"I … I don't know," he stammered, waving his short-sword vaguely in the direction of the Gatewardens' garrison. Then his gaze landed on Satchel, and his eyes widened. "Behind you!" he cried, bringing his weapon up.
"He's with me. Find something else to cut down," she said.
They left him gaping amidst scattered bones, ragged armor, and gray powder.
At last, Viv spied the tapenti at the vanguard of a group of Gatewardens. They fanned out in a half circle before the entrance to their bastion.
Varine's wights crowded close, and more poured from the alleys to join them, swelling their eerily quiet numbers.
The only sounds of effort and exclamation came from the Wardens themselves, and Iridia's voice rose above them all, urging her fellows onward.
She laid about with her longsword, cleaving bony limbs, the blade trailing plumes of bonedust with every stroke.
Viv dove into the morass with a will, driving Blackblood through unprotected backs, cracking limbs long spent of marrow. For a bare instant she locked gazes with Iridia, and then they both returned their attention to the grim business at hand.
Cutting great sweeping arcs through Varine's minions, Viv fought her way through the press until she shattered the last foe standing between her and the tapenti.
Iridia was streaked from head to toe with pearly dust, her clattering braids nearly white with it. Her eyes narrowed as she spied Satchel at Viv's side.
"What in the eight hells is that?" she hissed.
"No time to explain. Where's the book?"
The Gatewarden seemed set to argue, but quickly changed her mind. "That's what she's here for, isn't it?"
"We need it to put an end to this," replied Viv, because there was too much to say and not enough time to say it in.
"Do I have your word you'll help us push them back?"
Viv almost laughed at the thought of Iridia suddenly wanting her blade out and in motion, but there wasn't time for that either.
She only nodded, once.
"Press them back!" Iridia hollered to the wardens beside her, as fresh horrors loped down the street to surge against their defenses. Then, to Viv, she said, "Follow me."
The sounds of battle became muffled as Iridia barred the garrison door behind them. The interior was preternaturally quiet in comparison to the street outside.
After a sidelong glance at Satchel, who lingered in their wake, the tapenti wasted no time. She swept past the desks and into what Viv assumed was her office. Small. Tidy. But there was no time to observe details.
At the back wall stood a narrow iron door with a formidable lock.
Iridia pulled a ring of keys from her belt, swiftly selected the correct one, and unlocked it.
She then laid a hand on the surface, bent her head, and muttered a few brittle words.
Glyphs around the border ignited with a brilliant flash and faded, some arcane warding that Viv didn't understand or care to ask about.
As Iridia used both hands to force the door inward, an equally narrow but windowless room was revealed behind, the walls stacked with shelves.
"Stay here," she said, and shouldered past the door, returning quickly with something wrapped in canvas. Again, she placed a palm upon the wrappings and uttered something sharp and purposeful. Once more, arcane traceries glowed.
She flipped the canvas back, revealing Varine's black book of doorways to the underspace.
Satchel uttered a noise somewhere between a sigh and an expression of despair.
Despite the urgency, Viv couldn't help but ask, "What in hells was all that?"
"Precautions," said Iridia. "Which were apparently worthless."
"Not entirely," said Satchel, even as Viv seized the book from the tapenti's hands.
All at once, the muffled sounds in the street stopped.
"She can see us much better now," finished the homunculus.
"What is happening out there?" demanded Iridia.
"Can she see what we're about to do?" asked Viv, ignoring the Gatewarden's question.
He shrugged. "I suppose we shall find out."
Viv opened the book, flipped to the middle, and folded the corner of a page into a dog ear.
When Iridia and Viv reentered the street, they stepped into a tableau of arrested motion.
The wights stood in ranks beyond the Gatewardens, immobile, blades and axes and bardiches held at stiff attention. The women and men defending the doorway stood uncertainly, their own weapons up in defensive positions, awaiting attacks that never came.
Then, as one, the heads of the revenants turned to fix their cold blue gazes upon Viv, Varine's symbol burning bright on their foreheads. She stood with the book under one arm and Satchel's bones in the bag slung crossways over her chest.
She'd traded Blackblood for her saber and held it at the ready, but Varine's minions made no move to attack. Instead, their jaws opened in unison, and from them issued a voice that Viv recognized from her dreams.
"Ah, Viv," said Varine, with a sound like sand and syrup. "I've so looked forward to this moment. I've enjoyed acquainting myself with your friends. I think the two of us should meet someplace comfortable. Just you and I, in the flesh."
And all the wights collapsed at once, like monstrous puppets with cut strings.
Viv's stomach hollowed with the sure knowledge of the necromancer's location.