A Practical Guide to Evil

Sapan turned somewhat amused brown eyes on him.

“And what would you know about staring at women?” Sapan teased.

Arthur politely coughed. Fair enough.

“I don’t understand what’s so fascinating about it,” the Squire admitted. “It’s a drill, Sapan. A large, fat drill on wheels.”

She rolled her eyes at him, brushing back wild strands of wavy hair that no earthly amount of hairclips seemed able to tame.

“And how do drills work, Arthur?” she challenged.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Someone moves about with their arms until there’s a hole in something,” he summed up.

She glared at him, very much aware he was actively trying to piss her off. Arthur hid his grin behind the thoughtful, pious expression that he’d honed against brothers and sisters of the House.

“Fine,” Sapan growled. “Who’s going to move about the handle to that fat drill, Squire?”

“There isn’t one,” he noted. “Which does seem like something of a design flaw, but I suspect the sappers might have taken ill to my pointing that out.”

No one made it through more than a few months in the Army of Callow without learning that getting on the wrong side of the sappers was a costly mistake. Not even the Order picked that fight without good reason.

“That’s the magical part,” Apprentice said. “At the end of the drill, that large section in bronze, it’s enchanted.”

“It’s also polished,” Arthur helpfully contributed.

“I think that’s purely decorative,” Sapan admitted. “But never mind that. Lord Hierophant and the Callowan mage cadres enchanted the insides thoroughly, it took them days.”

“Enchanted to do what?” Squire asked, honestly curious.

“It’s directed kinetic force,” she excitedly said. “But entirely self-contained. The excess that the Due should release is instead used in a secondary array that ensures centrifugal force won’t destroy the artefact from the inside.”

“So it makes the drill turn,” Arthur hazarded.

The dark-haired Ashuran eyed him like he was the lowliest sort of cockroach.

“Yes, Arthur,” she disdainfully said, “it makes the drill turn. It’s not at all a staggering triumph of runic and mundane engineering that was believed physically impossible by most scholars until a few years ago.”

She raised her nose.

“You ignorant… horse-rider fuck,” Sapan tried.

Apprentice’s magical talents had been found very early, she’d told him – five years old – and she’d spent her entire life either in mage schools or under the private tutelage of scholarly old mages. That sheltered upbringing had left her with no real experience insulting people, something a few years around soldiers had miraculously failed to change. It really was quite impressive how terrible she was at it.

“You’re also riding a horse,” Arthur mildly pointed out.

She huffed in distaste, looking away, and the Squire smiled. He was slightly less bored now, though it would be hours yet before he saw fighting. Neither of them would be in the first wave into the breach in the eastern walls of Ater, which would be preceded by an escalade to tie up enemy mages and engines anyway. They’d be going in with the second wave, with precise objectives. The Hellhound’s plan was to break through enemy defences quickly and rush to seize defensible grounds deeper in the city before the Praesi could mount a proper counterattack. Grandmaster Talbot had approved of the plan when he’d briefed the Order, much as he tended to approve of Marshal Juniper herself.

Some among the knights had often resented that of the man, especially those of old nobles lines who still resented such a young greenskin holding such high command, but even the worst of the naysayers had been watching their words since Kala. Besides, it’d never been a popular sentiment with the army. The known faces from the early Fifteenth – the Hellhound and the Princekiller, Robber and Pickler, Ratface and Aisha Bishara – were almost as famous as the Woe and nearly as cherished. There was a certain cachet to having served under the Black Queen since the start, the kind that got people buying you drinks and asking for stories even if you’d only been a legionary.

Arthur had raged against his age, in Laure, listening to those stories and feeling like he was letting the era pass him buy. Now he’d caught up to the days, he stood in the thick of it, and it was so very little like he’d thought it would be.

“Look up,” Sapan suddenly said. “It’s starting.”

The Squire’s eyes sought the horizon. Apprentice was right. Atop the walls of Ater in the distance, in the light of rising sun, steel glittered as legionaries manned the walls. Ballistae were dragged into position, mage cabals began gathering power and as the vanguard of the Army of Callow crossed some invisible line all the Hells were unleashed. Rays of light and scores of fireballs, hails of bolts from the engines. Before the storm could hit the regulars in front, the House Insurgent made its presence known through great panels of yellow light that stopped the enemy fire cold.

Great iron ladders were rushed to the front, and the Battle of Ater began.

“They’re being reckless,” the Black Knight frowned. “Priests or not, the walls of Ater are not so easily taken.”

The Army of Callow was abandoning traditional Legion doctrine for this fight, which made Marshal Nim Mardottir uncomfortable. She’d already been had by the Hellhound once and she had no intention of suffering a second reverse when the stakes were so high. The enemy were still at least half an hour away from landing their first ladders on the outer walls, the first of the set encircling the capital, so the Black Knight was taking the time to properly observe their formation. Which was a mess. The enemy legionaries were breaking ranks to move faster, which meant every time something passed through the shields the Callowan mages and priests had put up it was guaranteed a casualty.

“They know the longer it takes them to breakthrough the more force we’ll be able to concentrate here,” Akua Sahelian replied, golden eyes calm. “We’ve barely a third of the Legions on the wall here, their best shot at getting into the city without massive casualties is overwhelming us early.”

There were two women that the city called ‘empress’ in whispers, Nim thought, but there was only one of them here on the wall. It was more complicated than that in truth, she knew, since Malicia would likely lose her life if she strayed too far from the Tower. And yet there was something primal and easy to understand in one being here and the other not. There was a simplicity to that, a clarity. And the Marshal had seen in the eyes of the legionaries here that it was a clarity they embraced. Amadeus had won the love of the Legions as much by fighting in the ranks with them as by the rest, and the Black Queen was no different. It was a simple thing, the Black Knight thought, but not a small one.

“It won’t work,” Nim said. “They’ll make footholds, they’ve got the belly for that, but we’ll take them back as soon as we’re reinforced. Marshal Juniper is no fool, Sahelian. There’s something else afoot.”

“I have eyes on the forces of Aksum and Nok,” Lady Akua replied. “If the expected treachery manifests, it won’t be a knockout blow. Yet they’ve made no preparations for battle or sent troops into the capital as far as I can tell.”

“Might be there will be a strike force of Named,” the Black Knight mused. “I’m surprised the Archer and the Huntress haven’t already begun returning fire against the ballistae.”

It was fucking absurd that the two women could serve as a countermeasure against siege engines by virtue of being able to shoot the crews at similar engagement ranges, but Nim had considered how to compensate for that since her defeat at Kala. Now she had wooden panels to defend and replacement sappers waiting. She wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.

“Catherine won’t depend on Named for such a critical part of the plan,” Lady Akua said, tone firm. “There’s an enemy on the field that could make her pay for such a thing dearly.”

“Then we’re still in the dark about their plans,” Marshal Nim said.

“I imagine that massive drill will have a role to play,” the golden-eyed noble noted. “If Hierophant didn’t enchant that I’ll leap down this wall. Best to assume it will go through the walls like a knife through butter.”

The Black Knight blinked.

“These are the walls of Ater,” she slowly said. “There’s so many wards and enchantments in these walls we can’t even list them all anymore.”

“And he is the Hierophant,” Lady Akua lightly replied. “Miracles are his trade, Marshal. Gods know he’s vivisected enough of them.”

Nim had learned it did not pay to argue with the sorceress when it came to the talents of the Woe, so she kept her skepticism stowed away.

“Best hurry up the evacuation of the districts then,” the Black Knight said. “We don’t want citizens caught in the middle of whatever they’ll unleash.”

“I expect she’ll go out of her way to limit civilian casualties,” Lady Akua said, “but I agree it is better safe than sorry. I’ll send word to High Lady Muraqib that a loan of mages capable of scrying would be appreciated, it should make it easier to coordinate the movements.”

And the fucking idiot would be glad of any way to salvage her reputation, as she ought to be after having botched a coup attempt on the Tower so badly it’d wracked the capital with storms for twelve days. If the ‘empress in the city’ hadn’t stepped in to organize emergency shelter and food convoys moved under mage shields it might have been tens of thousands that died instead of almost three. Meanwhile, to Nim’s disgust, the High Seats had squabbled with each other like children and kicked up dust in the Legions’ eyes while they were at it. That lot wouldn’t be able to lead sailors to a whorehouse even with the fucking Wizard of the West guiding the way.

The Black knight’s general staff agreed that the only reason the Army of Callow hadn’t crushed them while they were busy was that it would have been charging into the storm itself and Catherine Foundling hadn’t wanted to take the risk.

Nim had only barely gotten her orders out when Captain Laughable took her aside, murmuring that there was a situation. A suspicious person had been caught and made prisoner. The Black Knight took a short detour to pick up Lady Akua, who was informing the High Lady of Kahtan with a smile that surely risking her mages was worth the love of the people, and they headed out to the supply depot below the bastion where Laughable was keeping the man. Among the crates, a poorly-shaved Taghreb was bound and sporting a purpling black eye.

“Caught him sniffing about the bastion, ma’am,” Captain Laughable said. “Said he was just waiting for a friend, but we think he might have been counting troops.”

“I take it he resisted arrest?” Nim asked.

“You could say that,” Laughable coldly said. “He knifed Sergeant Kilzi right in the throat and tired to make a run for it. We broke both legs so he’d know better than to try that again.”

Nim’s hand clenched, the steel of her armour creaking.

“Who do you work for?” the Black Knight asked in Taghrebi.

The man only laughed. Lady Akua approached, which had him tensing, but though she took his face in hand it was not to inflict a curse. Instead she studied the side of his head, picking at the sideburns, and snorted before releasing him.

“There is no point in speaking that tongue to him, Lady Black,” Akua Sahelian said. “He is not Taghreb. That man is Levantine. It’s why there are still traces of face paint in the roots of his hair, near the skin.”

“Infiltrators,” Nim growled.

“He won’t be alone,” Lady Akua said. “We should immediately-”

“Too late,” the man grinned with bloodied teeth, speaking accented Lower Miezan. “You found us too late. It’ll be over by now.”

The Black Knight seized his torso and dragged him up, anger roiling.

“What?” she demanded. “What did you do?”

The man only laughed louder, and then in the distance there was a great grinding sound. Old gears pushing against each other, moving a great weight.

“The gates,” Akua Sahelian calmly said. “They opened one of the gates.”

The same enchanted gates that took about half an hour to fully open, that could not be stopped when they began without wrecking the machinery.

The Army of Callow’s vanguard was a quarter hour away from setting foot in the city.

“They’re retreating,” Alexis said, sounding impressed. “Like Marshal Juniper said they would.”

“Our Hellhound’s got a good read on the opposition,” Archer said. “It’s what she’s here for.”

Indrani hadn’t actually paid all that much attention when the plan had been explained to her and Masego had been reading under the table the whole time – he’d cunningly glued a book under with the pages hanging down and he turned the pages with a spell so he wouldn’t be caught – so she had only limited idea of what was happening. She figured the Legions had decided it was a losing fight to try to hold the walls with the gates open and two thirds of their number still on the way, so they were bailing backwards to a defensive position. Made sense, kind of? Not really her problem anyway. The three of them were after a different kind of prey.

“I’m still now sure what I’m here for,” Cocky complained. “In case you hadn’t notice, this is inside Ater.”

“No shit?” Archer mused. “I was wondering why the walls were facing the wrong way.”

Alexis actually looked like she was suppressing a smile. That or she was twitching in anger. Knowing the Silver Huntress, it might actually be the two.

“We could at least get off the rooftops,” the Concocter tiredly said. “It’s only a matter of time until someone looks up.”

That was actually untrue, Indrani thought. Most humans only rarely looked up, when something prompted them to. In her experience, skulking atop rooftops in a city was a pretty decent way to get around unseen if you put a minimum of effort into remaining unseen. She had no intention of actually telling Cocky that, though.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to stand on the ledge and let the wind do that neat flappy thing with my cloak,” Archer sagely replied. “And that would be a net loss for Creation.”

Alexis cleared her throat.

“Patrol’s gone,” she said. “We should get a move on.”

Archer straightened her back.

“Let’s go then,” she said. “Found an old tower-shrine to Nihilis last time I came that’ll be the prefect perch.”

Cocky grumbled under her breath, but they set out. Neither of them had lost a step since Refuge when it came to sneaking about – the classic game of better-not-let-that-manticore-see-you truly was the finest of teachers – and they were better equipped now than they’d ever been before. Cat was always good for that, shelling out the coin for what her people needed. They were already past the Legion lines, but that wasn’t what their target anyway. Juniper was confident she could take Nim in a slugfest in the streets, and Archer figured the Hellhound had it right.

It was the noble armies that Cat and the Hellhound wanted kept out of this mess as long as possible, and that was why the three of them were out here. The imperial shrine was pretty easy to find, a tower of black stone three stories high that was covered with reliefs of Dread Emperor Nihilis’ victories and filled with little alcoves where people could leave offerings. It wasn’t as common a practice as it’d been in older timers, making those, but Indrani saw a few fresh copper coins and fresh flowers that hadn’t been there last time she came. Aterans said it was good for luck.

The alcoves made it easier to climb, at least, and when they all got up on the flat top – covered in bird shit, but they’d all crawled through worse – the sight was worth a whistle. It was easy to see far out into the city, until you hit the taller buildings of the central districts, and that meant Indrani got a good look at the soldiers and banners moving through the streets. Like Juniper had said she would, the Black Knight had called for noble reinforcements.

“Kahtan,” Alexis said, frowning. “Okoro and Nok. Hundreds of smaller lords”

Ol’ Abreha wasn’t taking the field then. Shame. Dakarai of Nok wasn’t as deep in their camp, he might actually intend to fight to defend the city.

“We’ve got our targets, then,” Indrani said. “We kill the bigwigs and the generals, it’ll keep them confused enough they’ll be late to the fight.”

“Archer.”

“I kind of want High Lady Muraqib,” Indrani mused. “You can have High Lord Jaheem, Lexy, unless you-”

“Indrani,” Cocky hissed. “Look.”

Archer followed the pointed finger to a rooftop to their west. Someone was standing there on a ledge, looking down into the streets. Her cloak was doing the neat flappy thing in the wind, which Indrani mentally applauded. The Ranger turned, met their stares and winked.

A moment later she leapt down into the streets.

“You wanted to know why Cat sent you with us, Cocky?” Indrani said. “You were just looking at the reason.”

A cleaner story, Catherine had called it, and who was Archer to argue with her? Cat might have died a bunch of times but it’d yet to stick, and that was the kind of crazy she was proud to embrace.

“We don’t know what she’s up to,” the Concocter hesitated.

Alexis’ fingers tightened into fists.

“Does it matter?” the Silver Huntress asked. “She’s our enemy.”

Archer shook her head.

“It matters,” Indrani said. “We do this all three of us or we don’t do it at all.”

The Huntress glanced at her in surprise, then slowly nodded.

“I have permission, if we want to pursue,” Indrani told Cocky.

The other woman hesitated still.

“She won’t hold back,” Cocky said.

“Neither will we,” Indrani said.

Surprise, once more.

“You want to fight her?” Cocky asked.

It was her turn to hesitate.

“I want to know where I stand,” Archer finally said.

The Concocter quietly laughed.

“I don’t care where I stand,” she said, “as long as it’s far from her. But that’s something we’ll have to earn, isn’t it? The right to put her behind us.”

Cocky breathed out, rose to her feet.

“I’m in,” the Concocter said.

A silence passed between them, not quite comfortable but not unpleasant. Determined, Indrani thought, determined might be the right word.

And so the last three students of the Lady of Lake began to hunt her.

A torrent of flame howled down the street, forcing the enemy to huddle behind houses, and even as the roar of the fire drowned out the clamour of the fighting the Black Knight raised her voice higher still.

“Collapse the fucking walls,” Marshal Nim screamed. “We need to slow them down.”

Lady Akua’s spell ended moments later, the fires blinking out, but the reprieve she’d bought them was well-spent: sappers collapsed two houses and a temple with demolition charges, barring the avenue with the falling stones. It wouldn’t keep the Callowans away for long, but it would slow them down enough that the Fourth and Fifth Companies would be able to retreat to the fortifications in the plaza down the street. Legionaries streaming around them, the Black Knight and the Lady Warlock retreated away from the frontline. In the time they’d spent to put out the crisis here, another would have emerged somewhere else.

“How long until the drill starts working again?” the Black Knight asked.

“Half an hour at most,” Lady Akua grimaced. “It’s devilish piece of work.”

The way the sorceress had explained it, the drill actually drained the power of enchantments it touched to harden itself and make some kind of array in its back move faster. Nim had almost doubted her eyes when the fucking thing had taken a mere ninety heartbeats to pierce through some of the finest walls on all of Calernia, stopping only because it had overheated and was at risk of melting. Worse yet was the realization that the Hellhound had never intended the thrust of her attack to be on Legion positions. While Nim had repositioned her forces to contain the disaster spilling out of the open gate, the drill had punched through the wall by another gate and the second wave of the Army had bypassed her defensive set-up entirely.

She’d lost a third of her force in an hour trying to contain that attack, which had forced her to call on reinforcements from the nobility against Malicia’s standing orders. They’d hurried enough that the fighting in the abandoned districts of the southeast had erupted before the Callowans could take the Licosian Gates, one of the chokepoint of the city the Hellhound had clearly been aiming for. It was bloody enough fighting that the Black Queen was there and slinging around Night in amount that wiped out entire companies, but the nobles were still holding. The fear right now was that the Army of Callow would just use the damned drill again to open another breach behind the defensive position of the High Lady of Kahtan to flank it.

Some of the Black Knight’s scouts up on the walls had signaled there were troop movements outside the city, so Nim suspected that unless that fucking drill was broken for good Ater would fall before Noon Bell rang.

“Then we need to hit it,” the Black Knight said. “You and I, leading a company. It’s the only way we can contain them long enough.”

And if they were contained, if they were kept bottled up in a few districts and mage fire could be brought to bear? They would be routed out of the city. Already the enemy’s priests were flagging in strength, and when they were out for the count the magical advantage would fall overwhelmingly in the favour of the defenders.

“Agreed,” Lady Akua said. “Do you, by any chance, happen to have a disreputable company of golden-hearted rogues with a chequered past who have something to prove under your command?”

“A what,” the Black Knight replied.

“It would significantly increase our chances of success,” Lady Akua insisted.

The reply on the tip of Nim’s tongue was set aside when a flare of red light caught her attention. Signals going up in the sky. An attack from behind the Licosian Gates. But the drill had not yet been moved! How? Another flare went up, and another, and another. All in a straight line.

“Gods,” Marshal Nim Mardottir gasped, “what is this?”

Arthur fell down to his knees, panting and out of breath.

“You all right, sir?”

The Squire limply gestured at the sergeant to make it clear he was in no danger. Just exhausted. Running out of that house before it collapsed after the ogres knocked down the walls would have been hard even if he weren’t wearing plate armour. After a few moments to catch his breath, he dragged himself back up. Sergeant Hart slapped his back in a friendly manner.

“Back into the melee, then,” the older man cheerfully said. “For queen and country and combat pay.”

“The Black Knight wasn’t with the ogres,” Arthur said. “We need to find a scrying mage to ask for sightings again.”

Running around blindly was unlikely to let him find the Black Knight, especially if she was actively avoiding him as he believed she was. That the Doom of Liesse had been seen with her only made the prospect of facing down his rival all the more daunting. Hopefully Sapan would be able to – wait, where was Sapan?

“Sergeant, where is the Apprentice?” he asked.

“We lost her when we hit that blaze three blocks back, I think,” Sergeant Hart said. “She could be anywhere by now.”

“Then we start by finding her,” the Squire said. “We need to find an officer.”

“That one looks like a lieutenant,” Sergeant Hart said, pointing upwards. “Light armour, so probably in the scouts.”

Arthur looked up and found a lieutenant standing atop a rooftop, looking into the distance. It was a start, the young man decided, and he asked his companion to stay behind as he climbed up the side of wall. The other man glanced at him before returning to his study of the city.

“Good morning, lieutenant,” Arthur tried.

“Is it?” the officer replied, sounding amused. “You have been in the Army of Callow for too long.”

“Might be,” the Squire politely smiled.

He approached, enough to see that it was an older man he was speaking to: salt-and-pepper beard, greying hair. Likely a veteran. The goblin steel blade at his hip spoke to that.

“I am looking for a companion,” Arthur said.

“The Apprentice, yes,” the man replied. “She was headed west last I saw. I believe there’s a scrying relay there three streets back, it seems her likeliest destination.”

Well, that’d been faster than anticipated.

“Thank you, lieutenant,” the Squire said.

“It was my pleasure,” the officer replied, once more sounding amused.

Arthur began to walk away, but something was itching away his instincts. He paused.

“You never gave me your name,” the Squire said.

“How forgetful of me,” the man said, but did not elaborate.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“What is it you’re looking for, lieutenant?”

“The flares,” the officer replied, pointing to the southeast.

The lights were still in air, though fading. Signals warning of attacks where the Squire knew there should be no troops.

“A bluff,” he said.

“Dismissing the unexpected is a bad habit, Squire,” the man chided.

Arthur’s hand went for his sword.

“You’re not a lieutenant,” he said.

“Did I ever claim to be?” the man replied, smiling.

He made no move to unsheathe his blade, which had Arthur reluctant to bare his own. The stranger had not yet been proved an enemy.

“What is it you’re doing here?” the Squire pressed. “Answer me.”

“Waiting,” he said. “For a little while longer. You can keep me company if you’d like.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“We are relations of a sort,” the man chuckled. “Besides, what else is there for you to hurry to? You won’t be finding Marshal Nim.”

His sword was in his hand before he even realized he’d bared it.

“Who are you?” the Squire demanded.

The stranger looked away, into the distance, and suddenly let out a quiet laugh.

“Ah, fateful timing,” he said. “It has been some time since I’ve last been on the right side of it.”

There was a ripping sound in the distance, then a furious screech. Arthur stepped back.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“So many questions,” the man teased, “but this one I’ll give you for free.”

He turned fully for the first time since they’d been talking, and Arthur Foundling met a pale of eerie green eyes over a bladelike smile.

“That,” the Carrion Lord said, “was several hundred years’ worth of giant spiders joining this battle.”