\hypertarget{interlude-gate}{%
\section{Interlude: Gate}\label{interlude-gate}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Oh, I get it. The real treasure was the people I had executed
along the way!''}

-- Dread Emperor Irritant I, the Oddly Successful
\end{quote}

``Something's coming through,'' Kilian said.

Dawn was beginning to warm the stones of Marchford's central plaza, but
there would be no bustle of humans today. There hadn't been for half a
fortnight: the Hellhound had closed off this entire section of the city
and garrisoned it heavily at Apprentice's recommendation. Nauk brushed
off a speck of ash from the stripes on his shoulder that now marked him
a legate of the Fifteenth, irritated at the way the burnt wood got
everywhere. The very redhead who'd just handed him the latest bit of bad
news had ordered for braziers full of holly and apple tree to be set up
in all four corners of the plaza and kept ever-burning.

``How big, this time?'' the orc asked.

The Senior Mage muttered in the mage tongue and squinted at the runes
that formed in the air.

``Still minor,'' she said. ``The frequency is increasing, though.
They're building up to something.''

Nauk spat to the side.

``Those are scouts, Kilian,'' he said. ``Like a clan would send before a
killing raid. They're looking for weaknesses.''

Spikes of iron had been hammered into the stone in irregular patterns on
the first day to make it harder for the Fae to step into Creation, but
the border had been getting thinner with every dawn anyway. Juniper had
prudently ordered that containment wards be set up around this section
of the city before moving in legionaries, deploying most of the
Fifteenth's mages to attend the defences. Nauk had been put in charge of
manning the defences with his \emph{jesha} of two thousand, the largest
combat deployment of the legion since the Liesse Rebellion. While Kilian
went around marking stones and muttering to herself with her posse of
mages following, he'd looked for more pragmatic means of making sure
anything that wandered into the plaza didn't make it any further.

Pickler had set up half a dozen engines of her own design on the
rooftops that offered the best lines of fire, sappers huddling around
them in quiet clusters even now. Fortifying the alleys was old hand for
his legionaries, after the battles of Marchford and Liesse, but Nauk
wouldn't bet on stone doing much to hold back fairies. The scrawny
little shits were basically magic poured into a body, as he understood
it, and he'd seen the kind of damage a properly motivated mage could
wreak. Grabbing his now-cold mug of tea from the table where he'd left
it, the large orc rose to his feet and drained the bitter brew. Drinking
leaf water still struck him as the most absurd of human habits, but
unlike a good slab of meat the tea wouldn't leave him indolent
afterwards. One of the first lessons they taught young raiders, in the
Waxing Moons: always hit the enemy after a meal, if you can. They get
sloppy and slow.

There was no great flash of lightning or pretty lights, when the fairy
entered Creation. A slight shimmer in the air, then a sparrow was
flapping its wings at the centre of the iron spike maze. It narrowly
avoided running into the iron-wrought invisible wall that had flattened
the first of its kind to come through, skilfully weaving around it. Nauk
left behind the informal command centre of his jesha, well behind
fortifications and lines of legionaries, and strode to the edge of the
plaza where he could get a better look. The fae-sparrow began threading
through the maze, unaffected by any wind born of Creation as it flew.

``They've been watching from the other side the whole time,'' Kilian
said quietly.

Nauk had already deduced as much yesterday: the fae never made the same
mistake twice. Kilian's course track at the College had been the magic
one, though, so he wasn't surprised she hadn't gotten her hand in the
broth until now.

``No mischief in this,'' the orc said. ``They're not behaving like
tricksters. Something bigger and meaner is telling them what to do.''

``My wards wouldn't even slow the Wild Hunt down,'' the redheaded mage
said. ``So there's that, at least.''

``Don't know shit about fairies,'' Nauk admitted.

Which wasn't entirely true. He had an old family recipe for braising
them with southern spices, but Kilian was quarter-fae and might be
displeased by the revelation. Humans always got all offended when orcs
mentioned eating other humans, like eating each other wasn't the most
natural state of Creation. You'd think they'd never eaten a rabbit, by
the way their hackles got raised. You just had to accept that, to the
Clans, everyone else might as well be rabbits.

``The Tower might have reliable records about them, but anything we have
is useless,'' the mage said, brushing back a strand of her short red
hair. ``Whichever is lord and lady of what might change thrice before
one of our days is over. There's supposedly four Courts of Arcadia --
one for each season -- but the delineation between them isn't clear.
They don't all exist at the same time, either.''

``That sounds like a problem for General Juniper to figure out,'' Nauk
said cheerfully. ``And the Boss, whenever she gets back.''

``She's only a few days away now,'' Kilian said absent-mindedly.

The orc eyed the human amusedly until she coughed to hide a blush and
looked away. He had a feeling there'd been precious little military
business discussed during \emph{that} scrying session. It was an open
secret in the upper echelons of the Fifteenth that Kilian and Cat were
involved, though only among officers who'd been there since the founding
of the legion. The fresh blood wasn't trusted yet. Nauk didn't have much
against Callowans -- they were steady in a shield wall and they died
spitting in the enemy's face, so there was spine to respect -- but he
wouldn't be trusting any of those boys until he'd shared a proper battle
with them. There was an unspoken line in the sand between the
legionaries who'd fought in the Liesse campaign and those who hadn't,
one that had overtaken the weaker lines once drawn by race.

The sparrow made it out of the maze after a little while more, landing
on the ground. The bid's form shimmered and in its place came a kneeling
man wearing silken robes all in shades of blue. Pale-skinned, like the
locals, though fine-boned and taller. He was the first one to made it
all the way through, and that did not bode well.

``Get that thing out of my backyard, Kilian,'' Nauk ordered. ``Before it
can make a mess.''

The Senior Mage raised a hand, then made a fist. There was an eldritch
crackle and the smell of ashes spread across the plaza as thin spikes of
light gathered around the redhead's hands. The fae's silhouette
twitched, but it did not disappear. Kilian gritted her teeth.

``O lords of iron, bar my gate through your embrace,'' she barked.
``Choke it that trespasses, smother in coils unmoving.''

The twitches identified until there was a sound like bone breaking and
the fae dispersed into thin air. Kilian panted for a moment afterwards.

``They've got a foothold,'' she said. ``Prepare for combat.''

``\emph{Finally},'' Nauk grinned, rolling his shoulder with a loud
crack.

The legate cast a look at the legionaries forming a steel-clad circle
around the plaza, dug in behind wooden spikes and fields of caltrops.

``UP AND AT IT, YOU WHORESONS,'' he called out. ``THEY'VE COME
KNOCKING.''

All around the formation swords were drawn, shields raised and crossbows
armed. The veterans who'd defended this very city from devils now ready
to give the boot to the latest idiots to believe they could get a slice
of Catherine Foundling's fiefdom. That was probably the best part about
following Squire, Nauk thought. There was always someone trying to knock
her off and they made the most hilarious faces when fed their own
entrails.

``Outer boundaries are holding for now,'' Kilian said quietly. ``My
mages are feeding the wards, though, so don't expect magical support.''

``I brought my own support,'' Nauk said, baring his teeth at the spindly
scorpions Pickler had built.

Whatever arcane bullshit had been making it hard for the fairies to
cross was gone now, the orc saw. Before there'd never been more than one
coming across at a time -- the only time two cats had manifested, they'd
disappeared before even touching the ground -- but now he could count at
least three dozen shimmers in the air. The twinkly bastards must have
been out of sparrows, because what came out was over thirty tall men and
women in splendid court dress. Long-sleeved tunics of frost and woven
shadows played off dresses of snow and bones, the fae wearing them even
more striking than the otherworldly clothes. They were not humans, Nauk
thought. Their faces were too long, their eyes too large and bright.
Their teeth were the teeth of killers, not prey. Shades of skin went
from dark as ebony to driven snow, not a single one of them resembling
another. All were armed. Spears of bone and bronze, swords of
translucent ice set with lapis-lazuli, even a few bows of dead wood
whose string appeared to crafted from wind.

``The Fair Folk,'' Kilian said, tone halfway between longing and fear.

``Twits should have worn armour,'' Nauk grunted, unimpressed.

One of the ladies idly touched an iron spike with her foot. It shattered
like glass. So much for that line of defence, the legate thought.

``Lovely children,'' the same fae spoke, tone carrying everywhere
without ever being loud. ``Who speaks for you?''

Nauk pushed aside the legionaries in the front line and made his way
through. Kilian followed, hands hidden behind her back. Some of the
legionaries had almost dumbstruck look on their faces, the orc saw.
Mostly humans. There'd been something lilting in the fairy's voice, like
a buzzing in his ears, but after years of dealing with the Red Rage it
might as well have been tickling.

``Legate Nauk of the Fifteenth Legion,'' the orc introduced himself.

He'd stopped sixty paces away, though he still felt exposed so far from
the shield wall.

``Senior Mage Kilian, of the same,'' the redhead added a moment later.

The fae's gaze lingered on the mage, but turned to the orc soon enough.
She smiled in a way that was probably meant to be enchanting. She might
have succeeded, if she didn't look like a skinny pale pack of twigs in a
dress. Nauk like women a little greener, and with a talent for
engineering.

``So strong,'' the fae praised. ``So wilful. This will be a day to
remember.''

What was it with supernatural creatures and thinking creepy worked for
them?

``You got a name?'' the orc asked.

``I am the Lady of Snags and Bones,'' she smiled. ``The-``

``You're trespassing,'' Nauk interrupted flatly.

She looked a little miffed at that, the first time her mask of
perfection was marred.

``This land belongs to the Lady of Marchford,'' he continued. ``You're
walking her street and breathing her air, without permission. Fuck
off.''

It might have been for the best he'd never taken any of the diplomacy
classes, Nauk mused.

``Ah, but we like it here,'' one of the men said. ``I think we'll
stay.''

There was a round of perfect laughter from the rest of the fae. The man
strode forward and bowed theatrically.

``I am-``

``I don't really care,'' Nauk admitted bluntly.

``Nauk, let the man finish,'' Kilian chided. ``We'll need more than one
name for the report.''

``There will be no report,'' the Lady of Snags and Bones smiled. ``This
place belongs to Arcadia now, and we do not bother with such bores in
the Land Resplendant.''

``You must have many questions, Legate Nauk,'' the man said in a
conciliatory tone. ``We will help you in this.''

``Only the one, really,'' the orc said.

``Ask us, dearest one,'' the woman encouraged.

``Iron,'' Nauk of the Waxing Moons said, baring sharp fangs. ``Does it
spoil the taste?''

``Pardon?'' the man said, blinking in surprise.

``For when you end up in the cookpot,'' he explained.

Kilian finished casting the signal, the number five in Miezan numerals
forming out of fire above them, and the scorpions began spitting out
bolts of cold iron. The orc unsheathed his sword and began backing away
as the first wave of bolts speared a handful of fairies, dragging out
horrifying screams as their veins turned dark and pulsing all over their
bodies. Now, typically speaking, would have been the dead moment between
two scorpion volleys when the sappers reloaded the engines. These were
not the classic design of the Legions of Terror, however, they were
children of Senior Sapper Pickler of the High Ridge tribe. Bolts dropped
down from wooden magazines, a lever was cocked and the scorpions fired
\emph{again}.

``LEGIONARIES, FORWARD!''

Commander Jwahir, one his Senior Tribune after -- well, even now
thinking of that too much was likely to make him lose control, so he
forced his thoughts out of that path. Jwahir's voice had been the one
calling out, the Taghreb well-briefed on their defensive plans and her
role in them. Even with the steady stream of scorpion fire coming from
the rooftops, the fairies were not pinned down. Immediately they
scattered in all directions, which unfortunately involved down the path
of Nauk's own retreat. The so-called Lady of Snags and Bones was one of
two that did, as well as some dark-skinned fae with a long barbed spear.

``This could have been painless for all of you,'' the Lady mourned,
advancing with a sword that could have been either crystal or ice.

A crossbow bolt from the ranks sailed straight for her neck and she
batted it aside without even looking.

``I feel like this might be the weak part of this plan,'' Kilian said,
hands quickly tracing runes in the air even as she retreated with him.

``Don't be a killjoy,'' Nauk said. ``How often do we get to kill
anything ourselves, these days?''

``\emph{Us} killing \emph{them} is the weak part,'' the mage replied.

The Lady leapt forward like a great cat but the orc was ready for her.
His rectangular legionary's shield caught the translucent blade and it
bounced off the red-painted steel, though not before heavily denting the
surface. Nauk had been a heavy before being an officer, so he wasn't
armed like a regular: his longsword swung before she could retreat. She
ducked under the swing with a mocking laugh, scoring a blow on his
greaves that frosted over immediately. Fucking fairies, now he'd have to
requisition another set. Kilian would have been in more trouble than
him, since she didn't have a shield of her own, but when the other fae
came for her she barked out a word in the arcane tongue and lightning
flashed. The fairy parried the bolt of electricity with its spear
without missing a beat and went to run through her throat only to
hastily retreat when the lightning swung around and went for him again.

New trick, that. Her talks with Apprentice must be paying off. Feet
steady, Nauk continued retreating with his shield up even as the Lady
continued to assault him. She was too nimble for him to get a proper hit
in, especially when wearing a full set of plate. Kilian kept her
opponent away by weaving her streak of lightning, constantly murmuring
under her breath even as she broke it into separate pieces and finally
managed to sink part of it into her opponent's shoulder. The fae
twitched uncontrollably, skin burning until a volley of crossbow bolts
from their left put him out of his misery.

``You cannot defeat the Court,'' the Lady of Snags and Bones snarled,
face turned ugly by hatred. ``We will not die, will not relent, until we
have our due.''

Her strike sheared off the upper third of Nauk's shield but the legate
smashed the rest into her stomach. She flinched, which bought him just
long enough to toss the useless thing at her head. She batted that away
easily enough and even managed to catch his downwards swing with her
sword. Muscles flexing, Nauk tried to force his blade down.
\emph{Useless}, he realized. Even one-handed she was stronger than him
and worse her pretty little sword was digging into goblin steel. A crack
appeared, then the longsword shattered as she smirked triumphantly. She
thought he was unarmed, now. \emph{Orcs are never unarmed.} He lunged
forward and his fangs sunk into her throat, his useless remains of a
sword clattering against the ground. Nauk ripped out a chunk and pushed
on the the ground, swallowing bloodless flesh as the Lady screamed. Ugh.
Tasted like bad pork. A spear of flame erupted from Kilian's hand and
dispersed the Lady of Snags and Bones for good.

``A gorget would have covered the throat,'' Nauk told the puddle of
water. ``That's why we wear armour, you bloody glittering
\emph{amateur}.''

The closing wall of shields and the crossbows fired from behind them had
managed to pick off the fae not run through by Pickler's repeating
scorpions. The Fifteenth Legion was, once again, master of the field.
Nauk returned for lines as cheers spread, Kilian at his side.

``We'll need to send Juniper a report,'' he said. ``First incursion was
repulsed, but it won't be the last.''

As if to prove him right, a sharp keen immediately erupted in the centre
of the plaza. He glanced back, and the way there was only a single
shimmer in the air was not as reassuring as it should have been.

``Kilian,'' he growled urgently.

The mage was already looking at her warding runes, face pale.

``There's nothing I can do to stop that,'' she spoke in a low voice.
``Nauk, whatever it is it's \emph{huge}. It has a bigger draw on the
wards that the last band put together.''

The moment he was behind the shield wall he began barking orders.
Whatever was crossing, they were hitting it with everything the moment
it was corporeal. He'd been expecting some sort of giant winter monster,
but what actually arrived was a single woman. Decked in an armour of
twisted dead wood from head to toe, her long dark hair was the only part
of her visible under the helmet -- save for the eyes, an eerie unnatural
blue. A sheathed longsword was at her hip and a spear made entirely of
bronze was in her hand. The fae glanced at the storm of arrows and bolts
headed for her, then tapped the bottom of her spear against the ground.
Frozen out of the air, the projectiles fell in useless piles.

``We may have a problem,'' Kilian said.

Mist rose from the bolts on the ground, obscuring the field of vision.
Nauk's officers were not prone to panic, though, and ranks tightened
quietly. The mist thickened, then began swirling. Wicked-looking shards
of ice began to form in the whirling mess and the legate grimaced at the
idea of that spell hitting his lines. One of which, he noticed with a
flare of anger, was splitting in two. A single man in robes passed
through them, scowling heavily at the growing storm even as the ranks
closed seamlessly behind him. Dark skin, spectacles, could stand to lose
a few pounds. Apprentice had finally decided to intervene. The Named
strode into the storm, tracing symbols, and a heartbeat later it erupted
into a column of steam. The fae stood unruffled where it had been,
pointing her spear at the Soninke.

``Do you have \emph{any} idea,'' Apprentice snapped, ``how many
experiments I've had to put on hold to come here?''

Nauk choked out a laugh. The warlock's get was in a mood -- this was
going to \emph{hurt}. A dozen blades of ice formed in the air in front
of the spear and shot off in Apprentice's direction, so swift they were
but pale blurs. The mage extended a hand and they were yanked to the
side, passing to his left before turning around his back and forming
into a single large spiked sphere as they returned to the sender. Kilian
let out a sharp breath. The orc glanced at her curiously.

``He rewrote the formula halfway through,'' she said.

``That's nice,'' Nauk said.

``Nauk,'' she said. ``That's like\ldots{} solving an equation with blind
variables, replacing those variables with the values you want to get an
entirely different result and \emph{doing the whole thing in the span of
three heartbeats}.''

She sounded admiring, and more than a little envious.

``There can't be more than six people alive today who can do that,'' she
said.

``Look, now he's making a friend,'' Nauk contributed helpfully.

The fae was hovering in the air now, desperately trying to reach for its
sword even as Apprentice glared at it.

``Whoever sent you is still listening, right?'' the Soninke said.
``Allow me to make this perfectly clear: if you interrupt my research
again, \emph{you will be the next test subject}.''

Apprentice closed his fist and the fae wrenched into a ball with a sick
crunch before falling to the ground. The Soninke was already walking
away, complaining under his breath.

``I \emph{will} abuse my rank to get out of writing the report for
this,'' Nauk informed Kilian, making a tactical retreat before the
redhead could protest.
