by Peter Newman
‘I remember,’ says Samael, ushering Scout into the chute and climbing in after. He pushes off, metal squealing against metal, and he is gone.
One of the First steps forward, the other black-armoured bodies spreading about the courtyard. It ducks low, infernal eyes untroubled by the lack of light, and runs headlong down the chute.
‘Show-off,’ mutters Vesper.
Nearby, one of the First’s bodies turns its visored head towards her but says nothing.
Vesper sits down on the top of the chute, beckoning the buck to join her.
The buck stops its bounding and regards her.
‘Come on, come over here.’
Dark eyes blink but the buck does not move.
‘Come on! Don’t be scared. You’ve done it before and you were tiny!’
The buck makes a derisive noise.
‘Fine, you can stay here with the First.’ She waves. ‘See you soon!’
The buck stares at the empty space where Vesper was moments ago. He bleats at it, stares, bleats again. When Vesper does not reappear, his mouth opens wide, an approximation of horror. Taking a deep breath the buck lowers his head and charges, screaming all the way. Nearby animals pause to sniff the air and swarms of insects change direction.
The buck does not stop when it reaches the chute, and soon hooves skid on sloping metal. Legs work hard to find purchase, to stop, to go back. They fail. Screaming changes pitch, panicked, and the buck’s charge becomes a fall.
Vesper comes off the slide at speed, landing off balance, her feet skipping on dusty stone, skidding, wobbling, before coming to a stop by the opposite wall. She grins to herself. ‘Not too bad.’
Scout barks approval. ‘Better than last time,’ agrees Samael.
A living wallpaper of beetles covers the room, little clicks of them scurrying up and down and over each other forming a constant background noise.
Samael walks forward, eager, and they part for him, recognizing his essence. A honeycombed surface is revealed beneath, and a doorway. As he passes through, Scout at his heels, Vesper hears the buck’s catastrophic descent. The clatter of hooves on metal, the thud of body smacking chute, the wail of torment.
She covers her ears.
There is a final thud as the buck slides off the end of the chute.
Vesper soothes quickly, the sight of her and the liberal application of sympathy appeasing the buck.
The First studies them. ‘Where is the … symbiosis in this relationship?’
‘The what?’
‘You take this animal with you. You tend to it and endure its company. Why?’
‘Oh. I love him.’
The First is quiet for a moment while it considers the buck, then it repeats, ‘Why?’
‘Lots of reasons. He saved my life once, but it isn’t that. We grew up together, we’ve gone through a lot.’ She strokes the buck’s head. ‘You’ve never come across people having pets before?’
‘I have. Normally these pets are either functional or are … pleasing to the eye.’
‘He is pleasing to the eye! He’s lovely!’
The First says nothing.
The buck looks smug.
Vesper gets up. ‘I think you’d better stay here.’
‘Because I do not find merit in your choice of pet?’
‘No! Because my friend hasn’t met you before. I’ll talk with her first and come back for you.’
The First consents and Vesper chases after Samael. The beetles have covered the door once more but when the sword hums at her shoulder they scurry from the sound, drawing back like a curtain. Vesper steps through. Beyond is a simple passageway, old and worn. She sees changes from the last time she came this way. Parts of the floor have been taken up, revealing the impression of pipes that once ran underneath.
Holding up a navpack, she puts it to torch setting, the light catching on little shadow patches where pieces of the structure have been removed. She and the buck make quick work navigating the holes but, despite their haste, Samael is nowhere to be seen.
A feeling of uneasiness begins to grow in Vesper’s stomach. She isn’t sure if it comes from the sword or from her own instincts, the two so intertwined, but it is there.
She passes several chambers, glancing in and shining her torch. The layout remains familiar to her but the rooms themselves are just blank spaces, stripped of furniture, of personality. They don’t match with her memories of the place.
‘It looks abandoned,’ she murmurs to the buck.
They continue onwards until she hears Scout’s bark, distant, excited. Hurrying, they turn two more corners before seeing the Dogspawn and Samael talking to a tall, robed figure, green eyes glowing softly within a deep hood.
‘Neer!’ she calls, waving.
The woman in the robe turns towards her. She does not wave back. ‘I was beginning to wonder if the pair of you were ever coming back.’
Scout barks.
Vesper and goat come close. ‘It’s so good to see you again!’
Scout barks, several times. Samael mumbles something, and Neer’s face creaks as she turns back to him. ‘Yes, yes. I gave my word, didn’t I? They’re waiting for you, you know where.’
Samael and Scout leave, an unusual eagerness in the half-breed’s step.
‘Neer, I have news. You know what I’ve been working towards?’
‘Your little utopia? Yes, I remember.’
‘Well, it’s really happening.’
Eyes flash green in Neer’s dead face. ‘And?’
‘And I want you to reconsider getting involved. Come with me, you could make such a difference.’
The eyes flash again. ‘And? There’s something you’re not telling me, girl. Out with it.’
Vesper sighs. ‘Well, you might not have much of a choice about leaving Wonderland – The Seven are coming, coming here, and they won’t like what they find.’
‘And you won’t be putting in a good word for old Neer because?’
‘They want to kill me and do suns know what with the sword. They’ve gone crazy. According to the First, they’ve started burning parts of the Empire. I dread to think what they’d do to you.’
‘Oh, you’re on speaking terms with the First now?’
‘Yes. As I said, this is happening and the First is on board. It’s here now, actually.’
‘You brought the First to my doorstep! Do you know how careful I’ve been over the years to hide my presence? To keep my work a secret?’
‘Yes, of course I do. But the time to hide is over. Things are so desperate now, we can’t work alone anymore.’
Neer shakes her head. ‘Don’t try the innocent face with me. You know what you’re doing. You’re forcing my hand.’
‘I came here to warn you.’
‘And to get my help.’ Vesper nods and Neer tuts. ‘Well, the essence is out of the shell now, you might as well introduce us.’
The First is soon called and stands before them.
‘This,’ says Vesper, ‘is my friend, Ferrencia, otherwise known as Neer. She was the surgeon general to the Uncivil when it was alive. And this is the First.’
The two size each other up.
‘Interesting,’ says the First. ‘The state of your shell’s decay is advanced and yet it does not impede you.’
Neer’s reply is heavy with sarcasm. ‘And you’ve got quite the silver tongue for an infernal, eh?’
‘Your essence is only partly connected to your shell. Unlike the rest of your kind, you are not completely bound. You inhabit it at a slight remove. In this regard, you are not unlike … me.’
‘Are you done?’
‘No, I am just beginning. I wish for you to understand that there is little point in hiding secrets from me. I already know what it is that you want, and I am willing to negotiate.’
‘And what is it that I want so badly?’
Vesper’s head turns back and forth as each speaks, the buck’s does the same. In contrast, the sword keeps its gaze f
ixed on the First.
‘You want what all of your kind want. What all of my kind want. To live. The connections between the altered parts of you and your essence are thinning. Parts of your shell are wearing out. I can see the repair work. Artful, but only delaying the inevitable.’
‘And you can offer me something better?’
‘Yes.’
Neer chuckles. ‘I believe you but I’m far too old to believe in kindness. What do you want in return?’
‘I’ve already told you.’
‘You look alive from where I’m standing.’
‘This,’ replies the First, gesturing at itself, ‘is existing. It is not living. Do you understand?’
Neer’s eyes glint, intense. ‘I think I do.’
‘If you want to trade with the First,’ says Vesper, ‘you’ll need to help me. It’s under my protection.’
‘Fine,’ mutters Neer. ‘I’ll consider it, though it isn’t much of an offer.’
Vesper says nothing, doesn’t need to. She and the sword know the half-alive is already hooked.
‘Come with me,’ Neer snaps, trying to hide her excitement beneath a veneer of irritability. She looks at Vesper and raises a finger. ‘But not you.’
Scout’s ears prick up. Through them, Samael hears Vesper’s approach, picking up on her angry tone as she talks to the buck. He pulls the cloth back over the stone slab and its contents, moving to the doorway before she arrives.
Vesper comes into view, words still flowing, her hands making cutting gestures in the air.
The buck shouts at them and Vesper pats his head. ‘There you are. I’ve been trying to find you for ages but Neer gave her directions so fast I forgot the last part. I’m sure she does it on purpose, to try and belittle me, as if I’m still the same little girl I was when we first met. I tell myself it’s just a way of hiding affection but sometimes that’s hard to believe.’ She shakes her head. ‘And I don’t know what she and the First are up to, and that bothers me.’
Samael checks to see if she’s finished. ‘Can I talk to you?’
She looks up at him, suddenly focused. ‘Go on.’
He takes a step towards the slab. ‘This is not easy for me to explain. Do you remember when we first travelled together and in the swamps around the Fallen Palace I had to make our case to the Backwards Child in order to pass?’
‘Of course. But that was years ago, what has it got to do with now?’
‘When my essence touched that of the Backwards Child, it changed me. It … made things clearer.’
‘What do you mean?’
The half-breed thinks for a while. ‘When I was made into this –’ he nearly adds the word mockery ‘– by the commander of the Knights of Jade and Ash, the man that I was became mixed with his infernal essence, and that essence was also a mix. It was made up of the commander, of his infernal life and the human life before it. It also contained traces of other infernals that had touched his essence, like the Uncivil.
‘For the longest time my head was a mess of images and feelings. I didn’t know which were mine and which were theirs. Sometimes a piece of knowledge would appear out of nowhere when I needed it or I’d remember someone I’d never met, but I had no way to access that knowledge. It was the same with emotions. I had them but they often came from my creator or from the Uncivil, and I had no way to know which was which. The Backwards Child changed that.’
Vesper reaches into her bag and pulls out a flask, sipping soup slowly as Samael continues.
‘Because of the Backwards Child’s intervention, I can see where they start and I begin. Inside I feel more ordered, and I can call upon their knowledge when I need to.’
She takes another sip. ‘That sounds great.’
‘Then I’m not telling it right.’ He pulls off his helm, sliding his long hair free. ‘I used to want to fight all infernals. I hated them.’
Vesper smiles sympathetically. ‘They took your life away.’
‘Yes. They did. But which life? I thought my desire to destroy the infernals was my human side winning out. But it was more complicated. The infernals often fight each other. What I considered my hatred had its roots as much in the Uncivil and the commander as it did in the human from whom I take my name.
‘What I am trying to say is that when we first met I was clinging to the idea that inside here,’ he bangs his fist against his chest, ‘was the soul of a man. But that isn’t true. I’m not a man and I’m not an infernal. I’m something else, a sum of the different parts of my heritage.’ He looks up at her. ‘I have to honour them all.
‘For the fisherman that I was, I have my life on the sea, my own ship and the freedom that it brings. There’s Scout too of course.’
The Dogspawn barks cheerily.
‘For the parts of me that once loved the Empire, I have my service to you. It’s always seemed fitting that I became part of your Order of Broken Blades. But to be a real knight I wanted to have a sword.’
Vesper gestures towards the slab. ‘Which is why we’re here.’
He pauses, aware that he is stalling, aware that she knows it. ‘I know that I will never wield a Seraph Knight’s weapon but some vanity in me needs a sword. A special sword. Something that suits me. I believe that your knights also suffer the lack of a proper weapon. They broke something of themselves when they broke their blades.’
Vesper looks down. Samael’s half-breed eyes see the change in her emotion: she knows he is right.
‘Yes,’ she agrees, ‘and I need them whole again if we’re going to stand against the Empire. So. What about the new weapons? Did your experiment work?’
He beckons her to follow and moves over to the covered slab. Vesper does so as Samael takes the edge of the cloth and pulls it back to reveal a set of swords, cloudy grey blades with red hilts and brassy pommels. A similar shape to the swords of the Seraph Knights but a shade lighter and an inch longer. ‘What do you think?’
An eye opens at Vesper’s shoulder, and a soft hum fills the air. ‘There’s essence inside them.’
‘Yes. Essence that I harvested during the fight for New Horizon. It’s inert. The swords won’t react to lies or infernals but they can be directed by the song of a knight or by my will. It is a form of Necrotech, but Neer has used it to animate essence rather than flesh.’ He looks at her for a moment, then adds in a quieter voice. ‘You haven’t told me what you think.’
‘What do I think? I think it’s incredible. I’m not sure what my knights will make of it though. It’s exactly what they need but I know they’ll struggle to accept the Necrotech.’ She smiles at him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll speak to them. I want this to work. These aren’t just weapons, they represent a new way. They’re a symbol. Just like you are.’
Samael gives a slight bow. ‘Thank you, Vesper. This means a lot to me.’
‘I have a question though. When you were working with Neer, did you get a sense of what she’s trying to achieve here?’
‘Yes. Neer is dying. She is looking for ways to transfer her essence into another shell. To that end she has been restoring parts of Wonderland.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘This city was once one great shell for the Uncivil to inhabit. The Malice destroyed her before she had a chance to finish it. Neer intends to complete that work.’
‘Neer wants to become a city?’
‘Not exactly. The Uncivil was big enough to fill Wonderland and they had to keep expanding the city to accommodate her growth. If Neer had been successful she would have been more like a ghost inside it.’
Vesper claps her hands together. ‘That’s why she wanted to study Duet! She was looking for ways to join her essence to other things.’
Samael nods. ‘Yes. She has the skills to make a new shell, be that a human body or a necrotic structure, like this one. But she cannot transfer her own essence. Without help, she is trapped in her body.’
‘Could you do it?’
‘I don’t know. I might be able to assi
st.’
‘Could the First?’
‘Possibly.’
‘That’s what I’m thinking. Pack up the swords, it’s time for us to go.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
The engine casing is open, allowing smells of burnt rubber and scorched metal to waft freely. A hot, fused lump is all that remains of the light drive.
The Vagrant stares at it for some time.
‘Can you fix it?’ asks Jem.
The Vagrant gives the engine an experimental prod. Then he hits it. Then he shakes his head.
‘I knew it! I told you, didn’t I? I told you that if you kept pushing the engines over their safety limits they’d fail. I told you several times and you didn’t listen! And now were fin—’ He notices Reela is watching him and catches himself, forcing a brighter tone. ‘Now we’re finding another way to get to Ferrous. Any ideas?’
After a long sigh, the Vagrant digs into a slot and brings out a short plastic stick. With a flick of his wrist, it telescopes out, one end unfolding to form a paddle. He hands it to Jem.
‘You’re kidding me! We’ll never—’ the Vagrant gives Jem a pointed look ‘– get there until we start.’
The Vagrant nods, smiles at Reela and then snaps out a second paddle.
As the two men get to work, one either side of the sea-shuttle, Reela investigates. To her delight, she finds another stick in the slot. She gives it an experimental shake.
Nothing happens.
She tries again, more vigorous this time. Abruptly, the stick opens up, its paddle end smacking her in the face.
Reela gapes at it, shocked. She blinks rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath, putting a finger to her lips. No tears come. Nodding to herself, Reela moves to the side and joins in the paddling.
Hours pass, all three fixed on their work. Every so often, Jem glances over at where Delta lies on the deck. For a moment he thinks her eyes are open, staring blankly at the sky, but when he checks again, he finds them closed. Occasionally, when his muscles are aching, or when the reality of the situation strikes, he pauses to glare at the Vagrant.
‘Let’s take a break,’ he finally announces, flopping back.