Jo wanted to repeat what Suzé had said. What did being vain have to do with the figure? The figure, or source, of the uneasy light, the flowing shadows and the petal swirl. Shadows that seemed to wreathe about its gleam-surface as if they had an upright, burning, life of their own. Licking, coursing, weaving, but not fully concealing; the very air about the form darkening as its armour or surface took on a lunar –

"Move, Jo!"

Why was it not there anymore? It had only been - then he saw it. Only a sword-strike away; saffron channelled blade an arc of light. Hardly time to bring Worrsdowth into its path - sparks and sledge impact - and up was down; down, up and then a second impact on what was more cushion than upright path.

"Jones!" a voice echoed with the surface of a muffled bell; as a part of him was still spinning, even if he was on the ground; looking at the night sky. A star, wreathed with indigo, iridescent and jet flame above him; yet with a tongue of saffron and eyes like miniature stars of pale aquamarine. Blink, and the same star, but with a dark triple skirt, a swirl of petals shaped like an apricot cyclone, and two ibex-like horns to complement the brilliant silver, violet and sapphire plume. Launching another star - paler than everything else - but twirling as if it were an aerial–

Fireworks; or a mini one. Above him; complete with an arc of powder blue; its wielder almost as pale as the descending stars and could very well have been plumed as it and the first star began to descend. Descend, land, flew at and danced round each other in a twin cyclone of sparks, swords, petals as a pair of hands pulled him upright.

Suzé.

"Are you hurt?" she said, voice clear but with a tremble.

"I, think so" he answered, closing his eyes as the rest of himself finally stopped spinning.

"You went such a long way. We thought it had–"

"Long way?" said Jo, then stared at the trees. Trees on the edge of the field. A field that had had a bench on one side before; now lost in a wreckage of metal, pave and a sprinkle of petals...

"Where is it?" he whispered, looking straight ahead, then to the right.

"James is fighting - no - stalling it. It'll surge soon."

"Stalling?" Jo coughed, getting up then holding his upper arm to stop the sharp ache. "He's forcing it-"

An orange flash burst from the edge of the field, followed by the flying, then tumbling form of Jay; complete with a glowing Dolcreige. A roar, or was it a laugh, rumbled from the tree-line beyond; a pale figure at the eaves, completing a calm circle with a sword.

"Like that man when we were crossing the field," said Jo, following a sprinting Suzé. "It's not him, is it?"

"If only," said Suzé. "A soldier. One of the troops who look like a bunch of wheelie bins. But a Vane, I can't - believe it."

"M-must be with all that perfume," Jay said, trying to get onto hands and knees. "I think it was laughing."

"You mean its vain?" Jo said, looking at the now statue-still shape.

"It's a Vane," said Suzé, helping a shaking Jay onto his feet. "Voltage Armour Nihilist Executor. The Floral Guard of the Falltocracy: Rose Fatale."

Jo put a hand to his chest as a chill wave hit within and Worrsdowth flashed without. Looked at Worrsdowth, then at the figure. The statue. The Vane. No longer still, but walking onto the field. Wreathed with iridescence and jet flames. Encased with marble, metallic lunar light. Plus a train - no swirl - of burning flower petals.

"We can't let it leave," Suzé said, letting go of Jay and stepping forward.

"I don't think it wants to," said Jo.

"Good," said Jay. "I'm not - through with it - yet."

"We do this together," Suzé continued, arms outstretched; an air swirl of her own developing. "This is what it means to be Song and Sonnet."

"Might want to rethink the pendulum Suzé," said Jo, shifting his grip on Worrsdowth – anything to steady the tremble. To not think about the sphere of inner ice. "If it hits, you'll want something in the –"

"Incoming!" Jay shouted, throwing himself to the left. Jo flew to the right; no time to shout at Suzé as a saffron arc cut through the air complete with Vane and petals. Not that Suzé would have heard whilst being in the midst of a back spring; air currents still around her; wheels of flame light beyond either palm. Grass may as well have been a springboard before she shot forward at the Vane; flame light clearing to reveal glittering chakrams that the saffron blade had to parry with viper steps; then return with a horizontal counter Suzé slid back from.

Slid back as Jay flowed in with a falling diagonal from Dolcreige; the Vane continuing its spin and raising Saffron-channel in a horizontal parry; back to Jo as he swept in with a rising diagonal of his own; Worrsdowth an arc of rose spinel in the night air. Rose spinel that should have connected with–

"Missed again," he said, turning from a collision with Jay and looking down the field. Right at the Vane; sword raised and crackling as if it were alive with –

"Get back!" Suzé shouted, just as the sword flashed like a lightning claw and what could have been a peach-white laser pulse shot through the space between a backward leaping Jay and Jo and below an upward soaring Suzé; Jo opening his mouth as she continued to rise as if she were about to perform a double-palmed dunk into an aerial net. Only the ball flowed into a flame laser shot of her own; right at the sword-lowered Vane; sparks erupting from between neck and shoulder guard; statue staggering as a free hand flowed to the spot. Flowed to the spot then stared at Suzé. Stared and growled as petals began to swirl–rise up from the ground.

"Now!" Suzé yelled, racing forward, chakrams leaving fire trails in the air as she cut, sliced and stuck at the retreating and parrying Vane; petal swirl disturbed, but still rising as flashes, sparks, or shock waves began to develop.

Not that Jo was standing. He was moving. Just as he was supposed to. Run out in a curve then curve back in with more velocity; to strike after Jay had completed a flow of attacks. Not have ripples of water radiating along arms and down legs before he reached the outer point of the curve. Not for Suzé to start flowing back from a rising uppercut with the fluid calm of a cruising snail. Nor for Jay to look as if he were treading through water; petals moving past him like crawl-hover butterflies.

He, on the other hand, may as well have been floating on air. More than a third into the inward curve; Worrsdowth to the side like a star-fired ruby. Another breath and he was two-thirds; still–repositioning-from-uppercut Vane in his sights. Not even feeling the grass underfoot. Nor why he was 'float-stepping' at a more fluid rate than everything else. Even the target as its head began to turn towards him. Turn, look at the already in motion Worrsdowth, then vanish as everything returned to its usual pace with a blink. Except the sword continued in its outward strike, leaving a trail of rose madder that continued on into a nearby–

"Watch it!" Jay shouted from in front as Jo went into a leap to avoid a collision; with not much time to see fire leaping in a horizontal line across the surface of three trees in front. Glance - no stare - at the line upon landing then continue running in a curve along the tree line towards the Vane's new blade dance then forward kick on Suzé; launching her toward the distant path.

"Suzé!" Jo shouted, then saw the Vane turn and look at him. Look, stretch out a sword arm, then surge forward with a train of flower petals, feet not even appearing to touch the grass. A single blink and its saffron blade was flowing through the air in an oncoming horizontal arc. An arc that swept under Jo's feet, along with the whole shimmering form of the Vane; plume, cloak, petals and all. With not even a memory of how he had got from the grass, and the incoming strike, to the air.

Not that he was floating, or hovering in it alone for long; for within a spin or swirl, the Vane was shooting up towards him in a leap of its own.

Time only to bring Worrsdowth down into the path of a rising diagonal from the left; reverse it to halt a second from the right; flow up to meet the descent of a third, then spin to bring the sword into the route of a horizontal fourth; face to face with this blaze-eyed figure who moved with the speed of a sparkling blink. Stared, petal spun, and brought down a diagonal kick that may as well have been a descending sledgehammer.

Only enough time to bring forearms in between before he was catapulted out of the air like a comet; air ripples flowing out from the point where the kick had connected. Nevermind whether it was going to be grass or path that rose up to greet-hit him.

. . .

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