A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

– always late in sending me my rightful tribute – but I ignored such petty gestures. She has fled, did you know? The bitch. Do you imagine yourselves the first to challenge me? The Circle brought down a foreign god. Aye, the effort went... awry, thus sparing me the task of killing the fools with my own hand. And the Fallen One? Well, he'll not recover for some time, and even then, do you truly imagine he will accede to anyone's bidding? I would have—'
    'Enough,' Draconus growled. 'Your prattling grows wearisome, Kallor.'
    'Very well,' the High King sighed. He 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—'
    'Is no 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 has already happened, you foolish woman!'
    K'rul spoke within the minds of his kin. It must be 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 enquired. 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 seven 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, lifeless realm, and looked long upon their handiwork.
    Then Draconus spoke, 'Since the time of All Darkness, I have been forging a sword.'
    Both K'rul and the Sister of Cold Nights turned at this, for they had known nothing of it.
    Draconus continued. 'The forging has taken ... a long time, but I am now nearing completion. The power invested within the sword possesses a ... a finality.'
    'Then,' K'rul whispered after a moment's consideration, 'you must make alterations in the final shaping.'
    'So it seems. I shall need to think long on this.'
    After a long