The mules clopped north with agonizing slowness, and the driver couldn't be persuaded to move them any faster. "I don't keep 'em for their speed," he grumbled. "They're doin' what they can."
Viv gritted her teeth, wondering if the threat of the shambling undead might encourage him to hurry them up. Odds were, though, that the driver would head in the opposite direction if he knew what might await them.
She could've jogged faster than the plodding beasts, but even with her leg mostly mended, testing it at such extremes of distance would be foolish.
In the end, she could only fume and drum her hand on the sideboard and glare at the slow passage of the peaceful countryside.
It didn't help that she could still smell the wights in brief whiffs. Or at least, she thought she could. Her mind filled with images of Maylee fending off the undead with her old mace, and Fern's bookshop aflame.
Gallina shot her pensive glances throughout the ride, but she knew better than to talk about Viv's fears in front of the driver.
The cart rumbled onward as the sun plunged into the sea like hot iron into the quench, and blue night stole down the hills after it.
They heard the bells even before Murk came into view—distant, sonorous clangs.
Only a rise or two remained between the cart and the outskirts, and Viv could wait no longer.
Certainly not with that clamorous ringing giving shape to her worst fears.
She vaulted over the side of the wagon with Satchel over her arm, hitting the sand hard.
Gallina started to follow, but Viv seized her halfway down and slung the squawking gnome onto her back like a cloak, so that she straddled Blackblood. Only when Gallina's arms wrapped tight around her throat did Viv let go.
"You're kiddin'," hissed the gnome.
"Hang on."
"What the hells do you think you're doin'?" cried the driver as he reined in his mule team.
"Something stupid," said Viv, and set off at a dead sprint, with Gallina's knees digging into her back with every stride.
The city, the clapboard buildings skirting it, and the dunes piled around them all appeared serene. Only the sound of the bells bespoke anything amiss.
Viv pounded over the crest of the last hill, sand spitting behind every footfall, sweat already darkening her shirt. Gallina's breath was hot against her neck, and the gnome grunted when her body slapped hard against the flat of the greatsword.
Viv had expected flames, screams, an army of the undead—but there was nothing she could see.
After a few weeks of desultory workouts and physical recovery, her lungs burned after a run that she would have easily managed a few months past. She didn't let her pace slacken, though, as she charged down the last stretch of road before it branched off toward The Perch.
"Don't see nothin'," said Gallina.
"You ever hear those bells before, though?" panted Viv.
The gnome's arms tightened a little, and Viv could tell she was shaking her head.
"Must be inside the walls." Distantly, she thought she heard shouts. She spied lantern-glow winking in the window of Thistleburr.
Viv paused in front of the building, heaving huge breaths. Gallina released her grip and landed nimbly behind her. "Like ridin' a horse made out of rocks," she grumbled.
Fern, or Maylee? Viv was paralyzed by a sudden indecision. Thinking about it though, only one option made sense: she had to get into the city, had to find Iridia. "Check on Fern," she said, stabbing a finger at the red door. "Lock up behind you."
"What're you doin'? I'm not sittin' with a bunch of books while somethin' good is goin' on."
"I'm making sure Maylee is fine. You don't have to stay. Just check that Fern is all right and that she's keeping safe."
Without waiting for Gallina to object again, Viv got moving.
Sea-Song was locked—which was good—but Viv felt every second creep by as she hammered on the door. She wanted nothing more than to take a few steps back and bash the thing off its hinges, and if she hadn't needed it locked again after she left, she might have done so.
The bells were louder here, and she couldn't imagine Maylee had slept through them. Bakers turned in early, and she was probably tossing and turning upstairs.
In practical terms, it wasn't long before she spied the glow of Maylee's lantern gleaming through the window, but it felt like forever. When she appeared in the doorway, Viv was surprised by the magnitude of her relief.
"You're back," yawned the dwarf. "Can't decide what's louder, you or the bells." She raised her lantern to spill the light across Viv's face.
Viv seized her by the shoulders, leaned in, and kissed her square on the mouth.
"Well, hello to you too, hon," breathed Maylee.
"What do the bells mean?" asked Viv, and her grim tone startled any remaining drowsiness from Maylee's expression.
"Fire, maybe? Couldn't see from here. Nothin' we can do anythin' about." She suddenly seemed to register that Viv was wearing two blades. "Hang on—"
Viv glanced over her shoulder, half expecting some shambling skeletal assailant to stumble up the boardwalk.
"I don't think it's a fire. You still have that mace upstairs?"
"Yeah."
"Get it. Stay awake. Lock the door again after I leave. Don't let anybody in."
Maylee narrowed her eyes. "If this is about her, then I should come with you. I can still—"
"No. When was the last time you swung that thing? I just want you safe."
"Well, I want the same." Maylee jabbed Viv in the belly with a finger. "Where the hells are you off to anyway?"
"To get a book."
Shouts grew more distinct as Viv sprinted toward the fortress entrance. Light bloomed above the walls in a haze of gold, but not from an uncontrolled blaze. Lanterns gleamed on the ramparts, and the bells continued their deafening peals.
At her side, the satchel jerked, and Viv did, too, as skeletal fingers reached from beneath the flap and clutched at her side.
She skidded to a stop and unslung the pack. The homunculus opened the flap himself, his skull and one arm emerging, eyes blazing blue.
"What the hells? The dust—"
"Plenty remained for this," he said. "Quickly! You must let me out."
"I'm heading in there, after the book." She stabbed a finger at the walls. "You want somebody to see you and bash you to bits? You haven't met Iridia yet. I don't have time to explain you, and she still doesn't like me a whole lot. I don't think you're going to fare much better."
"She will not harm me. She cannot. Nor can any mortal inside those walls." His voice was coldly certain.
The image of a spineback riddled with shards of bone sprang to mind and quelled her flourishing doubts.
"Your Lady might already be in there," warned Viv.
"If she is, I'd much prefer to meet her on my feet."
She paused, then dropped to a knee, quickly dusting his bones again for good measure. As he clattered into being beside her, she snatched up the satchel once more. "Let's go."
The entrance to the city was unguarded, and Viv's fears transmuted to certainty. Satchel kept up with her admirably as she sprinted along the scalloped sand, breath coming harsh but steady.
A short, sharp scream punctuated the shouts and calls.
When she rounded a massive pillar on the near side of the entryway, her footsteps thudding on stone at last, she turned, and a surreal sense of doubling overcame her.
Lanky figures with osseous grins, their eyes pinpricks of blue light, crowded the market street.
Gatewardens battled them down the length, and she could have been in the woods again, while Rackam's Ravens hacked at Varine's necromantic minions.
There were dozens of wights and only half as many Gatewardens on the long thoroughfare.
Who knew how many choked the side streets?
"Shit," she breathed.
"Where is the book?" asked Satchel.
Viv unslung Blackblood and bared her teeth, ready to leap into the fray once more, to batter the wights to dust, to—
"The book?" he insisted.
She growled and shook herself. "Iridia has it. The Gatewardens."
"We must retrieve it. First."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "You're right. Can you do that thing with the bones?"
"Not with these creatures," he replied. "They are hers."
"Follow me, then," she said, and dashed forward.
Doors were barred, townsfolk doubtless quailing behind them, although some hung from high windows, pointing and shouting. Iridia's Gatewardens desperately held the revenants at bay in the streets below. She searched the melee for any sight of the tapenti but didn't spot her.
Scanning ahead, she planned her route, and when she drew level with the closest wight, she whipped Blackblood in a diagonal strike that pulverized its rib cage. Its skull went spinning into the distance.
The elven Gatewarden it had been engaged with stared at her in frank astonishment, but she was already gone.
She threaded her way through the mess, finding targets of opportunity and obliterating them like so many rotten tree trunks.
Viv cracked bony legs, hooked her blade through ribs on every backswing, and flung wights into a chaos of gray bone. The blue lights in their eyes winked out as they disintegrated, and she roared in triumph. She didn't bother to look for Satchel. He would follow, or he wouldn't.
She remained dimly aware of her goal. Of the book. But present Viv—real Viv—was preoccupied with all the savagery she could deal along the way. She was smiling, exultant, and undiminished.
The last few weeks were a wilderness, but she'd found the road again.
Some part of her rebelled, but it was very, very small.
Viv shattered Varine's minions with steel stolen from their master.
She didn't locate Iridia, but she did find Luca the dwarf. Viv towered in the rubble of a dismantled revenant, floured with bonedust, shoulders heaving with huge indrawn breaths.
"Iridia. Where?" she demanded, while Luca quailed in her baleful shadow as though she were a wight herself.