The Seven. Peter Newman
The Knight Commander has seen pictures of it before. It is the kind of armour preferred by the First, largest and most powerful of the remaining infernals.
He finds his eyes drawn to Alpha’s. Their blue is like a second sky, a better horizon. When Alpha speaks, each word strikes deep, a hammer to his chest.
‘Diligence is tainted.’
‘We will evacuate the town at once, destroy it, cleanse the ground, and send the inhabitants to the purging centres.’
The visor crumples in Alpha’s fist. ‘Destroy, yes. Cleanse, yes. But send none away.’
The Knight Commander swallows at the thought. He has just looked at the population figures for Diligence. They number in the hundreds and are likely conservative. Surely the majority are in ignorance? Surely it is only a few that have been colluding with the First?
Even as he thinks this, he is drawing his sword. His knights have already done so. Anything else would be an act of defiance.
There is no further reflection. The Seraph Knights begin to sing, their swords flaring to life, and Diligence begins to burn.
Vesper’s father nods to the soldiers as he makes the long walk out of the city. An endless cycle of salutes and responses, nods and smiles, polite. They have become especially sharp of late, exhausting in their exactitude.
His lips move as he walks, silently counting steps until he is well beyond the outer boundary. Then he stops, pulling eagerly at his collar, loosening the straps on his armour.
A deep breath and a long sigh follow as his body settles, changing posture, relaxing.
The next part of the walk is taken at a more leisurely pace, thoughts of the day playing across his face in a series of frowns, raised eyebrows and the occasional smile.
Many times, the Knight Commander has offered him a room at the city or transportation home, and he has refused them. The Knight Commander doesn’t understand why but tolerates the decision out of respect for past deeds and honours.
Vesper’s father slows, stops. He glances over his shoulder but nothing is there. Then, gradually, as if lifted by an invisible hand, his head tilts towards the sky.
He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the light of the evening suns. A shape is just discernible, des-cending, distant, yet getting closer. A cube.
The sanctum of The Seven returns.
There is something different about the way it comes down compared to its ascent. Not faster but more purposeful.
He stares at it, face darkening despite the glare.
Because of this, it takes him far longer to notice the movement at ground level. From the Shining City comes another shape. A snake of metal, mechanized, a machine of war to carry Seraph Knights and soldiers. Caterpillar tracks pull it swiftly across the countryside, towards him. Towards his home.
He stops staring, turns, and runs.
A few miles away Jem stands on a hill holding a battered scope to his eye. Through it he sees high platinum pillars capped in green, gardens decorating their sides in leafy spirals. These pillars visibly mark the Shining City’s border. Another border, invisible, runs along their perimeter, a fizzing screen of energy to keep the infernal at bay. Jem cares little for the screen or the pillars, his interests lie deeper. But his attempt to find the sanctum of The Seven is doomed to failure. Even at full magnification it is nothing more than a vague shimmering.
He begins to wander down the hill, leaving Harm and Reela at the house. Twice he stumbles on uneven ground, his attention kept on the air.
Finally, the cube comes into focus, and something else. At first he thinks it is a bird, but it is too close to the Sanctum for that to be true. And it is the wrong shape, far larger than any of the wildlife at this end of the world.
One of The Seven has left the Sanctum.
It is flying towards him.
Directly beneath it, keeping pace, is a metal snake. At this distance it seems to slide over the hills like a boat riding waves.
Jem nearly drops the scope. Fear grips him, an old friend embracing hard. He has but seconds to act. If they have not seen him already, it is only a matter of time. He looks back to the house, thinks of Harm, of Reela. The fear grips tighter. There is nothing he can do. If they see him, they will judge and find him wanting. If they see Reela – he shakes his head, cutting off the thought.
Fear leaves no time for deliberation. Keeping low, moving between the hills, he makes for a destination. Not towards the Shining City and the approaching forces, not towards home, but away, to a hiding place where the trees grow wild. From there he watches, shivering among the leaves.
His daughter is in danger. She needs him! An impulse to go to her is checked by an older, more cynical one. He cannot get to her in time and any act of heroism on his part would be suicide. What could one man hope to do against an immortal and the armed might of the Empire?
Nothing.
He has stood up before, for his mother, and paid for it in years. The memories are knife sharp, cutting still. Jem has learned from past mistakes, been shaped by them.
But Reela needs him!
He shakes his head, knowing that he cannot go to her, hating himself for it. Better to wait, to choose the right time. And if that time does not come, better to live. He repeats the words a second time, silent, bitter, and forces himself to swallow them.
On silvered wings, Delta of The Seven soars. It has been a long time since she has flown, too long.
Behind her, mirror-like, is her brother, Alpha. He flies away from her towards the coast, in search of other prey.
Orders have been given, the worthy have been mobilized. Soon, the purge will begin. The thought of it weighs heavy in Delta’s mind. For it is their failure as much as their people’s.
She does not disagree with Alpha’s plans. He is the first of them, the strongest, and she admires his purpose. And yet … she wishes there was some other way to restore the creator’s perfect vision.
Though she is awake and active once more, the weariness remains, and a sadness, deep, that she carried even in the earliest days.
A dwelling comes into view. Two houses, ugly, messy shapes. The sight displeases her. Why would the remnant of her sister choose to be here rather than at their side?
She comes down to land, feet making gentle contact with the earth, wings folding behind her like a cloak.
Unmoved by what she sees, yet curious to find its hidden appeal, she looks around while her knights catch up, the hissing of the snake that bears them half a mile distant.
The smaller house has no door. She approaches to find it is a home for animals, nothing more. Despite the space, only one ancient goat seems to dwell here.
Irritated by the disturbance, the goat looks at Delta.
With eyes like bleak winter clouds, Delta looks at the goat. She sees fading strength and many flaws, but all are natural. No taint clings to the creature. It is not the source of wrongness that she senses hidden close by.
She moves away, towards the main house.
Behind her, the goat snorts, derisive.
She ignores it, drawn by lingering echoes of her sister’s essence. Metal fingers brush an uneven wall. Once, Gamma’s sword rested here. She feels a faint sense of contentment, of peace.
Greedily, she lets the experience wash over her. All too soon it is over. And it is not enough.
She moves to the door and opens it.
Running footsteps approach and a voice, loud, high pitched. ‘I’m bitey goat! Baaa! Baaa! Bite! Bite!’
A girl comes into view. Unruly, messy, tainted.
Delta’s hand