The Malice (28 page)

The Man-shape speaks, unexpected, making Vesper jump. ‘When my master came, it defeated Gamma and took her body as its own. But even the greatest of your world was not enough to contain my master’s strength. So the Usurper took the strongest of your Seraph Knights, your Knight Commander, and mixed its own potency with him, making him into this. But then the Malice reclaimed him and sent him here, laced with Gamma’s essence, a pick to reopen all of the wounds from their first struggle. When he came, the master welcomed him, drew their essences together once more, allowing the Malice to have its revenge. What was left of Gamma destroyed my master from the inside. It was terrible to behold and yet I find a symmetry in it all that is not without beauty.’

Vesper studies the face, looking for signs of Gamma but all she sees is the Usurper distorting from within, great ridges of bone stamping out her features.

‘Now all that remains of my master is an echo in Samael’s chest and all that remains of yours is strapped to your back. But still we must bow, even to their ashes.’

A frown begins to form on Vesper’s face. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone.’

Samael and the Man-shape withdraw, closing the doors, sealing Vesper inside.

She looks at the sword on her shoulder. Silvered wings wrap tight around an eye squeezed shut. The Navpack is put away, taking the light with it. She takes a deep breath then slowly, carefully slides the sword free of its sheath and holds it in her arms, the flat of the blade pressed to her chest.

They stand like that in the dark, together, a human heart beating on silent steel.

‘I think you need to see this for yourself.’

The sword feels cold against her. It does not move.

She lets go with one hand, reaching up to find the edge of one wing. Fingers find feathers, curling underneath, easing back. There is no resistance, just reluctance. Having opened out one wing, she lets go, feels the briefest tug at her fingertips. She pulls at the second, gentle and it allows itself to be moved, revealing an eye, resolutely closed.

Vesper waits, trying to ignore the mix of scents, of alien pollen and decaying matter, of her own sweat.

An eye half opens, peering out under the lid. It does not need the light to see.

After a few moments it closes again, wings pressing in hard against it.

She holds on a little tighter. Sharp edges press through sleeves, bringing discomfort and Vesper feels rage charging the air, terrifying, destructive, directionless. She holds on, enduring and patient, feeling the anger make way for other things. The blade begins to tremble in irregular bursts, shaking them both.

And still, Vesper holds on.

Massassi’s body slumps in the chair, held fast by crisscrossing straps. Three holes perforate the seat, matching three passageways through her back and chest. Through the three new holes in the roof she can see the sun. To normal eyes the great disc is felt rather than seen, hidden behind a veil of thick smog. To Massassi however it shines like an astral spotlight, highlighting her end.

She is aware of her own essence, how it wants to fade, to give up her shape and break apart. Only her will holds it together. It is tempting to let go. To stop fighting. It feels to her as if she has been fighting all her life and suddenly that inner fire is no longer there. It is a great relief.

The screens that surround her are inoperative, dark, depriving her of one final look at the Breach. Instead, she looks up at the sun.

On its blazing surface she perceives three smudges of dark, little gaps where no light exists. She frowns, or at least she imagines frowning, for in reality, her slack-jawed face does not move, and looks closer.

The holes in the sun are tiny things and she has to strain to make them out. As she watches, cracks creep outward from them, little fingers joining up to make a single line that threatens to grow, to divide the sun in two.

She sees the distortion in the sky shift, as if drawn to that weakness, lines of light that fold the sky, trying to force a breach in the stars to match her breach in the earth.

This will not do. Her life’s work must not be undone by her death. Renewed with purpose, Massassi sharpens her focus, draws her essence together once more. It shines like a star, hard and silver through her wounds. She takes back her body, restarting its heart, waking muscles, slapping the release button on her harness.

She drops out of her seat, turning to see a masked figure holding a sniper rifle. The assassin’s mask is stretched at the bottom by her jaw, gawping. While the assassin wrestles with the fact that Massassi still lives, reflexes take over, smoothly reloading as they raise the rifle, this time aiming for the face.

Massassi’s eyebrows raise, her eyes flash and the essence within the assassin turns to ash. Another life to add to the many she’s taken. But Massassi does not falter, who would cry over a drop of spilt water to save the ocean?

Past experience tells her to move quickly. It is not easy holding one’s essence together while leaking blood from six holes. If she trusted her subordinates to get it right, she’d call for help. No. Better to do it herself. In the end, she has always been alone and that is how she likes it.

Outside, the world rocks to warheads detonating. People hide, people die and the earth trembles.

Massassi barely notices as she stumbles into walls, pushing off them again, leaving hand-prints of red behind her.

Her body is starting to fail by the time she reaches her workshop. Blood loss and shock combine, trying to force her to lie down. She refuses, grabbing her welding torch and a plate of metal.

The work is ugly by her usual standards, especially compared with her arm, but it is functional. Six caps to plug the wounds front and back, studs of silver, lifesaving. In the coming years her body will demand recompense, a constant diet of drugs and occasional organ repair. She accepts this, ready to pay any price to extend her life.

Hauling herself to a window she looks at the sun once more. The three black marks no longer mar its surface, but a faint impression remains, a hairline scar, prophetic.

The distortions in the sky return to their normal lines as well, drawn back to the south and the breach waiting to open there.

Normality reasserts itself and Massassi slumps against the window, letting her head rest on the plasglass. She lives, and for humanity to survive, she must go on living. It is her strength that holds back the invaders and the tidal wave that carries them. She sees it now. For as long as she draws breath, the sun is safe.

Vesper returns to the Man-shape’s chamber, the sword in her arms, sleeping. Silvered wings drape over the back of her hands. She is greeted by the kid, who sniffs at her hopefully.

Samael takes his habitual place by the left wall and the Man-shape stands by the window, its back to her. ‘The Yearning is getting closer. When I look out to the south, I can see the way its essence plays across the sky. I can see it fighting to gain ground. It’s still too far away to read in any detail but I have had an interesting thought. Would you like to hear it?’

Needing both hands to hold the sword, she tries to rub tired eyes on her shoulder. ‘Okay.’

‘Seeing the Yearning through this shell, and through the visions Samael shared, I am struck by how strange it is. Unlike us, it has not tried to adapt to this world. The Yearning shows me how much we have changed since we arrived here. If the I that first emerged from the Breach were to see what I have become, it would not recognise itself. I see the Yearning and I cannot understand it and I feel fear. Is that not how your kind first reacted when they beheld us?’

‘Why do you think that the Malice can stop it?’

‘I believe that the Malice will be like a poison to it, as it is to all of my kind. It may take longer to work than it did on my master but in the end, the Yearning will be vanquished.’

‘But, the Usurper survived those wounds for years!’

‘There is no other way.’

‘And, if I did this for you, what would you do in return?’

The Man-shape’s frame becomes still for a moment, then reanimates. ‘I do not understand. We are not trading, this is what the Malice is here for.’

‘The Malice might be, but if you want to send the Malice against the Yearning you need me.’

‘Do I?’

‘The sword doesn’t want to be used by anyone else. I don’t think it would end well if they tried.’

‘But you, like the Malice, wish to stop the Yearning. Why do you try to trade when you already have what you want?’

‘Because there’s no point in stopping the Yearning if we don’t make things better afterwards.’

‘Interesting. What is your price?’

‘In return for stopping the Yearning, I want you to take New Horizon from the Demagogue.’

‘This is agreeable, the Demagogue has betrayed us and we will have need for a new home if the Yearning comes any closer to the Fallen Palace.’

A grim smile flexes Vesper’s face. ‘Actually, there’s more.’

‘Go on.’

‘When you take it, you have to free the people there. All the slaves.’

‘Without slaves, how will my kind acquire fresh shells?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe we can work out an alternative but that’s my price.’

The Man-shape tilts its head. ‘What do you think, Samael?’

‘I think the slaves will die if you free them.’

Vesper shakes her head. ‘I don’t want that to happen!’

‘They’ll starve,’ continues Samael, ‘or get picked off by other people.’

‘Then you have to look after them. Give them food and proper clothing and shelter, at least until they are able to look after themselves.’

With a pop, the Man-shape’s jaw resets itself. ‘And how long do you expect us to care for them?’

‘As long as it takes.’

‘Very well. We have an accord. Samael will take our forces and depose the Demagogue, taking his rightful place as our king. He will release your people and care for them. In return, you will destroy the Yearning and then take the Malice back north, as far from here as you are able.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Vesper replies. ‘Is that what you want, Samael?’

Samael’s voice is a soft whisper. ‘I want to go back to the sea.’

‘It does not matter what he wants. It is what he was made for.’

‘But he doesn’t want to rule New Horizon, he told me so.’

‘There is no one else.’

‘What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. You’ve been in charge here since the Usurper fell. Why not carry on?’

‘I was made to serve, not rule.’

‘By who?’

‘By my master.’

Briefly, the sword is jostled by Vesper’s excitement. Silvered wings tense, pressing into her hands, warning against further disturbance. She continues in a more measured tone. ‘But don’t you get it? Your master is dead. It doesn’t matter what it wanted. The Usurper isn’t here to deal with this and neither are The Seven. It’s up to us. Would the other infernals listen to you?’

‘They might.’

‘Might isn’t good enough. You have to make them listen.’

‘I am not the Usurper.’

Samael moves to stand next to the infernal. ‘You are not the Demagogue, either. Given the choice, they will support you.’

‘They will support whoever appears stronger.’ It holds up a hand, a human gesture. ‘I will need Samael if I am to succeed.’

Vesper shrugs. ‘Why are you asking me?’

‘Because somehow, he has become yours.’

Eyes widen, remembering his oath, understanding. ‘Sir Samael, will you go with the Man-shape and liberate New Horizon?’

He says yes for many reasons. For the glory of the Winged Eye, for Jem and those like him, because it will help the Man-shape, because he wishes to see the Demagogue fall and, above all, because he has an impulse to do so.

Jem chews his food slowly, in part to savour, in part because his stomach needs all the help it can get. He sits at the base of the Man-shape’s tower, letting walls take his weight, looking up at Vesper. ‘I swore I’d never go back.’

‘I’m sorry but there isn’t any choice, unless you want to come with us?’

‘To the Breach? Even New Horizon isn’t as bad as that.’

‘Exactly. And I think you’re needed there.’

‘Oh yes, New Horizon is in sore need of another hungry mouth.’

Vesper frowns. ‘That’s not what I mean. Well, actually, maybe it is. I think Samael will try and do right by the people but I doubt he’ll understand them. He doesn’t need to eat anymore and the Man-shape never did. I don’t know if they feel pain like we do or … I don’t know. The thing is, you’ve been there and lived it.’

‘Yes, it was torture. But so what? I don’t see how my suffering helps anyone.’

She takes his hands, squeezes them. ‘They’ll be scared. You can reassure them.’

‘If they manage to take back the city.’

‘They’ll take it.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘No, but we’ve got to try.’ She lets go of his hands but he keeps hold of hers.

‘You’re so young. How are you handling this so well?’

A giggle bursts out. ‘Thank you. You really think so? I feel like I’ve been messing it all up since the day I left home.’ Her attention goes briefly elsewhere. ‘That feels like so long ago now. Have you ever met Tough Call?’

‘No.’

‘She’s the leader of Verdigris. She really knows what she’s doing. I wish I was more like her. Or my father.’

Jem reaches for some more food, hiding his bitter reaction. ‘Tell me about your father.’

‘He carried the sword too, and me, back when I was a baby. He brought us both from the far south all the way across the sea to the Shining City and fought infernals along the way. My Uncle Harm says that he helped a lot of people. Some of them still send us presents occasionally. But it’s easy to forget all that. Most of the time he’s just this guy who doesn’t say much and doesn’t trust me to go anywhere. I mean that literally. Even when I’m not that far away he checks on me all the time. It’s really annoying.’ Her eyes focus in on Jem again. ‘But without him, I wouldn’t be here and the Usurper would still be in power. Suns! He must be out of his mind with worry!’

‘He sounds impressive.’

‘He was, at least, he used to be.’

‘He didn’t save everyone though, did he? I’m sure he had his failures too.’

‘I suppose so. I suppose everyone does.’ She squeezes his hands again and pulls hers free. ‘I don’t know how things are going to turn out but … I wanted to ask what you want to do, you know, if we both survive?’

‘Isn’t it a bit early to think about the future?’

‘I don’t think so. I mean, what’s the point of doing all this if we don’t have something to hope for on the other side?’

‘Well, in that case, I’d like to see what life is like in the Shining City.’

The toe of her boot worries a loose stone. ‘I don’t know much about life in the city itself but I can show you a lot of fields and goats.’

‘I’d like that. Do goats taste good?’ He sees her appalled expression and smiles, revealing small feral teeth. ‘Just kidding.’

‘Well,’ she says, standing up, ‘I have to go.’

‘I don’t have much faith in The Seven but I hope they’ll watch over you.’

‘You too.’

Hands are raised in farewell, weak smiles exchanged, and the two part company. One joining Duet to go south, the other going to Samael and the waiting infernal army.

The trudge through the swamp is slow-going and tedious but eventually the Fallen Palace is left behind. Muck clings to their legs, stinking, going hard as it dries. The sword hangs lower on Vesper than usual, slumping, wings curled around her right shoulder, an eye pressed against her back.

The kid trots alongside, nibbling food from Vesper’s palm.

Duet’s condition worsens steadily. Her left foot drags when she walks and her left arm dangles by her side. Self-abuse is muttered, near constant, as the Harmonised tries to keep pace.

Ahead, strange mists play across the sky. Giant snakes of vapour, twisting and stretching. They press like fingers toward the north while rays of sunslight stab at them. The foremost tendrils thicken when the light strikes them, hardening into branches of crystal, a growing forest of emerald and sapphire. These strange trees draw in the daylight, distorting, weakening, a shelter for fresh mist to build around.

The sight of it makes them both stop.

‘All of this is the Yearning?’ asks Vesper.

Duet looks at the crystals taking root in the ground and the ones suspended above, dotted as far as the eye can see, left to right, up and down. She grimaces. ‘A sting to the heart or the brain should still kill it.’

‘What heart? What brain?’

‘Everything has a weak spot. We’ll find it.’

‘Are you sure? The Man-shape thinks the sword will be like a poison but how could such a tiny amount of poison do anything to this?’

‘The sword wanted to come here. It has a plan.’

Vesper tries to look at it over her shoulder. Only the tip of the hilt is visible. ‘We know it wanted to come south but we’ve never known why.’

‘Yes, we do. To destroy the Yearning and seal the Breach.’

‘No. That’s what Genner was hoping for. That’s what I thought it must be. But what if it isn’t? What if there’s another reason?’

Duet looks unimpressed. ‘What other reason could there be?’

‘To die.’

They continue walking, the nearest trees less than a hundred feet away. Mist curls in the air in front of them, ignoring the wind, sunslight sparking off it.

Duet loses focus, reminded of something by the patterns in the air. Realising she has slowed down, the Harmonised moves to catch up, and finds her progress suddenly easier, as if running down a gentle hill. But still Vesper stays ahead, accelerating slightly faster. Duet hears something but can’t make it out. ‘What did you just say?’

Vesper and the kid glance back. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘Hmm. I thought you did.’

‘What did you think I said?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Another glance from Vesper prompts her to continue, raising her voice. ‘I thought you called me.’ She mutters something else under her breath, too low for Vesper to catch, then adds, ‘I don’t believe the sword came here to die.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because The Seven can’t die.’

‘Gamma did.’

‘No! She lives on, in the sword.’

‘Only a bit of her.’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘You tell me.’ Vesper’s wince arrives as soon as the words are out of her mouth. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She challenges Vesper with her eyes, daring the girl to disagree. She doesn’t. ‘I still feel her, did you know that? She’s not here, of course. I know she’s not here but I feel my other half standing next to me, just like she always did. Her voice is in my head, even more than when we were connected. I wish she’d shut up and give me some peace. She’s talking to me right now and do you know what she’s saying? She’s telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself. She’s telling me to stop bothering you with irrelevant things and she’s telling me to focus on the mission.

‘And I want to do that. Being in this tainted place actually helps. When we’re under threat my mind is clearer. My training kicks in. I don’t worry if I’m keeping myself together because I am together. I have to be. The sword needs you to bring it here and you need me to protect you. It works, most of the time.

‘So, you see, I have to believe that the sword would want to carry on without Gamma. Because if there’s hope for it then there’s hope for me.’ There is a pause, Vesper just stares. ‘Nothing to say? That has to be a first.’

The girl stops, bites her lip. ‘Duet, what are you pointing at?’

‘Pointing?’ She looks at herself to find her left arm is raised, fingers stretched out, fluttering slightly like a flag in a strong breeze. As she tries to understand what is happening, her left foot slides forward of its own accord, pulling her along behind.

Silent winds stir at their backs. Invisible hands that tug and push, drawing them towards the trees.

Vesper grabs Duet’s right arm, tries to anchor her. She feels the pressure herself now, dragging at her centre of gravity, tipping it forward.

The kid bleats, turns around and runs. Hooves churn up the dirt, working hard, but frantic efforts only slow the inevitable, all three of them sliding inexorably toward the crystal trees.

Vesper leans back, reaching down for extra purchase. Small stones scratch at her fingers, collect under nails, scattering when she grabs for them.

Without pride, she shouts for help. The kid joins her.

An eye twitches at the sound.

They skid past the outermost trees.

Duet slides faster, her left hand extends slightly too far in front of her, the wrist stretching, elongating.