An attack on an evaluator called for immediate termination. Those who could Craft were far too dangerous to attempt to restrain.
Mathias had already taken down Tabitha, so fast that even though she was watching, she didn't see how he did it.
Now, Gerald was charging at him, screaming as if he had been the one to take the knife.
But when she struck, it was with the pommel of her knife, disorienting him in mid-stride. She followed it with a slight kick to the shin, knocking him off balance, and sent him tumbling to the ground.
She dropped after him, setting her knee on his shoulder, and pressing her cold-stone dagger into the back of his neck, almost hard enough to draw blood.
Three quick breaths later, and Gerald didn't try to rise from his prone position on the ground. She sighed in relief and glanced up at Mathias.
The tall shadow was cleaning the blood off his dagger, but looked directly at her. He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and said, "Let him up. Even a Crafter is allowed to be angry."
He glanced back at Crafter a'Loria's body, and added, "And to grieve."
She stood up quickly, stepping away from Gerald as he stood up and stumbled over to where his master lay. Tracking Gerald's progress, she didn't notice Mathias move until he was right beside her.
"Engagement protocol for responding to an attack on an evaluator is 'immediate lethal'. The protocol for any engagement with a Combat Crafter is the same," Mathias said, calmly.
He was serene! Hellfire of the abyss, this man was frightening.
"Yet you engaged to incapacitate an experienced and angry Combat Crafter. Why?"
"He didn't attack you," Lucille replied, carefully. "We both know what an assault would look like."
"We'd be hot ash in the wind. Solid judgement," he said, before stepping to Gerald and hauling him up by his coat.
"But you, boy!" Mathias hissed, the placid expression vanishing as he glared at Gerald. "Her last words were her hopes for you. Her last act was hesitating when you put yourself between her and your shadow. Don't you dare waste her work on you by lashing out at-"
Gerald cut him off in the most surprising way. He hit him.
Hard. Mathias' head spun sideways, and his hands were set reflexively on his daggers.
Lucille smirked a little, impressed.
"I need a few minutes," Gerald replied, before turning away and crouching down next to his master's body. "Burn your ash-strangled conceit and choke on it."
Mathias spat blood, but he showed his empty hands and turned away. She followed his gaze, to see a small group of people approaching.
Mathias instantly straightened, and oddly enough, his hands were resting on his weapons again.
Fire and ash, what next?
The crowd that approached had at least six Crafters, easily picked out by the uniform colour of the immaculately tailored, heavy coats they wore regardless of the weather. With them were roughly two dozen shadows, and a man in a simple black coat wearing a sword.
"The Lord Captain of the Wall, and our own Deputy Bureau Chief," Mathias said, beside her. "We may only be in slightly less danger than we were an hour ago."
Burn me!
"Worst case scenario," Mathias began to explain. His speech was calm, measured, but there was a note of urgency that made them impossible to ignore. Oddly, it reminded her of Sergeant Redgrave. "They could decide to take Gerald into custody, and he disagrees. There are six other Crafters here, all of them trained for war. However, only one of them is more dangerous than your charge, and I just killed her master."
"They'll take him into custody? During an abyss-burnt invasion?" Lucille asked, incredulously.
"He's strained, and emotionally traumatised," Mathias reminded her. "He's also an unauthorised Combat Crafter guilty of using a taboo Craft less than a mile from the Bore. If he resists with the Craft, you need to kill him."
"Why me?" Lucille asked.
"He stepped into his master's line of fire to protect you," Mathias said, somehow conveying a scowl even with the shadows of his hat over his face. "Get close to him, approached unarmed. Draw when you're close enough to strike."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Lucille hoped.
Mathias rounded on her, and the malevolence of his raspy speech and cold fury in his eyes would allow no argument. "That is your duty, should it be necessary. Any less and you risk the City as surely as if we left the Dragon alone."
But after a brief pause, he said, "But for now, we do our best to keep this from getting worse."
Once he finished, he stepped ahead, casually putting himself between Gerald and the approaching crowd. "Benden! Shouldn't you be at a communication hub? Or somewhere other than hiding in the shadow of the Spire?"
"Go throw yourself in the Bore, Mathias. I'm here because someone braver than you told me to hold off on the Last Gamble. Where the flaming hell is Valen, anyway?"
Mathias had an odd reaction when he heard that name. His eyes grew flint-hard, but the smile that passed his lips looked as genuinely warm as his face could likely manage.
"Still aboard the Midnight Songbird, Lord Captain," Lucille said, to keep the Lord Captain from addressing Gerald. "The ship is on a low patrol to engage the Dragon if Crafter a'Loria's efforts failed to kill the beast."
As she finished speaking, she briefly noticed one of the Crafters breaking away from the others, at a run, towards Gerald. She stopped as she reached Tabitha's fallen form, and knelt across from Gerald.
"But her Captain is here? Why?" Benden Tammerlane asked.
"To rescue the other Airship first, then assist Evaluator Aranhall with the potential danger Crafter a'Loria posed," Lucille said, trying her best to compromise between being thorough and brief.
"Decent report. Who are you?" the Lord Captain asked.
"Evaluator Lucille Kendor, sir. Acting First Officer of the Midnight Songbird."
"Who gave you that job?"
"My Captain, sir."
"Noted. Thank you, Commander," Benden Tammerlane said, and she swallowed hard as he finished.
The Lord Captain called her 'commander'. Her rank was now official.
"Miss Kendor," someone else said, and she turned to see the woman speaking to her.
Oddly ragged, loose-fitting clothing, in a faded dark-grey rather than a Shadow's usual black. Her clothes had an unusual sheen, as if they had been treated in some sort of chemical.
And she wasn't alone in her unusual attire. Four of the dozens of other shadows wore faded, loose-fitting clothes. Like the woman who now approached her, they were armed with more than just knives.
"I am Agrias Sunbane. Your Deputy Bureau Chief. In your opinion, will your charge surrender peacefully?" she asked, firmly.
"You tread a dangerous path, Agrias," Mathias said.
"Shove a hot poker up your ass, Mathias. That little shit is potentially a worse threat to the City than an invasion, during an invasion. Forbidden Crafting, a Battle Crafting apprentice, and burn me, he is leading soldiers. I'm not overlooking the fact that you let this happen."
"You seem a tad ungrateful."
"I haven't ordered his ash-bitten death, yet. After he struck an evaluator. How's that for gratitude, you irreverent shit?"
"He just fought a Dragon."
"Where the burning hell did you find that name? It sounds like something out of an abyss-seared fairytale. Kendor, will he submit to proper authority and come with us peacefully?"
"Yes," Lucille admitted, and her hands found their way to her knives.
"That bodes well for him. Tyrell-" Agrias began, but Benden interrupted.
"You're not his proper authority," Benden said, simply.
"I am the burning Deputy Chief of the Bureau of Oversight! There is only one higher authority, and she's too busy hiding under her bed to deal with this problem!"
"The boy is an officer, during an invasion. Hell, miss Kendor here outranks you right now. And his proper authority is me. You're only here because I want an assessment."
"And you already gave it, ma'am," Lucille said.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a small glint of light coming from the Songbird, flashing in an oddly deliberate manner.
Signal code. She knew enough to recognize it, even if the message was wasted on her.
Grinning, she twirled her hand in the air, then pointed to her feet.
"What?" Agrias sputtered. Lucille turned her attention back to the conversation, grinning.
"You decided to spare him, despite his attack on an evaluator. You assessed that he's still in control of his faculties," Lucille explained, surprised at her audacity.
"He has demonstrated a reckless disregard for rules and proper authority. Have you seen any of the notes from his room, girl? He uses the Gloam to lift those ships! An apprentice is manipulating the hellspawned Gloam! He can't be a Crafter, and someone unworthy of that rank shouldn't be leading people!"
"Crafter a'Loria recommended him for graduation," Mathias said.
"Which happens with the consent of the Bureau. And I'm still not convinced he isn't an immediate danger to the City."
It was hard to believe an Airship could sneak up on an entire group of people, but hardly anyone was willing to look too long towards the Spire, and the rushing mass of flame was far from quiet. As they spoke, the Songbird now cruised directly overhead.
And a stream of soldiers was being lowered on a length of cable. Far more than the winch should be able to handle. First among them was Amelian, who landed with practised precision and placed herself, very deliberately, between Gerald and the group of shadows.
Eight more soldiers landed, including Valen, formed a wide line. All of them were armed with Salamanders, resting with embellished idleness on shoulders, or resting with the butt on the ground. But Lucille didn't miss that the safety pins had been removed.
"Valen!" Benden called out, a mixture of pleasure and irritation in his voice. "Why the hell aren't you commanding the Western Walls?"
"I judged the Dragon to be the most immediate danger to the City, sir," Redgrave replied.
Valen caught sight of Mathias, and both of them stared at one another for a moment, until Mathias tiled his hat in a nod, and Valen smiled.
"I take it you were in charge, then?" Benden asked.
"No, sir. A ship only has one Captain."
"Then you accepted his command?"
"Aye, sir," Valen reported.
"And that, Deputy Bureau Chief, is the only opinion that matters now," Benden said, stepping between the newly arrived soldiers and the group of shadows. "I don't give a speck of ash about his status as a Crafter. But unless he's lost his sanity to the Craft, he's flying his ship."
"You're playing a dangerous game, Benden," Agrias warned.
"If you want a dangerous game, keep calling me something other than Lord Captain. You can watch the end of the world from a cell," Benden Tammerlane hissed, before turning away and marching towards the newly arrived, all of whom were already saluting sharply.
Surprised by how quickly circumstances changed, Lucille followed with a bemused grin as Mathias trailed after the Lord Captain.
"Lieutenant Kendor," the Lord Captain barked, without looking back.
"Sir?" she asked.
"I'm only willing to give your Captain a few minutes. I know it sounds cruel, but I need that ship back in the air. Is your ship still in a battle-worthy condition?"
"Yes, sir. If I may, however?" Lucille began, waiting for his response.
"What is it?" Benden asked, stopping and turning back to her.
"We need more guns. Ideally, ones that aren't fifty years old. We scavenged ours from the second wall just after our encounter with the Rider. Captain Olgen was reluctant to part with them."
"You've been shooting with fifty-year-old guns?" Mathias asked, genuinely surprised. "I don't mind saying that's a little frightening."
"It's Corporal Mia Vascel. I'm not sure she knows how to miss," Lucille admitted.
"I know the name. One of Valen's reports. She has set records that hadn't been seen since Varnell's first batch six years ago," Benden said, with a grin. But he raised his voice a little as he approached the others, and said, "And you're Lieutenant Amelian Rustov."
Amelain's eyes widened, and she somehow managed to stand up straighter. "Sir! I didn't expect you to know my name."
"Half the army knows it. I had to order the comm stations to stop chattering about you; it was choking up the lines. Between that Golem, the Rider, and the Dragon, I can guarantee your likeness on the sixth Tapestry," the Lord Captain declared, and everyone in earshot seemed to stand up a little straighter.
"T-thank you, sir!" Amelian managed to stutter in response, saluting.
"Do you wish to continue on with the Songbird? Or can I promote you now?" the Lord Captain asked.
To her credit, Amelian didn't hesitate. "I believe my platoon would be most effective on the Songbird, sir," she said, firmly.
"Then I'll refrain from mucking around with the command structure aboard that ship. But I'm taking Redgrave," Benden insisted, glaring at the old soldier. "You can put up with some real abyss-scourged responsibility, for once. Your former rank of Secretary is officially reinstated."
The Lord Captain glanced around, studying their faces before he looked back at Valen and scowled hard. "And none of you are surprised. Un-burning-believable. How long have you known?"
"About six hours, sir," Amelian said. "The Captain uncovered it shortly after we disengaged from his battle with the Rider."
"With training, a Crafter can sense cold-stone," Gerald said, surprising them as he stepped into their conversation. His face was scraped raw from the fall to the stone, and he had a trickle of blood running from one of his eyebrows. His eyes were also more than a little bloodshot, from both fatigue and grief.
She was careful to avoid his gaze, focusing on the woman who stood near him. She had the residue of tears on her face and a rust-red coat that fell past her knees. Lucille didn't recognize her, except as the Crafter Mathias pointed out a minute ago.
Thankfully, Gerald didn't attempt to make eye contact. She couldn't face his hate right now. It might crush her, especially after all they had been through.
"Sir," Gerald said, addressing the Lord Captain. "I'm afraid only the Songbird is in field-worthy condition. Repairs to the other ship, what is his name?"
"Fury of the Dawn," Mathias said, softly.
"That's-" Gerald stopped, and swallowed hard. "That's a good name. Repairs will take twelve to thirty-six hours. A lot depends on how badly damaged the propeller motors were. I'll have the project's chief engineer, Maxwell Durgon, transferred to oversee the Fury's repairs."
"Very good," Benden said, smiling. "I want your ship outfitted with at least a dozen guns before you go back out. Head to the Foundry, take everything you think you need. I'll have priority deployment orders for you by then."
"Sir, I'd also recommend Mister Durgon for a command post on the Fury. There are precious few in the City who know the capabilities of an airship as well as he does. And of those who do, he has the most military experience."
"He should be Captain," Mathias said, and Lucille was surprised to hear him say as much. "I'll serve as his first officer."
"Sir, have there been any more reports of the Rider, or creatures like it?" Gerald asked.
"Seven reports of creatures like. No word of the Rider, and nothing of another flying beast. However, I lost contact with Captain Olgen shortly after you left to peruse the Dragon. Major Andrews of the fourth has heard nothing new. I'm operating on the assumption our enemy doesn't have another flying creature, but keep a lookout for signals, and keep enough ammunition in reserve for an extended firefight."
"I advise you don't engage these creatures of fire, sir," Mathias said. "They are hurt only by cold-stone, water, and having their fires disturbed by a strong Craft. The military is poorly prepared for such a creature."
"You want me to issue a 'retreat on sight' order?"
"I agree, sir," Lucille said. "Without the Songbird, even Captain Raeth may not have survived his fight with the Rider. It's odd to say, but the shadows may be the best response to this new threat."
"Lieutenant Kendor, I'd like an explanation for that," Agrias said, gesturing with a short flick of her head. Slightly concerned, Lucille nevertheless followed a short distance from everyone else.
Including, Lucille was surprised to notice, the other shadows who accompanied Agrias.
"What the burning hell is this Rider thing you talked about? Benden has been irritatingly reluctant to provide details," Agrias asked.
"It was something we encountered on a causeway, near the Last Wall," Lucille explained. "Like the Dragon, it was able to wield the flame, and proved exceedingly resilient to force and fire. Captain Raeth engaged it to secure the evacuation of Lieutenant Amelain Rustov and her platoon."
"Which happened to include Valen burning Redgrave. You're travelling with auspicious company tonight, girl."
She decided to let the disrespect slide. One way or another, the invasion wouldn't last forever. "The battle destroyed most of a section of the causeway. The Rider didn't seem as powerful as the Dragon, but it fought a lot smarter. Captain Raeth could explain it better."
"I see. I want to put a squad aboard your ship. With another Combat Crafter. Probably Coraline. Mathias said these creatures were hurt by cold-stone, so the closest thing we have to a plan is how we fight Combat Crafters. Which, by the way, you're not yet qualified for. Mathias will correct that, should the City burn on."
"I didn't know Battle Crafting existed until tonight," Lucille admitted.
To Lucille's surprise, Agrias then set her crossbow down, and undid the quiver of bolts from her belt, handing it to Lucille.
"Crucible forged steel bolts, with a core of cold-stone. They're surprisingly brittle, so don't use those bolts for practice. I'll have some expendable bolts sent to you," Agrias explained. "It will meet you at the Foundry."
"Of course, ma'am. Thank you."
"Just don't let your abyss-touched Captain off his damn boat. If anyone asks, it's because he's not allowed to Craft freely in the City."
"But the real reason?"
"He's indispensable right now. Those airships saved us, and Benden's treating them like they're the key to ending this invasion before it reaches critical districts. Which means they are. And with one of those ships out of commission, your Songbird is the most precious resource the City has."
Lucille hissed in surprise, as a sharp pin-prick of heat stabbed at her leg. She reached into her pocket to extract the pad of paper.
"What is it?" Agrias asked.
Lucille read it twice, then handed it to Agrias. "I honestly don't know."
The note simply read:
Well played, Chief.
Agrias stared at the note for a long moment, and the ghost of a smile passed her lips. "Clever little shit."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Crafter a'Loria did nothing in half-measures, and her apprentice is very perceptive. I would tell you more, but you don't have clearance. Don't ask again, Commander."
"I could invoke 'privilege of the field'."
"And I would refer you to the Lord Captain, who would tell you to get back to work. And if you're clever, you'll treat this curiosity as a luxury to be indulged on a day when we're not being invaded. Stay alive out there, miss Kendor."
"Burn brightly, Madam," she said in response.
Surprisingly, Agrias scoffed. "Shadows don't burn. Think of Mathias. He killed one of the greatest gifts to the City, minutes after she saved all of our lives. No one has ever deserved mercy more. He will be reviled for what he did."
Agrias then looked back at Mathias, with an oddly kind expression. "And it was completely necessary," Agrias insisted. "There is no glory in a Crafter's wake, Lucille. Only the cold misery of duty, or a lot of ash."
Without waiting for a response, Agrias marched away, and most of the shadows that accompanied her followed in her wake. Lucille slung the crossbow over her shoulder, set the belt for the bolts across her waist, and returned to her crew.
She wasn't surprised that the Lord Captain had already departed, along with most of the shadows, and asides from the woman still standing near Gerald, every Crafter.
Gerald waved her over and pointed to the Crafter. "This is Crafter Coraline Estoban. We're going to take her, and a number of shadows with us when we head back out. Mathias recommended them, and they'll be wearing a small fortune in cold-stone. They're going to act as a strike force to engage creatures like the Rider."
"Will you be commanding this contingent, ma'am?" the Crafter, Coraline, asked. Lucille's eyes widened, and she hesitated.
"She will," Gerald said, covering for her surprise. "You should also take a cold-stone weapon or two. I used one to shield myself earlier." He tapped the hilt of his sword for emphasis.
"I'll see what we can pry from Theo," Crafter Coraline Estefan said. She sighed, and glanced back to where Crafter a'Loria still lay. "I liked hearing about you. She wouldn't share much about that project of hers, but she was fond of bragging about you. She once said your first-year paper was easily the most interesting she had ever read."
"She nearly had to execute me for it," Gerald admitted.
Lucille raised an eyebrow, but decided to not interject.
Coraline laughed. "Is that what she meant? No wonder she liked you. You should teach me the basics of that lift-bag, while we're in transit. I'll go gather your hit-squad and herd them aboard."
She nodded to Lucille, a surprisingly polite gesture, before marching away.
"She was my master's first apprentice," Gerald said to her, as Coraline left. "Anytime I botched something, my master would complain that no one would measure up to her first."
"Captain..." Lucille began, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.
She was expecting the veneer of civility to melt away from his face, when he finally let her know what he really felt. When he could finally blame her for pushing his master past her breaking point.
"I want to kiss you again," Gerald said.
That felt surprisingly similar to being hit by a train. She sputtered, shook her head, and barely managed to say, "What?"
"But I never will," Gerald said. "I need you too much. I'll never find another shadow I could leave my ship with. I can't compromise that."
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"My favour. Will you stay on? As my Lieutenant, and my shadow?"
"Of course."
"Until the invasion is repelled?" he asked.
"No," Lucille said, with a harsh edge to her voice that she didn't feel. Time to surprise him for once.
"I see," Gerald replied, visibly hurt.
"I'm with you until we kill the Gloam." Lucille said.
Yep, that worked. His mouth flopped open, and he stuttered, fumbling for words. He recovered quickly, but he still refrained from speaking for a long, beautiful moment.
"Maxwell is aboard the Fury of the Dawn, sir," Amelian said, as she approached. "The Songbird is ready to depart."
"Good, thank you," Gerald said. "We should poach Caitlin Dremora; she was leading the engineering crew for the Fury. She was also their third helmsman, and we need someone to fill in for Maxwell."
"Besides," Gerald added. "I need a helmsman if I'm going to have a nap before we win. I wonder if I can lawfully seize the coffee lottery right now?"
Amelian laughed. "You can."
"Really?" Gerald asked, his eyes wide. He rubbed his hands together gleefully, and said "You probably shouldn't have told me that. I'm almost guaranteed to abuse that authority."
Lucille couldn't miss the tinge of sorrow in his voice. But he was going back to war, despite everything he lost. He was allowed to be less than whole. She smiled and shrugged at Amelian, who looked to her, silently asking if his behaviour was a problem.
She could only shrug in response, as they followed their Captain.
And they returned to the war.