Reaper's Gale (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #7)

by Steven Erikson

Another helping hand, lifting Beak to his feet. He looked round. Nothing much to see. White sand, a gate of white marble ahead, within which swirled silver light. The hand gripping his arm was skeletal, the skin a strange hue of green. The figure, very tall, was hooded and wearing black rags. It seemed to be studying the gate. ‘Is that where I’m supposed to go, now?’ Beak asked. ‘Yes.’ ‘All right. Are you coming with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘All right. Well, will you let go of my arm, then?’ The hand fell away. ‘It is not common,’ the figure then said. ‘What?’ ‘That I attend to…arrivals. In person.’ ‘My name is Beak.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What’s through there?’ ‘Your brother waits for you, Beak. He has been waiting a long time.’ Beak smiled and stepped forward, all at once in a great hurry – the silver light within that gate was beautiful, reminding him of something. The stranger’s voice brought him round: ‘Beak.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Your brother. He will not know you. Yet. Do you understand?’ Beak nodded. ‘Why aren’t you coming with me?’ ‘I choose to wait…for another.’ ‘My brother,’ Beak said, his smile broadening. ‘I’m taller now. Stronger. I can save him, can’t I?’ A long pause, and then the figure said, ‘Yes, Beak, you can save him.’ Yes, that made sense. He set out again. With sure strides. To the gate, into that silver glow, to emerge on the other side in a glade beside a trickling stream. And kneeling near the bank, his brother. The same as he remembered. On the ground on all sides there were hundreds o...