shall be turned upon you. And as for you, woman, unhuman hands shall tear your body into pieces, upon a field of battle, yet you shall know no respite – thus, my curse upon you, Sister of Cold Nights. Kallor Eiderann Tes'thesula, one voice, has spoken three curses. Thus.'
    They left Kallor upon his throne, upon its heap of bones. They merged their power to draw chains around a continent of slaughter, then pulled it into a warren created for that sole purpose, leaving the land itself bared. To heal.
    The effort left K'rul broken, bearing wounds he knew he would carry for all his existence. More, he could already feel the twilight of his worship, the blight of Kallor's curse. To his surprise, the loss pained him less than he would have imagined.
    The three stood at the portal of the nascent, eternally lifeless realm, and looked upon their handiwork.
    Then Draconus spoke. 'I am forging a sword.'
    K'rul and the Sister of Cold Nights nodded, for this was known to them both.
    'The power I have invested possesses a ... a finality.'
    'Then,' K'rul whispered, 'you must make alterations in the final shaping.'
    'So it seems. I shall need to think long on this.'
    After a long moment, K'rul and his brother turned to their sister.
    She shrugged. 'I shall endeavour to guard myself. When my destruction comes, it will be through betrayal and naught else. There can be no precaution against such a thing, lest my life become its own nightmare of suspicion and mistrust. To this, I shall not surrender. Until that moment, I shall continue to play the mortal game.'
    'Careful, then,' K'rul murmured, 'whom you choose to fight for.'
    'Find a companion,' Draconus advised. 'A worthy one.'
    'Wise words from you both. I thank you.'
    There was nothing more to be said. The three had come together, with an intent they had now achieved. Perhaps not in the manner they would have wished, but it was done. And the price had been paid. Willingly. Three