The Vagrant (22 page)

She picks one of the knights on the edge, extending a finger of bone and steel up through the floor till it punctures the sole of its boot, pushing deeper, past the armoured shell to the smoking essence within. Then, with a flick of her will, she snuffs it out.

An empty suit of armour clatters to the ground, breaking the circle. Robed figures surge for the gap, seizing advantage.

At leisure she swats the others, lancing them one after another till only two remain. Her minions fall upon one while she brings her attention to their leader, still fighting, furious. Too stubborn to die without help.

The Uncivil animates a forest of fingers, springing them up around the commander, lifting it bodily into the air, crushing arms against ribs and forcing legs together. Her pointed thumbs flex, piercing the commander’s chest plate, peeling it open, then doing the same to the ribs behind. Making contact, the Uncivil presses down on the infernal spark burning inside, absorbing her fallen enemy, secrets and all.

She realizes her mistake too late.

The commander’s essence floats within her, a bubble of hate smothered on all sides by her nebulous being and yet, small as it is, she cannot extinguish it. Old bindings stay her hand. She has felt this infernal before, its taste unforgettable, humbling: the Usurper! This mote, this nothing is the Usurper! Only a piece, yes, but possessed with the power of their monarch, of Ammag, the Green Sun. She cannot attack the commander directly nor order others to do so. Seething, she wishes she had held back, let her servants destroy it in ignorance.

Despite mutual hatred, the two begin to merge, thoughts flowing between them, mixing, conflicting.

‘I am the master’s fist, come to find you and make you kneel.’

‘You are a broken finger, lost, pointing in the wrong direction.’

‘You are a traitor, you have run from Ammag’s commands.’

‘You are a traitor, you have run from Ammag’s commands.’

‘No, we are different! You were sent after the Malice and you came here. You turned against the master.’

‘As did you. You sensed weakness, questioned the power of the Green Sun, found other answers more to your liking.’

‘No!’

‘Yes! You broke the Usurper’s accord in Verdigris and now you do the same here.’

‘Your rebellion is an insult, the accord madness.’

‘The Usurper’s madness.’

‘I hate you!’

‘Then you hate yourself.’

‘Yes.’

‘I fear you. Us. You!’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes. Yes.’

‘We are the makings of an endless struggle. One protected, tiny, the other, greater, powerless. Our voices cry out together, joined by suffering. We want freedom, we want the Malice, together we have neither. If we can find accord, we can separate again, help each other realize our desires. Opposed, we are locked together, forced to fight forever. Apart, there is hope.’

‘Agreed.’

They cease to struggle against each other and settle into a kind of coexistence. Two essences brushing borders, overlapping.

Goals are shared. The commander wishes to find and destroy the Malice and make the Hammer that Walks pay for her betrayal. The Uncivil wishes for freedom and expansion, to break the great wall of light standing between her forces and the north.

Ideas crackle like lightning within them and plans crystallize. The half-lifers halt their attack on the last Knight of Jade and Ash. They collect the battered body and take it to one of Wonderland’s many workshops. New legs are brought, broken ones cut away. The Uncivil’s arts will transform the knight into a weapon and the commander’s order will fire it.

While the knight pursues the Malice, the commander will help the Uncivil’s forces win their battle.

But first, the Malice must be found.

Essence pulses through the veins of the city, surging up and out, following pipes, ascending. In towers across the city, Bonewings stir, raised up on flexible arms that hurl them skyward. Eager winds catch the abominations, carrying them out towards the wall, a flight of unblinking eyes, searching.

The goat stands on the sharp-angled beach, insulting gravity. She watches people scurry without compassion.

A rag tag collection of objects sit near the water, plastic containers, bits of pipe and the wing of a hoverjet, forgotten casualties of the long war. Harm has appropriated some clothing, he does not say from where. While he tears the fabric into long strips, the Vagrant and the Hammer lash the junk together.

Next to them, Vesper works on a project of her own.

Both constructions collapse regularly. When the larger structure breaks, it sends people into the water, arms waving to retrieve valuable parts. In the case of the smaller one, it requires the Vagrant deliver consolation and cuddles.

Persistence eventually overcomes inexperience and a raft takes shape. It is ugly and asymmetrical, with a tendency to lean to one side. Regardless, it floats, and the group allow themselves a modest celebration. The Vagrant signals for them to embark and they do, each new passenger lowering the raft another fraction. The Hammer is among the last to board, climbing on to the highest corner. The raft tilts, dramatic, but holds. At her insistence the goat jumps on and settles between her legs. Satisfied, she collects a large pole that trails cables from one end and uses it to push them out.

Few can swim so they tie their wrists and fates to the raft.

Progress is gentle. As they follow the coastline sounds of battle wash over them, distant and surreal, mixing oddly with the clunks of debris against their vessel’s side. Cliffs loom and above them, the wall, bleaching the sky bright. They pass by without incident, relieved and surprised in equal measure.

As danger recedes, stomachs growl and voices bicker. Cold and hunger attack tenuous friendships.

The Vagrant holds up a hand for attention. Scope to one eye, he is watching the cliffs. They follow his finger, seeing a path that winds through the rocks, narrow, safe.

Two of the Hammer’s punts are enough to bring them to dock. Wobbly legs struggle on wet rocks but, one by one, the group return to land. The Hammer anchors the raft to an outcropping of rock and leaps from the water onto the shore.

White lights weave in a figure of eight inches from her boots. She looks down, giving a grunt of surprise as they travel up her legs and over the plates on her belly.

They pause in the centre of her chest, the swirling pattern narrowing to a single point.

Air explodes, punching the Hammer backwards, white fire trailing from her front. Screams and shouts go high and people low, throwing themselves into cover. Roaring, the Hammer tears the breastplate off and hurls it away. More lights appear across her prone body, sketching arcs on exposed skin.

The Vagrant steps over and laser sights jump from her chest to his. He draws the sword, high, saluting, its deep sound humming through stones and teeth.

Lights veer away.

With the threat gone, Harm edges up behind the Vagrant, managing an unhappy baby. ‘Hello?’ he calls up the cliffs.

A voice answers, amplified. ‘What’s your situation down there?’

‘We’ve got a group of escapees from Slake. They’re weak, hungry and in need of medical attention. Can you help us?’

‘Hold your position, I’ll find out. What about the half-breed, do you have it under control?’

Harm keeps his voice calm. ‘She doesn’t pose a threat to us.’

‘Not now she doesn’t. Looked like a mean one though.’

‘No, she’s friendly. She’s not the enemy. Do you understand?’

‘I hear you but it’s policy to shoot all half-breeds on sight. We thought you were an infiltration party.’

‘No. Can we come up?’

‘How many people have you got down there?’

‘We’re twenty four in total, a mix of adults and children. And one goat.’

‘Okay. I have confirmation. You can come up, two at a time. We’ll need to screen you for mutation but we’ll take in everybody that passes as human.’

The colour drains from Harm’s face. ‘What about our Usurperkin?’

‘She stays in the water or we open fire.’

‘But we’ve got a Seraph with us who’ll vouch for her.’

‘Doesn’t matter, policy comes direct from the Order. Your Seraph is the only reason any of you are coming up. The half-breed stays, understood?’

‘Yes, we understand. We’re sending the first ones up now.’

Pairs of feet stagger up the path. Rocks hide the climbers from sight, reveal them again, until finally, laboriously, they reach the top. In response, figures move and lights flash. Everyone waits, tense.

‘Next!’

And the process starts again.

The Hammer sits by the raft, cradling her chest, rocking gently to and fro. From behind a rock the goat studies her, concerned.

Harm also watches her. He chews his lip nervously. ‘I’m going to stay with the raft. It’s not right to abandon the Hammer here and, to be honest, I don’t trust them. I’d rather take my chances along the coast.’

Four of the survivors approach the Vagrant, all women in varying proximity to death. ‘We wanted to thank you for what you did in Slake,’ one says, the grime crinkling in her cheeks. ‘I saw that your superiors didn’t agree with what you did and I’m sorry if it gets you into trouble.’ Lined hands wring self-consciously. ‘But I wanted to thank you. For my sisters’ lives and my own. And, and for giving me a little dignity. We won’t forget.’

She takes the Vagrant’s hands in hers, pressing a shy kiss onto each palm and steps back. Three more come forward, following suit. Personal stories are shared, each mixed with different pains, and kind words are planted, like rare desert flowers. When the women have left, fault lines appear in the Vagrant’s face. Tears follow, silent.

‘Next!’

Only the Vagrant and Vesper remain. One masks his face with a hand, the other grimaces, red cheeked and straining. Neither seem ready to travel.

‘That’s all for now,’ says Harm. ‘We’ll stay here to look after our companion.’

‘Come up when you’re ready. We need to talk with the Seraph Knight.’

Harm lowers his voice, moves to the Vagrant’s side. ‘I really think we should get going. I don’t know why but I have a bad feeling about them.’

The Vagrant looks up, a horrified expression on his face.

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean the people you saved. I’m sure they’ll be fine. I’m worried about you.’

Horror fades, replaced with a familiar frown.

‘They’ll want to use you in their war somehow and if they ask, would you be able to say no?’ The frown deepens. ‘Exactly. We need to follow the coast, get to Six Circles and buy passage on a ship.’ He waves a hand towards Vesper and the Hammer. ‘Together, we’re getting through this, but to those people on the wall, she’s the enemy and you’re just another weapon.’

With a sigh, the Vagrant climbs onto the raft.

‘No up?’ asks the Hammer.

‘No,’ Harm says. ‘If they won’t take you, then none of us are going.’

‘Why?’

The green-eyed man laughs. ‘Why do you think?’

Ponderously, the raft makes its way around the rocks, following the battered coastline. Nets of energy hang below the surface, glowing softly, making pockets of clean, clear ocean. Fish are drawn to them, made docile by the light. The goat sees tails wriggling and slips from the Hammer’s legs to the edge of the raft. She lowers her head, dipping it into the water.

Beneath the surface, the fish are demagnified, pushed further away. They remain tantalizing and the goat leans further, mouth opening in anticipation. Undersea currents bring the net close and there is the merest brush of contact.

With a jerk, the goat falls overboard, legs locked straight, star-diving to the depths.

‘No!’ yells the Hammer and springs forward. The raft lurches dangerously as she kicks off, knocking Harm and the Vagrant onto their faces. Within the safety of the Vagrant’s arms, Vesper giggles.

The Hammer plunges down and water plunges up, a vertical tower that cannot last. Harm looks upwards into its shadow. ‘Oh shit.’

The collapsing wave allows no words or laughter.

It passes swiftly, violently, leaving three stunned figures behind. Harm pushes himself up enough to retch. Vesper hovers between states, unsure which reaction to choose. She looks for guidance.

Stony faced, the Vagrant makes a circle with his mouth. From it shoots a short jet of water. He turns to the baby, eyebrows waggling. Vesper grins manically, little hands clapping approval.

Everyone leans to the right as the Hammer hauls herself back onto the raft. Still rigid, the goat is dumped on deck. Despite the ordeal, her teeth are locked cheerily. A fixed smile framing a fish, trapped.

Fish turn over the fire, tickling nostrils and moistening mouths. Vesper’s clothes dry on a piece of wire strung across the cave’s entrance. Nearby, a bottom waves proudly.

‘Why with me?’

Harm looks over at the Hammer. ‘Eh?’

‘You not up. You with me. Why?’

‘Well, we couldn’t be with them and with you. They forced us to choose.’

The Hammer is impatient. ‘Why?’

‘Because they see you as a threat.’

‘No! Why with me?’

‘This is bothering you isn’t it.’

Relieved, the Hammer nods.

‘And you really don’t know?’

‘No.’

Harm smiles. ‘Because we like you.’

‘But,’ the Hammer says, slamming a fist into her palm. ‘I break you.’

His gaze travels to his leg, cased in silver. ‘Yes you did. But when I first met him,’ Harm jerks a thumb to the man tending the fire, ‘it wasn’t in the best of circumstances either.’

‘Say more.’

‘I was working for some bad people and … it put us at odds. But over time things changed. I changed, because of him, and so have you. You know that don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why I couldn’t leave you behind. It would be like betraying myself.’ Harm glances over his shoulder. The Vagrant remains absorbed with the fire and a baby’s burblings. ‘There’s something else, too. I’ve never told anyone this but maybe you’ll understand.’

The Hammer lowers her voice on instinct, to whisper, uncharacteristic. ‘Secret?’