Andrea Höst - And All the Stars

Turning abruptly away, Fisher walked back to the opposite couch and sat down, looking as drained as Madeleine felt. Noi lowered the camera, and the room sat absolutely still. Then Emily uncurled from the ball she’d maintained since she’d been freed, and crossed to tuck herself by Madeleine.

Pan broke the silence. "You expect me to follow that?"

Fisher gave him a dry glance. "You’ve never been short of something to say. Why start now?"

"Ha. Hell." Pan scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Okay. Make sure you get my best side, Noi. Nash, stop me if I start ranting."

With a shamefaced grin, he stood, studied his feet, then momentarily was the exact image of the sketch Madeleine had given him: Lee Rickard as Henry the Fifth. The young King. Then just as quickly he was a less grand figure, a boy with the face of an imp, but no smile.

"So we’re about to go try to bring down the Spires, and if we fail, someone else gets to have to do it. Even if we succeed, there’s going to be a lot of fighting ahead. After all the people who have died, all the friends I’ve lost, the last thing I want to do, really, is risk any more. I’m betting most of you feel the same way.

"For the Blues out there: we’ve a lot of advantages you probably won’t have. Strong people, smart people, a team. It makes such a difference when you know someone’s got your back, who’ll try to bring you up when you’re down, or tell you to stop when you’re going the wrong way. There might be hardly any free Blues in your city. You might be alone. But we’re passing on Théoden’s gift. Take the knowledge, make the opportunity. Find your strongest Blue, your tactician, your strategist. Rescue your leeches. And stand together and try. Even if the first attempt fails, even if they take you, don’t lose hope. Someone else will come for you, will bring you back like I was brought back.

"For those of you who aren’t infected, those who are going to say, no, we can’t fight, they’ll release more dust, they’ll attack us, that it’s better to wait it out like a bad storm. Let me remind you: they come back. They’ll take all us Blues, and use us up, and throw us away, and then they’ll have a little breather and start all over again. No-one can think that’s a good idea. This is a war. And they tricked you into not fighting."

He darted a quick look at Fisher, and took a deep breath.

"Moths. Because I’m only talking to you thanks to Théoden, I want to make an offer to others like him, those Moths who don’t want, never wanted this…slaughter. We are going to hunt you down. Those bodies you’re wearing belong to someone else. But if you turn yourself in, if you surrender to us and take that huge risk of dying so that the Blue you’re riding can be free, then we won’t attack if you survive. I don’t know what the hell we’ll do with you after – put you on an island? But…anyway."

His chin jerked up, as if he was still unravelling the implications of his offer. Then his stance shifted, not the king returning, nor Pan, cocksure and defiant, but a cold, angry declaration.

"Finally, for those of you who did this to us, for the Remade. Fuck you. We’ll dance on your graves."

Half an hour before dawn Madeleine was trying not to break her ankle. Even though they’d circled around to the relatively clear eastern side of the park, entering from College Street, the debris of the Spire’s arrival formed a black obstacle course of tree trunks and torn earth, to be navigated by touch and hope.

"Team Dragon and Defenders, stop around here," Noi called in a carrying whisper. "Spire Squad, you get into position first, then the Defenders will shift into place around you. Good luck."

Madeleine’s searching hands encountered a metal face, and she bit back a gasp even as she realised it had to be one of the statues from the Archibald Fountain. She slid down to sit in a small depression behind it, glad to be out of the rising wind. Sydney nights in early May were jacket weather, cool not icy, but her fits of sleep hadn’t fully balanced excessive spirit punching, and the urge to curl into a ball and sob was rising.

During the last half hour Fisher and Noi had worked rapidly through endless pre-battle issues which would never have occurred to Madeleine. Release timers and mirror-sites for the four videos, drawing on Nash, Min and others to write quick introductions in multiple languages, asking viewers to redistribute and subtitle. Choosing the north-east corner of the park because it was not bordered by residential buildings, and the bulk of the Spire would hide them from early risers in the hotels. Escape routes for those staying on Green guard duty, and transport strategies for the fighters, should running become the only option. Distribution of laptops to watch the progress of the challenge, and spotters with torches to signal if the Core came through from the south-west side. Rope, for those standing at the edge of what would become a huge pit. The need to remove the webcam in Saint Marys Cathedral.

Haron was in charge of the Spire Squad: fifty Blues who were going to try to give an alien tower a heart attack. The Defenders, led by Sarah, would do everything they could to keep attacking Blues and Greens away from Haron’s team. A trio with varying levels of medical knowledge waited with first aid kits out on the footpath, and there was even a pair optimistically cooking up enormous vats of soup back at the hotel. The Musketeers and leech Blues, forming the majority of Team Dragon, would try to deal with the returning Core and his large glowing mount.

Emily, who had been following close behind, tucked in beside Madeleine in the shelter of the statue, and whispered: "I’m sorry for being angry with you."

Having completely missed Emily being angry, Madeleine shifted in confusion, then shrugged mentally and curled an arm around the girl’s waist. "I’m sorry for making you angry." She also wished she could send Emily off to safety. Thirteen was so young. But there was a drive in the girl to fight which held little of bravado, had a level of necessity.

"I think it’s a bad idea, what Pan said," the girl added. "Letting any of them live. E-even if there are a couple of nice ones, how will we know? It could be one of the horrible ones, just trying to get away with it."

"Their – the Blues would be able to tell us that, wouldn’t they?" Madeleine had been dismayed by Pan’s offer of amnesty, and yet glad of it. "So far it’s been very rare for any of the non-Reborn to survive separation, anyway."

A scrambling noise rescued Madeleine from a subject she wasn’t certain she could face, and Noi, only a few feet away, said: "Any problems?"

"Do stubbed toes count?" Min, who had been sent to take care of the webcam, eased into a spot near Madeleine and Emily. "I just shifted the angle upward, rather than turning it off. Can’t guarantee those two kids will stay there though. It’s mad the number of people round here who want to play hero."

"You say that, but I remember you running back trying to rescue me," Noi pointed out.

"Heat of the moment," Min’s voice was dismissive. "And not exactly effective."

"Does that make a difference? I hope those two stay put – maybe we should send someone back in there to keep an eye on them."

Ari and Tia, their youngest Blues, had been assigned camera duties, filming the battle in the hopes of passing on dragon-fighting techniques – and keeping the pair out of a fight they were keen to join. Madeleine’s primary feeling about her own involvement in the coming battle was dread combined with resignation, and an impatience for it to be done. To know whether the Spires would fall, and what that victory would cost them.

"Challenge is finishing up," Noi said tersely. "They’ll keep to the pecking order heading back, so we’re on schedule. Millie, come keep an eye on the feed for me."