by Peter Newman
The Usurperkin is unused to being pulled around, especially by those half her size. Any surprise is quickly supplanted by pain as the First catches her hands, bending back her fingers far further than nature intended.
Free again, the First turns back to the gates, sprinting to make it through what remains of the gap between them.
Too late, it feels the mood around it, sees the weapons appearing in the hands of the crowd. Silvered guns and winged launchers.
Normally it would have detected the trap, reading the mortals as if they were signposts, but the Malice has distracted it.
It tries to call out, to soul-reach across the spaces and warn itself that the Malice is escaping, but bullets sing, stinging its shell and scrambling thought.
Weapons fire, repeatedly, far more than is necessary.
A fragment of the First falls.
And three times the weapons fire again, just to be sure.
Vesper and Duet leave Verdigris and the mountains behind them, packs full to bursting. Before them spread the Blasted Lands, open, barren save for a scattering of hardy shoots, sprouting in tufts from the dry earth. The kid dances between them, teeth whipping down, beheading.
Bright colours contrast with Vesper’s faded coat, mementos given in gratitude. Eight bracelets, homespun, line up along her right forearm. New socks cushion her feet. Her hands still tingle from grateful squeezes and her ears ring with kind words.
A wind blows unbroken across the landscape, blocking the view with dusty ribbons. A visor is pulled down, a scarf pulled up. The kid begins to cough. Soon, it passes by. No fresh gusts come, leaving air to settle and feet to fall into the steady rhythm of travel.
‘Duet,’ says Vesper, breaking the day’s silence. ‘What do you think about Tough Call?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean about what she did.’
‘She did a lot of things.’
They walk on, except for the kid, who sees a juicy stalk, waving slowly. His head moves in time, mouth watering.
‘Well, you know how she got everyone to work together, even though some of them wanted to kill each other?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how she turned them all on the First?’
‘Yes.’
‘That.’
Unable to take it any longer, the kid bites at the stalk. Teeth normally suited to the task fail to cut through. The kid pulls but the stalk remains rooted. New tendrils poke out from the cracks, feeling their way. One loops around the kid’s ear, another around his front leg.
‘I think it was good leadership.’
‘But she lied! She said that The Seven wanted humans and half-breeds to work together and that the infernals were the true enemy. But they didn’t say that! The sword doesn’t like the half-breeds, it grumbles when the Usurperkin get close.’
Duet scowls beneath her visor. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘I thought about it. But it all happened so fast. And to be honest, I was scared of her. But even if I had, nothing good would have come of it.’
‘It is a crime to lie in the presence of The Seven.’
‘That’s what I thought! But what if lying is the only way to make things work, what then?’
‘I don’t know, I’m only a soldier. But when people disrespect The Seven, they always come to a bad end.’
A strangled bleat distracts them.
The kid struggles heroically, hooves digging new trenches in the ground, muscles straining. The stalk pulls back, trying to squeeze its prey through a crack three sizes too small.
Vesper looks imploringly at Duet.
‘Fine!’ she mutters, jogging over and cutting the kid loose.
Resistance vanishes and the kid tumbles backwards, coming to rest on his back. In his teeth is a chunk of stalk, thick, still alive. It squeaks alarmingly as the kid begins to chew.
Having stopped, they rush down some food of their own.
‘I think,’ continues Vesper, as if the conversation had never ended. ‘That The Seven don’t care what we do or say.’
‘Careful.’
‘If they did, then the sword would have done something when I’ve told a lie, wouldn’t it? And why haven’t the other Six come south with us?’
‘It’s not our place to question.’
‘Why haven’t they stopped the First already? Why did they let Sonorous fall? Why did they let all those people die?’
Duet puts away her rations and gets up. ‘I don’t want anything to do with this.’
Vesper shouts after her. ‘Why? Nothing is going to happen!’
Backing away to a safe distance, Duet kneels.
The kid edges back also, the chewing temporarily paused.
With horrible certainty, Vesper looks down to the sword resting against her pack.
An eye is open, staring at her. Full of fury, of power, raw and devastating.
Duet drops her head, lips repeating the litany of The Seven.
The kid takes another step back.
Vesper swallows but something in her rises to the challenge. Perhaps courage, perhaps a stubbornness. She meets its gaze, weathers the wave of emotion that suddenly hits her. She sees deep anger within the eye, unquenchable and potent, eclipsing her own emotions, as surely as the suns eclipse a candle. But she sees other things, too, buried deeper.
On impulse, she touches the silvered wings, then takes the tip of one between finger and thumb. Tears come, though she is not sure from where. Being so close to the sword, she feels many things, keen enough to cut, to change, all woven together in a tangled ball.
But she does not feel afraid.
Days of travel blend together. Vesper is unusually quiet and, to her surprise, Duet finds that she misses the sound of background chatter. Anything is preferable to the sound of the kid torturing his tainted plant, rolling it around his mouth as it shrieks. The kid however, enjoys the challenge, wearing his opponent down slowly. A war of attrition with a certain outcome.
Dust and grit blow in bursts, shrouding the travellers, shrinking their world. Little bits of dirt worm their way into everything, in the waistbands of trousers, under nails, behind collars. Wherever they get past protective clothing, skin is rubbed, itched, irritated and even the tiniest grain leaves a lingering taste in the mouth.
As suddenly as they arrive, the dust clouds go, ripped away by the wind like a curtain, revealing the horizon once more.
It is no longer empty.
Sunslight glints off something distant, something moving. Duet wipes her visor clean, double checks. After a few moments she sees it again. ‘Give me the scope.’
Vesper complies.
But another wave of dust comes before she can verify whatever it is up ahead.
Frustrated, they travel on.
Like the other dust clouds, this too passes, and Duet is quick to raise the scope again. ‘I see two of them. Both adult. One of them looks armed. The other likely is too. They’ve got a dog with them.’
‘Do you think they’ve seen us?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘Can we sneak round them?’
‘No, there’s nothing to hide behind. We could take a wide berth around them, they might just ignore us.’
‘Okay, let’s do that.’
They strike out, leaving what passes as a path. Neither of them is surprised when the other group peel off to intercept them.
Duet stops, gesturing for Vesper to do the same. She hands back the scope and takes off her pack, checking the fastenings on her armour, preparing herself. Vesper stares through the scope, squinting against the elements. The more the girl sees, the more confusion takes hold of her face.
The kid waits with them, and chews.
Duet draws her sword.
They all appear wild, each dangerous in their own way. The man is painfully thin, his face haggard with fatigue but Duet notes he keeps one hand low, concealing something. The warrior appears like something out of a nightmare, his armour a patch
work of plate scavenged from dead Seraph Knights and hammered together in awful mockery.
The dog’s fur is patchy, its body riddled with old scars, a fighting dog. The mismatched eyes are more disturbing though, one canine, one human, a sure sign of infernal tampering.
Duet remembers her briefings, recognises that this is a Dogspawn, and that means a Handler is close by; perhaps the one in armour, perhaps another, lying low in the dirt.
She looks round but does not keep her eyes off the other warrior for long. His sword is drawn, a simple chunk of pointed metal, dead and without song. She notes he moves with a slight limp, a weakness to be exploited.
The other group stop less than fifteen metres away.
Duet faces off the warrior. Vesper stands opposite the thin man, and the kid tries to avoid the curious stare of the Dogspawn.
Restless but not fully awake, the sword twitches.
Vesper takes a step forward and the Dogspawn growls softly. ‘Hello,’ she says.
The warrior’s voice sounds dry, as if his throat belonged to a much older person. ‘You have the Malice?’
‘Yes.’
‘I … need it.’
‘You can’t have it,’ replies Duet.
‘Why do you need it?’ asks Vesper.
‘To stop the Yearning.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I don’t know. I have seen many things come from the Breach but this is different. Bigger. I can’t fight it. The strongest infernals of the Fallen Palace cannot fight it. I think only the Malice can stand against it. Give it to me.’
Duet assumes a battle stance. ‘We’d die before handing anything over to an infernal.’
The man speaks up at that. ‘You’re wrong. He’s a Knight of the Seraph.’
A harsh laugh escapes Duet’s lips. ‘Save your lies. Knights don’t travel with demon dogs. Knights kill them.’ She raises her blade. ‘And so do I!’
With some reluctance, the warrior readies himself, too.
Vesper shakes her head. ‘Hold on, you want to take the sword, the Malice, to the Breach, right? We want that, too. There’s no need to fight.’
‘There isn’t?’ asks the man.
‘There isn’t?’ mutters Duet.
‘No. There isn’t. Maybe there’s another way.’
There is a long pause. The man looks at his armoured companion, then speaks for him. ‘We could help you. And in return, you could help us.’
‘We don’t need your help,’ says Duet. ‘And we don’t trust you, your demon knight or your pet. You’re not fit to travel in the presence of The Seven.’
Vesper glares at her and an eye at her shoulder flashes open. ‘That’s enough! We’re not going to fight each other. We’re not, okay?’ She takes a breath to calm herself. ‘Let’s put our weapons away and find a place to rest and eat. We can spare you some of our rations and we can talk. My Uncle says that it’s easier to agree on things on a full stomach. What do you say? You look starving.’
‘I don’t need to eat,’ says the warrior.
‘Actually,’ says Vesper, looking past him to the other man, ‘I wasn’t talking about you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jem sits as close to the fire as he can. The hostile woman stays further back, sacrificing warmth for safety, her sword unsheathed over crossed legs. Samael also keeps his distance, uncomfortable in the unexpected social setting.
They shelter in a cave, tucked between some rocks. It looks to have sheltered many travellers over the years, some of whom have left mementos. A few bits of litter, a plastic sleeping mat and doodles, scratched into the stone.
The girl passes around some food, ignoring her companion’s expression of disgust. Harder to ignore is the sword, leaning against the natural wall, and the way it glares at Scout when he gets too close.
‘My name is Vesper,’ says the girl, ‘and this is Duet.’
‘I’m Jem, and behind me is Sir Samael. The one chasing your goat is called Scout.’ They watch the two animals running circuits around the edge of the cave. ‘Don’t worry,’ he adds. ‘He’s just playing.’
‘I didn’t know Dogspawn could play.’
‘Neither did I.’
Vesper passes a piece of dried fruit to Jem and gasps when he grabs both of her hands. ‘You’re so warm!’ he exclaims, beaming.
‘And you’re freezing!’
‘I know! I’ve been cold for so long I’d almost forgotten …’ He trails off, smile fading.
Vesper looks at her hands, still held tight in his. A blush creeps onto her cheeks. ‘You can borrow my blanket, if you want.’
Hands part and he nods, eating the fruit slowly, savouring its sweetness. After a while his eyes flicker over the sword before settling on her coat. He begins to frown. ‘Where did you say you were from? I feel like I know you from somewhere.’
‘I grew up outside the Shining City but I was born in a village south of here. I don’t remember it though, I was too young. It got destroyed in the invasion.’
Jem reaches past Vesper to pick another piece of fruit from the open bag. ‘Tell me more about the Shining City.’
‘There’s not much to say,’ she shrugs, ‘I’m not allowed to go there. What about you?’
‘I was born in Horizon, grew up in New Horizon.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘It’s bad. The demon in charge is called the Demagogue and it doesn’t care much for humans. We’re mainly used as entertainment or slaves, or food.’
Vesper shudders. ‘That’s terrible.’
‘That’s nothing. If I told you half of what happens in the city you’d die of nightmares. And the worst of it is, nothing’s going to change. The Empire of the Winged Eye and its knights, and all of its soldiers abandoned us. Even The Seven. There’s no hope anymore. That’s why I told Sir Samael we shouldn’t go back.’
Duet mutters angrily to herself but the words are easily heard. ‘Not a knight. Not fit to speak of The Seven. We shouldn’t stand for it.’
Jem’s thin frame begins to shake. ‘Why? Why am I not fit?’
‘Because you’re tainted, that’s why. I can see it in your teeth.’
His jaw drops in surprise. Shame follows quickly, finding its way onto sunken cheeks. No longer able to meet anyone’s gaze he covers his mouth and turns away.
Vesper looks thoughtfully at Jem’s back, then to the sword, then at Samael. The kid arrives, diving into her lap and burying his head.
Scout skids to a stop, panting and expectant.
She looks at the muscles playing under the ragged fur. At the mismatched eyes. The human one, blank, the canine one eager, intent on the kid and ready to play.
‘And why is he tainted, Duet?’
‘What?’
‘Why is Jem tainted?’
The Harmonised shrugs. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Yes. It’s really obvious. I can’t believe I never realised it till now.’ She fixes Duet with a look. ‘He’s tainted because we failed him. Don’t you see? The Empire failed its people. It’s failing them every day. We have to change that.’
‘What are you saying?’
Vesper pauses, her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not sure yet. But I think, I think things have to change. I think they’ve already changed and we need to adapt.’ She strokes the trembling kid in her lap, aware of Scout’s proximity, his head close, his teeth sharp. She reaches out slowly, carefully, giving the Dogspawn time to see what she’s doing.
Scout waits, panting softly.
She begins to stroke his head.
Duet looks appalled but says nothing.
Vesper continues to stroke Scout, who settles next to her.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Samael speaks. ‘He’d like it if you scratched behind his ear.’
They walk south, towards New Horizon. The soil here has never recovered from the wars or the poisons dropped on it, leaving landscape barren. Chunks of rock are all that break the open bleakness. Though the city is not ye
t in sight, they all feel it getting closer. Scout bounds along at the head of the group, alert for trouble. The kid joins Duet at the back, preferring each other’s company to that of the newcomers.
Jem and Vesper talk often, the conversation easy between them. On her back the sword twitches, alternately watching Samael, Jem and Scout through a narrowed eye.
Then Vesper falls into step alongside Samael. ‘Hello.’
Samael looks at the girl, looks away again.
‘Jem’s been telling me about New Horizon. I understand the Demagogue is in charge and has the support of other demons, but I don’t really see where you fit in. Jem doesn’t seem to either.’
‘The Demagogue ruled New Horizon in the Usurper’s name. Now the Usurper is gone, the Demagogue wants to rise to power and rule the infernals in its place. It has allies. Lots of lesser demons. And Gutterface sides with it. There may be others. I haven’t paid much attention to the politics.’
‘And you’re against the Demagogue.’
‘Yes.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘I’m not sure. The Man-shape thinks that I should rule.’
‘The Man-shape?’
‘Another infernal. It served the Usurper. It says that the one who stops the Yearning will have the Usurper’s throne.’
Vesper is suddenly aware of the sword humming on her back. ‘Wait, are you an infernal?’
‘No. Yes. It is complicated. The Usurper made my creator and my creator made me. Before him, I was just a man. Now I am something else. The Man-shape says I am descended from the Usurper, that I was made to succeed it.’
‘You don’t sound very sure about that.’
‘I’m not. I … hate them. I can’t help myself. When I see an infernal I want to destroy it. But I am one of them, at least, a part of me is. I think it would be better to rule the infernals than be ruled by them.’
‘And the Yearning, it that another infernal?’
‘Yes. But much bigger than the Demagogue, bigger even than the Usurper was. It doesn’t have a shell yet. I doubt there is anything big enough to contain it in this world. It may be it doesn’t need one.’
Vesper scratches at an old scab on her temple. ‘So let me get this straight. The Demagogue is fighting the Man-shape to take the throne of the infernals and the Yearning is fighting all of you.’