Thirty-Seven
Vard Against Vard – The End of the Fairytale – Harkins the Soldier – A Secret Weapon
By the time they reached the landing pad, the Awakeners were bombing the city.
Malvery huffed and puffed and cursed when he had the breath to do so. If only he was a younger man; younger and fitter and not so fond of drink. But the city needed him now. His country needed him. He pulled up his belt and staggered on in the wake of the others.
The landing pad was in chaos. Rain lashed the scene. Aircraft crew ran here and there, sodden grey ghosts in the downpour. Many hadn’t been privy to the news of the Awakeners’ secret weapon, and they had no idea why the Navy had fallen from the sky. Now they swarmed frantically over their aircraft, worrying at maintenance panels or stabbing buttons, unable to understand why the engines wouldn’t start.
Beyond the high walls that surrounded the landing pad, past a squat tower with wrought-iron balconies and a copper dome, Malvery could see the Awakener fleet spreading over the city like a vast black hand. And he saw the bombs, little pellets of death tumbling from the bellies of the frigates towards the streets below.
They’re bombing us! he thought in outrage. Bombing their own people!
The dull crump of distant explosions came to him, and made his blood boil. Vard against Vard. Countryman versus countryman, who so recently had fought side by side against the Sammies. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Not since the Ducal Rebellion had such a thing happened, one hundred and fifty years ago. And yet even as that civil war ended, the seeds were being sown for a new one. For it was the followers of the deposed king who became the first Awakeners, turning his mad scrawlings into prophecy. And that had brought them to this.
Malvery was a man who let life happen to him rather than imposing himself upon it. Yet this was too much, even for him. Good men and women, in their ignorance, were fighting on the side of daemons to depose their Archduke. It was madness, and it had to be stopped.
They ran across the landing pad towards the Ketty Jay. No one paid them any attention. He caught Ashua’s eye as she ran alongside him, and there was fear of him in her gaze, and something like hope. She was puppyish in her shame, desperate for his forgiveness. But he looked away. She’d hurt him too much for that.
He’d begun to think of her as a daughter. He couldn’t help it. Even that tattoo all over the side of her face looked to Malvery like the mark of an insecure adolescent staking her place in the world. He’d hugged her to his breast, and she’d bitten him.
Did you know what you were doing? he thought. Were you working for the Sammies all along?
He could hardly bear the sight of her. And yet each time he wounded her with his scorn, it stung him just as badly. What a damned soft-hearted old fool he was.
Frey ran up to a panel on one of the Ketty Jay’s landing struts and punched in a code. The cargo ramp hissed open, and they hurried in out of the rain. Malvery came last. He was halfway up the ramp when a flash of lightning flickered behind the clouds, illuminating a black frigate sliding through the sky in the distance. A rolling grumble of thunder passed overhead.
He knew that craft. The Delirium Trigger.
‘Malvery! Get up here!’ Frey called.
Malvery wiped the rain from his wet moustache and hurried inside.
Bess was standing immobile in the corner of the hold; Crake had put her to sleep during the journey to Thesk, and nothing but Crake’s whistle would wake her up again. Silo had gone to a chest and was handing out weapons. They’d stashed their guns before arrival in order to indicate their peaceful intentions.
Frey was on the metal stairway leading to the main deck. ‘Forget about them,’ he told Silo. ‘Doc, I need you on the autocannon.’
It took Malvery a moment to catch up. He’d assumed the Ketty Jay was out of commission, and they were just coming back for their weapons.
‘We’re taking off, Doc!’ Frey said impatiently. ‘Those things the Awakeners fitted to our engines back in the camp? They cancel out the Azryx device. That’s how the Awakeners are still up in the air.’
‘Where are we going?’ Harkins asked.
Frey looked surprised that he even had to answer that question. ‘Away,’ he said.
Malvery was again slow to take Frey’s meaning, but this time it was for a different reason. He just couldn’t conceive of running away from something as important as was happening here in Thesk.
‘Cap’n,’ he said. ‘If the Ketty Jay can fly . . . Cap’n, we can’t just take her and go! We have to—’
‘We don’t have to do a bloody thing!’ Frey snapped. ‘We tried to warn ’em and they tried to kill us. The Archduke, the generals, every overprivileged arseburp in this whole damn city can drown in their own shit for all I care. Present company excepted,’ he added, nodding at Crake.
‘Too kind,’ Crake said uncertainly.
‘Cap’n, you can’t!’ Malvery was aghast. ‘They’re gonna destroy the Coalition! Don’t you get it? Daemons are gonna rule this land!’
‘And adding our corpses to the pile is gonna achieve exactly what?’ Frey cried. ‘Listen, Doc, I get it. You’re noble. You, Crake and Harkins, you’re all very noble. But the fairytale’s over now. I risked my neck for your principles, and those sons of bitches almost hung me by it. Well, I’ve got principles too, and they’ve kept me alive a lot longer than yours will. So I’m going. You can come with me, or you can piss off.’
The crew exchanged uncertain glances. They’d all been on the end of one of the Cap’n’s rants before, but rarely with this level of bitterness and spite.
‘What about Trinica?’ Crake said.
Her name hit Frey like a blow, and took the wind out of him for a moment. The rage left his eyes, and something worse took its place. ‘It’s finished,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s over. Everything’s lost. And I’m done with the lot of it.’
Malvery strode over to the chest where Silo stood. ‘Gimme my shotgun,’ he said, holding out a hand. Silo slapped it into his palm. ‘Shells,’ he said, and Silo slung him a bag jangling with them. He pressed a shell into the chamber and primed it with a crunch.
‘You’re not coming, Doc?’ Frey asked.
The tone of his voice caused Malvery to stop. The resignation there. This man was his friend. They’d been through so much together. Without the Ketty Jay, Malvery would likely have drunk himself to death. He knew Frey, knew exactly why he was acting this way. He wanted to be there to support him, to help him through it.
But here, now, there were more important things than Frey.
‘I ain’t coming,’ he said.
Frey took the news without emotion. He turned to Crake. ‘You?’
‘Frey,’ said Crake. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘I’m leaving, Crake. Are you staying or coming?’
Crake met his gaze levelly. ‘I can’t leave.’
‘Thought not,’ said Frey. ‘Your woman, eh?’
‘It’s more than that,’ he said. ‘And if I’m staying, Bess is too.’
‘Naturally,’ said Frey. ‘What about you, Harkins?’
Harkins looked distraught. ‘Cap’n . . . I mean . . . Shouldn’t we oughta stay?’
‘I’m not staying,’ said Frey. He was adamant. ‘Are you?’
Harkins turned to Malvery and Crake, as if they could help him out of his predicament. But they had no help to give him. He wavered a moment, and then his face hardened, he straightened his back and raised his head. He looked Frey in the eye and saluted.
‘It’s been an honour serving with you, Cap’n,’ he said.
Frey nodded listlessly to himself. An agonising silence followed. They pitied him, standing there. Frey was a man who’d gambled on a losing hand, and he just kept on gambling bigger to get himself out of it. They’d lost crew members before, but nothing like this. This would split them apart for good. Nobody wanted to see the dissolution of the Ketty Jay’s crew, but the Cap’n had forced the issue. He’d dug in his
heels, and made them choose between loyalty to him and loyalty to their country. Maybe, if he’d known the outcome, he’d never have tested them that way. But it was too late to back down now.
‘Alright, then,’ he said dismissively, turning away to ascend the stairs. ‘Grab your guns and get off my aircraft. The rest of you—’
‘I’m not coming,’ said Ashua.
Frey stopped, his shoulders bunched with tension. ‘You too?’
‘Me too.’
‘You’re a traitor,’ he said, and by the sound of it his teeth were gritted. ‘You’re a child of the slums and you spent most your life in Samarla. They’ll probably hang you anyway if you survive. What in rot’s name do you owe them?’
‘It’s not them I owe,’ she said. She turned her gaze to Crake, then to Malvery, and held it there with unexpected defiance. ‘I’m no traitor,’ she told him. ‘I made a mistake. You ever made a mistake?’
The way she said it, it was as if she knew. About his friend Henvid Clack, about that night when Malvery operated while drunk, about the death that he’d never been able to forget. He looked at her then, with her muddy ginger hair spiky with rain, and she seemed so damned young. Just a girl, really. She’d gone her whole life fighting her own corner. Everyone she’d ever known had dropped her in the end. And it made him ashamed that he was on the verge of doing the same.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I made mistakes.’
‘I thought they were Thacians,’ she said. ‘I was giving them information about the Sammies at first, the Awakeners later. Not the Vards. Doesn’t make it right, but it makes it better.’ She was trembling; he could see it. There wasn’t much that scared her, but pushing the words out was harder than anything. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fight with you here. If you want.’
Malvery swallowed. His throat had gone tight, and there were tears in his eyes. He turned away to hide it.
‘Malvery?’ said Crake. What do you want to do? It’s your call.
Malvery waved a hand. ‘Aye,’ he said thickly. ‘She’s alright.’
Frey had turned round on the stairs to face them. He seemed like a man who’d taken too many blows, and was waiting for the coup de grâce. ‘What about you, Silo?’
The Murthian had been watching the proceedings without visible emotion. Weighing things up, the way he did. Who knew what went on behind those eyes?
Go with him, Malvery thought. For rot’s sake, go with him. Don’t leave the Cap’n alone after all he’s done for us.
Silo took a long time with his decision. No one rushed him. He wouldn’t be rushed. At last he stirred and opened his mouth.
‘Where we goin’, Cap’n?’
Malvery let out a small sigh of relief. By now he’d mastered the swell of emotion that threatened to embarrass him. He fished green-lensed glasses from his breast pocket and popped them back on his nose.
‘We’ve all made our choices, then,’ said Frey, and his voice was dull with loss. ‘I’m leaving right now, before the Awakener fleet gets here. Going north to Yortland, in case any of you change your minds. I suggest you get off the Ketty Jay while you still can.’ He made to turn his back on them, but he hesitated. With some effort, he swallowed down pride and bile, and said ‘Good luck, all of you. We had some times, didn’t we?’
‘We had some times,’ Malvery agreed gravely.
‘Frey . . .’ said Crake. He was about to plead with the Cap’n to reconsider, but Malvery put a hand on his arm to stop him. It would do no good, and they both knew it.
Frey put his head down and walked on up the stairs. Malvery watched him go with a sense of desolation. Something had been done here that couldn’t be undone.
He briefly wondered what would happen to his meagre things, his doctor’s supplies, all the accoutrements of his old life. He wondered if he would have time to say goodbye to Jez, sewn up in a bag on the infirmary’s operating table. He decided it didn’t matter. None of it did. Nothing mattered but right now.
‘Come on,’ he said to them all. ‘Get your guns.’
‘But my books . . .’ said Crake weakly. ‘My equipment . . .’
‘Don’t reckon the Cap’n’s in the mood to wait,’ said Silo.
‘Leave ’em,’ said Malvery. ‘Bess is what’s important.’
Crake nodded reluctantly. He put his brass whistle to his lips and blew a silent note. In the dark, hollow depths of the armoured suit in the corner, two bright points like stars appeared. Bess stretched as she awoke.
They heard Frey powering up the engines as Silo handed them their weapons. The bombs were getting closer now. Crake reluctantly took a pistol and some ammo. When it came Ashua’s turn, Silo held up her pistol and looked at her hard.
‘Time was, Cap’n didn’t want you on his crew,’ he said. ‘Only reason you got to stay was ’cause I vouched for you. Don’t make no fool of me.’
Ashua took his words as seriously as they were intended. ‘I’ll make it right,’ she said.
‘See you do,’ said Silo, and slapped the pistol into her hand.
The Ketty Jay creaked underneath them, and they felt the floor rise slightly. Time had run out. Malvery, Crake, Harkins, Ashua and Bess hurried down the ramp and off the Ketty Jay.
Outside, the rain was still pouring hard. Some of the pilots, attracted by the sound of engines, were heading across the landing pad towards them, evidently wondering why a craft with Awakeners sigils was taking off when they couldn’t. They stopped being half so curious when they caught sight of the eight-foot metal golem coming out of it.
The Ketty Jay was lifting from the ground even before they’d hopped down. Silo pulled the lever to shut the ramp as soon as the last of them were off. Malvery looked back at the Murthian, and their eyes met through the closing gap.
I’ll never see him again, he thought to himself. Him or the Cap’n.
Then the ramp closed, and he was shut out.
He caught an acrid whiff of aerium gas as the Ketty Jay’s skids left the landing pad. They stepped back as she drifted up into the air. The Coalition pilots raised their guns, uncertain whether to shoot at it or not. Frey didn’t give them the chance. He engaged the thrusters while the Ketty Jay was still recklessly low. A blast of hot air shoved at the crew, blowing their coats and hair about.
Then the Ketty Jay roared off into the cloud and the rain and the storm, and dwindled until they saw it no more.
The pilots had turned their guns on the crew now, still unsure as to what had just happened. ‘Point them guns elsewhere, you bunch of idiots! We’re on your side!’ Malvery bellowed. He won them over by sheer volume. ‘Your aircraft ain’t gonna work while the Awakeners are in the sky, and they’ll be dropping troops on us any minute, like as not. Ain’t you got anywhere more useful to be?’
The troops didn’t argue with that. They dispersed, casting uneasy glances at Bess, who lumbered about restlessly. The fear in the air had set her on edge.
‘I have to find Samandra,’ said Crake.
‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ Malvery replied. ‘Anyone’s gonna be in the thick of it, it’s her.’
‘Not me,’ said Harkins. ‘I’ve got somewhere else to be.’
Malvery was surprised. Harkins’ face was set and grim beneath his patched-up pilot’s cap. ‘Where are you going?’
Harkins pointed at the Firecrow, sitting silent in the hissing rain. ‘There’s one more aircraft that can still fly.’
Crake gaped. ‘Harkins! You’re not going up there?’
‘I mean . . . I don’t think I’ll be much use down here, will I?’
‘It’s one against hundreds! It’s suicide!’
Harkins had the look about him of a man walking on a frozen lake. Only the thin ice of discipline stood between him and the freezing depths of terror. But he was determined; Malvery saw that. And Malvery knew how much courage it took for a man like Harkins to make a stand.
‘Malvery!’ Crake said. ‘Tell him! He can’t go up there alone in that one little fighter!??
?
Harkins’ gaze went nervously to Malvery. Maybe he’d change his mind if I persuaded him, Malvery thought. But how much would it cost him if he backed down now? Better to live a coward, or die a hero? I know what the Cap’n would say. But he ain’t here any more.
Remembering his time in the Army during the First Aerium War, Malvery stood up straight, put his heels together, and saluted smartly from the elbow. ‘Do your country proud, soldier,’ he said.
Harkins had expected an argument. The doctor’s unexpected support firmed his resolve instead. He returned Malvery’s salute, gave him a quick and grateful smile, and then scampered off towards the Firecrow. Crake looked at Malvery, aghast.
‘Man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do,’ said Malvery. ‘Seems like it’s the day for that.’
‘Turns out he really isn’t a chickenshit,’ said Ashua, almost to herself.
Malvery looked over at her. It still hurt him to do so. Forgiveness wouldn’t come easy: there was a lot of disappointment and anger still to dilute. But she’d stayed with him, and she’d come as close as she ever would to an apology. She wanted to make it up to him. He had to let her try.
‘The four of us, then,’ he said. He hefted his shotgun. ‘Let’s get to it.’
Samandra found them, in the end, rather than the other way around. They were being held at gunpoint and surrounded by soldiers in a cobbled quad overlooked by an elaborate clock.
‘Can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?’ she said as she strode through the circle of Coalition guards, rain pouring off her tricorn hat. ‘Guns down, fellers. You don’t want to make Bess nervous.’
It was good advice. Bess didn’t like guns, and despite Crake’s best efforts to soothe her, he wasn’t sure he could do it much longer. Samandra had arrived just in time.
‘They were asking for you,’ said the sergeant. ‘We didn’t know who they were, but they had no uniforms, so . . .’
‘Don’t worry, you did good,’ she told him. She put her hands on her hips and turned an exasperated face on her lover. ‘Did you think you could just go running about the Archduke’s palace with that walking junkpile in tow?’ Then she broke into a smile and grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him.