by Peter Newman
‘Don’t kill him!’ shouts Vesper. Again she is about to intervene, again the sword squeezes her shoulder. Surprised, she looks at the sword for confirmation. An eye is staring at the scene, drinking it in, gleeful.
Something in Ezze seems to break and the man sags. In defeat, he holds up a single platinum coin.
The Vagrant seizes it and Ezze drops to the floor, gasping. While the merchant wheezes at his feet, the Vagrant examines the coin, then tucks it away. He looks down at Ezze and his fist lifts. He looks from Ezze, to his fist and back again, his expression dark. Then he glances at Vesper.
‘Father?’ she asks.
The Vagrant sighs, his fist becoming a wave.
As the pressure at her shoulder eases, Vesper moves to join him. ‘Was that really necessary?’
He nods, confident, and she feels the sword thrum in agreement.
‘Oh … okay then.’ She looks down at Ezze. ‘Are you alright?’
Unable to flap his mouth, Ezze flaps his hands instead.
‘I think you were right when you said you can’t sell hope. The dolls aren’t going to work out. People are going to have to make do with me.’ She turns to the Vagrant. ‘Come on.’
She leads him away, the buck trotting after them, leaving Ezze to gasp in the dirt.
When it is clear the threat has passed, he slowly sits up, rubbing at his neck as he watches them leave. He notices that an eye remains open at Vesper’s back, looking at him, its silver wing raising in a gesture that, if it came from any lesser creature, he would swear was obscene.
Vesper and the Vagrant walk for a while, enjoying each other’s company. ‘It’s strange seeing you in that armour,’ she says. ‘When I was little I used to imagine you dressed that way, like the knights in the stories Uncle Harm used to tell.’
At the mention of his name, tears spark in their eyes but Vesper manages to keep talking. ‘I know that really you were in that dirty old coat but in my mind, you’d always throw it off before fighting your enemies, and underneath it you were in sparkling mail from head to toe. It’s funny what we think as children.’
The Vagrant nods.
‘I used to think the sword was enormous but over time it’s got smaller.’
The Vagrant points at her, then holds out his hand at chest height, lifting it up.
She laughs. ‘I got bigger, I know. That’s not what I mean though. When I didn’t know the sword, it was this scary thing I’d always been told to keep away from. At first I was so scared of it I didn’t think of it as a person, like us. Then one day I realized it had feelings too, that it wasn’t this force of nature. It was just angry, and sometimes it could be scared too.’
The Vagrant tilts his head, noncommittal.
‘I believe the same is true for The Seven. Everyone else sees Them as something better than us that’s beyond question, but we’ve met Them. We know They’re not perfect.’
This time, the Vagrant agrees without hesitation.
‘If I can find a way to get Them to listen, I’m sure we could find a non-violent way to do this. There’s already been too much bloodshed.’
The Vagrant puts a hand on her shoulder, gives it a gentle squeeze.
‘Do you think I can get through to Them?’
He tries to smile but amber eyes only manage melancholy. Whatever else she is about to say is swallowed down as Genner arrives. ‘What is it?’ she asks.
‘The Empire’s forces are almost on us. I’ve communicated your desire to talk to them.’
‘Have they responded?’
‘Not yet.’
‘We should be ready for when they do. Tell Samael to gather my knights and meet me in front of the wall. Send word to Doctor Grains that he is welcome to join us. In fact, make it clear to all the delegations that they can send representatives with me if they want to.’
Genner starts to turn, then stops, uneasy. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? Your knights are using some kind of derived Necrotech, and Samael is clearly infernal. If you take them with you, it will damage your chances of getting The Seven to listen.’
‘But if I hide them, then I’m saying I’m ashamed, and I’m not! I’m proud to call Samael a friend, and I’m proud of my knights.’ She sees Genner’s look of concern and resists the urge to shake him. ‘Don’t you understand? If this is going to work, The Seven need to see us as we are. They need to adapt to us.’
‘I understand. For what it’s worth, I hope I’m wrong.’
Vesper dismisses him, and she and the Vagrant go back to Reela’s room. Mazar reports there has been no trouble as she unlocks the door, allowing them both to go inside.
Delta appears to sleep in one corner, a battered coat draped over her like a blanket. Reela lies next to her, pretending to sleep also.
Vesper looks at them, the sword does the same. Her face becomes stern. ‘Wake up,’ she commands.
In the opposite corner of the room, Delta’s sword stirs while Reela screws her eyes shut tighter.
‘Wake up, I said!’
Silver eyelids flicker but don’t open.
The Vagrant edges forward, scooping Reela off the floor and into his arms. Vesper draws the sword as he steps to the side, well out of her way.
For a third time she demands Delta’s attention, the words seeming to thrum on the sword’s edge, echoing, and Delta’s eyes stretch open as if in shock.
Vesper allows her own to close, the sword seeing for the both of them. ‘You’ve slept long enough. If you want to stay here, the least you can do is take an interest in what’s happening.’
Slowly, Delta raises her head, making eye contact.
‘I know that you don’t agree with Alpha. Join your voice to mine, together we have a chance to end this before things escalate.’
Delta’s words come softly from silver lips, like teardrops falling. ‘He will not listen.’
‘We don’t know that!’
A little certainty returns to the immortal’s expression. ‘We do.’
‘Even if that’s true, the others might. It could be enough.’
Delta turns away and her sword rattles on the floor.
Vesper’s voice lowers, becoming older. ‘Must I always be the one to go out there? Must I always be the one to suffer?’
‘But I have suffered.’
Vesper shakes her head and opens her eyes. ‘Come on,’ she says to the Vagrant. ‘We have work to do.’
But as she moves towards the door, a sound stops her. Delta’s sword is trembling on the floor. Alone, it lacks the strength to sing, but it manages to make itself heard, tapping on the ground, forcing out notes with effort, dull, muted.
The Vagrant goes and picks it up, offers it to Delta, hilt first.
The immortal remains where she is, curled upon the floor, curled within her wings. Vesper gives her one last look before walking out.
Slowly, the hilt of Delta’s sword lowers. The Vagrant sighs.
Reela sighs.
Delta’s sword hums again, louder now, motivating, and Delta looks at it, a pained expression on her face.
With a stamp of her foot, Reela goes over to Delta and grabs her little finger. Hold established, she starts to walk after her mother.
The Vagrant raises an eyebrow.
Delta does not resist, flowing to her feet, a giant silver balloon gliding behind a stony faced girl.
They pass through the doorway, leaving the Vagrant and Delta’s sword to stare, then follow.
While the journey south has been swift for the Knight Commander, it has not been pleasant. They have met little resistance, driving back the enemy by their mere presence, and yet he has felt a lowering of morale. For as they have travelled the sheer scale of the problem begins to show itself.
Gloomily, he watches the alien scenery go by his window. It is one thing to fight a demon or to cleanse a tainted body but what do you do when the environment itself needs purging?
He considers putting the fields they cross to the torch but will they have to st
op to bring flame to every blade of grass? And what of the deeper soil and the stone underneath that? What of the mountains around them? What of the very air itself?
It is too big a thing to contemplate, and in the end the Knight Commander takes solace in his position. His job is to fight military battles, and he is happy to let The Seven worry for the world.
One of his officers looks up from a screen. ‘Knight Commander, our scouts report movement from the enemy base. A small force is coming out, heading our way.’
‘What do we have on them?’
‘They’re on foot, armed but weapons stowed. The Bearer is there … as is our former Champion.’
The Knight Commander hears the surprise in the man’s voice and is glad that he already knows of the Champion’s survival. ‘Anything else?’
‘Sorry, sir, I’m just confirming the report … Yes, they say Delta Herself walks with them, sir. How can that be?’
How indeed? ‘I asked for information not questions, captain.’
‘Sorry, sir. The Order of the Broken Blades is present, as are a number of others, including a Dogspawn!’
He paces the length of the command centre twice, considering what is to be done. ‘I take it there’s been no word from Obeisance?’
‘None, sir.’
‘Resend my request. Notify me the moment you hear anything. I want a unit of our best brought forward, no more or less than the Bearer’s party, match them man for man.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have our generals prep their troops for action but mark me, they are to hold position until I give the order. And keep the sky-ships back, I doubt their cloaks will hold up to the Bearer’s scrutiny.’
‘You’re not actually going to talk to them, are you, sir?’
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he says, as much to himself as to the captain. ‘Are our scouts in place?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good, remind them that they are to close the door and hold it closed, nothing more. I don’t want any heroics.’
‘Understood.’
‘Be sure that they do, captain.’ He marches towards the exit hatch. ‘Only disturb me if Obeisance calls or the sky falls down.’
He knows he walks a delicate line. To attack without sanction would mean his doom one way or another. To not answer the Bearer’s call would look like weakness. He has to act, and hope that Obeisance responds while the enemy are still in his grasp.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Most of the delegations decide not to accompany Vesper. Flat Head of the Thousand Nails is one of the exceptions. Though her advisors would prefer the Usurperkin stay behind, Vesper is adamant she be included. However, she does consent to putting Flat Head towards the back of the group.
She and Samael walk at the head of it, the Vagrant and Delta of The Seven behind them. Instead of her sword, an old coat trails from the immortal’s fingers. The Order of the Broken Blades march alongside, with Doctor Grains and his followers coming after, flags to the Winged Eye fluttering, bright against the dull sky.
Though the field has been punched full of holes and traps for the unwary, a single pathway remains through the centre, untouched. An easy path for enemy soldiers to take, a lure to funnel them towards death.
For now, it serves a different function, allowing Vesper and her retinue to traverse the space with dignity.
She gestures ahead, glances at Samael. ‘What do you think?’
He looks at the force opposite, a strange mirror. For each of their knights, the Empire of the Winged Eye has fielded one of their own. For each civilian, a soldier. Where their group is a mix of styles, the Empire’s makes clean blocks of colour.
Behind them rises a wall of human and machine, a backdrop of menace, a promise of things to come. Above them, the sky is strangely empty. Of Alpha’s palace, there is no sign.
Scout whines by his feet and Samael murmurs, ‘I do not think they are here to talk.’
‘Then why haven’t they attacked?’
He has no answer for that.
The Knight Commander waits for them, standing proud of his officers. He cuts an impressive figure. A tall man made taller by his armour.
As Vesper goes forward to meet him, Samael touches her arm. ‘Don’t trust him. He’s hiding something.’
She gives him a bleak smile. ‘I know, don’t worry about me.’
The two face off in the space between their groups.
‘Bearer.’
‘Knight Commander.’
‘I assume you have something to say to me?’
Vesper nods. ‘I do. Quite a lot, actually.’ She pauses, frowning at her reflection and the way it distorts in the hard edges of his visor. ‘Starting is always the hardest part … I’m glad that you’re here, you’ve always been kind to me.’
‘That was before you betrayed the Empire.’
She glances skyward, then back to him. ‘Let’s get to it then. Actually, before we do, can you take off your helmet?’
‘What?’
‘It feels strange not being able to see your face.’
He makes a sound, part surprise, part disapproval. She waits him out, and after another grunt, unintelligible, he takes it off. The face underneath is lean, covered in lines of stress. She sees a man out of his depth, doing his best to mask the panic.
‘That’s better. Actually, that’s really the point I want to make. It’s much easier to talk when we can really see each other, just like it’s much harder to kill when you know who you’re fighting.’
‘I do not shirk from hard choices. The taint must be cut away, or it will consume us all. If you truly cared for the people behind you, you would purge them yourself, not indulge them like this!’
‘Why?’
‘This is ridiculous!’
‘Is it? Then answer. Save me from my own ignorance!’
‘Because the taint corrupts and kills, just as surely as the infernals do.’
Vesper tries not to laugh. ‘Then explain Samael. He is a knight, an infernal and a friend. Explain why my daughter is tainted and yet able to hold hands with one of The Seven. Explain why it was infernals, not knights who had to step in to save the people we abandoned. Explain why I should submit to your judgement and not the other way around.
‘You are asking me to kill innocents or to cut away pieces of their very soul and hope that something remains at the end of it, and for who? For beings that do not care if we live or die. Beings that did nothing while the world suffered. Don’t you think it’s convenient that The Seven act now, after the Usurper and the Yearning have gone? They were too afraid to act when we needed Them so why listen to Them now? Tell me!’
The Knight Commander takes a step back, involuntary.
‘You can’t, can you?’ She pauses, her face softening. ‘Do you realize I’ve known you for years and I’ve never even been told your name? I can’t believe you were born as the Knight Commander, and yet that’s what the Empire tries to turn us into, titles and roles. It’s like they squeeze the person out of us. Everyone knows me as the Bearer. Not a person in my own right … just a means to transport the sword. But I’m more than a handle with legs, and you’re more than a military office. It’s time for us to acknowledge that. To stand as ourselves. Complex and conflicted and … and wonderful.’
She waits for an answer, watching as he struggles to make one. ‘You have to surrender,’ he says at last. ‘It’s your only chance.’
‘Maybe. But I’m still waiting for you to tell me why it’s the right choice.’
He shakes his head, unable to look her in the eye. ‘I …’
From his helmet, the voice of Obeisance issues. ‘It is alright Knight Commander, I will take it from here. Vesper, in the name of The Seven, surrender Gamma’s sacred blade and Delta over to us, stand down your forces, open your doors and prepare yourself for Their mercy.’
‘The Seven!’ retorts Vesper. ‘Are you even listening to yourself? There aren’t seven of them. One is half dead an
d the other is here, with me. The Seven don’t exist anymore. They are divided. That means that you don’t have authority here, that’s why we need to talk.’
Impassioned words make little impact on Obeisance’s calm. ‘You forget yourself, Bearer. Your place is to serve Gamma’s blade. You are part of an order, just as much as I am. Even within The Seven there is a hierarchy. First and foremost of them all is Alpha and I speak for Him. In His name, I tell you to surrender or be destroyed.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like this. You know Them, Obeisance. Reason with Them, please.’
‘This is your last chance.’
Vesper does not hesitate. ‘I will not surrender.’
‘So be it.’
The helmet goes quiet and the Knight Commander puts it back on.
An eye narrows, staring up at the clouds. A moment later, the sword begins to hum. ‘What’s going on?’ asks Vesper.
‘Our deaths,’ replies the Knight Commander.
Above their heads, a mile away but racing closer, is a warhead, attuned to the chip in the Knight Commander’s brain. It streaks towards them, an angel of death, screaming.
Vesper reaches for the sword but the Knight Commander rushes forward, grabbing her wrist, forcing it down, her fingers only able to brush the hilt before slipping away.
The sword shakes helpless in its sheath.
The warhead breaks through the clouds.
In vain, Vesper continues to wrestle with the Knight Commander.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
The Vagrant has time to blink.
Commotion has broken out behind him. In front, the enemy are registering the end of negotiations. Guns point forward, swords slide from sheaths, singing.
No shots are fired but none need to be, the warhead bringing enough death for everyone.
Samael is running towards Vesper, and the Vagrant joins him, even though it is pointless. The Vagrant raises Delta’s sword, trying to get it above Vesper’s head, even though he is not fast enough to get there, even though it is pointless.
The scream of the warhead becomes deafening, its shadow casting over them all.
The Vagrant takes breath to sing but another beats him to it.
It is felt in the bones before it is heard, reaching the heart before the ear has time to register it. A songlike shout, a call of defiance.