The Seven. Peter Newman

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СКАЧАТЬ the woman staggers back, the Vagrant takes stock. There is nowhere to run, no allies to turn to.

      He runs anyway.

      The knights raise their lances and a gout of fire shoots out to his right, turning him left, then another comes from his left, trying to pin him.

      Ducking his head, raising an arm, he goes under it, mostly. Ignoring the way his backplate sizzles, the Vagrant presses on until he reaches the kneeling figure of Delta.

      This close to one of The Seven, the knights do not dare to fire. They put their lances away, and draw their singing swords.

      The air trembles with sudden song and Reela flinches in the Vagrant’s arms, stung by the sound.

      As the knights move into a circular formation, the Vagrant looks down at Delta on her knees. She seems oblivious, a line of stone drying on her face.

      He swings Reela under his arm and reaches down, carefully.

      ‘Step away!’ orders one of the knights. ‘It is a sin to touch Her!’

      When it is clear the Vagrant is ignoring them, one of the knights closes in, sword raised.

      He grits his teeth, takes the hilt of Delta’s sword.

      Nothing. No pain, no reaction.

      He pulls Delta’s sword free, swinging it up and out, opening his mouth to direct its power.

      The knights pause, the nearest one stepping back in shock.

      Unlike their swords however, Delta’s doesn’t sing. Silver wings wrap tight around its eye and the weapon feels heavy in his hand, dull.

      Quickly, the knight recovers himself and moves to attack.

      The Vagrant frowns, glares at the sword, then shakes it hard. In answer, the wings tighten even more.

      There is no more time, he parries the first attack, then the second, each blow jarring his arm. Only the proximity of Delta holds the other knights at bay. They are painfully careful, terrified of bringing harm to their beloved immortal.

      One of the knights keeps the Vagrant occupied while the others move in behind, advancing together.

      He glances over his shoulder at them, barely making the next parry. Forced down to one knee by the impact, Reela slips from his grasp, rolling away.

      The knight he has been fighting steps back, raising his sword over Reela’s body. The others are now behind him, ready.

      ‘Surrender, Champion. This is your last chance.’

      The Vagrant grips the sword in both hands and points the tip at Delta’s neck.

      There is a pause. Such blasphemy has never even been considered before. A whispered conference is had within the knights’ helmets. Would he dare? Could he do Delta actual harm? There is no precedent, no protocol to follow.

      The Vagrant makes eye contact with Reela, beckoning her with a twitch of his head.

      Without a sound, the girl stands up.

      Dumbstruck, the knights watch her as she walks past them, dragging the old coat like a blanket behind her.

      When she reaches the Vagrant, Reela wraps herself around his leg.

      There is a pause. The knights dare not attack, dare not report what is happening. Too afraid to act, they become spectators to a tale of horror, unfurling slowly in directions they cannot fathom.

      The Vagrant touches the point of the sword to Delta’s throat.

      There is an audible clink, then he lifts the sword under her chin, levering her to her feet.

      Two of the knights cover their eyes, five others begin to recite the litany of the Winged Eye.

      Silvered wings spring open on the sword’s crosspiece, alarmed, and an eye opens wide in surprise.

      At the same moment, Delta’s eyes open, locking with the Vagrant’s, forcing him to look up.

      Softly, Delta begins to hum. Her sword takes up the tune. The Vagrant finds his hands starting to shake. Muscles lock all over his body, trembling in time with Delta’s melody. Stiffly, against his will, he rises on tiptoe.

      Delta raises her hand and the Vagrant’s mouth opens. She reaches inside, fingers finding the old scars there. As if reading music, her song changes as she traces the lines, learning their history and that of the man marked by them. Her voice and her sword’s fall to disharmony, becoming a thing of grief and pain. The air around them darkens, tints blue. Briefly, it threatens to spark, then dies down, the hand leaving, and Delta covers her eyes, her song little more than a moan.

      Released, the Vagrant slumps down, clutching at his throat.

      After a few moments, his vision comes into focus again. He sees Reela looking up at him, afraid and hopeful. She clings to his leg, a dark-haired barnacle.

      He blinks at her, then nods, reassuring.

      Switching to a one-handed grip, he takes Delta by the arm and starts to walk. Delta does not resist, allowing herself to be dragged alongside him.

      The Vagrant moves with an exaggerated limp, Reela still firmly attached to his leg. In other places, the image would be comical but the knights see nothing funny in it. They give ground to him, and when he points for them to step aside with Delta’s sword, they comply.

      Delta is manoeuvred into the metal snake. The driver is pulled out. Reela is unpeeled and belted into one of the chairs in the snake’s head. The Vagrant sits in the other. He looks at the controls, frowns.

      A button is pressed, a stick twisted. Nothing happens. More options are exhausted, manipulations becoming increasingly forceful until, at last, the hissing of the engines grows in volume and the snake turns away from the burning house and the staring knights, making towards the coast.

       One Thousand and Fifty-TwoYears Ago

      The Empire of the Winged Eye holds power, undisputed. A great engine made of millions of people, machines and essence-fuelled weapons. Its purpose is simple: protect the world from infernal threat.

      The Empire stands ready to do its duty. Spheres of metal orbit the globe watching for trouble, and the Lenses, the Empire’s watchers, have agents on land and sea, ever vigilant. Legions of knights train daily, keeping senses and swords sharp. Harmonized humans, their souls linked to better withstand infernal possession, train with them as living shields. Armies of soldiers march with essence guns and launchers, keeping constant patrols on the Breach.

      There is but one problem.

      The Breach has not yet opened.

      Massassi, who alone was able to perceive the threat, created the Empire of the Winged Eye in answer to the coming invasion. But she was born too early, has readied humanity too soon.

      While СКАЧАТЬ