Monsters of Men

And I think it would be better to die than let that happen.

One of the soldiers next to me turns, shock in his voice, telling me in the language of the Land to quiet myself.

My eyes fall on the ceremonial blade he carries.

The Sky makes his way slowly, ponderously, leaderlike over to the Clearing.

Over to the Knife’s one in particular.

The Knife who, though he no doubt fretted and worried about peace, though he no doubt intended to do the right thing, sent his one in particular instead, too afraid to face us himself–

And I think of him pulling me from the bodies of the Burden–

I think of my vow to strike him down–

And I find myself thinking, No.

I feel the voice of the Land on me, feel it reaching out to quiet me at this most important moment.

And again I think, No.

No, this cannot be.

The one in particular slides down from her mount to greet the Sky.

And I am moving before I even know I mean to.

I grab the ceremonial blade from the soldier next to me so fast he offers no resistance, only a surprised yelp, and I lift it high as I run. My voice is strangely clear, seeing only what is in front of me, the rocks on the path, the dry riverbed, the hand of the Sky reaching out to stop me as I pass him but too slow in his elaborate armour to do so–

I am crossing the ground towards her–

My voice is growing louder, a yell emerging from it, wordless in the languages of the Burden and the Land–

I know we are watched, watched from the vessel, watched from the lights that hover alongside it–

I am hoping that the Knife can see–

See as I race forward to kill his one in particular–

The heavy blade high in my hands–

She sees me coming and stumbles back towards her mount–

The man from the Clearing shouts something, his own mount trying to move between me and the Knife’s one in particular–

But I am too fast, the space too short–

And the Sky is shouting behind me, too–

His voice, the voice of the entire Land booming behind me, reaching out to stop me–

But a voice cannot stop a body–

And she’s falling back farther–

Falling against the legs of her own mount, who is also trying to protect her but is tangled up with her–

And there is no time–

There is only me–

Only my revenge–

The blade is up–

The blade is back–

Ready and heavy and dying to fall–

I take my final steps–

And I put my weight behind the blade to begin the end–

And she raises her arm to protect herself–

{VIOLA}

The attack comes from nowhere. The leader of the Spackle, the Sky, as he calls himself, approaches us with greetings–

But suddenly there’s another running towards him, a brutal stone blade in his hand, polished and heavy–

And he’s going to kill the Sky–

He’s going to kill his own leader–

At the peace talks, this is going to happen–

The Sky is turning, seeing the one with the sword come and he reaches out to stop him–

But the one with the sword ducks past him easily–

Ducks past him and runs towards me and Bradley–

Runs towards me–

“Viola!” I hear Bradley shout–

And he’s turning Angharrad to come between us but they’re two steps behind at least–

And the ground is empty between me and the one running–

And I’m stumbling back into Acorn’s legs–

Girl colt! Acorn says–

And I’m falling back to the ground–

And there’s no time–

The Spackle’s on me–

The blade’s in the air–

And I raise my arm in a hopeless attempt to protect myself–

And–

The blade doesn’t fall.

I glance back up.

The Spackle is staring at my arm.

My sleeve has dropped back and my bandage has come off as I’ve fallen and he’s staring at the band on my arm–

The red, infected, sick-looking band with the number 1391 etched onto it–

And then I see it–

Halfway up his own forearm, as scarred and messy as mine–

A band reading 1017–

And this is Todd’s Spackle, the one he set free from the Mayor’s genocide at the monastery with a band all his own that’s clearly infected him, too–

He’s frozen his swing, the blade in the air, ready to fall but not falling, as he stares at my arm–

And then a pair of hooves strike him hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards across the clear ground–

[TODD]

“VIOLA!”

I’m screaming my head off, looking for a horse to ride, a fissioncar, anything to get me up that hill–

“It’s okay, Todd!” the Mayor shouts, looking at the projeckshun. “It’s all right! Your horse kicked him away.”

I look back to the projeckshun just in time to see 1017 hit the ground a buncha metres from where he was just standing, tumbling down in a heap, and Angharrad’s hind legs coming back to the ground–

“Oh, good girl!” I yell. “Good horse!” And I grab my comm, shouting, “Viola! Viola, are you there?”

And now I see Bradley kneeling down to Viola and the Spackle leader grabbing up 1017 and pretty much throwing him back to the other Spackle, who drag him away, and I see Viola digging in her pocket for her comm–

“Todd?” she says.

“Are you okay?” I say.

“That was your Spackle, Todd!” she says. “The one you let go!”

“I know,” I say, “if I ever see him again, I’m gonna–”

“He stopped when he saw the band on my arm.”

“Viola?” Simone breaks in from the scout ship.

“Don’t fire!” Viola says quickly. “Don’t fire!”

“We’re going to get you out of there,” Simone says.

“NO!” Viola snaps. “Can’t you see they didn’t expect that?”

“Let her get you outta there, Viola!” I yell. “It’s not safe. I knew I never shoulda let you–”

“Listen to me, both of you,” she says. “It’s stopping, can’t you–?”

She breaks off and in the projeckshun the leader of the Spackle has come near ’em again, his hands out in a peaceful way.

“He’s saying he’s sorry,” Viola says. “He’s saying it’s not what they wanted . . .” She breaks off for a second. “His Noise is more pictures than words, but I think he’s saying that one is crazy or something.”