The Malice. Peter Newman
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One tug is all it takes to slide her over to them. She touches the doctor first. Silver fingers press against flesh, passing through to touch the soft light within. She does not mean to kill, but the action is too quick and anger-fuelled. The bubble of the doctor’s essence bursts, burns and is gone.
Like a doll, the doctor’s body flops over onto the floor.
‘I need immediate assistance in here!’ shrieks the supervisor. Suddenly, he remembers his authority, realises that a single command will shut her down. Before he can give it, however, Massassi reaches out and touches his ankle, and through it, his soul.
In the supervisor’s mind, she finds thoughts, treacherous. She squeezes them between finger and thumb, molds them anew.
Footsteps pound down a corridor. Burly men burst through the door. Inside, they find a dead doctor, a maimed, unconscious girl and a man on his knees, weeping.
‘You called us, sir?’
The supervisor gives a broken nod. ‘I was responsible for the accident. It was my fault. I thought I could bury it. I didn’t know the girl would wake up and tell the doctor the truth. So you see, I had to silence them. I killed the doctor first and I was going to kill the girl but then I wondered, where would it end? I’m sick. Sick in the head! You need to take me away. You need to process me.’
The men are so intent on the supervisor’s ravings that they do not see Massassi’s smile.
Behind its wings, an eye twitches, restless. Vesper watches it, desperate for it to open and give guidance. She feels the group looking at her, expectation pressing down. As tension rises, nerves break out in quiet ways. A foot shuffles. Throats are cleared. Armour creaks.
The pressure to do something, anything, becomes too much.
Vesper stands, the sword cradled in her arms. Heads tilt up, following the motion. All shuffling stops.
The girl walks towards the glowing barrier. As she does so, soldiers and knights and squires kneel. Even the wounded stir themselves, biting back pain to demonstrate proper deference.
She thinks of her father’s sure hands. How they have always carried her, kept her safe. She wishes she had inherited their confidence.
The sniper at the barrier moves aside for her and Vesper looks out over shimmering light. She sees the First waiting, and double takes, sure it would be larger. Beyond the infernal she sees soldiers massing around Crawler Tanks, like waves around rocks, and beyond them she sees the First’s sky-ships.
There are so many of them she cannot believe they could fight and win. All she can think of is the blood that will be shed, the blood that will be on her hands.
She feels movement in her arms. Metal feathers slide over one another as wings part. An eye opens, flicks up at the girl, then fixes itself on the infernal outside, narrowing.
Vesper turns back. The kneeling figures wait, letting heads hang, weary. Many are injured. Together they number less than a third of the forces outside. She looks at Duet, one half of the Harmonised standing watchful, hopeful, the other less so, the holes in her chestplate like the sky punched clean of stars.
The sword tugs towards the First, towards battle. To Vesper’s surprise, the motion drags her with it, till her elbows rest on the barrier. Light fizzes where blade and barrier brush, and the First looks up.
Eyes and eye meet.
The sword begins to hum, soft.
The light barrier quivers and the First tilts as if suddenly struck by a strong wind.
Vesper tries to retreat, feels resistance. Young biceps strain, bobbing under sleeves like a pair of apples, and she steps back.
It seems as if the sword wants to fight and she wonders what that might mean. For a moment eyes squeeze shut. No, she thinks. No more fighting. Unable to bear it, she tests the lie in her mind. It feels wrong but anything is better than more bloodshed. She clears her throat. ‘The sword has spoken to me.’
Beside her, Genner lowers his head. ‘We are yours to command.’
It is hard to tell if the sword vibrates or the girl’s hands shake. ‘Gamma … Gamma of The Seven … does not want you to fight today.’
A few look surprised, most simply accept it.
Slowly, an eye swivels away from the barrier and back to the girl, glaring.
From the back, a voice murmurs. ‘And so it was, for Gamma knew when to strike and when to hold back.’
‘And so it was,’ intone the others.
Vesper nods, finding a little confidence. ‘You can’t beat them today. Gamma doesn’t want any more of you to die. If you surrender, you can live on. And when the time is right, you can fight again.’
‘But what about our swords? They cannot be replaced.’
A bead of sweat escapes Vesper’s hairline. ‘I’m sorry, Gamma didn’t say anything about the swords.’ A muttering passes between the assembled knights and she quickly adds, ‘Maybe they can be remade. With The Seven’s grace.’
‘With The Seven’s grace,’ they echo, but another question drowns it out: ‘What about the knights? The First won’t let them go.’
‘They’ll be prisoners, yes, but they’ll be alive.’
One of the older knights looks up. ‘You won’t forget us?’
Caught in the veteran’s gaze, Vesper finds herself speaking. ‘I’ll come back for you. I mean, Gamma will, I promise.’
The old knight salutes and others follow. ‘So be it. But I beg you, give our sacrifice here meaning.’ His eyes hold hers as he speaks. ‘Make it count.’
‘I will,’ she says, meaning it.
Genner stands up. ‘Gamma has shown us the way. The bearer will go south to finish the mission. It is our job to make that possible.
‘We will stall the First here as long as we can while the bearer escapes. Demolitions, we need an exit and we need it now.’
A hand goes up. ‘The moment we start blasting, they’ll be on us.’
‘No,’ the old knight replies. ‘They won’t hear a thing. The death song of our blades will drown you out.’
Genner nods. ‘Good. Go to it then.’ While soldiers spring into action and knights prepare their farewells, Genner kneels before Vesper. ‘I’m sorry things have turned out this way. We have a contact in Sonorous. Another of the Lenses. She will help you to escape.’
‘You’re not coming with me?’
‘No. I need to report to the Winged Eye and communicate with our allies here. They need to know what you’re doing if they’re going to help.’
‘Can’t you do that and come with us?’
‘No. When I send the signal, I’ll draw too much attention.’
‘You won’t …’
‘Die? It doesn’t matter about me. The sword is what matters.’
Vesper bites her lip, blinks hard.
Genner’s face softens. ‘If it makes you feel better, I’m not planning on it. If I can escape, I will. And don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’m sending Duet with you.’
‘Okay.’
‘Yes. Now get yourself ready. You’ve a long swim ahead of you.’ Genner turns to go but is stopped by a lip, trembling. ‘Here,’ he says, ‘we need to fasten the sword to you. May I?’
‘Yes,’