webcrawl/APGTE/Book-5/tex/Ch-016.md.tex

\hypertarget{chapter-13-following}{%
\section{Chapter 13: Following}\label{chapter-13-following}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``It is fortunate that virtue is its own reward, as it does not
tend to accrue others.''}

-- Theodore Langman, Wizard of the West
\end{quote}

The world had become as an oil painting and the Night was boiling in my
veins.

Goddesses on dark wings claimed my shoulders, insolent shards of
darkness refusing the ascendancy of the afternoon sun, and they said
nothing. They didn't need to. The expectation bloomed in the back of my
mind like a swelling river: I'd offered them faith before they ever
named me priestess, but now they required that purpose of me. Night
still ran deep in the veins of the drow, however changed its nature, but
none of their ancient favourites had been granted my office. \emph{First
Under the Night}, I thought. To others it might speak of supremacy, some
perilous boast of standing closer to these quarrelsome goddesses than
any other, but I knew better. I was first in that I was charged with the
treading of unbroken grounds, as much a scream ringing into a dark
tunnel as a priestess bearing their mandate. I was to stumble for them,
make the mistakes and pay the costs so that my successors would not.
These were still fair terms, by my reckoning. Alliance and the means to
carry out my designs, for what I had freely given before they formally
claimed it. But if they expected reverence of me, respect more than had
been earned, then they would be disappointed.

``I never took well to prayer,'' I murmured. ``Either the secret
whispers for help or the worn-down words they taught us to recite in the
House. So I won't offer you that.''

The sun above was searing, blinding. Fire from above none of us were
meant to look in the eye. I breathed out and let the wind thread its
fingers through my hair. The power came easy to me. It was holding it
that was the trouble, for it was as temperamental as its mistresses: I'd
ruled Winter, by the scavenger's virtue of being last to hold sway over
it, but the Night was not my domain. If I wanted the crows to smile upon
me, I would have to swing them as sweet a song as I had it in me to
sing.

``But that's not what we're about, is it?'' I said. ``The three of us.
If you wanted someone who'd know your pretty rituals, you had thousands
to raise. If you wanted devotion, or unquestioning faith, there just as
plenty. You went through my mind mercilessly, that night, so you know
exactly what you picked.''

My eyes left the sky and fell to the charging Levantines. Thousands in
mail and leather and scales, steel blades and hide shields. Their faces
painted with vivid strokes of colour, as true a language as the spoken
tongues of their faraway land. They were close now, treading river
grounds. I had chosen the broadest bent of the water for this, instead
of where my armies had once tried to shatter winter's work with the
cleverness of the Grey Eyries. I raised my staff and let the darkness
pulse with me.

``Here's my prayer, Goddesses of Night,'' I savagely smiled. ``The three
of us, together -- \emph{let's break something}.''

Komena's raucous, delighted laughter sounded in my ears even as the
bottom of my staff struck the snow-covered ice. The oldest sister might
see further, weave and scheme with cold judgement, but the younger one
was my kindred in some ways. Even the span of millennia had not entirely
faded the remembrance of what it felt like, shattering arrogance and
host with the same single stroke. The soldier-goddess leaned into my
intent more strongly than her sister, harsh and domineering where
Andronike was skillful and subtle. The Night spread with a whisper
before sinking its claws in the iced river, rending it mercilessly.
Cracks tore open the frozen grounds, cold water sloshed out and hundreds
of screams filled the air. Komena roughly withdrew her will from mine,
leaving me gasping and leaning on my staff for reasons deeper than a bad
leg. My sight swam, the glare of the sun failing to pierce through, and
I had just enough presence left to hear Robber hesitantly stepping
towards me. I warded him off with a raised hand. Gods, I thought. I felt
like throwing up, like my veins were about to boil and melt. I'd never
wielded a miracle this large during the light of day, and I wouldn't do
it again anytime soon if I had my way.

``Boss?'' Robber called out.

``Took a bit out of me, that's all,'' I croaked out.

Too many breaths passed before I was myself again, but with eyes no
longer rebelling I steadied my back spat to the side. The river had
become a deep grave, I saw. There were chunks of ice floating in the
water, but among them bodies were strewn. Fewer than had died, though
that was no mystery: those with weightier armour had sunk straight to
the bottom. The floaters had been savaged by broken ice. Some Levantines
were still swimming and screaming, but I had little worry of survival.
Taking a swim this deep into winter was as sure as death sentence as a
swinging sword, unless some priest intervened. My last memories of the
charge were vague, almost dreamlike -- there were consequences, to
calling upon that much Night and the aid of a goddess -- but now I could
more accurately assess numbers. Around two thousand had sallied out
towards my little company, and less than half that died. Their mistake
had been going into battle order, I mused. That'd broadened their line,
turning the loss of a few hundred into something closer to a thousand.
There were still a mass of soldiers mobilizing behind the survivors of
the ill-fated assault, almost the full Levantine reserve, but I had no
fear of that. They were on the wrong side of the river, after all.

The cavalry in the distance that had been heading for us earlier has
slowed, and there seemed to be argument between its officers. They were
on our bank, sure, but then they'd just watched me turn around a mile of
ice into a deathtrap. And there'd be no reinforcements, if they tried
their luck. I suspected they would be disinclined to find out if I had
anymore tricks up my sleeves, which was for the best. I might actually
fall unconscious, if I attempted to use the Night again, and not
necessarily \emph{after} I'd let loose a miracle. I wouldn't risk it,
not when anything capable of hurting the horsemen would be just as
capable of ravaging my own soldiers if lashing out uncontrollably.

``That one wants your head on a pike,'' Robber said, calling my
attention back to the footsoldiers.

Or close enough. On the other bank, a rider stood surrounded by
panicking captains. A young man, in beautiful plate that must have cost
a fortune. He couldn't even be twenty, I thought, though the
ferocious-looking facepaint of iron grey and crimson made it hard to
determine. He was looking at me with hatred and fear. The enemy's
commander?

``Might be able to end him with a volley,'' my Special Tribune offered.
``Best not to let snakes grow longer fangs.''

``So young,'' I quietly said.

``You were younger, when you took your first command,'' Robber shrugged.

Seventeen, and so sure I was ready to mend my little corner of the
world. Gods, how lucky had I been to have the likes of Juniper and
Hakram at my side? All of Rat Company, really, and those others
handpicked by then then-legate Hellhound as well. \emph{But it wasn't
luck at all, was it?} I suddenly thought. Heroes might have providence
to furnish them with the tools of victory, but I'd had something of my
own just as valuable. A patient man with green eyes, lending his weight
where mine did not suffice and pulling a thousand strings to ease my way
forward -- so many of them I could not believe I'd found half, even
after all these years.

``We learned our lessons quick,'' I said. ``We had to.''

Not always the right ones, I knew, but we \emph{had} learned. We still
did. The moment you stopped, Creation buried you.

``He'll remember today, Boss,'' Robber said. ``You can count on that.
And next time he comes swinging, he'll be wiser about it.''

The warning was clear. It ran against goblin nature, to let a threat
escape. And there'd been promise in this one, if he'd really been in
command. Going for the general staff was a tactic that would have worked
against almost any army on Calernia. He'd run into Grem One-Eye and
Black's reforms instead, the forced redundancies shaped by the knowledge
that you couldn't count on high command surviving a battle if heroes
were on the loose, but the Dominion had never fought the modern Legions
of Terror so the mistake was understandable. Pressing the offensive, as
he'd obviously meant to, had not been unsound either. It would have been
costly, but if General Abigail's defences broken on even one front her
army would have collapsed in short order. If he'd been slightly luckier,
if I'd arrived a day later, he might very well have broken the Third
Army completely. \emph{If you'd had maybe another ten years of
seasoning}, I thought. \emph{If you'd been trained better, learned to
temper the bold with some patience\ldots{}} He could be a general of
some talent, one day. No Juniper, mind you, but thankfully there were
very few generals of that skill around. And if I gave him those ten
years, one day the hate I saw might be turned on me with a wiser hand to
wield it.

``Let him go,'' I said.

Yellow eyes considered me carefully.

``This isn't a victory, Robber,'' I sighed, gesturing at the river full
of dead. ``It's a waste.''

``Not like you to weep for the enemy,'' the goblin said.

``Weep?'' I mused. ``No, hardly that. But every corpse we make today is
a gap in the ranks when we turn to the Dead King.''

I sighed, then glanced aside. In the distance, I saw the cavalry had
decided to ride around the river and return to the camp. Good.

``Come on,'' I said. ``Time to head back. General Abigail should be
wrapping up inside the city.''

I began limping back to Sarcella, leaving ice and death behind. The
hateful stare of the boy I'd spared followed my back, but what of it?

He wouldn't be the first, or the last.

---

With the enemy riders away, there was no need to risk anything as
foolish as trying the blaze a second time. Most the turtles were wrecked
beyond use, anyway, and while Belles Portes had been under assault when
we moved out I judged my forces too weak for a strike at the back of the
Levantines still holding it. We took the long way around, the threat of
the horsemen having removed itself, and long was no exaggeration. Though
my drow tread snow like stone and goblins could scuttle through
anything, I was exhausted beyond words and very much limping. It turned
out that victory outpaced us: when we reached the eastern side of
Sarcella, we were greeted by rowdy cheers. Word of the river's break had
spread faster than I could walk, and more besides. The cohort positioned
to hold the eastern streets crowded us to deliver accolades, or at least
tried to -- I sent Robber ahead to have a quiet word with the captain
about not approaching the drow. They looked a little stunned by the
welcome, nonetheless, almost like children seeing the sea for the first
time. The Everdark did not breed the kind of comradeship that the
Legions and my armies used as mortar. Mighty Jindrich was strutting like
a peacock and its sigil followed suit, which amused my legionaries to no
end.

I left them to it, and took aside the orc captain in command of the
cohort. The news were better than I had expected. General Abigail, it
seemed, had vigorously prosecuted her offensive and then taken a gamble
as well. She'd recalled the two thousand drow I'd left holding the north
of the city and sent them to climb the ring of statues and arches around
the city, to suddenly drop down at the back of the Levantines in Belles
Portes. That'd neatly cut off both the bridges that still allowed a
trickle of Dominion reinforcements to come through and the last way out
of the force inside Sarcella. The enemy commander, facing annihilation,
had been forced to surrender. I suspected the casualty rate for the drow
who'd taken the climb and been forced to fight Levantines on both sides
was a lot less sunny than the official version implied, but regardless I
did not disapprove. Simply by ending the fighting early, General Abigail
had likely significantly lowered overall casualties. The wary-eyed
Callowan I'd promoted to the head of the Third Army had accepted the
surrender as soon as it was offered, and Sarcella was now entirely ours.
For now, anyway. There were still Dominion soldiers beyond the bridges,
and the losses we'd taken during the offensive must not have been mild.

But it was only a few hours until sundown, now, so I had no fear of what
was ahead.

After we advanced deeper into the city I sent Mighty Jindrich and its
warriors back to the rest of the drow with a message to General Rumena,
ordering it to pull back to the now-unguarded north of the city and away
from the rest of the Third Army. It'd cover our bases, just in case, but
that was only a side benefit. The longer my army and the Firstborn
remained in close quarters, the higher the chances of blood being
spilled rose -- especially if I wasn't there to supervise. The survivors
of Robber's cohort I relieved with my compliments, free to sleep or
whatever no-doubt-against-regulations activity they got up to when they
weren't on duty. Robber himself wanted to stay at my side, but I had
something else in mind and so refused.

``You keeping me away from the Dominion prisoners, Boss?'' he pouted.

It was even odds, I mused whether or not he knew that make him look like
a particularly horrid gargoyle. The amusement the sight caused was
slight, though, and did not linger long. It wasn't amusing at all, what
I needed of him.

``No,'' I softly said. ``I need you to find out what happened to Nauk's
body. If they've burned it yet, if they had time for a Legion burial.''

The pout vanished, leaving behind a grim visage of wrinkled green skin.
They'd had a complicated relationship, those two: adversarial and often
petty, tainted by their largely one-sided competition for Pickler's
attentions, but there'd also been more to it than that. It's been a
comfortable kind of dislike, the kind so old and well-worn it had some
kinship to friendship. And beyond that, Nauk had been Rat Company. He'd
been with us from the start, the War College and those heady first days
of the Fifteenth. That mattered, to those who'd been there. There
weren't as many of us left as I'd like.

``I'll see to it,'' Robber said, and for once his voice was completely
serious.

``Please,'' I said. ``If the body's still there\ldots{}''

``I'll arrange something, and send for you,'' the goblin said.

It wasn't a sweet parting, but this wasn't sweet business. I ran into
officers sent by General Abigail on my way to the Third Army's
headquarters, and learned the surrendered Levantine captains were being
kept in the repurpose goal of Sarcella closer to the north, under heavy
guard. The Dominion soldiers themselves had been disarmed, and while
under watch had been provided healing by priests of the House Insurgent.
I made my way to the headquarters as quick as I could, my leg was aching
like someone had shoved an iron spike through. It was an effort not to
visibly tremble from exhaustion, now that the miracle's wake had fully
settled over my shoulders, but I couldn't show weakness in front of my
soldiers. At least my shoulders were bare, now. The crows had left when
I began the trek back to Sarcella earlier, presumably to look for fresh
amusements. In this city full of corpses and ash I had no doubt they'd
find something to their tastes. The merchant's mansion that served as
the location of the Third Army's high command was a great deal fuller
than the last time I'd swung by. It was surrounded by legionaries, and
even inside soldiers were aplenty. The mood was celebratory, but while I
offered smiles I did not linger. I was too tired to keep up the pretence
of haleness for long, and I still had duties to discharge.

I made my way up to the war council room, finding what remained of
Nauk's general staff there and surrounding his successor. The general
was the first to notice my arrival, rising up her seat looking like she
would very much love to be halfway through a good night's sleep right
now. I could sympathize.

``Your Majesty,'' she greeted me.

Huh, she'd done the salute perfectly even this exhausted. Whoever had
drilled her at the recruitment camp must have left quite the impression.

``General,'' I replied. ``And all of you -- you should be proud of what
you've accomplished today. You went above and beyond my expectations.''

I was unsurprised to notice it was the orcs who were most pleased by
that, demurely flashing fangs in a signal of humility.

``There will be another war council later, but for now I'll need the
room,'' I calmly said. ``I must speak with your general.''

Being sent out didn't seem to dent their good mood all that much, and I
smiled to take the sting out anyway. It wasn't long before we had the
room to ourselves, though I waited until footsteps could no longer be
heard. General Abigail, I noted, seemed to be willing to look anywhere
in the room except at me. I wondered whether she was always jumpy as a
cat, or whether it was the result of days of march under harassment
followed by battles and a spectacular assassination of her direct
colleagues. She was a cagey one, this Abigail of Summerholm. Her eyes
never quite stopped moving, as if always looking for a threat, and I'd
yet to see her let her guard down entirely once even this far behind our
defence lines. I would have thought her generally inclined to prudence,
but the way she'd used the drow in the battle ran against that
impression.

I'd been solid thinking, if risky, and raised my opinion of her as a
tactician. It would have been safer to stick to a steady push, but
overall casualties would have been higher by the time the dust settled.
Add that to the clever trick she'd pulled using civilians to guard the
back of Sarcella, and I had to admit she was one of the more promising
commanders who'd risen over the last few years. Not yet enough to remain
a general, maybe, but she had the potential to get there after a bit of
blooding. Which Juniper had assigned her under Nauk to get, I remembered
with a touch of rue. It seemed the Hellhound and I were sharing an
opinion without needing to share a room. I dragged myself to one of the
seats at the table and plopped myself down, brutally suppressing a sigh,
and invited her to do the same. She did after the barest of hesitations.

``You did well today,'' I said. ``The river trick would have meant
nothing if you hadn't pushed them out beforehand.''

The black-haired woman forced a smile and a nod while muttering her
thanks. I didn't begrudge her that in the slightest. She'd sent quite a
few of her soldiers to die, today, legionaries and officers she likely
knew quite well. It never quite felt like a victory, when the butcher's
bill came in, did it?

``You'll be remaining in command of the Third Army until we join up with
the other columns,'' I told her. ``Possibly until we make contact with
Marshal Juniper, if there's no suitable replacement for you.''

She winced.

``Ma'am, I'm not sure that's a wise decision,'' Abigail said. ``I went
up the ranks fast, and I didn't go through the War College. All I got
was the officer training in the camps, and it didn't cover a general's
duties.''

My lips quirked.

``If a few years at the College were enough to make a general, my life
would be much easier,'' I said. ``I'll be handling the drow, and a few
other forms of trouble as well. I can't run the Third Army as well.
You've acquitted yourself well, and you have the instincts for it. It'll
have to do.''

Her face fell, and once more I was struck with how young she was. I
wasn't all that older, truth be told, but it'd been a long time since
I'd felt my true age. \emph{Gods, were we ever really that young?} We
must have been, when we fought in the Liesse Rebellion. I wondered if
we'd looked as fragile to old generals like Istrid and Sacker back then
as Abigail now looked to me.

``A lot of people could die, if I make a mistake,'' she muttered. ``That
would be on my head.''

\emph{Doubt}, I thought. She wasn't so difficult to read that I could
not pick up on it. \emph{And resentment at being thrust into this role}.
Both things could turn out dangerous, if allowed to fester. A lighter
touch would be needed here, or maybe a personal one. There were times
when twisting the arm was in order, but not here. An entirely unwilling
general was of no use to me, and likely a liability to the soldiers
she'd be commanding. Doubt and resentment, huh. I was no stranger to
either, and in my experience they tended to have a common source in
fear. We'd begin there. Propping up my staff against the table, I leaned
back into my seat.

``In my first serious fight, I was beaten within an inch of my life by a
procession of strangers and afterwards eviscerated by the Lone
Swordsman,'' I told her quietly. ``I still have the scar from where he
opened me up. I was close enough to death I managed to use necromancy to
get myself moving.''

The other woman's eyes widened, with both surprise and disgust. The
latter was at necromancy -- most of my countrymen still considered the
practice disgusting and dangerous -- but the former was not. It wasn't
common knowledge, how badly William had trounced me during the first
part of our encounter. I watched curiosity seep in after the words sunk
in, so I pressed on while the iron was hot.

``I ended up kicking him off the ramparts and into the Hwaerte, after
catching him by surprise,'' I said, ``but it was a very, very close
thing. There are some who'd call it fate, the way it all turned out. I
tend to think of it as luck.''

``You were Named, even then,'' General Abigail said.

Like that said it all, explained everything. I supposed it might, to
someone who'd never slipped into a Role. It was a lot more eye-catching
the way some of us scythed through soldiers like wheat stalks than the
way a single story misstep might kill you in truth an entire year before
the blade actually opened your throat.

``I was green,'' I corrected. ``Scrappy, good at some parts of what I
did, but dangerously arrogant in my approach and I nearly died choking
on a floor for it. But it did teach me a valuable lesson.''

I smiled mirthlessly.

``You'll get eviscerated too, Abigail,'' I said, and she didn't quite
manage to hide her flinch. ``Not literally as I was, but one day you'll
make a mistake and it'll be costly. You can't avoid that day, no one
can. And it's good that you're afraid of it.''

I met her eyes, brown to blue.

``Take that fear and use it,'' I said. ``To make yourself \emph{think}.
About how it could go wrong, what you could do to avoid it or survive
it. And from there you plan so that you don't end up in that pit in the
first place. You do that well enough, and you'll push back the day
some.''

I paused, just a heartbeat.

``It'll still come,'' I frankly said. ``It comes for everyone, Abigail.
But if you can ward it off for a year or two, you'll still have done
better than half the generals on Calernia.''

A grimace split the other woman's face.

``I could have been a tanner,'' General Abigail mournfully said. ``No
one ever expects anything from those.''

``I served drinks in a tavern for years,'' I told her, reluctantly
amused. ``And I ended up with a crown on my head. You're getting off
light.''

She paled, which made her sun-tanned cheeks look rather blotchy, but
gathered herself with remarkable alacrity.

``I don't suppose I am dismissed for rest, now,'' she cautiously
ventured.

I snorted.

``There's no rest for the wicked, General Abigail,'' I said. ``Find us a
bottle of wine and come back. We'll be going over the orders you've
given since you took command of the Third Army, and why you gave them.''

The black-haired woman let out a sound that might have been a whimper. I
raised an eyebrow and she rose to find us something to drink, while I
let out a sigh at the relief that was no longer standing on my bad leg.

Much like her I'd rather be sleeping, but if she was to be the first
Callowan general in my army then she needed to be \emph{taught}.