Then, at almost point-blank range, sorcery lashed the Malazan line. Bodies exploded within the grey fire.

As the miasmic magic dwindled, Paran could see naught but mangled corpses on the bank. The Beklites swarmed upward. Overhead, a condor trailing grey flames climbed laboriously back into the sky.

A flight of thirty Black Moranth darted to meet it. A score loosed crossbow quarrels towards the huge bird. Grey lightning lashed out from the condor, incinerating the missiles. A writhing wave blighted the sky, swept through the Black Moranth. Armour and flesh exploded.

Quick Ben stumbled to Paran’s side, frantically cleared the mulch away in front of the captain, until a patch of bare earth was revealed.

‘What are you—’

‘Draw that damned bird, Captain! With your finger – draw a card!’

‘But I can’t—’

‘Draw!’

Paran dragged his gloved index finger through the damp earth, beginning with a rectangular outline. His hand shook as he attempted to sketch the basic lines of the condor. ‘This is madness – it won’t work – gods, I can’t even draw!’

‘Are you done? Is that it?’

‘What in Hood’s name do you want?’

‘Fine!’ the wizard snapped. He made a fist and thumped the image.

Overhead, the demonic condor had begun another dive.

Suddenly, its wings flapped wildly, as if it could find no air beneath them. The creature plummeted straight down.

Quick Ben leapt to his feet, dragging Paran upright with him. ‘Come on! Pull out your damned sword, Captain!’

They sprinted along the bank, the wizard leading them to where the condor had landed just beyond the overrun trench.

Moments later, they were running through steaming shards of armour and smouldering flesh – all that was left of the company of Malazans. The first wave of Beklites had fought their way to the second trench and were locked in fierce battle with Dujek’s heavy infantry. To Paran and Quick Ben’s right, downslope, the second wave was less than thirty paces away.

‘Another Seerdomin!’ Quick Ben screamed, dragging Paran to the ground.

Sorcery leapt from the second line of Beklites, ripped straight for the two men.

Quick Ben twisted onto his side, cursing. ‘Hold on, Captain!’

A warren opened around them.

And they were suddenly under water, armour pulling them down into darkness.

Grey light streaked wild and savage directly above, a thundering concussion visibly descending towards the two men.

Water exploded on all sides, hard roots cracking against Paran’s ribs. Coughing, gasping, he clawed at mud.

A hand closed round a strap of his harness, began dragging him across the sodden forest floor. ‘Where’s your damned sword?’

Paran managed to pull his legs under him, stumbled upright. ‘Sword? You bastard! I was drowning!’

‘Damn!’ the wizard swore. ‘You’d better hope that bird’s still stunned.’