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\epigraph{``The right kind of defeat can be more useful than a victory.''}{Dread Empress Prudence, the Frequently Vanquished}



The two of us reined in our horses a prudent hundred feet away from the
bottom of the slope.

A fortified camp looked down at us from the heights of the Moule Hills,
raised grounds with a palisade and a dry moat. There were artillery
platforms looming beyond the wooden rampart, at least two that I saw,
and more than a dozen scorpions glaring down at the Army of Callow's
vanguard from atop the palisade. My lips thinned as I took into
consideration the steep slope leading up and the length of it going up
-- at least a few hundred feet -- and how bloody taking that camp was
likely to get should we try. I'd lose a hundred men for every foot, I
darkly thought, the moment Marshal Nim brought out her crossbows.

``That wasn't there yesterday,'' Archer muttered. ``I didn't come too
close, Cat, but I would have seen it in the distance.''

``They did it overnight, maybe?'' I guessed. ``Goblins can work during
the dark, we've pulled that trick before. Then they bring in orc and
humans after sunup when the foundations are laid.''

That might mean they'd not finished the works too long before we
arrived. And possibly that the defences weren't as thorough as it would
seem from down here. Archer was visibly itching to ditch the horse and
go have a closer look on foot but she restrained herself. Instead I felt
the world shiver ever-so-slightly as she drew on an aspect, leaning
forward on her horse.

``Moat's not even,'' Archer said, eyes distant. ``And there's still
goblins working on the side of the camp to make it go fully around.''

I wouldn't be able to match her sight without drawing on Night and I'd
rather not draw on that frivolously under the afternoon sun, so I simply
took her word for it.

``Definitely overnight, then,'' I mused.

That made what they'd gotten up in time even more impressive. Much as it
stung to admit it, the Army of Callow wouldn't have been able to manage
the same. We lacked the sappers and the expertise: a lot of my
legionaries had spent no more than six months in training camps before
being considered ready for war. The Legions regularly trained and
drilled their soldiers in ways the war against Keter had simply not
afforded me the time to do. My people were veterans, but they were
veterans of a very particular kind of war.

``Your rider will get to Juniper soon,'' Indrani noted. ``We waiting for
her orders or heading out to tickle the devils up early?''

I grimaced. Taking light foot up a hill into a hardened Legion position
wasn't going to achieve much except corpses. She'd not meant taking the
Malaga troops, though, but the two of us. Thing was, I wasn't sure we
should. Not when the Marshal Nim would have a bunch of high-class mage
cadres waiting and Akua Sahelian leading them. The odds of something
nasty waiting for us up there were about the same as those of the sun
rising tomorrow.

Might be it wouldn't, but I wouldn't bet on it.

``I'm not touching that camp without a bigger crew than just the two of
us,'' I said. ``And I'll let you loose to scout, since I know it's a
lost cause to stop you, but I want you to promise to keep your
distance.''

Indrani considered me a moment.

``Worried about the mages?'' she finally asked.

``They know which Named we field now,'' I reminded her. ``Nim and
Malicia aren't idiots, they'll have spent time and coin figuring out how
to kill all of you.''

``I'll be a good girl, then,'' Indrani drawled. ``Promised.''

I rolled my eye at her, feeling a pang of discomfort when I realized I
was facing the wrong way for her to be able to see it. All she had to
look at was an eye cloth over a hollow socket. It was the little things
that distressed me the most, somehow. Wounds I knew, had learned to live
with. Limp along with. Losing an eye had been\ldots{} more than that, in
a lot of little ways. Archer waited until we'd returned to the ranks of
the vanguard before passing off her horse, wandering off to find a way
to sidle into the Ways. Though it was still dangerous to travel those
and it'd still remain that way for the better part of two weeks, it was
the sort of environment she thrived in.

A broken-down patch of the Ways where a single misstep might see her
falling through the sky? Archer would take to that like a fish to water.
It was when she'd be back in Creation that worried me.

Not that I had a lot of time to spare on that. The Levantine warriors
that made up the vanguard of the Army of Callow had been advancing in a
broad column until we'd caught sight of the enemy camp, going down the
half-road, but when I'd called a halt Razin had pulled them out of
marching order and begun ordering them into warbands. It was the right
instinct, because right now the army behind was spread out along that
road like a snake. Juniper would put the column into battle order soon
enough, I thought, and I didn't think that the Black Knight would have
staked out that position in the heights to then abandon it at the first
opportunity.

But there were troops Marshal Nim could throw at us without abandoning
her position, and sure enough as I rode through the throng of Levantine
warbands I heard exclamations of surprise from the ranks. From the
eastern face of Moule Hills horsemen were pouring out in neat ranks,
though where they'd emerged from was hidden by a large fold of rock.
Hundreds, I counted, then more than a thousand. Fuck, was Nim throwing
her entire horse at us? If so, we were in deep shit. The last reports
had her at three thousand light horse to our vanguard of two thousand
and a half-thousand of heavy horse from the Thirteenth to throw in
should she feel like it.

``Razin,'' I shouted over the din, forcing people away with my staff.
``\emph{Razin}.''

The sound of my voice caught his attention over the din, drawing his
eyes to me and away from his advising captains.

``Shield wall \emph{now},'' I called out. ``Pack it tight or we're all
dead.''

If Nim had sent goblin skirmishers I would have advised we retreat
instead, but we wouldn't outrun cavalry on flat grounds. To Razin's
honour, he wasted in time in following through. Shouting in Ceseo he got
his captains moving, the quick-footed Levantine warbands gathering into
a fat uneven circle. I dismounted, heading for the front as shields were
raised. In the distance, across the grounds, the enemy horse advanced at
a brisk trot and formed into four slender wedges. They were long and
thin, so it was hard to tell how many riders there were. More than a
thousand, at least, but how \emph{many} more? I found good solid ground
to stand on, slightly away from the shields up front, and after making
sure the warriors around were giving me a wide berth I closed my eyes
and began to pray to the Sisters.

``Wake up,'' I murmured in Crepuscular. ``We have a war on our hands and
I need a miracle to teach the enemy to fear me again. Wake up, carrion
crows. There's blood in the air.''

As I continued to murmur the Night began to move, lazily slithering into
my veins, reluctant to brave the heavy sun. I kept drawing it in,
murmurs flowing freely as the power began to accrue. There were shouts
in Ceseo as the Levantine captains whose men had slingers among them --
a lot of Dominion warriors had picked up the habit of carrying slings as
well as their usual arms in Hainaut, since they were so useful against
the dead -- told them to get ready. A few heartbeats later the enemy
closed the distance, Taghreb and Soninke in vividly coloured scale and
cloth. War cries sounded on both sides, and though a few stones split
open heads it was nothing to what we suffered in return.

Our shield wall was tight and packed, which I'd asked of Razin to
discourage the enemy charging us. Light horse wouldn't want to get mired
in our ranks, it'd be like a mud pit for them. The downside was the same
as the upside, unfortunately: the shield wall was tight and packed. So
when the enemy cavalry began throwing javelins with all the strength of
a charge behind them, those steel-tipped killers found their marks and
then some. Shields splintered and broke, men fell with screams and I got
my first good look at well-trained Wasteland horse making war. All four
of the wedges that'd threatened a charge stopped well shy of our ranks,
instead splitting to the sides and riding backwards smoothly.

The riders at the front threw their javelin and then retreated, making
room for a fresh horseman to toss their own. The impact was\ldots{}
bloody. Worse than arrow fire would have been, if not as sustained.

I'd gathered power enough to give an answer, though. Night flared up,
wreathing me in shadow, and above the enemy horse I began to gather
specks of black flame. I wasn't going to bother with subtle here: if I
could burn through a chunk of their cavalry today the Loyalist Legions
would be significantly easier to handle going forward. To my surprise
the horsemen did not disperse at the sight, continuing their deadly
javelin fire, and I saw why a moment later. There was a great surge of
sorcery up on the heights, two transparent but roiling rings beginning
to form. I stole away a sliver of the Night running through me,
sharpening my eyes, and almost cursed. That was raw kinetic power they
were gathering; I'd seen the likes of it before.

If that hit the ranks of the vanguard javelins would be the least of our
problems. With the shield wall broken, we'd just get run down by the
cavalry like animals.

Whoever had designed that trap had an uncomfortably good read on my
abilities. I couldn't abandon my working with the Night and rustle up
another to handle this, not at this time of the day, which meant I'd
have to break it apart and remake it. Gritting my teeth, I did. The
black flames gutted out into smoke, the power instead expanding those
puffs into great tendrils of dark mist. The kinetic rings flew out, the
sound they made comically wobbly, but I moved the mist in the way. The
working devoured the sorcery as it went through, leaving little more
than a short burst of wind to reach our ranks. That wasn't a victory,
though, when the horsemen had been hammering at us all the while.

At this rate they'd run out of javelins before we gave an answer.

The Levantines were itching to ditch the shield wall and charge, given
how close the riders were -- another trap -- but discipline held. Razin
went through the ranks giving encouragement even as I began gathering
Night again, his captains forcefully pulling back warriors that began to
break the ranks. I'd have to let the Levantines take the hit, I
realized. We could probably survive the magical bombardment, but if I
didn't hit the horsemen they were \emph{definitely} going to overrun our
position the moment they got done softening us up with javelins. It was
a shitty choice to make, but I didn't have a better one on the table.
Best make my miracle count, then.

I had an idea or two in mind and I took to weaving even as power began
rising atop the heights again -- only to suddenly fall apart. I blinked
in surprise, confused, only to then let out a sharp laugh.
\emph{Archer}. Archer had put an arrow into whoever had been leading
that ritual. This was as close to an opening as I'd get.

Then the ground behind us began trembling. Yet it was not cries of
dismay that greeted the change. I glanced back, finding the banner of
the Broken Bells flying tall in the wind as they rode hard to relieve
us. Juniper must have sent them out before we even caught sight of the
enemy cavalry, for them to get her so quickly. The arrival of other
horsemen saw the Legion auxiliaries lose their taste for the skirmish,
unloading another few javelins our way spitefully and then smoothly
pulling away. My knights began pursuit, passing by our position at a
gallop, but they weren't going to catch up to light horse and they knew
it.

Brandon Talbot pulled the Order back when the enemy was driven most of
the way back to their camp. I kept an eye on the heights all the while,
waiting for magic to erupt again, but no ritual followed. I released the
Night, feeling a wave of exhaustion, and the bloodied vanguard began its
retreat back to the rest of the army. We'd survived, I told myself.
Marshal Nim had given us a black eye, but we'd survived.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

---

``The best we can say is that it stopped shy of being a disaster,''
Juniper bluntly assessed.

Three hundred and sixty-three dead, almost twice that wounded. Over half
of our two thousand strong vanguard had been shredded over the course of
a skirmish that'd lasted maybe half an hour. There would have been a lot
more corpses on the ground if we'd not been able to retreat to healers,
but that was cold comfort considering we were unlikely to have all the
wounded back on their feet before nightfall.

``The Black Knight caught us with our trousers down,'' Aisha admitted.
``Our scouts had no idea the Legions were here, much less camped above
the only road. It is a major failure of our forward elements.''

That was a very polite way of phrasing `we stumbled in blind and got
spanked', but the lovely Taghreb did have a way of doing that.

``We turtled up after we got hit in the Ways,'' I said. ``And it cost
us. Now two ways about it.''

I wouldn't pretend otherwise.

``But now we know Nim's here, so she's shot her arrow,'' I reminded
them. ``She won't catch us out like this again.''

It'd been less than an hour since the enemy cavalry had retreated. We'd
used that time to form up the Army of Callow and its auxiliaries in a
battle line across the half-road, facing the fortified camp in the
hills, but the Legions of Terror showed no inclination of coming down to
fight us. It was just Juniper and Aisha here with me here in the field
tent, General Zola being charged with handling affairs on the front, so
none of us bothered to put a better face than was true on our current
situation.

``We can't attack that camp,'' Aisha said, voicing an opinion we all
shared. ``It would be throwing an egg at a wall.''

``We need to turn her position,'' I said. ``Either to the east or west.
So long she's the one sitting on top of the half-road she can keep
bringing up fresh supplies and water to her camp while we'll be eating
into our own reserves.''

``That's the trap, Catherine,'' the Hellhound growled. ``She's making it
seem like she's ceding us the initiative by staying up in her camp, but
she hasn't. We can't leave through the Ways and we'll slow to a crawl if
we leave the road.''

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

``The grounds are too rocky west of Moule Hills,'' Aisha told me in her
stead. ``Unless we put the sappers to making a path for us, we'd just be
wrecking the wheels we just got done putting back on.''

Might still be possible to do it if we moved really slow, but if we did
we'd get hit. She'd harass us with skirmishers and cavalry from a safe
distance, bleeding my army out one cut at a time. And while it would be
possible for the Army of Callow to advance ahead of its supplies at a
quicker pace, it would be a \emph{very bad} idea. We were tethered to
those wagons, because the alternative was the Black Knight's three
thousand cavalry sallying out and torching the wagons carrying all our
food and water. Marshal Nim was living up to her reputation as one of
the three most decorated officers in all of Praes: she'd found a way to
hem us in without even setting foot outside her fortified camp.

``That leaves only the half-road,'' I said, openly unenthused.

It'd mean marching down the valley between Moule Hills and Kala Hills
with a larger enemy force on our flank that was set up in entrenched
high grounds. We'd be doing that on open grounds all the while, while
the enemy had their war engines pointed at us from above. It had
disaster written all over it.

``It might be possible to keep close to the bottom of the Kala Hills and
make it south without a battle ensuing,'' Aisha argued. ``It'd be a risk
for her to try us: in an enclosed space like the valley we could
maneuver to negate her advantage in numbers.''

``And on tight grounds the Order would punch much harder than her own
horse,'' Juniper grunted. ``But it won't work, Aisha. She'll just decamp
and use the road to outpace us going south. Then she'll set up at Kala
Fortress with stone walls to defend from and her supply line still safe
at her back.''

Which would just be moving the problem a few hours south, assuming it
even worked. Which I was significantly less inclined to believe than
Aisha was.

``We could march back north,'' I suggested. ``Go around this entire
region, find another way through.''

``We'd be rolling dice,'' Aisha grimaced. ``We can't go back into the
Ways and if the Gale Ribbon spits out a storm at us the results could be
almost as bad as a defeat.''

She wasn't wrong, though it might honestly still be better than engaging
the Black Knight on her chosen grounds. Unlike the Legions of Terror,
after mauling us the storm wouldn't \emph{pursue}.

``North is right,'' Juniper gravelled. ``But into Kala Hills.
Northeast.''

``Those are a dead end,'' I frowned. ``Even if we set up a camp on those
heights facing hers, all we do is run out our supplies while she watches
us.''

Nim wouldn't be any more eager to attack our camp than we were to attack
hers, we wouldn't bait her into making that mistake. Especially not when
Malicia and her Black Knight were well aware that I could only spend so
long settling affairs in Praes. It was to their advantage to wait me out
without even giving battle, since without a decisive victory against the
Tower my bargaining position was weak.

``Are they a dead end?'' Juniper replied, clicking her teeth
thoughtfully.

She went looking through her papers, eventually taking out a parchment
sheath she pressed into my hands. It was a report, I saw, from the
captain that'd overseen the detachment that had gone to Nioqe Lake to
fill water barrels. A significant chunk of it was spent going over the
freshwater squid attack and praising the two young heroes that'd killed
the creature. I glanced at Juniper, unsure why she'd hand me this. I'd
already told the kids they'd done well.

``What am I looking for?'' I asked.

``Captain Henry mentions seeing locals on the opposite shore,'' Juniper
said. ``Fishermen, as is to be expected of a lakeside town, but also
those bringing cattle to drink.''

I scanned for the line, eye narrowing when I found it. The officer had
mentioned seeing sheep, specifically, and I finally found my marshal's
line of thought.

``Goats they could feed on scraps, but they'd need grazing lands for
sheep,'' I muttered. ``And we haven't seen any suitable grounds on the
other side, so you think they're-''

``In the Kala Hills,'' Juniper finished. ``And that means shepherd
paths, maybe all the way through.''

Even if we found those paths they wouldn't be broad enough to let our
army cross, but that was why we had sappers. Should we cross the hills
and march south it was almost certain that the Legions would still beat
us to Kala Fortress, but it wouldn't matter as much. We wouldn't be
bottled up in the valley anymore, we could swing wide to the east and go
through the rainlands until we eventually found another stretch of the
half-road to march on. Marshal Nim would \emph{have} to come and fight
us on our terms; otherwise we'd cut her supply lines and have freedom to
march on a lightly defended Ater even as Sepulchral caught up to the
Loyalist Legions.

``It is already too late in the afternoon for giving battle to be
anything but risky, regardless,'' Aisha noted.

No one argued with that. The Black Knight had the Eighth Legion with
her, the Trailblazers, and General Wheeler's ranks were heavy on both
goblins and skirmishers. If fighting continued after dark we'd be at a
stark disadvantage.

``Kala Hills, then,'' I agreed.

---

The slopes weren't as steep here as they were on the Moule Hills to the
south, but the stone was softer. Easier to use as foundations. The Kala
Hills were also covered with brushlands and Pickler assured me having
local wood to cut made building the camp much easier. The work only
began midafternoon, which was uncomfortably late, but the Black Knight
hadn't just sat in her camp looking pretty as we moved. Skirmishers were
out and about with the hour's turn, harassing our retreat as we marched
away. Juniper sent out the Levantines and our own Army skirmishers to
match them, but the Order stayed put. We needed the knights ready in
case Nim sent out her own cavalry, we had nothing else that'd be swift
enough to stop her from chewing up our light foot.

This once the fight went our way, at least. I was done fucking around
after the mauling we'd taken, so I sent out Named in force. The Silver
Huntress was like a thresher in a wheat field, fighting skirmishers, and
she had a lot of anger to work out. The Squire got himself two crossbow
bolts in the stomach after getting cocky but with the Apprentice at his
side it was far from enough to kill him. He'd eat only broth for a week,
I thought, and be a wiser man for it. Just because goblins were half his
size didn't mean that charging crossbowmen on foot was any less foolish.
The Empire had designed those things to punch through plate,
knight-killers.

The enemy broke off shortly before nightfall, their cavalry having never
come out. Another hundred dead on our side, but we'd inflicted easily
twice that. Nim would think twice about testing us like this in the
future and the Malaga warriors raised their heads for having avenged
their honour in the rematch.

I stayed back to level hilltops with Night so our sappers would make
progress quicker but it was still frustratingly slow-going. There'd be
no dry moat for us and the palisade was patchy in places: we'd put a
priority on getting the wards in place, since the last thing we wanted
was to suffer magic bombardment in the middle of the night. Nightfall
saw the Army of Callow retreating into its half-done camp, tents raised
and fires roaring. Come morning I'd take Archer and the Silver Huntress
out in the hills, looking for paths, but after the exhausting day I just
wanted to \emph{sleep}. My head barely hit the pillow before I blacked
out.

Cruelly, I was awakened what felt like a single heartbeat later.

Alarm wards were pounding away at the night air. I dragged myself into
trousers and hastily put on my armour, snatching my sword and staff as I
exited only to almost stumble into a large orc sergeant.

``Report,'' I ordered, tightening my sword belt.

``Under attack ma'am,'' he gravelled.

I rolled my eye. Yes, I'd deduced as much somehow.

``Who, where?'' I pressed.

``They came from the hills, behind the camp,'' the sergeant said.
``Staff Tribune Bishara claims it's the Eleventh Legion.''

It took me a moment to place that. Cognomen `Tenebrous', led by General
Lucretia. The sole officer that'd been a general in the Legions before
the Reforms and stayed one after. Also a vampire, some sort of
flesh-eating undead. Her legion had been under Grem One-Eye during the
Conquest, attacking the Wall, but I couldn't remember anything in
particular that'd distinguished it. The Eleventh stayed in the Wasteland
ever since, so I'd never had to deal with any part of it. My belt was
comfortably set, so I laid a hand on the pommel of my sword and
straightened my back.

``All right, sergeant,'' I said. ``What's the situation?''

``Marshal Juniper requests that you head to the breach,'' he said.

``Let's get to it, then.''

The camp was in decent order, considering we'd gotten attacked right
after Midnight Bell. My legionaries were gathering briskly for a counter
push, the element of surprise having passed. It was only when we got to
the breach that I winced. The Eleventh hadn't hit the Army of Callow, I
saw, but the \emph{Levantines}. The chunk of the patchy palisade that'd
been broken through with now-abandoned rams had led straight to where
the day's wounded were kept. The same warriors that'd bled down on the
plains. Legionaries with shields painted in green and black had
overwhelmed the tents and slaughtered the surprised Dominion force, but
by the look of the bodies and scorch marks a force of Lanterns and Osena
slayers had stopped them in their tracks. By the time I got here, the
Legion incursion -- a mere five companies, by the looks of it -- was
being driven back even if most of the Dominion warriors were only
half-dressed.

The trouble came from further back: deadly crossbow volleys were being
poured into the shield wall from a hill in the distance. We'd stemmed
the tide, the camp was in no danger of being overwhelmed, but bodies
would keep piling up until we cleared out that fucking hill. That'd be
my job, looked like. Razin and Aquiline were easy to pick out from the
throng, just by the way their people rallied to them, and I saw that
both the Silver Huntress and the Barrow Sword were with them. Deciding I
could use the help, I limped my way to them. I quickly exchanged
greetings with the lordlings, then the Named.

``Black Queen,'' Ishaq greeted me, grinning. ``Nice night, isn't it?''

``They disturbed my beauty sleep,'' I flatly replied. ``\emph{Someone's}
going to die for that.''

Some chuckles, but Alexis was grimly serious.

``Orders?'' the Silver Huntress asked.

``I want you two and a good line of twenty killers,'' I said. ``We're
going to silence those crossbows.''

``It would help,'' Razin admitted. ``Marshal Juniper is sending
crossbowmen of our own but they have yet to arrive.''

``I'll go,'' Aquiline said. ``My retinue will serve.''

I wanted to argue, but that glint in her eye told me she was going to be
obstinate and we didn't have the \emph{time}.

``Fine,'' I grunted. ``Lord Razin, you have the command.''

He nodded, then snuck a kiss to his fiancée.

``Do try not to get another scar,'' he teased her. ``You know how
jealous I get.''

``No promises,'' Aquiline grinned.

Ugh, young love. I shared a disgruntled look with Alexis, though for
some reason the Barrow Sword was looking rather fondly at the pair. I
didn't want to take slayers with us, I made clear to Aquiline, so she
drew twenty sword and board men from her retinue instead and we circled
the melee at the gap. The Barrow Sword opened a path through a weak
patch of the palisade with a mule kick, large enough for us to make it
out onto the hills. All three of us Named could see in the dark at least
decently, so we guided the Levantines through the sloping brushlands.
Several times we had to outright climb up, so I had to kill the pain in
my bad leg with Night, but we made good pace anyway.

The enemy had chosen a tall, flat-topped hill to position their
crossbowmen so they weren't difficult to spot. Two hundred of them,
firing in rotation to obscure their numbers. They were probably hoping
to bait legionaries into exposing themselves before unleashing proper
volleys, I thought. I was not much enjoying fighting the Legions of
Terrors. I'd much preferred having that particular war machine on my
side. Still, the reason I grimaced and gestured for our warband to
crouch into the bushes wasn't the crossbowmen: it was the few skulking
shapes at the bottom of that same hill. Goblins. \emph{Sappers}.

``We have to hit the hill from here,'' I whispered.

I got odd looks for it.

``There's sappers afoot,'' I flatly stated. ``Every approach to that
hill will be mined to the Hells and back. We try to walk through a field
they set up and \emph{maybe} two of us will make it there.''

Maybe. If the sappers were having an off night. Names helped you against
a lot of things but stepping into a gout of goblinfire wasn't one of
them. We found defensible grounds, a dip between to hills that had just
low enough a rim that I could look at the enemy crossbowmen and aim, and
Aquiline's men spread out around me in a loose circle. I silently
gestured for Ishaq to keep an eye on the Lady of Tartessos when she
wasn't looking but kept the Silver Huntress close. She had sharp
reflexes and I'd not be able to move much while weaving Night. I
breathed out, looking at the sky, and struck my staff against the rocky
ground.

``Sun's gone, Sisters,'' I spoke in Crepuscular. ``Let's play, yeah?''

The power came eagerly when I called, as if to make up for its
sluggishness during the day. In a low murmur I spoke my prayers, shaping
the working as I drew more and more Night into myself. I'd expected the
enemy to catch on to our presence sooner or later, but that wasn't
exactly what we got. Suddenly -- when I had gathered enough Night into
one place, I guessed -- there was a ripple of magic in the air and a red
circle of light formed about two hundred feet above our position. You
know, revealing it to anyone looking. I paused in my incantation.

``Fuck you,'' I feelingly told the sky, and also Akua Sahelian.

The enemy must have been expecting us because it couldn't have been
longer than a hundred heartbeats before they struck. They came out of
the night like ghosts, a single line of twenty legionaries. But these
were not regulars or heavies, I thought. Their armour was light, leather
and breastplates, and none of them wore helmets. Their hair flew freely
in the wind, long and dark and oddly animated. Each bore a single sword
and a long spear. They\ldots{} didn't move right. They were beautiful, I
thought, dark-skinned and dark-eyed but with impossibly smooth skin. My
mind was being clouded, I recognized. After I bit my lip hard the beauty
waned. Their skin was smooth as corpse's because that was exactly what
they were.

Not a single one of them breathed.

They struck in silence, three warriors dying before Alexis could warn
them we were under attack, but I kept whispering my prayers. Almost
there. Aquiline and Ishaq took on one of the enemies together, the Osena
hooking his spear and dragging him close enough the Barrow Sword could
take off his head. The legionary exploded into a spray of dust and
rotten flesh, armour falling into the rocks. The Silver Huntress parried
a spear tossed at my side then threw her own with a flash of Light,
slaying the sender without batting an eye. The proximity of Light almost
destabilized my working, but with a soft curse and desperate haste I
compensated. Just a moment now, aligning it just right\ldots{}

``Burn them all,'' I hissed in Crepuscular.

The circle of black flame erupted around the crossbowmen, rising the
height of three men before spinning inwards. The crossbowmen died
screaming, but I was not done. The circle kept spinning on itself, until
I snapped my staff against the ground and it exploded outwards in a
wave. I heard screaming from legionaries not mine as munitions began to
explode, the brush burning bright as the wave of incineration continued
outwards until it gutted. I breathed out, brow touched with sweat, and
drew my sword. The animated corpses that'd been attacking us --
vampires? -- were retreating, I found. Half the Levantines that'd come
with us were dead and Ishaq was bleeding from a bite mark on his face,
but otherwise we'd made out decently.

Eye scanning the night, I found that in the hills there were glints of
steel under moonlight. More legionaries. \emph{Pulling back}, I
realized. And so were those that'd been fighting in the breach, though
the Dominion pressed them close and the crossbowmen Juniper had sent
took their toll. Maybe a fifth of those five hundred would make it out.
But why were they retreating already? It made little sense. If they
feared what I could do with the Night, why attack after nightfall in the
first place? Feeling like I'd missed something I led us back to camp in
a hurry. And there was something wrong, I noticed it immediately. Too
many legionary tents were empty, and those that weren't were being
brought down. Packed away.

I found Juniper and with her my answers. My marshal looked wretched. I
thought it was a wound, at first, but her body was fine.

``She played us,'' Juniper got out, words tumbling out of her fanged
mouth like a confession. ``She left her camp, Cat. The Legions are
marching on us right now, they're most the way across the valley, and we
can't fight. Not with the entire Eleventh out in the hills waiting to
flank us.''

My fingers clenched.

``You're saying we need to retreat,'' I slowly said.

``We're in disarray, flanked and our camp fortifications are
incomplete,'' the Hellhound said. ``If we fight, we'll \emph{lose}.''

I rocked back in shock. She knew, and I \emph{knew} she did, that a
retreat at night with the enemy nipping at our heels was going to get
bloody. Goblin skirmishers were going to scrape of our rearguard raw,
and we'd be both slow and vulnerable on the move. That she was still
arguing we needed to retreat could only mean that she was genuinely
afraid that our army was going to get destroyed if we did not.

``Where would we even go?'' I got out.

``Further north,'' she said. ``Near the Jini Plateau, close to Nioqe
Lake.''

That wasn't a strategic position, I thought. Or even a tactical one.
There were no real gains to be made by going there except not being
crushed. That was how bad out situation had gotten. Numbly, I nodded my
permission. I needed a drink, I thought, before we got going. Gods but
my leg hurt.

I could not remember the last time we had been this brutally
outmaneuvered.

---

We cut our losses and ran. It was not as hard a retreat as it could have
been, Marshal Nim perhaps wary of engaging in a full pitched battle in
the dark, but it cost us more than I cared to admit. As we fled I looked
back and froze, for in the distance I saw the Black Knight's fortified
camp was burning bright under the starry sky. It took me a moment to
understand. Of course she was burning that camp. She no longer needed
it, after all.

She'd just taken ours.