The Malice (31 page)

He barks in reply.

Soon, Samael can be seen approaching from a side street. He compensates better now but the limp still marks his walk and armour clanks more crisply every other step.

He stops further back from Vesper than usual and Scout suddenly rounds on her. Ears prick up and teeth are displayed.

She takes a step back. ‘What is it?’

‘He is trying to protect me.’

‘From what?’

‘From you.’

She follows the Dogspawn’s gaze and finds the sword is in her right hand, humming, ready. She does not remember drawing it. Bringing the hilt to her lips, she whispers, ‘What is it? Samael is a friend.’

Wings reach out, brushing eyes shut. Through the sword she sees the world anew. Samael is brighter than before, distinct veins running through his essence, flowing together now, ordered. The tether between him and Scout remains clear. It would be a simple matter for her to sever it.

Behind them, the Iron Mountain looms large and dazzling. She sees the flies lit from within, each a tiny spark of essence, linked by wires, ethereal, that float in the air. Many of the strands tangle together, loose ends drifting, all angled towards something within the base of the Iron Mountain.

‘It’s not you, Samael. It’s something inside there.’

‘The Man-shape is in there. It is waiting.’

‘For me?’

‘Yes. I will take you.’

Vesper follows Samael along a path of trampled machine parts and old packaging. She raises the sword and flies immediately disperse, buzzing angrily to a safer distance.

Samael ducks his head and steps into a passageway, shoulder plates squeaking against narrow walls. They zig zag along it to come out into one of the larger chambers. In an old life, the space was a hangar, part of a sky-ship. In place of tanks and trucks, infernals lurk in the shadows, waiting on the word of their new king.

The Man-shape appears comfortable on a throne of steel and leather. Each leg has been placed carefully, artfully, to create the impression of a human in repose. In truth, the seat is unnecessary as the Man-shape’s shell does not tire, an indulgence to alien vanity.

From the chest upwards, the Man-shape is cloaked in darkness. It turns its palms upward in a gesture of welcome. ‘What has become of the Yearning?’

‘It’s gone. Destroyed.’

‘And I feel the Malice is all the stronger for it. Can you dim its gaze? My shell only blocks so much of its ire.’ She slides the blade back into its sheath, muffling vibrations. ‘That is better. I have taken New Horizon and made it my home.’

‘What happened? Is Jem okay?’

‘He lives. Samael believes he is not beyond restoration. He is with the mortals claimed back from the Demagogue.’

‘Did you destroy the Demagogue?’

‘Not as you mean it. Our kind is different to yours in this respect.’ The Man-shape gestures and two figures shuffle forward. Each appears like a crash victim, badly restored. Vesper covers her mouth, swallowing repeatedly. ‘Where once stood our enemy, Gutterface, I have two new members of my court. Their essences have been diluted and blended. Vesper, meet Guttershamble and the Faceless Prince.’ The Man-shape gestures again and they retreat meekly to their corners. ‘The Demagogue is a different matter. I have sealed it within its palace.’

‘Why didn’t you kill it?’

‘I only kill when I need to.’

‘Aren’t you worried it will break out?’

‘No. After all the exits were sealed, we collapsed the palace around it.’

‘But a powerful infernal could survive that, couldn’t it?’

‘It will have survived, there is no question of that. But I hope it will be too broken to free itself.’

Vesper shakes her head. ‘You should have gone in there and killed it.’

‘Our agreement was that I take the city and free the enslaved mortals. Nothing more. The Demagogue is too powerful to defeat and remain unchanged. My solution is satisfactory for all parties.’

‘Okay then. I suppose we’re done. Only …’

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t know. It feels like we’ve started something here. What happens now?’

‘Now you go back to your home.’

‘Yes, but … I know our peoples have fought and … well I was hoping there could be a different way. I mean, you’re not the Usurper and I’m not The Seven. We might be able to find a way to understand each other.’

‘I am listening.’

‘I don’t have the answers yet, there’s a lot to think about but I’d like the chance to speak to you again one day.’

‘You are welcome here Vesper, so long as you can muffle the Malice.’

‘Then I’ll take Samael and Jem and be on my way.’

‘Yes. Tell me, how do mortal allies show their appreciation to each other?’

‘I don’t know but I think you just did.’

‘Good. And are you appreciative of me?’

‘I am. And we will speak again, I promise.’

They leave New Horizon together, a Dogspawn, a small goat, a half-breed knight carrying a wasted man and a young girl carrying a sleeping sword. They have supplies for those that need them and fresh clothes for Jem and Vesper, though Vesper still wears the old coat. She has grown since she first put it on, the edges brushing ankles rather than heels. Sleeves still hang too long, gobbling everything from sight save fingertips.

There has been a change in the wind and clouds have come, papering the sky grey.

Just outside New Horizon, Vesper comes to a stop. ‘Oh …’ she says.

Jem sits up in Samael’s arms. Sunken cheeks have regained some colour and eyes some of their old sharpness. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know how we’re going to get home. I’ve been so busy thinking about the Man-shape and New Horizon and Tough Call and Verdigris and the Yearning and, well, everything, that I haven’t thought about how we’re going to cross the sea.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘I came in a sky-ship but it was shot down.’

Samael tilts his head, signalling that they should continue. ‘I used to cross the oceans. I will take you home.’

‘How?’ asks Vesper. ‘Do you have a ship?’

There is a pause and when Samael’s voice does come, it contains warmth, uncharacteristic. ‘Yes. It may need work.’ He does not add that he hopes it does. Techniques come to mind, bringing with them sensory memories, the feel of tools in his hands and the roughness of raw material, the sense of potential and above all, an impulse to experience it all again.

Jem looks over his shoulder and spits in the dust. ‘Goodbye, New Horizon. This is the last time I’m setting eyes on that shit hole of a city, I swear.’

Vesper frowns. ‘Not for me. I’m going to come back here one day.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I made a promise.’

‘And do you always keep your promises?’

Her eyes lose focus, attending to a memory but she nods, emphatic. ‘Always.’

The journey home feels very different to Vesper. Between the infernal blood in Scout and Samael’s veins, and the sword’s presence, none of the usual hunters of the Blasted Lands bother them. Things seem almost safe. She finds herself relaxing into the rhythm of travel and because Samael doesn’t sleep, he takes all of the night watches.

Sleep and security bring peace of mind and fresh focus. Her thoughts are often elsewhere, practising conversations, worrying about the future and the decisions she leans towards. Sometimes, though, she looks around, at the world of her Uncle’s stories. For so long now she has been looking for threats, or expecting trouble that it is refreshing to enjoy her surroundings with new eyes. She sees scars of ancient wars and the daily ravages of nature, animals and plants fighting each other for food, for shelter, for access to the light. She sees other things too. Flowers with petals like insect wings, from one angle transparent, from another a cross-stitch of rainbows. Pink fungus with spiky hair that squeaks when touched. A half-breed rodent, tiger striped, that hangs from nearby trees and dances in exchange for treats.

The kid only eats the first two while Scout, much to Vesper’s horror, eats the third.

At Verdigris, the group keeps a low profile and Jem gets some good deals, trading their unwanted things for essential supplies.

It is tempting to speak with Tough Call but Vesper isn’t ready, and neither, she suspects, is the city. The flag of the single flexed arm still flies proud but she notices signs of the Empire of the Winged Eye are often displayed alongside. There is a balance here, delicate, that she understands just enough to leave alone.

After they leave Verdigris, Samael leads the way, taking them on a different route to the one she came on. Vesper is sad not to pass Wonderland and speak to Neer again but happy to miss the forest of stalks, and the swarm that lives within it.

They stick to the coastline, trailing it until they reach the northern peninsula. Much of the land has broken away over the years, swallowed by a hungry sea, but five great discs remain, bobbing on gentle waves. Each is a mile across, a miniature settlement in itself. Buildings rise from the discs, their smooth walls blending in, as if the everything was carved from one block of plastic.

The five circles are without power, engines stripped away, their lights dark. A quiet monument to a better age.

Samael stops where the rocks meet the water. ‘Wait here,’ he says. ‘I won’t be back for a while.’

Jem and Vesper watch as the half-breed strides into the water. Waves lap ever higher as he progresses, touching first ankles, then knees, waist, chest, until even the plume of dark hair vanishes from sight. Only Scout follows, his head just visible as he paddles after his master.

That night, they shelter in a rocky hollow, enjoying a fire. Jem sits close, fingers spread above the flames, while further away, the kid dozes, one hoof pawing at something imaginary.

They listen to twigs popping and enjoy the woodsmoke that tickles nostrils.

Jem breaks the silence. ‘You never really told me how you defeated the Yearning.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Well, yes, you did, but not in any kind of detail.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it and anyway, there isn’t much to tell.’

Jem snorts. ‘I find that hard to believe. Will you at least tell me what happened to your friend?’

For a long time, Vesper looks at the flames. Absently, she bites her lip. ‘Duet died fighting the Yearning. She sacrificed herself so that I could finish it off. She’s the hero, not me.’

‘So she really was as tough as she made out. I can’t say I liked her much but –’ he raises a battered cup ‘– here’s to Duet.’

Vesper raises her own cup but keeps her eyes on the fire. ‘To Duet.’

Days pass, gentle, under a cloudy sky. The kid hops about the rocky beach, finding mossy treasures tucked beneath the stones. Jem grows slowly stronger and begins going for walks. Sometimes, Vesper goes with him and they trade details of each other’s lives; favourite colours, stories about family, hopes and dreams.

On quiet nights they can make out the faint sound of hammering, blowing across from the five floating circles.

Throughout, the sword sleeps.

Then one morning, a gleaming arrow detaches itself from one of the giant discs, skimming across the waves towards them. Sunslight glimmers along a smooth white hull and an engine purrs as it catches that light, focusing it into a single stream under the water, propelling the vessel forward.

Scout sits on the prow of the boat, mouth open, wind rippling cheeks and ruffling fur. Behind him, standing at the helm is Samael. Gauntleted hands hold the controls steady, guiding manually, indulgent.

Jem and Vesper walk down to the edge of the beach to meet them.

As the boat nears the shallows, the engine pivots, sending its force straight down and the vessel lifts gently to hover, two feet above the stones.

They climb aboard, and Samael sweeps the boat in a gentle rotation to face the sea once more. ‘What do you think?’

Vesper laughs. ‘I think it’s beautiful! Did you build this?’

‘Yes. In my old life, a team of us were making this to expand our business. It’s a scaled down version of the wave rider models that the Empire tends to use but with thinner plating to make it more fuel efficient. No weapons, of course, we didn’t have the clearance, but it meant we could expand the storage bay.’ Vesper smiles at him, warm, and he continues. ‘Before we could finish it my creator came with the Uncivil’s army and we had to evacuate. Every boat in the port was used to push First Circle into the sea and any boats that weren’t working were to be stripped for spare parts.’

‘But you didn’t strip yours?’

‘No. When the time came, I couldn’t do it. I hid the boat and swore that I’d come back and finish it one day.’

‘Well you’ve certainly done that.’

Samael runs his hand across the top of the main display screen. ‘All it needs is a name. If I had one prepared in my old life, it is lost to me now.’

‘What do you want to call it?’

‘I don’t know.’

They all think hard for a moment. Jem is the first to have an idea: ‘How about,
The Late Arrival
?’

Vesper is next: ‘
The Hidden Treasure
?’

Names are bandied about until, finally, Samael says, ‘I will call it
Commander’s Rest
.’

And with that, the single engine of the
Commander’s Rest
flares bright, shooting them out to sea.

The weather is clear and the sea merciful, allowing the
Commander’s Rest
to make good time. After several loud disagreements, Scout and the kid eventually come to an accord, sharing the space at the front of the boat.

Jem stretches, admiring the rich tan on his arms. ‘I can’t wait to see the Shining City. I’ve heard the food there is incredible.’

‘Oh, it is,’ replies Vesper. ‘I don’t know why but things taste less watery back home.’

‘You must be looking forward to it.’

‘I am, I can’t wait to see my family again.’ She sees him look away, misunderstands. ‘And I was going to say, I can’t wait for them to meet you. You’ll love them, I know it. And they’ll love you.’

‘Maybe.’

She prods his chest. ‘There’s no maybe about it. You’ll all have to get on because you’ll be staying with us.’

‘I will?’

‘You will.’

He prods her back. ‘And what about me, do I get a say in it?’

‘No.’

An expression of mock offence is taken but fails to hold. He grins. ‘Good. Next stop: the Shining City!’

‘Not quite,’ Vesper replies, suddenly serious. ‘We can’t go back yet. We have to go to Sonorous first.’

‘Why?’

‘I made a promise there that I have to keep.’

Jem shakes his head. ‘Maybe you should think about making fewer promises in the future.’

Having declared independence from the Empire of the Winged Eye, having made an alliance with the First, the leaders of Sonorous live in fear of retaliation. The fear has increased since twenty-five sacred swords were broken and their knights locked away. The fear keeps them vigilant. Ships are sent on wide ranging patrols, and the watchtower is constantly manned. Traps are left in the deeps to discourage submersible craft from getting too close.

But all of these measures are set against the arrival of a war fleet and most of those point to the north. As such, the
Commander’s Rest
is able to glide into Sonorous’ port without even raising an eyebrow.

The island is crescent shaped, the natural formation of the rock extended by metal plates to create a large bay of calm water. Within it, a mix of ships are moored, serene, while crews sweat and cargo rushes back and forth.

Infernals have a strange status here. Sonorous is allied to the First but on a day-to-day basis, the presence of the taint is neither seen nor accepted. It is not clear how the locals would react to the sudden arrival of a Dogspawn and so Scout is tucked away below deck.

Vesper and Samael step off onto dry land, leaving Jem and the kid behind.

They make their way into town, following the Tradeway directly through the port and on past densely packed living blocks towards the prison.

Every inch of space is used, buildings squeezed together on the ground and strewn across the mountainside, staggered, with lifts running between them. Above the main town are the engine levels and machine factories and above that, the featureless block of silver that houses the Harmonium Forge. Between the top of the forge and the bottom of the watchtower are a scattering of private dwellings, a few of which perch on top of the cliffs, their residents paying the price for the finest views.

On the opposite side of the wall, suspended above the sea, is the great prison complex. Each cell dangles from sheer rock, unsettled by the constant winds. Unlike most cells, these ones have no door, tempting their prisoners with an illusion of freedom. There are stories of those that jump.

None of them end well.

The only way to get to the cells is via the watchtower. Vesper takes the long way, unwilling to trust the lifts or to explain herself to those that run them.

They pass through the town without challenge and begin the long hike up the mountain, following the path as it snakes back and forth, climbing, slow.

The number of pedestrians decreases with each new level, until they walk alone, two figures standing out. Vesper pauses to catch her breath and turns to admire the view. From above, Sonorous looks like a claw grasping the buildings, squeezing them together.

Further down the path, a unit of uniformed troops assemble, four rows, red and neat, lined up in front of a crawler tank.

Vesper bites her lip. ‘I was hoping they hadn’t noticed us.’

Samael says nothing and the two continue, side by side.

The troops follow them at a distance, matching pace, following rather than closing.

More of the Sonorous independent military wait up ahead, lining both sides of the path, weapons ready. They make no move as the two draw closer. There is room to pass between the lines but only if Vesper and Samael walk single file.

She stops. It is too late to go back but she finds it hard to commit to going forward.

Samael stops a few paces after. ‘What is it?’

‘This was a mistake. I’m sorry, Samael, I wish we hadn’t come.’

‘You had to come. I understand.’

‘But look at them.’ She hangs her head. ‘This is a death trap.’

‘They’re more scared of us than we are of them.’

She looks at the rows of masked faces. ‘Seriously?’

‘They are just people. You are the voice of The Seven.’

Suddenly, the rows of masked faces gain character, distinct. She detects the tension in their limbs and the nozzles of rifles quivering in the air. On sudden impulse, she draws the sword and watches as they flinch one after the other, a set of dominoes teetering on the brink as the note hums through them. One shrieks, involuntary, the other soldiers pretending hard that it didn’t happen, that this is just a normal day.