\hypertarget{chapter-30-riot}{%
\chapter{Riot}\label{chapter-30-riot}}



\epigraph{``The classic Callowan blunder. Sending an army into the Wasteland
you can't handle if it comes marching back as undead.''}{Dread Emperor Sorcerous}



Magical healing felt slow and inefficient, after having grown to the
heroic alternative, but it had to be said that Masego was exceedingly
good at it. It was better not to think about how many people he must
have needed to cut open to get there. Hopefully at least the majority of
them had been dead at the time, though with Warlock you could never be
sure. It was all flying pigs until he got in a mood, then it was corpses
all around. Apprentice politely clapped my shoulder to signify he was
done and I rose from my crouch.

``You'll need a blacksmith to truly rectify the state of your armour,''
he said. ``But it is no longer liquid, at least.''

Speaking of liquid, Archer was polishing off the bottom of a copper
flask even as we spoke. The two of them seemed in a decent mood, though
not eager to join the fray. Given that Summer's army could be quite
literally world-ending if it got into the swing of things, I didn't
blame them. I got the blood and what looked like flakes of skin off the
hilt of my sword -- Gods, those were probably mine weren't they? -- and
took a deep breath.

``All right,'' I said. ``First we need to pick up Hakram. Before we do,
Archer, could you tell me what the Hells your teacher is doing here?''

She ignored me, finished guzzling down whatever liquor she was packing
and dropped the flask to the ground. It was a good thing the enemy
already knew where we were, otherwise no doubt they could find out just
by following the trail of those that no doubt followed in her wake.

``No idea, Foundling,'' she replied cheerfully. ``She won't be here for
the princes and princesses. She got bored with those a while back.
Whatever it is, though? I recommend not being even remotely in the
vicinity of her way. That, uh, doesn't tend to go well for people. And
gods. And castle that one time.''

It said a lot about the Lady of the Lake's reputation that I wouldn't be
particularly surprised if she'd destroyed an entire keep because it had
made the poor decision of being built somewhere inconvenient to her.
Black had told me there were to people on Calernia against whom it was
useless to think in terms of victory, where one could only attempt to
limit the damage and lose the least amount of skin possible. One was the
Dead King, who he'd charmingly referred to as `the original
abomination'. The other was the Ranger, whose utter disregard for odds
I'd been raised hearing stories about.

``Well, I'm not intending to get in a fistfight for her, that's for
sure,'' I grimaced. ``I've recently run out of borrowed lives.''

``I fear you may run out of ribs as well, if you keep at it,'' Masego
drily said.

Now that was just unwarranted. I hadn't broken any of those in, like, at
least sixty heartbeats. I was going to ask about having them reinforced
with steel, though, because nowadays they were snapping like twigs.

``I can't commend your judgement but you pain tolerance is impressive,''
Archer added, never one to leave someone unkicked while they were down.

I flipped her off.

``Goat-daughter,'' she replied in Taghrebi, ridiculously proud of
knowing the word.

``Masego have you been teaching her cusses?'' I sighed.

``It was either that or arguing about whether Creation is a sphere
again,'' he admitted.

I raised an eyebrow at Archer.

``I'm just saying, do you know anyone who's gone the whole way around?''
she said. ``Have you done it yourself?''

Apprentice twitched and I decided to change the subject before he went
on a rant about had proved Creation was round. I knew better than to
hope he did not have three philosophers and several volumes to
reference.

``We'll table that for later,'' I ordered. ``I, uh, left Adjutant back
in the middle of the melee. Anyone have any suggestions of how to take
him out? Our target is east.''

I ignored Apprentice's peevish murmur about how Hakram, at least,
probably hadn't broken any ribs. That was a deeply unfair comparison,
the orc had a whole aspect about not breaking.

``We could kill our way through,'' Archer suggested.

Ah, Archer. Violence wasn't her only tool, just the only one she ever
bothered to use.

``I'm open to other suggestions,'' I prompted.

That was when the screaming began. Sword in hand faster than I could
blink, I turned to look at the source of it. It was only one voice,
though a remarkably loud one. The Duchess of Restless Zephyr was back in
the sky, missing an arm and most the half of the body attached to it.
One of her wings was pure flame, I saw, which made her flight awkward
but admittedly still better than I could manage.

``I'd \emph{really} hoped she was dead,'' I said.

``She seems peeved,'' Masego said, master of observation that he was.

``You could say we didn't part on great terms,'' I conceded.

The dark-skinned mage's eyes glimmered with Name power, peering at the
Duchess.

``She's bleeding out power,'' he noted. ``Her very frame is unstable. I
expect she will detonate, left alone long enough.''

Archer whistled merrily, stringing her bow.

``Never bagged a duchess before,'' she said.

``That'd be kill-stealing and you know it,'' I said.

I did not, however, tell her not to put arrows in the woman until the
issue went away. It was one thing to banter with my companions, another
to allow a threat of that magnitude to live even a moment longer than
she needed to. It swiftly became clear that screaming at the top of her
lungs was more than a coping mechanism for the fae. A pack of a hundred
winged knights peeled off from the rest, lances high as they formed up
around her. It would have been untrue to say I felt the weight of the
Duchess' gaze, but I was pretty sure if she was capable of glaring
someone aflame I'd be a bonfire right now.

``I might run out of arrows,'' Archer said. ``The fancy ones, at
least.''

I eyed her quiver, which looked plain but had as much sorcery wafting
off of it as all her enchanted ammunition put together.

``They're in range, for you?'' I asked.

``Sweetcheeks,'' she grinned. ``There's not a damn thing in any world
that \emph{isn't}.''

It was talk like that that had me believing the ochre-skinned woman
wasn't a villain. None of us who'd managed to live this long would so
willingly dip down hubris and slip it too much tongue. Archer wasn't all
boasting, at least. She nocked her first arrow smoothly and released
almost quicker than I could follow. The arrow flew. A hundred yards from
the fae it was buried in a wave of flame and I thought that the end of
that, but moments later a single silhouette fell from its horse. I
sharpened my eyes and let out a staggered breath. Right between the
eyes, from at least a mile.

``See?'' Archer preened.

``Archer,'' I tried.

``I told you,'' she interrupted.

``Archer they are \emph{charging},'' I barked. ``\emph{Keep shooting}.''

She pouted, but smooth movements followed and arrows took the sky. I
looked at Masego, who seemed more bored than worried.

``I don't suppose you have something to stop a cavalry charge?'' I
asked.

``It is unlikely any of my wards would do more than slow them down,'' he
said. ``In Arcadia, that is. Layering is pointless if they unmake the
layers as fast as I craft them.''

``Keep the Duchess busy, then,'' I ordered. ``She has this nasty wind
trick.''

Speaking of the devil, the screaming had ceased. She was hurtling
through the air, keeping up with the knights, and pointing her sword at
us. The rider next to her toppled from an arrow through the neck, Archer
chuckling at my side.

``Masego,'' I said urgently.

The air exploded, but a transparent box formed around it. The winds
howled, barely contained.

``Interesting,'' Apprentice praised. ``Derivative work, of course, but
fae do tend to keep close to their title and Court.''

The box contracted until it broke, and the wind dispersed with a hiss.
Gods I'd missed having a powerful mage around. It made it so much easier
not to die. Archer was ignoring us, taking apart the knights one at a
time. How many had she slain, easy as swatting a fly? Twenty, maybe
more. When she ceased moving, though, I cleared my throat.

``There's still some left,'' I helpfully pointed out.

``I'm out of mage-killers,'' she said.

The air exploded again. This time Masego had evolved his defensive
measure: a series of transparent walls redirected the fury of the wind,
ultimately heading back towards the charging fae. It dispersed long
before reaching any of them, but just what he'd been able to do might be
deterrent enough that the Duchess wouldn't try it again. If she'd pulled
that when they were closer, they would have lost a few for sure.

``You don't have any other enchanted ones?'' I asked.

``None that are fireproof,'' she said, calmly unstringing her bow.

Given the size of the thing I would have said something about
overcompensating, but now that I'd actually seen her use it the words
stayed stuck in my mouth. Skill was skill, no matter how
ridiculous-looking the tool enabling it. Archer unsheathed her
longknives, tapping one against her leg impatiently.

``They could hurry up, at least,'' she complained. ``Not like we can
charge back at them.''

``Oh my,'' Masego murmured. ``That could\ldots{} No, first I'd have to
overtake the matrix.''

``Apprentice,'' I said, a little worried.

``Everything is going to be fine,'' he said dreamily, eyes still filled
with Name power.

I had never more wished to have a shield. And so the three of us stood
valiantly against the coming charge. Apprentice was muttering to
himself, lost in his own world, Archer had taken to cleaning her
fingernails with one of her blades and I was silently wishing I could
just duplicate Hakram a few times and not have to rely on these two
anymore. More like valiant-adjacent, maybe. I steadied my breath and
adjusted my stance as the knights and Duchess angled their descent, the
lot of them moving flawlessly together.

``Whither,'' the Duchess of Restless Zephyr screamed.

``\textbf{Deconstruct},'' Apprentice replied, fingers dancing across a
stream of shining runes.

The fae aristocrat yelped, losing control of her spell. The bone-dry
winds slipped her leash, turning on her. Her wing of flame dispersed as
her body turned to a husk, skin turning to leather in the span of a
heartbeat. She crashed, but I couldn't spare a longer look than that: I
was too busy trying not to get skewered. Flattening under the lance
wouldn't work. I'd never gotten anywhere by betting against fae
reflexes. Instead I sunk into my Name, let the calm wash over me and
watched the tip of the weapon. \emph{The only dangerous part of a lance
is the tip, I told myself}, repeating Black's words. I pivoted around it
at the last moment, letting the knight pass me by. Immediately I had to
duck under the horse of the man behind him, sword coming up to split its
belly open. I emerged drenched in blood and guts to see the third rank
was too far ahead to strike me, but the fourth had adjusted its angle.
And was converging on me. Apprentice came to the rescue, a sphere-like
black rip into the fabric of Arcadia forming amongst the fae. It didn't
seem to do much but draw them closer to it, but it should keep them busy
for at least a bit.

That left the first rank, which had deftly landed on the ground and was
turning back around. I heard screams and laughter to the side, which
probably meant Archer wasn't in too much trouble. Even as lances turned
to me, I felt an itch between my shoulder blades. I knew better than to
ignore the hints of my Name, and moved before a thrown javelin could add
a steel component to my spine. The thrown weapon sunk into the ground
and exploded in flames, the enemy knights riding straight through the
screen of fire. This, I decided, was not going to work. Even if the
Duchess didn't come back from her mistake, there was only so long I
could keep avoiding being run through. Especially if I had to dodge
javelins at the same time. Relief came in the shape of Archer, who
barrelled into the flank of the knights charging me. She was riding a
horse, because of course she was. Two arrows were stuck in her mount's
neck and she used them to guide it along with no small amount of
spurring. That\ldots{} could work. Maybe. I wasn't above fleeing a
losing fight. Masego's black sphere must have petered out, because I
heard the whistle of javelins let loose followed by neighs.

I was already moving, though, and the thumped into the ground behind me.
There were still half a dozen knights after my hide, even though Archer
was making a joyous nuisance of herself, and it was those I went for.
They were on the ground now, and while the sky belonged to the fae down
here they were in my wheelhouse. I ran at them, smoothly cutting the
distance. They'd learned from the last time, adjusted to my speed, and
when I pivoted around the first lance I found another two aimed at my
chest. An exertion of will had a panel of ice forming in the way,
breaking instantly but buying me a precious few heartbeats. I pushed a
sliver of power down my legs and leapt at the knight I'd just avoided,
colliding with him atop the winged horse. I took a hard knock in the
nose and he tried to to slide a knife in my ribs, but I caught his wrist
and twisted it to throw him off the horse. Which was not best pleased
about this turn of events. I tried to slide my feet into the stirrups,
but the neighing fucker was bucking me off. And now the other knights
were back at me. Great. I had to throw myself off to avoid taking a
javelin in the chest.

``Fine,'' I growled. ``The hard way.''

I rammed my sword through the horse's eye as my free hand whipped up to
blast a knight off his horse with a spear of shadow. I kept the power
close, forcefully shoving it into the dying mount through my blade. The
beast twitched once, twice, and its dark eyes went pure blue. That was
new.

``Up,'' I ordered, and it rose back to its feet.

I leapt on, and this time there was no bucking. I looked for the others
and found Archer had already retreated, and forced a visibly dismayed
Masego to ride with his arms around her belly. Considering Apprentice
hated even regular horses, a winged one had to be a nightmare for him. I
set my mount to riding with my mind alone, the knights gathering in a
wedge behind me. That was going to be a problem.

``Retreat,'' I called out.

Archer laughed, but at least she listened. I dug into the muscle
memories of the horse I'd raised and put on my finger on the part that
concerned flight. The wings extended brusquely and as I screamed it
began batting its wings and we rose into the air. So did our pursuers.
The feeling of the wind whipping at my face was exhilarating, but death
followed close. They were already gaining. I sent the horse downwards to
avoid a javelin, but when it exploded into flames the fire formed into a
hawk and hurtled back towards me. Within moments a menagerie of birds
was forcing me into acrobatics that had my heels digging into the flanks
of the dead horse -- Zombie the Third, I mentally named him -- as I
tried my best not to fall off. The other two caught up with me and I
gestured towards our forces still fighting on the field, but Apprentice
shook his head.

``The Duchess,'' he said.

My arm whipped out to cut through the shaft of a javelin. I smothered
the fire that came out with ice before it could form. Godsdamnit.

``Fine,'' I yelled. ``I'll draw them off.''

I took a sharp right to avoid incineration, flicking my wrist to send a
knife into my palm. The knights were on me. This was going to be
\emph{tricky}. They had range, damn them. The knight at the tip of the
wedge rammed his lance halfway through into my mount's body, but it was
too dead to care at the moment. I leapt off my horse onto the bastard,
desperately trying to convince myself this was a good idea. My armoured
boots hit his chest and he fell off, but brilliant wings burst into
existence. Right, falling wasn't a problem for them. I managed to land
on the saddle but my boots were slick with blood and it was bucking --
even as I began to slide I saw the lance going for my knee. \emph{Don't
die, don't die, don't die.} My foot landed on the tip of the lance and
even as it ripped into the saddle I kicked the fae's chin. Blood sprayed
and teeth with it. I began to fall but managed to sink my knife into the
horse's flank, hoisting myself back up. The Name reflexes were barely
enough to save my life, sword coming up to slap aside another lance so
it just pierced through my only previous pauldron. Heat at my back, it
was time to move. The wave of flame hawks was at my heel.

The horse was beginning to go down so I leapt off again, screaming every
Mtethwa curse I knew and then some. The knight I impacted didn't manage
to bring up his lance in time, but he did manage to sock me in the mouth
with an armoured hand. I tasted blood. My knife found his throat, and I
took the trade gladly. Heat again, and so close I left the blade. I
bunched up for another jump but it was too late. I was blown off by a
storm of flame, what little skin I had exposed taking the brunt of it as
even my plate warmed. I grit my teeth and formed a pane of ice to land
on, licking my busted lip and pointing my sword at the fae.

``Taking all comers,'' I croaked out. ``You only outnumber what, fifty
to one?''

Half the lances flickered with light and turned into swords as they
fluidly formed in a circle around me. Bury me in numbers, would they?
And this time with blades to take care of me if the lances failed. I
panted quietly, and planned the timing. My control was still rough. As
one, without a word, they charged. There would be no dancing around all
those blades, Named or not. It was a good thing I didn't intend to. I
watched the enemy close in and, at the last moment, broke the pane. I
began falling again as the knights closed in on empty space, though
disappointingly enough they were too skilled for collisions to ensue.
The smoothly slid around each other even as I landed with a thump atop
Zombie the Third, almost slipping again before I shoved my boots into
the stirrups. I wasted no time in getting the Hells out of there. That
was as long as I could buy the other two. They'd gainfully employed my
many near-death experiences, I saw. The Duchess of Restless Zephyr,
still unconscious, hung floating in a bubble of blue light Masego was
dragging behind them with a chain made of the same. I caught up with
them before the knight caught up with me: dragging the fae aristocrat
slowed them down.

``I swear on all the bloody Gods, Apprentice, if you had me do that just
to get a live duchess I'll bury you so deep underground you will never
see light again,'' I yelled.

Brow creased in concentration, he waved dismissively. We fled towards
the melee, where things were not unfolding as well as I'd hoped. The
attack I'd stolen from the Duchess had slowed the golden fae down, but
they'd formed back up and even with the Watch backing it the Fifteenth
was taking a beating. At a glance, half of Nauk's legionaries were
already dead. The entire line was buckling, even with the Deoraithe
regulars propping them up. We managed to get in bow range before the
knights were on us, and it was enough to make them break off at least
for now. \emph{Close}, I thought. I caught sight of Hakram swinging his
axe towards the centre of our line, but he was having trouble with the
enemy. They were fast as a Named, and though not a strong as the orc
there were a \emph{lot} of them. I guided my horse down, but Masego
called out for me to wait. I watched my companions pass over the golden
fae, and there Apprentice cut off the chain binding the bubble to him. A
moment later the bubble popped out and the Duchess began to fall,
dropping in the ranks of the golden fae. Nothing happened.

I glanced at Apprentice, who was fiddling with runes, and only looked
away when I heard the world groan. Bone-dry winds formed around the
Duchess' body and blew up violently, turning the fae by it into empty
husks that fell apart like sand. It continued to grow, the winds
scattering in every direction and tearing a gaping hole in the golden
fae formation\emph{. Masego, you beautiful sack of pedantry. That might
just even the field out.} The dead horse smoothly flew down, and I
landed in front of a gaping Adjutant as the winds whipped behind me.

``Get on,'' I ordered. ``We're hunting royalty.''
