The Vagrant (26 page)

‘Now chew,’ says Harm, exaggerating the movement of his lips for clarity. ‘Like this.’

Vesper grins manically. From the corners of her mouth, thick yellow goo bubbles. It matches the mess between Vesper’s fingers, the slime on her chin, on her legs, the blobs that randomly pepper things, the blast radius massive, confounding.

‘Let’s take a break.’ Harm slumps backwards onto a chair.

Vesper claps her hands, enjoying the slopping sound as they come together.

Trapped in his role as high chair, the Vagrant is left holding a feeder tube.

Harm tips his head back towards the ceiling. ‘I can’t believe Vesper doesn’t know how to chew. I’d have thought that would be hardwired in.’

A sound like distant thunder shakes the air. All three jump.

‘What was that?’

The Vagrant gets up, swinging Vesper under his arm.

‘Bwaaabwaabaa!’

Harm follows as they make their way through sliding glass, leading onto a balcony that rings their tower like a coppery crown. ‘There,’ he says, pointing southward past the distant unmanned farms.

Faraway turrets turn and wave, blowing clouds of smoke into the air. Above them, birdlike things weave, too slow to escape destruction. Trains bolt along the road, knocking into one another in their haste, approaching, running. Behind them the giant wall flickers, a dying bulb. They watch transfixed as the sputtering barrier sparks its last. Though too far away for details, it is easy to imagine infernal forces pouring over it, unchecked.

They run further around the balcony, using it to access another chamber. Despite the open door it is hard to see in. The glass walls are tinted, holding light outside. Harm takes a step into the shadows. ‘Yuren?’

‘Hold on, I’ll be out in a moment.’ His voice sounds strained.

Harm frowns and goes further.

Yuren stands very straight, left hand resting on right forearm. As Harm and the Vagrant approach he turns away from them. ‘I said I’d be out shortly.’

‘Can’t you hear the guns? The enemy are flying over the wall and the wall itself has …’ the green-eyed man trails off. ‘You know already.’

‘Yes.’ The old man sighs. ‘It was only a matter of time. We’ve already had eight months longer than our initial estimates. Not a bad run really.’

‘What, that’s it? You’re giving up?’

‘In a way, yes.’

‘Please, we’ve only hours before they get here. We need to be on a ship and away as soon as possible.’

‘There are no ships. None that are fit for ocean travel anyway.’

‘But there’s another way. You must have planned for something.’

Yuren flexes his fingers. Nodding to himself, he rolls down his sleeves and turns to face them. ‘You’re right that there’s a plan. I’ve given the evacuation codes. Anybody that can get away from the wall is on their way here right now. Even with their numbers we can’t hope to hold Six Circles against the enemy.’ He looks up, defiance tucked within bloodshot eyes. ‘But one circle? We might have a chance at that.’

‘Ab lat!’ says Vesper.

Yuren ignores the interruption, continues. ‘Do you remember I told you that once the entire city was carried across the sea?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, they had sky-ships, cruisers, a whole fleet. We don’t have anywhere near that kind of sea power. But we have plenty of smaller vessels and a lot of scavenged engines. I think we have enough to move one of our platforms.’

‘You think?’

‘Forgive me. Cautious language is a necessary evil in my line of work. I’m certain. We ran simulations and some low-key tests.’

Harm and the Vagrant exchange a look. ‘What do we need to do?’

‘Nothing. We’ve called in all of our ships and my people are attaching them to First Circle as we speak. If you go back out to the balcony you’ll be able to see them at work.’

Yuren’s suggestion is followed. From the tower, Six Circles is laid out before them. Second Circle has already been emptied and engineers cut it loose from the rest of the structure. Connecting bridges retract slowly, unwilling, like lovers’ fingers. Elsewhere, people rush from their homes, dragging their possessions behind them. They form an untidy bottleneck at the bridge to First Circle, spilling backwards, messy. Guards try to keep order as military efficiency weighs in against panic.

The Vagrant watches tiny figures dashing about, mesmerized. Vesper apes the movement. After a while she reaches out, snatching at them with her hands. Expectant, she opens a fist. Little eyebrows rise, surprised. There is nothing there! Vesper tries again, faster this time. Again, the laws of the universe disappoint. She leans forward, wind flicking at fluffy hair, hands stretching out.

Closer.

Just a little closer.

Suddenly she is moving, away from the edge, away from her goal.

The Vagrant has intervened.

Vesper is unimpressed. She says so clearly, giving a detailed report of her anger. Despite the alien language, the Vagrant understands every word.

‘Sorry,’ says Harm. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

Vesper’s anger expands to include Harm and ‘dangerous’. She reaches for the balcony again but a strong arm holds her in place. Anger converts to self pity, collapsing the angry mask into scrunched sorrow.

Before Harm can console, his attention is diverted by a series of white flashes. ‘What’s going on over there? That’s Third Circle, isn’t it?’

The Vagrant nods, eyes widening.

The bridges to Third Circle fall away, sealing it from the rest of the city. It has not been evacuated, still full to the brim with humans, tainted, stranded. Its inhabitants, varied in shape and size, realize they are being betrayed. With abandon they throw themselves into the water, making for First Circle. Some swim directly towards it, others seek alternative routes via Fourth Circle. Huge numbers of them, proverbial rats fleeing their holes. A broadcast voice repeats, repeats, appealing for calm. It is ignored.

By the main bridge, guards wait, weapons raised and ready.

Half-breeds charge over to the queue, demanding their place. People back away and an invisible line forms between the two groups, equal parts fear and hate. Plenty of room for the guards to take their shot.

The refugees from Third Circle have no chance.

Fire, white and laser bright, lances out, perforating. Bodies become fishnets and people scream, a luxury reserved for the living. A second group are shot where they stand and the remaining half-breeds run, postponing death for a few more hours.

Harm shakes his head, not wanting to see. ‘You have to do something!’

One of the Vagrant’s arms keeps Vesper close, the other rests by the sword. When the artillery light flashes from below, he looks pale.

‘There’s nothing more to be done,’ says Yuren, moving around the balcony to join them.

‘Yes there is! You can let them on board, they can come with us.’

Yuren spreads his hands. ‘No. The infection risk is too high and there are too many of them. If we’re prudent, we have enough supplies to return to the Shining City.’

‘But only if you abandon half your people to do it?’

‘They aren’t my people. My people are here. They’ve grown up here, I know most of them by sight, I know their partners and their children. Third Circle is full of refugees. We did our best for them but I have to look to my own first. It isn’t pretty but hard choices have to be made.’

‘What about your citizens who got tainted, the ones you moved to Third Circle? What about them?’

‘A regrettable loss. But they would be the first to agree it needs to happen to allow the rest of us to survive.’

‘Yuren, this is wrong. There’s still time to save some of them.’

‘No, and it’s not just me. The other Council members agree it’s the only chance we have.’ The Vagrant hands Vesper over to Harm. ‘What are you doing?’

Harm smiles grimly. ‘What you should have done already, saving those people.’

‘No,’ Yuren replies sadly. ‘It’s too late. By the time you got there it would be over. All you will do is announce your true identity and after that I won’t be able to protect you or your loved ones.’ His mouth twists bitterly. ‘How do you think they’ll react when the first Seraph Knight to appear since the war turns up on the side of the infected? You will become the enemy and they will kill you.’

‘Not if you ordered them to stop.’

‘Even if I wanted to, there’s no guarantees they’d listen. Axler certainly wouldn’t and the military will side with him, even over me. If I force the issue there’ll be civil war. No, I’ve thought about this for a long time. This is the only way.’

Shouts rise up from the water. The half-breed swimmers have reached the boats clustered around First Circle’s skirts. Too close to precious engines for gunfire, the guards are forced to climb down where they can direct their attacks with precision. Third Circle’s escapees have superior strength and no plan. They throw themselves forward regardless, onto rafts, onto boats, onto the mercy of their neighbours.

Weapons flash and orders cut strangely calm through cries of panic and pain.

The Vagrant closes his eyes.

Harm holds Vesper close, shielding her from the violence below.

Yuren sub-vocalizes, hidden implants taking his words elsewhere. Alarms sound and the last bridges retract, releasing First Circle. Another silent order from the Councilman sets the rag tag fleet to work. Engines start, staccato. There are too many independent spirits to coordinate but gradually the message passes through the fleet, directing their collective energies against the giant disc’s bulk. A swarm of bugs coercing an elephant, First Circle trembles at their insistent buzz. Shyly, slowly, it drifts out of sheltered waters and into the Southern Sea.

A squire sits behind a crumbling wall, watching. The house he stares at is much like the others in the village, with a sagging roof and walls that long for a new coat of paint.

It is not the building that interests him however.

As the morning sunslight brings colour to the brickwork, highlighting further imperfections, the front door opens.

Reela always leaves early. With aging, infirm parents and no sister to help, she has to make the most of each day.

The squire stands, tries to recall what he has practised in his head so many times but, in the moment, his mind fails him and he stares dumbstruck. He sees how tired she is, how busy, and now his imagined advances seem petty, ridiculous. He quickly crouches behind the wall again.

She does not notice, mind already focused on the day’s work.

Soon, she is gone and the squire’s palm smacks sharply against his forehead.

He looks at the sad little house, at the garden, thick with weeds and plants with strange, luminous leaves.

An idea forms bringing new hope and, smiling, the squire sets to work. The tools he needs are in an unlocked shed next to the rusting shell of an autofarmer. It is no surprise that the mech no longer works. Shrugging, he rolls up his sleeves.

He sweats through morning, through the afternoon, untangling plants, cutting back vines, revealing a cracked path and several growth pods, each plastic sphere designated for a different vegetable. None have survived. He digs out the dead roots and replaces them with wild flowers.

It is late by the time he has finished and the squire quickly returns to his hiding place, keen to see Reela’s reaction.

Voices come, bantering. Reela is talking with someone. Vesper! His voice sounds different, deeper than normal. The squire narrows his eyes.

They round the corner and for once, Reela’s cool demeanour slips. ‘My garden! It’s beautiful.’

‘Er, yes. It is.’

‘My parents will be so happy. Thank you.’ Vesper’s surprise is lost on her. She kisses him on the cheek and the squire’s own begin to burn. ‘I won’t forget this.’

‘No,’ he manages a smile as she goes to the door. ‘Nor will I.’

‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

‘Yes! Yes you will.’

‘Good.’

The squire cannot stand any more. He gets up, runs. Reela is already going inside and does not see, but Vesper does.

As soon as he is sure Reela isn’t going to come back out Vesper gives chase.

He finds his friend deep in the woods, attacking the trees without mercy.

Vesper stops at a safe distance, raises a hand. ‘Hi.’

Another tree is smacked, sending leaves flurrying in the air.

‘Reela’s garden. That was you, wasn’t it?’

The squire keeps his back to Vesper but pauses to nod.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I was just so surprised. I’ll tell her tomorrow, I promise. Better yet, why don’t you tell her? I know you like her.’

The squire blushes, shrugs.

‘I know I like her.’

The two young men look at each other. Slowly, they both smile.

‘How about we get some more practice in? It’s your turn to use Attica’s sword.’

The squire shakes his head.

‘Come on. You’re way more talented than I am. I can barely get the thing to work but you, you’ve got talent. You just need to step up and use it.’ Seeing his friend look doubtful, Vesper adds quickly, ‘We can help each other. You teach me how to sing better and I’ll teach you how to fight like a champion. What do you say?’

They shake hands, friends again.

‘And tomorrow, you can go and talk to Reela yourself.’

The Half-alive forces of the Uncivil stream over the remains of Six Circles, harvesting. To slow them down, the enemy sabotages all bridges to the port city but the Uncivil’s Necroneering provides alternatives: skin steps and boneways, just as animate as their metal predecessors. In places there is fighting but most of the abandoned are quick to run or surrender.

The commander doesn’t care. From the cliff’s edge he watches, attention passing over the carnage to the giant disc, bobbing seaward with his prize. Already it slips beyond reach. He sends his remaining Bonewings after it, knowing they will fail.

After a moment’s deliberation he marches into the city, traversing empty streets, making for the northernmost point. Bodies are strewn randomly, unaesthetically. Flies crawl over charred limbs in growing numbers, searching for succulence.