'So, to backtrack slightly, ascendants, whether gods or not, seem to possess some form of power. Maybe sorcery, maybe personality, maybe something else. And what that seems to mean is, they possess an unusual degree of efficacy-'

'Of what?'

'They're trouble if you mess with them, is what I'm saying. A mortal man punches someone and maybe breaks the victim's nose. An ascendant punches someone and they go through a wall. Now, I don't mean that literally – although that's sometimes the case. Not necessarily physical strength, but strength of will. When an ascendant acts, ripples run through… everything. And that's what makes them so dangerous. For example, before Fener's expulsion, Treach was a First Hero, an old name for an ascendant, and that's all he was. Spent most of his time either battling other First Heroes, or, towards the end, wandering around in his Soletaken form. If nothing untoward had happened, to Treach in that form, his ascendancy would have eventually vanished, lost in the primitive bestial mind of an oversized tiger.

But something untoward did happen – actually, two things. Fener's expulsion, and Treach's unusual death. And with those two events, everything changed.'

'All right,' Hedge said, 'that's all just fine. When are you getting to your theory, Captain?'

'Every mountain has a peak, Hedge, and throughout history there have been mountains and mountains – more than we could imagine, I suspect – mountains of humanity, of Jaghut, of T'lan Imass, of Eres'al, Barghast, Trell, and so on. Not just mountains, but whole ranges. I believe ascendancy is a natural phenomenon, an inevitable law of probability. Take a mass of people, anywhere, any kind, and eventually enough pressure will build and a mountain will rise, and it will have a peak. Which is why so many ascendants become gods – after the passing of generations, the great hero's name becomes sacred, representative of some long-lost golden age, and so it goes.'

'So if I understand you, Captain – and I admit, it's not easy and it's never been easy – there's too much pressure these days and because of that there's too many ascendants, and things are getting hairy.'

Paran shrugged. 'It might feel that way. It probably always does. But these things shake themselves out, eventually. Mountains collide, peaks fall, are forgotten, crumble to dust.'

'Captain, are you planning to make a new card in the peck of Dragons?'

Paran studied the ghost for a long time, then he said, 'In many of the Houses, the role of Soldier already exists-'

'But not unaligned soldiers, Captain. Not… us.'

'You say you have a long road ahead, sapper. How do you know that? Who is guiding you?'

'I got no answer to that one, Captain. That's why we figured – our payment for this bargain – that you constructing a card for us would, well, be like shaking a handful of wheat flour over an invisible web.'

'Part of the bargain? You might have mentioned that at the start, Hedge.'

'No, better when it's too late.'

'For you, yes. All right, I'll think on it. I admit, you've made me curious, especially since I don't think you and your ghostly army are being directly manipulated. I suspect that what calls to you is something far more ephemeral, more primal. A force of nature, as if some long lost law was being reasserted, and you're the ones who will deliver it. Eventually.'

'An interesting thought, Captain. I always knew you had brains, now I' m finally getting a hint of what they're good for.'

'Now let me ask you a question, Hedge.'

'If you must.'

'That long road ahead of you. Your march – it's to war, isn't it?

Against whom?'

'More like what-'

Commotion behind them, the shareholders rushing back to the carriage, the snap of leather arid the clunk of buckles as the dozen or so men and women began strapping themselves in place. The horses, suddenly agitated, tossed their heads and stamped, nostrils flaring. The driver had the traces in his hands once more.

'You two!' he said in a growl. 'It's time.'

'Think I'll sit beside the driver,' Hedge said. 'Captain, like the High Mage said, be sure you ride close. I knew how to get us here, but I ain't got a clue what's coming.'

Nodding, Paran headed towards his horse, whilst Hedge clambered up the side of the carriage. The two Pardu women returned from their stations on the bridge and climbed up to take flanking positions on the roof, both checking their heavy crossbows and supply of broad-headed quarrels.

Paran swung himself into the saddle.

A shutter in the side door was opened and the captain could make out Karpolan's round, shiny face. 'We travel perilously fast, Ganoes Paran. If some transformation occurs on the horse you ride, consider abandoning it.'

'And if some transformation besets me?'

'Well, we shall do our best not to abandon you.'

'That's reassuring, Karpolan Demesand.'

A brief smile, then the shutter snapped shut once more.

Another weird cry from the driver and a snap of the traces. The horses lunged forward, carriage slewing straight behind them. Rolling forward. Onto the stone bridge.

Paran rode up alongside it, opposite one of the shareholders. The man threw him a wild, half-mad grin, gloved hands gripping a massive Malazan-made crossbow.

Climbing the slope, then into the mists.

That closed like soft walls round them.

A dozen heartbeats, then chaos. Ochre-skinned creatures swarmed in from both sides, as if they had been clinging beneath the bridge. Long arms, clawed at the ends, short, ape-like legs, small heads that seemed filled with fangs. They flung themselves at the carriage, seeking to drag off the shareholders.

Screams, the thud of quarrels striking bodies, hissing pain from the creatures. Paran's horse reared, forelegs kicking at a beast scrambling beneath it. Sword out, Paran slashed the blade into the back of the creature clinging and biting fierce chunks of meat from the nearest shareholder's left thigh. He saw the flesh and muscle part, revealing ribs. Then blood sluiced out. Squealing, the beast fell away.

More had reached the carriage, and Paran saw one shareholder torn from her perch, swearing as she was dragged down onto the stones, then vanishing beneath seething, smooth-skinned bodies.

The captain swung his horse round and closed on the writhing mass.

No skill involved – it was simply lean down and hack and slash, until the last bleeding body fell away.

The woman lying on the bloody stones looked as though she had been chewed by a shark, then spat out. Yet she lived. Paran sheathed his sword, dismounted and threw the dazed, bleeding woman over a shoulder.

Heavier than she'd looked. He managed to settle her down over the back of his horse, then vaulted once more into the saddle.

The carriage already vanishing into the mists, ochre bodies tumbling from it. The back wheels both rose and thumped as they rolled over flopping corpses.

And between Paran and the carriage, half a hundred or more of the creatures, now wheeling towards him, claws raised and clicking. He drew out his sword again, and drove his heels into the horse's flanks.

The animal voiced an indignant grunt, then charged forward. Legs and chest battering bodies aside, Paran slashing right and left, seeing limbs lopped off, skulls opened wide. Hands closed on the shareholder and sought to pull her off. Twisting round, Paran cut at them until they fell away.

A beast landed in his lap.

Hot breath, smelling distinctly of over-ripe peaches. Hinged fangs spreading wide – the damned thing was moments from biting off Paran's face.

He head-butted it, the rim of his helm smashing nose and teeth, blood gushing into Paran's eyes, nose and mouth.

The creature reeled back.

Paran swung his weapon from above, hammering the sword's pommel into the top of the creature's skull. Punching through with twin sprays of blood from its tiny ears. Tugging his weapon free, he shoved the dead beast to the side.