And then the far wall of the laboratory imploded, as if someone had sucked all the substance from out of it. For the briefest moment Theseus could see a long line of leaden spikes floating where the wall had been, and they shot forward like arrows, penetrating deep into the armoured knights and felling them in seconds. The robed Godhand members dived for cover, cowered under tables and hid behind cabinets even though there were plenty of heavy weapons lying around to defend themselves with.

The gold knight was the only one who didn’t fall. He ripped out the lance embedded through his chest as if it were only a tiny thorn and then stomped forward towards a group of people Theseus couldn’t make out. Throwing desks and cabinets aside, the knight began to draw his sword, but was too late. Another blade crashed against his armour and severed his fighting arm and, before the knight could retreat, the attacker slashed again and decapitated him. Theseus squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the bloody scene – though he’d seen his fare share of gory films and brutal combat, his stomach was too weak to deal with anything besides happy kittens.

After the sound of crumpling armour stopped, Theseus chanced a brief look and had to rub his eyes just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Andromeda had also noticed and was stammering her bewilderment, while John was scrambling to retrieve his equipment, no doubt to conform everything with his multitude of scanners.

“Our apologies for taking so long,” said Azarat Haan, Torsten Academy’s survival teacher, as he wiped clean his curved blade and sheathed it next to another, similar weapon at his side.

“Damn Payne should’ve sent us here months ago,” said Lucia James, the Academy’s pyromaniac science teacher, as she examined one of Godhand’s weapons, a heavy-looking black rifle, “Though this is well out of date, proper scrap metal.” The rifle contorted in on itself, the barrel twisting at angles Theseus didn’t think possible, leaving nothing but a smooth sphere of metal behind.

Mr Haan pushed his way towards the students, bulldozing through the desks and cabinets and ignoring the squeals of scientists as they scrambled to get out of his way. “You kids should know when not to get involved,” he said, his deep voice like that of a father chastising his children. Then he held out a hand, and his scarred face relaxed into an almost-smile. “But you did a good job getting this far. Now let us handle the rest,”

***

Phantasia hurt. Godhand’s manor, with its undercurrents of repressed hatred and fear, wasn’t a healthy place for a faerie such as herself, but the arrival of the Patriarch had made things worse.

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” she said to Katrina, “Before he arrived it wasn’t so bad, just uncomfortable. Maybe what it’s like for you when you feel cold? It’s not a nice feeling and you want to wrap yourself up in something warm to make it go away. But now it’s a lot worse. Whatever is going on in that courtyard is corrupting the leylines like…” She paused for a moment to consider all the things Queen Thetis had told her about human experience. “Like sewage spreading down a river.”

“And you feel it?” asked Katrina.

Phantasia nodded. “It’s like the air you breathe to me. I guess you could say I’m holding my breath?”

Chapter 21
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