\hypertarget{chapter-60-opening}{%
\section{Chapter 60: Opening}\label{chapter-60-opening}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Victory is transient. To seek it is to remain so. I have seen
the face of that which is eternal, and it stands beyond struggle.''}

-- Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to
the young Dead King
\end{quote}

Flight was markedly less exhilarating when people kept trying to kill me
during, I decided as I guided Zombie the Third into a sharp dive to
avoid a bolt of black lightning. Half a league up in the sky, the wind
howling around me, I watched disaster unfold on the field below. The
order of battle agreed upon had been fairly simple: the first wave would
be the Legions. The Fifth, the Sixth and Twelfth would strike the
initial blow, as the Fourth and the Ninth moved to the sides of Liesse
bolstered by Callowan levies. The Deoraithe bowmen would move behind the
centre, followed by the men-at-arms, and the Fifteenth would remain as a
reserve. I was to soften up the enemy fortifications with Archer's help
and a goblinfire trick, and until the aftermath of the green rain
everything had been going to plan. Then Akua had opened a fucking
Hellgate and Liesse had just\ldots{} disappeared. Gone into thin air.

She'd chosen the place for the gate perfectly, I had to admit. Behind
the Fourth's advance, though the gated was oriented towards the
Deoraithe second line. There were only a few devils coming out of the
woodworks right now, but if that trickle turned into a flood our armies
were going to break. The Fourth would be cut off and overwhelmed, the
back of our centre up to its neck in hellspawn from behind and fortified
casters from the front. The entire host would be splintered, and of the
only two forces still in play -- the Fifteenth under Juniper and Ninth
with half the levies -- the Ninth was positioned on the opposite side of
the field where it needed to be. With out entire centre in the way. In
the span of a single heartbeat, Akua had fucked both our left flank and
centre while making our right wing useless. I would have admired that a
little, if I wasn't too busy being furious. Zombie responded to my spurs
as a living beast would, though I could still command its undead flesh
regardless of its own will, and we arced down gracefully.

The staff officers of the Fifteenth parted for me in haste and I reined
in the winged horse before someone could get trampled. Juniper, leaning
over a table, ignored my entrance. Her brows were creased in thought. I
cleared my throat.

``I heard you coming, Foundling,'' she said. ``Now shut up. I'm
thinking.''

Yeah, that was about par for the course. I sighed and dismounted, Hakram
appearing just in in time to be handed the reins. Hierophant and Archer
were still out of sight, but I could feel them approaching. No,
\emph{feel} was perhaps the wrong term. It was an instinct, like the the
one that warned me of danger, whispering that they were coming close.
Whatever we'd done in Dormer, when all of us save Thief had fought as
one, it had left a mark. The implications of that worried me.

``The Carrion Lord's advance has not slowed,'' Adjutant said.

``I saw,'' I grunted back.

There was danger in that, though I knew better than to assume Black
wasn't aware of it. With the legionaries he had under the mantle of his
Name advancing so much more swiftly, what had once been a wave was
turning into a sloppy wedge. If he got too far ahead\ldots{} He
wouldn't, I told myself. Black had been winning battles before I was
even a look in my mother's eyes.

``Senior Mage, report,'' Juniper growled.

I almost jumped. I hadn't noticed Kilian was there at all. Red hair
free, she'd had her eyes closed and a loose chord of interlocked runes
clutched between her fingers. After a moment she flinched in pain and
opened her eyes.

``The Hellgate is beyond my ability to understand,'' she announced. ``As
for Liesse, I have some notion. The city is not gone, merely phased a
step out of Creation. There is still a point of access to it.''

The Hellhound made room at the table, hairless brow raised.

``Here,'' Kilian said, pointing down at the map.

I leaned over to see and winced. That was behind the palisade and
trench, in open space overlooked by all three bastions and currently
filled with wights. This one was on us, I thought. We'd all been so
convinced the field fortifications were a battle measure none of us had
taken the time to inspect them for anything like this. Not when we'd
barely scratched the surface of understanding the kind of wards covering
the walls. Juniper did not reply, brow creasing deeper. Archer and
Hierophant passed the ring of legionaries exactly when I knew they
would, the brown-skinned woman the only one smiling of the two.

``Masego,'' I called out. ``I need an opinion.''

``My preliminary analysis is over,'' he replied. ``This is a Greater
Breach, Catherine.''

Kilian sucked in a sharp breath, but everyone else seemed as confused as
I was. I assumed bad. Very bad, even. Usually the best bet to make when
it came to Diabolist.

``A stable Hellgate,'' Hierophant added when he noticed the lack of
understanding.

He sounded a touch irritated. I sucked my lip. If this had just been a
play to pull out reinforcements like Akua had done at Liesse, the gate
would have eventually closed on its own even if we didn't manage to shut
it first. A major danger, but something that could be handled. This was
different. There was a hole in the fabric of Creation in the middle of
Callow and on the other side was a literally endless horde that wanted
to devour everything in existence. At least I assumed. I didn't know
much about the lay of the Realms Below or the beings that dwelled
inside, but I doubted Diabolist had reached for Hell that was all about
weaving straw baskets.

``Withdrawal is not feasible,'' Juniper said, calm tone cutting through
the silence that had followed Masego's words. ``The god bound above the
Palace is not gone, and regardless time plays in her her favour more
than ours.''

``Hierophant, can you close this?'' I asked.

He snorted, then realized I'd been serious.

``Catherine, a Greater Breach cannot be closed by definition. It is a
permanent bridge between layers of existence,'' he said.

I grimaced.

``Can you just pop a cork in the hole, then?'' I pressed.

``Theoretically,'' he agreed. ``It would be temporary, however. And
require power superior to that employed in the original breaching.''

``He means no,'' Archer cheerfully said.

I kind of wanted to hit her in the face for that.

``If we shut down her ritual, does the gate close?'' I pressed.

``You do not seem to grasp the principles involved,'' Hierophant said
flatly. ``The ritual is done. The gate is there. The Breach was made.
There is no \emph{unmaking} this.''

I turned my eyes to Kilian, who raised up her palms in surrender.

``Diabolism is not a field of study covered in the College,'' she said.
``I know nothing of this.''

``Juniper?'' I tried, grasping as straws.

The orc's hands left the table and she folded them behind her back.

``If we do not contain the Hellgate within a half-hour, the battle is
lost,'' she said. ``And so will be all of Callow west of Summerholm and
south of Daoine, within amonth.''

The weight of that announcement rang like a bell. How many people was
that? Most major cities fell within those borders. Vale, Southpool,
Laure, Denier and even Ankou. I couldn't quite remember the exact
numbers from the last Imperial census at the moment, but Laure alone was
almost half a million souls. I spat to the side.

``Then get your blades out, people,'' I said. ``We're going for a
walk.''

Whatever answer I might have gotten to that was drowned out by the sound
of neighing and crackling flame, followed by the pungent smell of
brimstone. The chariot landed with a crash, pulled by two pitch-black
winged horses, and in it stood a man decked entirely in scarlet: the
Sovereign of Red Skies, dressed in his full glory of war.

``Belay that,'' he said, and there was nothing lazy or amused in his
voice.

That had me even warier. He was not a man to take the situation
seriously unless he had to, in my experience. With a flourish of the
wrist the Warlock produced a small flat stone and tossed it at me. I
caught it without missing a beat, raising an eyebrow.

``Into your mouth, Squire,'' he said. ``Welcome to the Link.''

My eyes flicked to Masego, who nodded absent-mindedly. Safe enough,
then. Gingerly I put the stone in my mouth and shuddered in discomfort
when I felt it move on its own, fusing with the flesh beneath my lower
teeth. A heartbeat later sorcery gently flared and I heard the sound of
flesh being run through directly in my ears.

``Catherine,'' Black said. ``Good.''

``Black,'' I murmured. ``We're in deep shit.''

``Perhaps less than it seems,'' he replied, and on the other side
something screamed and died. ``You are to join me on the front along
with Adjutant and Archer. The bastions must fall, and quickly.''

``The Hellgate?'' I asked.

``Wekesa has a theory,'' Black replied.

``That leaves Masego free,'' I frowned.

``He's going to-``

My teacher was interrupted by a sound I'd heard once before. A faint
scream, rising higher and higher in pitch. Then another. Then another.
Oh Gods. Had she really? Even for Akua this was playing with fire. The
`Link' cut out, before I heard Warlock grunt and sound returned as
suddenly as it had gone.

``Hurry,'' Black ordered. ``The Fifteenth is to accompany Wekesa against
the Hellgate. Overall command is ceded to Marshal Ranker as of now.''

Silence returned to my ears and I turned to face my officers. Several of
them had gone pale, hands shaking.

``Demons,'' I said.

``It was a given they would be used here,'' Warlock said
conversationally. ``Not even Sahelians are so mad as to call on the
Unmakers within a closed realm. Masego, you are to contain them.''

Hierophant's glass eyes did not move under the cloth, but I could feel
his attention move across the field and find the unfolding catastrophes.

``Madness,'' the dark-skinned mage said. ``Apathy. And\ldots{}''

He hesitated.

``Order,'' the Warlock finished. ``That one seems to be the oldest. It
might be Shango's Doom itself, the contract is still unaccounted for.
Begin with Madness nonetheless, before we lose half our men to the
spread. They devour grounds unlike any other breed.''

Hierophant nodded, not bothering to reply, and strode ahead without
paying attention to any of us. So much for planning together. I forced
myself to focus even as in the back of my head threefold song began to
be sung. How much worse, I thought, did it have to be close to them?
Unless my sight betrayed me, the rebels had brought forth the madness
right in front of the centre of their outer palisade.

``General Juniper,'' I said. ``We have our orders.''

The orc's eyes flicked to the most powerful mage in the Empire.

``We are meant to escort you,'' she deduce. ``Am I to take this as
meaning the Hellgate may be closed?''

The Warlock smiled.

``Oh, that clever child's work is not so easily undone,'' the man said.
``The gate will remain. Destruction, though, is the tool of the
uncreative. I have other means.''

That cleared up very little. Was is something that came with the magic,
the urge to be a mysterious jackass? The dark-skinned man rolled his
shoulder to limber it and cast a wary eye to the looming Hellgate in the
distance.

``Well, no time dawdle,'' he sighed. ``General, I will need your men to
establish a solid beachhead on the other side of the gate. Do be quick
about it. I'll limit the spill until you arrive on the scene.''

The reins came down like a lash and the winged horses neighed, the very
sound unnatural. Within moments he was tearing through the sky again. My
fingers clenched, then unclenched.

``Juniper,'' I said, turning to meet my general's gaze. ``Can you do
it?''

The was a heartbeat of silence, then the Hellhound chuckled and her lips
split into a grin that was nasty little piece of work.

``I am,'' she said calmly, ``a general of the Legions of Terror,
anointed and sworn under sacred standard. If a Hell wages war upon the
Empire, then I will invade that Hell.''

Her voice did not rise, or her intonation shift. It was, as she said, as
simple statement of fact. There was something in her eyes when she spoke
that wasn't quite a Name -- she did not have the weight behind her for
that, likely never would -- but was just as fearsome in its own way. It
was cold, absolute and merciless certainty. The stare of a woman who had
killed the enemy a hundred times in her mind already, and knew all that
remained was acting out the movements. The tremors left the limbs of her
officers, straight-backed pride flowing to fill the gap. Named did not
have a monopoly on greatness, I thought. Sometimes all that was needed
was the unshakeable will of one who never even considered defeat a
possibility.

``Then hear my order, General,'' I said, and my mantle stirred at the
shape of this. ``Even if it is impossible, even if all that rules Above
and Below stands arrayed against you -- \emph{win}. I will allow nothing
less from you.''

``Warlord,'' she said, chops bared and head bowed.

I left it at that, because between the two of us nothing more needed to
be said. There might be a day where Juniper failed in the face of ruin,
because in the end did we not all fail? No matter how clever or
powerful, an ending always came. But, I thought, it would not be today.
Not against this. Adjutant stood at my side, loosening the leather ring
holding his axe, and I found Archer staring at me with a pleased smile.

``Zeze's playing with the hellspawn and Fury Green's got her own battle
to win,'' Archer drawled. ``So what do you have for us, Cat?''

My eyes found the distant silhouettes of the bastions, flickering with
sorcery and siege engines.

``String your bow, Archer,'' I said. ``The three of us are taking down
the strongholds with Black.''

Had the day not been so dire, I might have been unsettled by how feral
the grin I got in response was. Today, though? I was counting on it.

---

Zombie the Third got us near the front, but that was all I would ask of
it. Three people were too much to have any room to manoeuver, and twice
we were nearly torched on our flight forward. We made a slow, fat target
for any mage with a little juice to send out. I sent back the undead
horse behind the lines and took a deep breath. \emph{Shit, steel and
blood}. The scent of battlefields. I'd landed us close to General Orim's
Fifth Legion, which currently made made up the left side of assault. He
trailed behind Black still, even though my teacher had abandoned the
centre for the right, but he'd caught up some since I'd last had a look.
Black had run into some heavy resistance at the palisade, and had yet to
pierce through the enemy centre. That wasn't the part of this
battlefield that worried me.

Hierophant's lid on the demons unleashed was paper-thin, it was obvious
to see. Not only had he been ordered to maintain three sets of wards
against demons simultaneously, but he was facing constant pressure by
the mages in the bastions trying to undo his work. It was worthy of a
little awe, I thought, how he was still managing to keep his head
slightly above the water for all that. I could not even see the demons,
save for the occasional heartbeat-lasting glance, since they were
surrounded by smooth globes of ivory-like solid sorcery. Around those
wards sticks of incense floated, slowly burning out only to be engulfed
in ivory flames at the last moment and from ashes born anew and full.
The strength of the wards? It made sense. I'd seen some sticks burn much
more quickly when the ovals came under fire. Regardless, those few
moments where the demons were not completely contained were enough to
twist their immediate surroundings. I saw legionaries but also wights,
things that should have no soul of their own, begin howling and tear at
themselves and everything close to them. Others simply\ldots{} ceased.
Fell down, dead for their hearts no longer beat.

The creepiest was the work of the third. What it touched of Creation
became\ldots{} \emph{unwoven}, in some fundamental way. Air was
breathed, but gave no breath. Flesh remained fixed even as men moved,
sliding off like oil. Ground became like the sea, and I even caught
sight of a man who took a ball of flame to the face rise and walk back,
flesh mending, only to advance as he first had and be struck by the very
same spell. It was not that the demons ran amok. If they did, the
Legions would have broken already. But just by being contained in front
of the first palisade protecting the bastions, they created a rampart of
death that could not be passed. The legionaries had to go around them,
and not come too close, which took them straight into the enemy fire.
Tough the goblinfire still burned and had thinned the ranks some, the
wights were still thousands and bitterly contested the palisades. Most
of the killing, though, came from the bastions. Sorcery lashed out in
never-ending waves, trebuchets and scorpions that were the deadly work
of goblin engineering carving bloody streaks in the advancing men.
Already at least a thousand dead carpeted the field, and dozens more
died every heartbeat.

I breathed out and unsheathed my sword, gathering power. Archer idly
nocked an arrow and Adjutan's grip tightened against the shaft of his
axe with a crisp leathery sound.

``All right,'' I said. ``Let's get this started.''
