LITMIR.BIZ

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wonders if she is considering his words or if there is interference.

      ‘You misunderstand, Knight Commander. You are being given an order, not a recommendation. In any case the sanctum has begun its descent, and Alpha has already taken wing. He is on His way to you as we speak. I trust everything will be ready when He arrives.’

      ‘He’s coming here? Now? I don’t see how –’

      But her image has already winked out. Cursing, the Knight Commander blinks the flickering afterglow from his eyes and starts barking orders.

      Minutes later the Knight Commander is standing at the base of the silver steps. Somewhere high above is the Sanctum of The Seven, and in the space between them, diving through the ether, is Alpha.

      He has had to run to get here, and beneath his armour the Knight Commander is sweating. Behind him a row of Seraph Knights have formed up, hastily, several rows of soldiers rushing into position at their backs. He hears the last stamp of boots, the snap of people standing to attention. Then silence.

      They all stand in perfect formation, watching the sky for the first sign of Alpha’s arrival.

      Though his body is still, the Knight Commander’s mouth continues to move, organizing, giving orders via comms link, coordinating the fleet. To meet Alpha’s needs he has taken from all over the Empire, stripping the coast and the nearby colonies of protection.

      He checks in to see if Vesper’s father, the Champion, remains in the Shining City but he has already left, on foot. The Knight Commander shakes his head at the bizarre custom. The Champion has not gone far, is only just reaching the gates but he does not call him back. This is to be a historic moment, and he has no wish to share it.

      With magnification from his visor, he makes out a speck directly above, growing quickly, and his heart starts to pump faster. Despite the fact he is standing still, he continues to sweat.

      In the scant time that remains the Knight Commander considers what kind of greeting would be appropriate, and how best he can appear both humble and strong at the same time.

      Meanwhile, Alpha continues to dive.

      Thoughts flicker, disjointed, through the Knight Commander’s mind.

       Perhaps I should have summoned Alpha’s sky palace here instead of sending it to Greyspot Three.

       Would it be better to sing in honour of Alpha’s arrival or remain silent?

       Is it odd that I have not called the citizens here to greet Him? Surely it is better to have a small, perfectly formed greeting, than a great, ugly one. There were too many to organize in the time. This is better. I’m sure this is better.

      A song would be more appropriate, I think. Yes, a song would be best, and I should lead it. The image of him singing, his knights a supporting chorus, is pleasing. It seems right. But which song? He wonders.

      Alpha is close now, wings drawn tight to his sides. The Knight Commander takes a breath, still unsure which note to begin with.

      He’s coming in awfully fast. A nagging sensation begins to build in the Knight Commander’s stomach, a sense that something is wrong. He’s not going to stop. He’s going to crash into us. Is this some kind of test? A test of our resolve?

      He can almost hear Obeisance admonishing him for trying to predict the actions of The Seven. If Alpha were a sky-ship or even a bird, then perhaps there would be a danger of him not slowing down in time. He is far beyond either of those things, far beyond anything the Knight Commander can imagine. Shaking the doubt from his mind, letting the awe grow within him, the Knight Commander begins to sing.

      Flawlessly, as if rehearsed, the knights join in.

      Alpha continues to dive, to accelerate.

       He’s not going to stop! He’s not going to stop!

      Ignoring the growing terror, the Knight Commander continues to sing, clinging to his faith.

      And at the last, Alpha’s silver wings unfurl, and he moves from dive to glide, cutting over their heads, cutting through their song, silencing, and carrying on, leaving the Knight Commander and his followers behind.

      On instinct, they have all turned to watch the immortal’s progress, a line of confused faces.

      ‘Sir?’ asks one of the knights, an irritating quake in her voice. ‘What does this mean, sir?’

      A good question, he thinks. What does it mean? ‘Get me airborne!’ he shouts. ‘Where He goes, we follow.’

      The journey to the landing pillar takes too long. The capsules that spirit them up to the pillar’s top take too long. The Knight Commander can feel Alpha moving further and further away. He berates himself for not having predicted this. What a fool he was to imagine that The Seven would care for welcomes or parades. They are above such things. Alpha must have come ahead of his brothers and sisters for a reason, to do something glorious for the good of the Empire. And while the Knight Commander cannot guess what that is, he is determined to be a part of it.

      Only a handful of Seraph Knights fit into the hold of the sky-ship with him, the rest forced into land vehicles.

      They race south, over neatly ordered hillsides and lines of trees, tall and straight, that look like points on a grid when viewed from above.

      Reports of Alpha’s progress come in fits and starts. Brief sightings reported in terms of wonder directly into the Knight Commander’s ear. The immortal is flying in a straight line, but when his course is plotted on a map, the Knight Commander is surprised to find it is not taking them directly to Greyspot Three.

      A call comes through from one of his soldiers. ‘Report.’

      ‘He’s here, sir. I can see Him!’

      The Knight Commander confirms the soldier’s location. A small village known as Diligence to its inhabitants. There is little to recommend it. In fact the place is not connected to any major settlements, forcing traders to walk hard paths to get there. A backwater, mostly forgotten.

       Could Alpha remember it as something more? Is this a site of significance that we have unwittingly neglected?

      He turns his attention back to the soldier. ‘What is Alpha doing now?’

      ‘Circling, sir.’

      ‘Just circling?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Then hold your position. We’ll be there shortly. Keep me informed if there are any changes.’

      ‘He’s seen something, sir. He’s … diving.’

      The soldier sets a flare off from his position, and the sky-ship zooms in on it. Diligence is a grim and rocky place. The power stations and main gathering areas are built under the earth, along with half of the housing, but it has grown over the years, simple extensions jutting directly from the walls. None of these extensions appear to be to standard and the number of them indicates a much higher population than is currently registered.

      Even without the flare to guide them in, it is easy to see where Alpha has landed. A circle of charred grass surrounds a new hole in the ground, a new entrance to Diligence’s underground network of tunnels.

      They set down, leaping from the hatch the moment the sky-ship has settled, and rush toward the hole. The footing is unsteady near the edge, and more than one knight wobbles, graceless, as they try to stay upright.

      Around them the air feels charged and angry, making it hard to breathe.

      Suddenly nervous of what he will see, the Knight Com-mander peers over the edge. Below he sees Alpha of The Seven, his sword drawn, shimmering as the echoes of song slowly fade.

      At the immortal’s silver feet is a smear of ash, making the loose shape of a body.

      Alpha holds up his other

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