webcrawl/APGTE/Book-2/tex/Ch-066.md.tex

\hypertarget{regard}{%
\section{Regard}\label{regard}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Refuge is not a city so much as it is a cluster of vagabonds,
held together by awe of the Lady of the Lake. There are no laws here,
save for her whims, and those she inflicts only rarely. The Kingdom
Under seems to consider Refuge a protectorate, though they have no real
presence on the premises, and I should not need to remind you of Lady
Ranger's infamous ties to the Calamities. The Consortium must tread
lightly. This is the woman who once hunted the Wild Hunt for sport, and
she has not grown meeker with the passing of years.''}

-- Varrus Ipsimos, agent for the Consortium
\end{quote}

She'd had to steal a boat in Cleves, for no one had been willing to sell
one to her when they'd guessed her destination.

They were not Lycaonese up there -- Alamans, though a far cry from those
of the central principalities -- but living in the shadow of the Kingdom
of the Dead had taught them hard lessons. People who tried to cross the
Tomb, that deep dark lake festering with the animated corpses of
monsters and men alike, never left its waters. Their hands joined the
thousands of others reaching from the waters to drag fishermen under the
deep. The crossing had not been uneventful: the Dead King now had eyes
watching the path through the rocks she'd used the last time. It had
made for an amusing distraction until she reached the shore on the other
side of the river that fed into the Tomb. The path after that had been
even more treacherous. The air had been poisoned in the Kingdom since
the Seventh Crusade, thick lingering green tendrils of something toxic
fouling the air, but that part Hye already knew how to deal with. She'd
had cloth enchanted that covered the lower part of her face and allowed
her to breathe safely, for even if the poison could not kill a Named it
could have made her sick.

That would not have been ideal, in a land patrolled night and day by
massive shambling armies. And they'd gotten better at finding intruders,
too: the Dead King must have implemented her suggestions from the last
visit. The bone wyverns had been unexpected enough she'd almost been
caught the first time they appeared, and the closer she'd come to Keter
the tighter the defences had been. Using the old roads of the kingdom
that had existed before this entire land had been turned to undeath
wasn't even worth considering: they were all heavily guarded and in
disrepair besides. No, she'd made her way through the broken countryside
and kept to the shadows. It had taken her several months to make it to
the old capital, the placed they now called the Crown of the Dead. The
seat of the Dead King's power, and where behind tall walls a permanent
portal into one of the Hells stood.

Keter had once stood on a plain, but that was no longer true. Centuries
on centuries of mining into the deep had made the city an island
surrounded by sheer cliffs going so deep only the ever-burning fires at
the bottom could be made out in the darkness. How deep that chasm ran,
Hye had no idea. She'd heard the dwarves had mined around all of the
Kingdom of the Dead, and immediately plugged any tunnel form there into
their lands with molten steel. Whether that was true or not, it did not
change the fact that there were four roads into Keter: broad ramps of
stone stretched over emptiness, tread tirelessly by sentinels long dead.
The walls of the city rose so high only one part of Keter could be seen
from outside: a great spire of dark stone, jutting out into the sky like
an arrow. An orb of hellfire always hovered above its tip, ever-shifting
as the demon bound inside cast its searching gaze on the streets inside.
This was the fortress that had broken the spine of five crusades.
Impossible to breach, they said, by force or by stealth. Not even the
most skilled of heroes could do it.

It would be Ranger's fourth visit.

Now, the Dead King had started nailing undead under the bridges so they
could raise alarm after she'd climbed across under it the first time.
He'd had dead sorcerers permanently assigned to stirring up sharp winds
in the void between Keter and the rest of the plain after she'd
rappelled her way across, the second time. He'd hardened the
metaphysical borders with Arcadia after she'd slipped through there the
third, and she supposed that after this one he would make sure his bone
wyverns collapsed when they were captured. The giant bone creature,
flapping through the air more by the grace of magic than by its leathery
wings, crashed into the walls of Keter with a resounding clap. She leapt
off its back and landed on the stone, finding purchase for her hands and
immediately beginning to climb. Hye had been noticed, of course, and she
still had the better part of a hundred feet before her before reaching
the top of the ramparts. The bloody wind sorcerers had crashed her
`borrowed' mount before she could get any closer. The gaze of the demon
in the orb landed on her and it began \emph{screaming}, the noise
shaking the air.

``Hello, Artie,'' she waved.

It kept screaming. The first arrow streaked past her as she was already
moving, scuttling up and to the side to present a harder target. There
were, in Keter, four kinds of undead. The Bones, as she called them,
were the ones currently manning the ramparts as the demon alarm sounded
and trying to put arrows in her. They were not particularly clever on
their own, no more intelligent than dogs, but the Dead King could seize
control of them at any moment. The second kind, the Binds, would
actually be dangerous. Those had souls bound in their bodies, and were
just as sentient as the living. The third kind, the Revenants, she would
not encounter until she was deeper into the city. They were, as a matter
of fact, the reason she had come in the first place. As to the fourth,
there was no need to name the category. There was only one entity in it,
the Dead King himself. Wedging her feet into outcroppings -- they really
needed to saw those off, it made climbing easier than it had to be --
Hye wrenched out her bow and notched an arrow. \emph{Knock, draw,
release.}

The Bind who'd been directing the Bones shooting at her took it right in
the skull, the impact of the arrow shattering the bone under the helmet
it punched through and releasing the soul inside. That should buy her
just long enough to make it to the top, she thought as she slung the
longbow over her back.

It did, as it turned out, though by then masses of dead warriors were
snaking their way up the stairs leading into the city. Blades in hand,
Ranger idly scattered the closest Bone as she considered her options.
The Dead King was trying to clog up the way until his heavy hitters
could arrive, she decided, or he had this entire part of the walls
blasted with sorcery. She'd need to move fast. Sheathing one of her
shortswords, Hye caught the wrist of another Bone and wrenched out the
arm. This one was wearing old Proceran armour long gone out of style,
bust most importantly he'd had a shield as well as the longsword now
clattering on the ground. A big tower shield, the same kind the Praesi
used in their Legions of Terror. Bronze and iron instead of steel, she
noted. That must have been a truly ancient warrior. Idly sheathing her
other sword as she danced out of the reach of another Bone, Ranger took
the shield and broke into a run. Those stairs had cover on both sides,
thick stone borders with a smooth top.

With a shout of glee she leapt down and put the tower shield under her,
using it as a slide. The sheer angle of the borders was enough for her
to keep gaining momentum, going fast enough that the Bones headed for
her were too slow to react to strike at her. There were a few Binds in
the line but those she slapped away with her blades, crouched and
grinning.

She was about halfway down when she realized that, for once, the Dead
King had anticipated her. There were spikes of iron in the stone from
halfway up, jutting out at the right angle to catch her. Before the
first impact she leapt off the shield and continued into a run, letting
her Name strengthen her limbs so she could keep the pace. That round
went to the Corpse Lord, then. Having to tap into her Name this early
meant she'd have less fuel when things got interesting. She leapt again,
ducking under an arrow and landing in a roll.

Hitting the paved streets of Keter, Crown of the Dead, Hye Su eyed the
gathering hordes around her. Run? Run.

--

The problem with undead soldiers, Ranger decided, was that they never
got tired. She'd been awake for three days and night herself, and if not
for her mother's blood running through her veins she would likely be
dead in an alley. She'd inherited different things from her parents: in
body she was her mother's daughter, but in mind her father's. Dada had
never been one to let common sense get in the way of an adventure, to
her mother's mild despair. Being a half-elf had few drawbacks, save for
the Emerald Swords occasionally trying to purge you from existence, but
then Mother had taught her a few tricks to deal with their lot. She had,
after all, taught most of them. Not that elf-killing tactics would help
her much here, Hye thought. Putting down a handful of extremely powerful
individuals was a different kind of fighting than scything your way
through a horde of weaker ones.

Ducking into the shadows at the patrol of Binds passed her, Ranger
waited until she could no longer her their steps before moving again.
This deep into the Hall of the Dead there were no Bones. Calling where
she was the basement of the keep would have been inaccurate, for beneath
her went so deep inside the earth the furthest levels were flooded with
molten stone. She was around the middle, really, and almost where she
needed to be. Putting a spring to her step, the Ranger ghosted through
the corridors until she reached the wide-open gates of the nameless room
where the portal to Hell stood. The hall was broad and long, had once
been a throne room, but now it was bare save for the sculpted obsidian
arch surrounding the wound in Creation.

That, and the two silhouettes standing by it.

One was a man, pale and clad in silver-lined armour. His face could not
be seen under the helmet and the long white cloak did not manage to hide
the heater shield and longsword he kept. The other was a woman, tall and
massively built. She had no weapons but for the stripes of leather
around her knuckles. No armour but a threadbare tunic, and she hadn't
even bothered to wear boots. \emph{Promising.} Both Revenants stirred
when she strode into the room, walking forward at a pace.

``So one of you is one of those fancy monk-types from Levant,'' she
said. ``And the other some kind of knight? Help me out here.''

The man unsheathed his sword.

``I was the White Knight, once,'' he said gravely.

``\emph{Now} we're talking,'' Ranger murmured.

``I was,'' the woman said, ``the Sage of the West.''

Unsheathing a single sword, Hye offered them a swordsman's salute.

``I am the Ranger,'' she said. ``I hunt those worth hunting. Rejoice,
for you qualify.''

Nothing more needed to be said. The fell on her without hesitation, the
Knight's sword coming for her neck and the Sage sweeping her feet. Hye
tested a parry against the sword and found the dead hero's strength not
overwhelming -- she would not need to dodge every time. The sweep she
avoided deftly by leaping, leg wrenching out to land a kick on the
Sage's chin -- or would have, had the hero not caught the blow and
casually tossed her away. Ranger landed on her feet a dozen feet away,
then slowly unsheathed her second sword. This, she reflected, might
actually be challenging. She knew from experience that this far in the
Dead King would not longer bother trying to drown her in lesser undead,
so she could take the time to enjoy herself with these two.

The Ranger stepped forward and let her blades sing.

--

The Sage was the first to go. She could even now turn her skin harder
than steel, the ghost of an aspect to a Name she no longer held, but
steel was something she'd learned to cut long ago. A hand lost, then a
leg, and from there on no amount of fancy magic hand-to-hand tricks was
going to save her. The Knight, though? The former White Knight was the
hardest fight she'd had in a long time. A century, at least.

``You have no aspects to tap in,'' the Revenant eventually said, batting
away a probing blow and attempting to bash her face in with his shield.
``Unusual.''

Hye laughed.

``You have it the wrong way, Knight,'' she said. ``I'm always tapping
into my aspects.''

She flicked her sword around his and wrenched upwards, forcing the blade
out of his gauntleted hand in the exact same way he'd done to her early
in the fight.

``Learn,'' she said.

The White Knight effortlessly snatched his blade out of the air and
struck, but she'd moved ahead of him. The blade passed through the air,
and when he brought it back towards his body her own followed. Like
flowing water filling a cup. Her own strike bit deep into his armour,
shattering the steel and the the skin and bones underneath.

``Perfect,'' she said.

The former hero was beyond pain and wounds meant nothing to him, save
for the fact that the broken bone of his shoulder made it harder to
swing his sword. He retreated cautiously, shield raised, as he sought a
better angle of attack. Hye idly sheathed one of her swords and hummed
as she came for him. The moment crystallized for her, the Knight
carefully placing his sword stroke and the shield rising as he prepared
to charge her. It was timed perfectly. She would be caught by one or the
other, because she'd come forward too quickly with an improper guard. A
swordsman of the dead hero's calibre would need only one opening like
that to kill her. It would not touch her. She spun around the shield,
and if the Knight had still been human enough for such a thing his eyes
would have widened. It wasn't that Hye had become faster, because she
hadn't. Tricks like that could be adjusted to, countered. Just sinking
the power of your Name into your limbs was a brute force application.
What she did was\ldots{} different. She simply was not where the enemy's
weapon was. Her single short sword swept like quicksilver, taking the
Knight's head. In a blur of movement, she relieved him of one limb after
another and then broke the spine itself. Slowly, the necromancy began
seeping out of the dead hero onto the floor.

``Transcend,'' she finished calmly.

She was out of breath. Ahead of her, the portal flickered. That was as
much of an invitation as she was going to get. Sheathing her blade,
Ranger idly passed into Hell. The other side led into a banquet room,
for the Dead King owned the gate and the places it led to. A long table
with stone benches, covered with plates of still-warm food and quite a
few carafes of wine, was headed by a wooden throne. On it sat a
dark-haired child, too pale to be alive and too gaunt to even try
pretend it was.

``Really?'' she said, headed for a roasted chicken. ``The creepy child
route is what we're doing? You have to know that's a horrible cliché.''

She was starving, so she broke off a drumstick and bit into it with
relish.

``Stop killing my heroes,'' the Dead King said. ``I only have so many to
spare.''

``I'll think about it,'' Ranger lied.

The ancient abomination sighed.

``The wyvern trick won't work twice,'' he said.

``You should also take care of those footholds on the wall,'' she spoke
through a full mouth, grabbing a plate and stuffing it with couscous.
``The spikes were a nice touch, though.''

The monster kept a surprisingly good table, for a creature that no
longer needed to eat. Kingly habit, probably.

``Why do you darken my hall, Ranger?'' the Dead King asked.

``Darken your\ldots{}'' she snorted. ``That's rich, it really is. Can't
a girl visit an old friend?''

``We are not friends,'' the lich denied.

``That's a carafe of my favourite wine,'' Hye said, pointing towards the
receptacle in question.

``Coincidence,'' the Dead King said.

Ranger sat on the bench, spitting out a chicken bone before she could
choke on it.

``Mama went back across the sea,'' she said. ``Finally talked a Baalite
captain into taking her there to lay my father's bones to rest.''

``You should also go there,'' the monster said. ``Far away. Give serious
thought to never coming back.''

``I hear what you're saying,'' Ranger said. ``I need a hobby.''

``You could leap off a cliff,'' the Dead King suggested.

Hye poured herself a cup of wine to wash down the couscous.

``It's just been so \emph{boring}, lately,'' she said. ``The most
excitement there's been is Praes trying to invade Callow again and
getting hilariously brutalized on the Fields of Streges.''

``The Tower has not been in worthy hands for centuries,'' the Dead King
said contemptuously.

``We're not talking about your weird boner for Triumphant again,''
Ranger said. ``I really don't want to know the logistics of how that
would have worked.''

She paused. Boner. That was was funny because he was undead so- never
mind. She had a little wine.

``Anyway,'' she said, ``I'm thinking about a hunting trip in Arcadia.
The Wild Hunt was very uppity when I met them.''

``If I could lock you in there, I would,'' the Dead King said wistfully.

``You don't mean that,'' Ranger dismissed. ``Wait -- are you trying to
distract me while massing devils outside this room?''

There was a long pause.

``No,'' the Dead King lied.

``Good talk,'' Ranger said, rising to her feet hastily. ``I'll see you
in a few years.''

``Please don't,'' the lich said.

Hye made for the door, then paused and backtracked. She stole another
chicken leg and a carafe of wine before legging it.

--

The tavern was nearly empty at this time of the night -- people in the
Green Stretch were farmers, went to bed early and rose with dawn. She
would have noticed the three who entered regardless: they had the feel
of Names to them, that knotting in the threads of Fate. They headed
straight for her table and Hye sipped at her wine thoughtfully. They
made for a strange bunch. Two men: one a tall and almost ridiculously
handsome Soninke, the other a pale Duni type with vivid green eyes.
Amusingly shorter than his companion. The Taghreb woman dwarfed them
both, at least eight feet tall and built like a living battering ram.
The Duni must have been the leader, because he was the one to talk. He
gestured at the empty chairs around the table.

``May we?''

``You are the size of at least two people,'' Ranger said, pointing at
the Taghreb.

``Is that why I keep eating them?'' she deadpanned.

Hye grinned. Well, at least they had a sense of humour. That was
surprisingly rare in in villains.

``By all means,'' she said, gesturing at the chairs. ``What can I do for
you?''

``You would be the Ranger, yes?'' the Soninke asked in a voice betraying
his education.

No weapons on him. Mage, most likely. Praesi did love their sorcery.

``That's me,'' she said.

The Duni sat across from her and smiled. He \emph{was} handsome, if not
as much as his friend. Not really her type, but she could appreciate eye
candy when it was offered.

``I hear,'' he said, ``that you can get people into Callow.''

Ranger hummed. Well, that should kill a few months at least.