by Dave Rudden
‘Than destroying everything the last King built,’ Denizen whispered. ‘Destroying the greatest enemy of your race. Destroying us.’
Mercy nodded.
You are the Emissary’s challenge. I didn’t come here for my salvation. I came here for yours. This is not a raid, a ravening … This is not a Breach.
It’s an invasion.
‘Then …’ Vivian actually seemed at a loss for words, ‘what do we do?’
Edifice Greaves just looked at her blankly, as if he had vanished into himself, an empty hotel with the lights left on. Denizen had seen many of his masks, but he’d never seen him simply off, the gears all seized up.
‘Palatine,’ Vivian repeated. ‘What do we do?’
And Greaves’s lips moved without speaking and, through some quirk or luck, Denizen read them perfectly.
I don’t want to die like this.
Vivian’s voice was horrified. ‘What did you –’
She didn’t finish her sentence. Actual shapeshifters couldn’t have changed as quickly and competently as the Palatine did in that moment. One by one, he pinned them all with a leonine grin, the same nuclear confidence he’d possessed at the Concilium, when there had seemed there was nothing he couldn’t do or say.
‘I said – we do what we always do. We fight. And we win.’
And suddenly Denizen understood Edifice Greaves perfectly. He’d never known which mask was real – the affable rogue, the earnest leader, or the pragmatist who’d lie through his teeth to test the loyalty of a thirteen-year-old.
Or the briefest glimpse of a coward that the Palatine hadn’t been able to hide.
They were all real, and they were all irrelevant. Greaves wore masks so he could be whatever the moment needed, and now he would do the same. That was all there was to it.
‘Two goals,’ Greaves commanded. ‘One solution.’ He pointed at one of the Knights. ‘I want everything priceless and movable evacuated beyond the walls. Break out the shortwave radios – they’re old, they’re basic, they might hold up. Pull the wall cadres back and issue every set of Hephaestus Warplate we have. If they’re coming here, then at least they’re not going anywhere else.’
He turned on Mercy. ‘Right?’
Mercy’s voice was hesitant. Yes.
‘Fine. They want the world? Then they’ll have to come through us. Same as it’s always been.’ He turned to Vivian. ‘Until you come back with the cavalry.’
‘What?’ Denizen couldn’t blame Vivian for looking confused.
‘You’re leaving,’ Greaves said, his voice burning not with Knightly fire but with command, and Denizen felt the gears begin to turn again. ‘The Emissary circumvented the Glimpse. How many other Tenebrous are going to be clever enough to do that?’
It is not a matter of cleverness, Mercy said. The Emissary’s hate made him strong enough to attempt such a thing, but most Tenebrous will flock to the point of least resistance instead.
‘Why parachute in when there’s a hole in the wall already?’
Exactly. But the Emissary will have to come here eventually, if he is to prove himself. Each Usurper declared their challenge –
Something sparked in Denizen’s head at that, but he was too exhausted for it to flicker to life.
And the weakest of us will flock to them. Others will wait to see what happens to those Tenebrous daring enough to attack the Order of the Borrowed Dark.
‘And act accordingly.’ Greaves looked to Vivian. ‘We have to turn this around before that happens. Get the Neophytes out of the city and clear of this Tenebraic interference. Then you’re going to contact the outside world. The rest of the Order. PenumbraCorp. The damn Croits. Everyone. The counter-charge, Vivian Hardwick. You’re leading it.’
‘Palatine …’
‘What?’
Vivian opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘I have misjudged you.’
‘Yes,’ Greaves said. ‘Constantly. Now go out there and do what you do best.’
A fierce smile darted across Vivian’s face. ‘Yes, Palatine.’
‘Good!’ He spun on a heel. ‘Madame Lux. Accept my deepest apologies. We’re having a bad day. Are you fit to serve?’
Just for that moment, Darcie’s eyes fixed on him. ‘Always, my Palatine.’
‘Good. I need the Emissary’s movements. I need to know whether other Luxes have detected this anomaly, and I need to know if we’re losing people because they’re trying to use the Art of Apertura to get here. Your knowledge or your best guess. And as for you –’ He rounded on Mercy. ‘I’m sure my predecessors would be rolling in their graves at this, but, if you’re here to help, you’re here to help. Are you?’
Mercy flickered. In any way I can.
‘Then welcome to the Order of the Borrowed Dark.’ In fairness, he managed to say the words without flinching. ‘You’ll stay here. I need everything you know about what’s coming against us.’
Yes, but –
‘But what?’
You cannot beat this. I respect you, I commend you, but you can’t.
The warmth that had entered the room at Greaves’s proactiveness began to drain away.
I came here to offer you a different path.
Ever since she’d touched Denizen’s Malleus dagger, her hand had been clasped across her chest. It looked like she was promising them something, hand on heart.
If you get me out of the city, we can start looking for my father. We give him back his throne and he will bring the other Tenebrous into line.
They all stared at her.
‘Do you …’ The Palatine raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you know where he is?’
I … No. But if you could spare some forces to help me search –
‘Not a hope,’ Greaves interrupted. ‘Not a hope. He can have his crown back when we’ve taken these Usurpers’ heads.’
Then I’ll do it myself, she retorted. You don’t understand –
‘The time for your giving orders is over, Mercy.’
Denizen knew that tone. This was no longer the Palatine speaking to a foreign dignitary; it was a general commanding his troops.
‘I can’t spare forces for a wild goose chase. You don’t even know where the King is. Besides, you can’t leave. One of the Usurpers needs to kill you to take the throne. We are not handing them that. Not today.’
He turned to her honour guard.
‘Take her somewhere secure, while we formulate a defence.’
You’re locking me up?
‘Comfortable quarters,’ Greaves said. ‘Our very best. You did say you came here to help.’
I … Mercy lowered her head. Yes.
‘Good,’ Greaves said. ‘Because I will not be the last Palatine this Order has.’ He glared at the Knights around him. ‘Right?’
Light darted beneath skin. It was the closest to applause that the Order got.
Vivian flexed her hands on her hammer. ‘I’m taking my son with me.’
‘Of course,’ Greaves said, already marshalling the Knights. ‘It’s like Denizen said: diplomacy’s over. This is war.’
It was inevitable, of course, that Denizen’s scepticism would catch up. Impressive speeches and dynamic action were exactly what they needed after so many losses in so little time, which was precisely why Greaves had delivered them. But even as Vivian began to steer Denizen towards the doors, even as the Order began to rally and rattle their blades, Denizen couldn’t help but look back one more time …
His eyes met Mercy’s, and they glittered with fear.
Greaves would do whatever was required.
This is war.
Just give me the child.
14
The Backswing Before the Blow
Daybreak had never made much of an effort at being anything other than a fortress, but now even that flimsy pretence was being stripped away.
Extra candlewards were placed in alcoves and arrow-slits. Tables were flipped for barricades and nailed over doorways, cutting off exits, turning
corridors into killing fields. Blades were carried unsheathed in hands, until it seemed Denizen walked through a hall of mirrors, his worried reflection glittering from a thousand sharp angles.
Vivian was walking so fast that Denizen almost had to run to keep up, but a year of training had increased his lung capacity so he could at least both talk and jog. The only reason he hadn’t said anything yet was because he didn’t know what to say.
This was definitely a situation. There was no denying it. It was the most situation situation Denizen had ever seen, and it had been a busy twelve months. But Greaves had rallied a defence, there was a plan to both save the Neophytes and call reinforcements, and they had their very own inside man. Girl. Tenebrous. Whatever.
Denizen didn’t know how long it would take for the counter-charge to come together, but when it did hit, it would strike with the force of a meteor. So danger, and peril, and death on either side, but a clear and inarguable path. It was all they could do. It was what was required.
He couldn’t get the memory out of his head: Mercy, hovering small and alone in a room of bared swords, and the gears turning once more in Edifice Greaves’s head.
‘Vivian, I –’
‘Denizen, there’s something I need to tell you.’
She pulled him into a doorway just as a cadre marched past, laden down with more sharp objects than they had hands to wield them with.
‘What’s wrong?’
She didn’t answer, dragging a handkerchief from her pocket and spitting into it with a jerk of her head. Denizen went bright red as she turned his head with a twist of her fingers, and began matter-of-factly – and painfully – wiping blood from his temple.
‘Can’t this wa-ow!’
‘Infection kills more soldiers than swords,’ Vivian said absently, and then her eyes locked into his. For once, anger wasn’t in the ascendancy.
‘Abigail is missing,’ she said. ‘Or she was. It’s entirely possible they’ve found her by now. We recovered most of them – including Simon – without much difficulty, but …’
And Vivian looked away. Vivian – who had never backed away from a fight in her life.
‘I would have stayed to look, but I had to report to Greaves. He would have argued with anyone else.’ Her fingers flexed into fists on her hammer. ‘Our best people are out there, going house to house –’
‘Our best people?’ Denizen whispered, incredulous. Something awful and unknown was building within him. He’d never worried about Abigail before. He’d never had to. Darcie – yes, most recently just a few moments ago. Simon – obviously, he was the only person worse at fighting than Denizen. But of all of them Abigail was the most competent, the most focused, the most … Knightly.
And since when was that a guarantee of safety?
‘You’re our best people,’ Denizen hissed. ‘How could you leave her? She’s … she’s out there somewhere, afraid …’
‘Denizen –’
‘Oh God, the Emissary … What if it –’
‘Denizen.’ She jerked her hand back, handkerchief hanging down like an admission of surrender. ‘I know. All right? I know. But … I had to make sure that you were safe.’
There was the tiniest quiver in Vivian’s hand. With both of his, Denizen clasped it still.
‘I understand. I do. But I’m safe now. You have to go out there and –’
She shook her head. ‘I trained Abigail. I know what she’ll do. Avoid the Emissary, regroup at Daybreak; she’s probably downstairs already. We’ll need an hour or so to put together supplies. And we have our orders.’
‘No, Vivian –’
‘We have our orders.’
Her gaze flicked past Denizen’s shoulder. He turned –
– and Simon nearly took him off his feet.
Someone had apparently slipped a bunch of muscle into Simon’s frame when Denizen hadn’t been looking because those lanky arms closed round him like an adolescent vice. Denizen made a strangled noise into Simon’s shoulder.
‘Are you all righ–’
‘What happened to your –’
‘The Emissary –’
‘I heard –’
‘Abigail.’
Their mutual, stuttering catch-up halted around a gap that should never have been there. Normally, Denizen didn’t talk a whole lot. It was a great deal more fun to watch Abigail and Simon spar – figuratively: nobody enjoyed sparring with Abigail except Abigail – but now …
‘More cadres have gone out searching,’ Simon said. Even with the bruises and the scrapes, it was these words that seemed to pain him most. ‘She’s … she’s not the only one missing. They say they’ll find her. The Emissary’s gone to ground.’
‘He doesn’t want to fight yet,’ Vivian said grimly. ‘Not all of us. He’s biding his time.’
And the longer he waits …
How many Tenebrous would see the Emissary’s daring and draw strength from it?
‘Then we can’t leave,’ Denizen said. ‘Not until we find out what’s happening. We can’t just abandon her!’
‘What do you mean, leave?’ Simon said, but Vivian cut him off.
‘We give it until another patrol reports back,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Delaying the counter-attack puts the entire world in danger. We need to crush whatever this is before more Tenebrous flock to the Usurpers’ banners.’
‘And what about what Mercy said?’ Denizen had to force the words out past Vivian’s suddenly flat stare. ‘About finding her father? Letting him end this?’
‘Even if I believed her about what’s happening …’ Denizen’s eyes went wide, but his mother wasn’t finished: ‘And even if we had forces to spare, this is clearly an attempt to make us reinstate her father as Endless King.’
‘Well – yes,’ Denizen said. ‘It is. So?’
‘So we are not the lackeys of some monster warlord, to be used and discarded at his will,’ Vivian growled. ‘We fight this war our way, with our weapons. Not with … politics. The time for that is long gone.’
‘But –’
But Vivian had already resumed her stalking, striding into the Neophyte’s Solar and silencing it without needing to speak a word. She swept her gaze across the room, and every back straightened.
‘Beneath Daybreak lies the Asphodel Path, the crypts in which the Knights of Daybreak are laid to rest. These tunnels have another entrance, where the inhabitants of Adumbral could visit their …’
She paused.
‘Anyway. We will use these to traverse the city, staying out of sight of the Emissary, and resurface close to the Aurelian Gate. From there, it’s a straight hike down through no man’s land. This Tenebraic … interference has a limit. We will find it, and contact the outside world.’
‘What about the Neophytes left in the city?’
Denizen couldn’t see where the question came from, but felt a momentary pang that it hadn’t come from him.
I would have asked. It’s just … there’s a lot going on.
‘The city is being combed, both for the Emissary and our two missing Neophytes.’
Wait – two?
Frustration crackled off Vivian’s voice. She was leaving one of her own behind, and Denizen knew she would have torn this entire city apart brick by brick if not for the fact that her son was here, and Vivian had decided to put him first.
‘They will be found,’ Vivian said simply, and Denizen told himself she was speaking to him. ‘We have our own mission. Prepare yourselves. Food, supplies and weapons will be provided.’
She paused, and when next she spoke her voice was soft, as soft as Vivian’s ever got.
‘Your Order needs you,’ she said. ‘It needs you to be calm. It needs you to be brave. These are the things it has always needed from you and this situation is no different.’
Daybreak trembled, and the trainees trembled with it. Eyes widened. Faces paled. Not a muscle flickered in Vivian’s frame. For a moment, she seemed sturdier than the fortress around her.
<
br /> ‘This is no different. We are Knights. We fight. We move forward. We do not retreat. We do not run.’
‘Aren’t we running now?’
It was the Neophyte who’d asked the previous question. Denizen caught a brief glimpse of wide worried eyes, half-hiding behind the crowd. As someone who had interrupted Vivian’s rants quite a few times, Denizen braced himself for the inevitable explosion.
It didn’t come. Instead, Vivian simply raised her hammer until every pair of eyes was fixed upon it.
Malleus hammers weren’t just weapons – they were symbols. The Order paid no attention to race, religion or gender – fire and iron had none, after all – but only the most tenacious Knights were trusted with the weapon Vivian now held. The Order simply couldn’t afford to lose them, and so they were bestowed upon the people who were guaranteed, hands down, to bring them back.
‘We are not running,’ Vivian said, and everyone in the room jumped as she spun the hammer in a tight, brutal arc, rolling it around her wrists like the hidden axis of a planet.
Denizen had tried lifting one of those hammers once. He knew just how heavy they were. To wield one, you had to understand gravity, the mechanics of a swing, that centrifugal drag, every movement a key rotating in a lock.
Vivian hadn’t named her hammer. She wasn’t the naming type. There was no inscription or motto or crest. But both it and Vivian may as well have had inevitable carved into their very core.
‘This isn’t running, Neophyte,’ she said, and there wasn’t a hint of strain in her voice. ‘This is the backswing before the blow.’
She stared at them for a moment longer. ‘Prepare yourselves.’
Knights entered the room with backpacks and bundles. Vivian had already vanished through the door. Simon’s hands were opening and closing into fists, as if ready for the fight that was undoubtedly coming. Or one that’s already over, Denizen thought, with a pang of guilt.
‘We can’t leave Abigail behind,’ Simon said, echoing his thoughts. ‘We just can’t.’
‘Maybe they’ll find her.’
‘You didn’t see it, Denizen,’ Simon said. ‘Like … I’ve seen Tenebrous. I’ve fought Tenebrous. And they’re horrible. All horrible – all different flavours, new one every time. But –’