Distant detonations – sharpers, he guessed, somewhere to the south.
We're supposed to be pushing in hard and fast, and here we are, bogged down barely one street in from the breach. Gesler's gotten way too cautious, I think.
He heard the clank of weapons, armour and the thud of footfalls as more squads came up. Flicking his gaze away from the window, he watched as Sergeant Tugg led his heavies towards the building opposite. Three soldiers from Thom Tissy's squad padded up to the doorway of the building Pella was huddled against. Jump, Gupp and Able. Pella saw sharpers in their hands – and nothing else. He crouched lower, then returned his attention to the distant window, cursing under his breath, waiting for one of them to toss a grenado in through the doorway.
On the other side of the street, Tugg's squad plunged into the building – there was a shout from within, the clang of weapons, sudden screamsThen more shrieking, this time from the building at Pella's back, as the three sappers rushed inside. Pella cringed – no, you fools! You don't carry them inside – you throw them!
A sharp crack, shaking dust from the wall behind Pella, grit raining down onto the back of his neck, then screams. Another concussion – ducking still lower, Pella looked back up at the opposite windowTo see, momentarily, a single flash-to feel the shock of surprise-as the arrow sped at him. A hard, splintering cracking sound. Pella's head was thrown back, helm crunching against the wall. Something, wavering, at the upper edge of his vision, but those edges were growing darker. He heard his crossbow clatter to the cobbles at his feet, then distant pain as his knees struck the stones, the jolt peeling skin away – he'd done that once, as a child, playing in the alley. Stumbling, knees skidding on gritty, filthy cobblesSo filthy, the murk of hidden diseases, infections – his mother had been so angry, angry and frightened. They'd had to go to a healer, and that had cost money – money they had been saving for a move. To a better part of the slum. The dream… put away, all because he'd skinned his knees.
Just like now. And darkness closing in.
Oh Momma, I skinned my knees. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I skinned my knees…
****
As mayhem was exploding in the buildings to either side, Gesler crouched lower. He glanced over to his right and saw Pella. An arrow was jutting from his forehead. He was on his knees for a moment, his weapon falling, then he sank down to the side.
Sharpers going off in that building, then something worse – a burner, the flare of red flame bursting through the ground-floor windows.
Shrieks – someone stumbled outside, wreathed in flames – a Malazan, running, arms waving, slapping – straight for Moak and his squad'Get away!' Gesler bellowed, rising and raising his crossbow.