The Malice by Peter Newman Read Free Book Online Page B

‘It is safe –’
    ‘– For now.’
    Her voices are complementary, not identical but seamless in the way they join their sentences.
    Vesper looks from one to the other, quickly wipes her eyes. ‘I don’t understand … they weren’t infernal, they were just people. Like us. All the blood!’ Her mouth twists with horror. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t …’
    Duet looks down at her and her sentence dies, unfinished.
    ‘They are –’
    ‘– Calling us.’
    ‘We must –’
    ‘– Go now.’
    Duet guides her around piles of rubble. On the far side of the street, Vesper can make out something charred, smoking. Fascination and horror come hand in hand. For a while she cannot tell which side the body belonged to. No, she thinks, it is not one of theirs. Flecks of magenta in the uniform identify the unfortunate as Sonorous independent military. The realisation brings little relief.
    A palm presses in the small of her back, moving her on. There is so much wreckage for such a small skirmish, she cannot take it all in, nor can she stop looking. Limbs, bits of clothing, unrecognisable hunks of meat, still sizzling on the stone. Smells invade nostrils, snake up into the brain to make memories, lasting.
    On broken chunks of brick, she sees blood glistening. The sight makes her stop. There are no corpses here, just bricks flecked crimson and a dark puddle spreading between them. The strangeness of it holds her, troubling a traumatised mind.
    ‘What happened here?’
    ‘It doesn’t –’
    ‘– Matter.’
    ‘But how did the blood get here? Who did it belong to? This doesn’t make any sense.’
    ‘This is war –’
    ‘People die. That’s –’
    ‘– All.’
    ‘But there has to be more to it than that!’
    Duet exchanges an exasperated look with herselves. ‘They are traitors –’
    ‘– Who side with demons.’
    ‘It’s them –’
    ‘– Or us.’
    Vesper’s eyes are too wide, staring but not seeing.
    ‘We have –’
    ‘– To go.’
    She doesn’t hear Duet, doesn’t catch the urgency in the Harmonised’s tone. ‘But who were they?’
    ‘We have –’
    ‘– To go.’
    ‘This was a person once.’
    One of Duet tuts, the other sighs heavily, and both take one of Vesper’s arms, dragging her the rest of the way.
    As they get closer to the main group, Vesper sees that Sonorous has lost many troops this day. Their own forces have fared better. Only one knight has fallen. Squires attend their dead master, reclaiming armour and sword. Such items are priceless, made by the creator when the Empire of the Winged Eye was born. Stripped of office and dignity, the corpse is placed with the others. There is no time for ceremony, so the soldiers move quickly, levelling their lances, incinerating remains. A knight’s death is regrettable, an untainted corpse left behind for the infernals, unforgivable.
    Genner strides over to meet them. ‘You’re unharmed?’
    Duet answers for the young girl. ‘The bearer –’
    ‘– Is unharmed.’
    ‘Then all is not lost. Help is coming but it will take time to reach us. We’re going to take the forge and hold out for rescue.’
    ‘This is wrong!’ Vesper exclaims, clutching the fabric of Genner’s uniform in her fists. ‘These people have died because of me! I’m not the bearer. I’m just a stupid girl. You take the sword. Here.’
    He leans closer to her ear, lowering his voice. ‘It’s too late for that. You are the bearer, you have to believe that and they –’ he gestures to the troops and squires, patching wounds and forming up behind him ‘– have to believe it too.’
    Tears stream down cheeks, mixing with snot on her top lip.
    Genner turns to the Harmonised. ‘She’s in shock. Get her some stims and keep her under cover until we’re ready to move.’
    There is a pause that threatens to become a protest but Genner kills it in its infancy. ‘Step to it!’
    Duet salutes and escorts Vesper back towards the wall. One of her hands is firmer on the