Chapter 3

An Uninvited Guest

RAKE FLEXED THE fingers of his armoured gauntlets. He clenched his left fist tightly and felt its gauntlet harden, as its plastallic components locked down. His fist now had the solidity and destructive power of a wrecking ball.

Not for the first time, Rake marvelled at the craftsmanship of his red and black Armouron suit. The sense of power that it gave him was awesome. In a way that he couldn’t quite fathom, putting it on seemed to create a connection between himself and the great warriors who had championed the Armouron tradition since the order’s foundation, many millennia ago. Suited up like this, he felt invincible.

He grasped the hilt of his shortsword with his right hand and slid it smoothly from its scabbard. Battle-ready, he confronted his waiting opponent.

‘You’re absolutely sure about this?’ Rake’s voice was full of concern. ‘You want me to come at you full on, no holding back?’

Salt faced Rake with neither weapon nor body armour. He seemed ill-equipped for a bout of combat. Rake knew that the old man could handle himself – he had seen him in the heat of battle. But his own combat skills had been improving fast under Salt’s tuition. He was worried about injuring his teacher.

But Salt only gave a wry smile and set his broad body in a defensive stance. He met his student’s anxious look with a steady gaze.

‘Whenever you’re ready, young man.’

Reluctantly, Rake prepared to fight. He cleared his mind of all distracting thoughts, as Salt had instructed. His only focus must be the fight.

If I feint with a sword-jab to his side, he’ll have to dodge – then I can catch him with a knockout punch while he’s off balance. He was keen to end the bout quickly, so as to inflict minimum harm.

He raised his sword arm and shifted his balance onto his back foot. Then, with lightning speed, he lunged at Salt . . .

. . . and found himself flat on his back on the training room’s cold stone floor.

His chest was pinned beneath one of Salt’s heavy knees and the point of his own sword was pressed to his throat.

Salt gave a disapproving grunt. He released his hold, rose to stand over Rake, and hauled him to his feet.

‘Still too slow,’ he growled, handing back Rake’s weapon, hilt first.

As Rake re-sheathed his sword, looking rather crestfallen, Salt reached for the boy’s scarlet breastplate. He plucked a small disc from the snapgrab fastening at its centre. Then he turned to address his other pupils.

All four of Rake’s fellow Armouron – Hoax, Oddball, Snow and Tea-Leaf – had been watching him in action. As always, their training session was taking place at night, while the rest of the Academy slept. Since Salt had recruited them, the four cadets had become used to slipping unnoticed from their sleeping quarters, leaving their identity belts beneath their mattresses. They reached the hidden chambers of the Old School through a concealed entrance in Salt’s armour workshop. Tea-Leaf used a secret passage from the shuttle garage to sneak into the Academy and join them.

Down here, in the lamp-lit gloom, Salt could instruct them in the lore of the ancient order they had now joined, confident that there was little chance of detection.

The old armourer held up the disc he had taken from Rake’s breastplate in his thick fingers.

‘Never forget,’ he rumbled, ‘that as an Armouron Knight, your greatest strength comes from this – your medallion. It is the very source of a knight’s power. It holds the knowledge, skill, experience and spirit of all those honoured to bear it before you. Only when you connect with it – when you feel and channel the Flow – can you fulfil your own potential.’

He turned to Rake.

‘Templer, you are fortunate to bear a medallion worn by one of the Twelve, the first and greatest of the Armouron. If you learn to harness its formidable power, you may yet become a worthy knight. Fail to do so and you will for ever remain lowly enough to be easily overcome by an unarmed old man.’

Salt handed the medallion to Rake, who meekly snapped it back in place.

‘Now – someone else give it a try.’ Salt nodded to Tea-Leaf. She looked a little taken aback.

‘You want me to attack you?’

‘No. I want you to attempt to channel the unique powers of your medallion. It can greatly add to your talents as a spy or scout. It will give your suit unequalled qualities of stealth and all your senses will be heightened.’

‘I thought our helmet visors did that, anyway?’ Hoax piped up.

‘Your visors allow you to see through cloaking shields and other optical deceptions,’ acknowledged Salt. ‘But with the help of her medallion, Balista’s sensory abilities will go far beyond that.’

He turned his attention back to Tea-Leaf.

‘See what you can do. Close your eyes and focus your other senses. Your medallion will enhance them, if you can calm your mind and channel its Flow.’

‘OK.’ Tea-Leaf sounded less than confident. ‘I’ll give it a go.’

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

After several seconds of silence, Salt spoke softly.

‘Now, tell me what you sense – what you can see in your mind’s eye.’

‘It’s a bit weird,’ mumbled Tea-Leaf. ‘I can just about make out each of you, like hints of colour against black. It’s not very clear, though . . .’

‘It will become more so in time,’ said Salt.

‘And . . . well . . . I can sort of feel the basic shape of the room – where the walls and doors are . . .’

‘Good.’

‘There’s something else too.’ Tea-Leaf screwed her eyes even more tightly shut in concentration. ‘Something small and mobile, a tiny grey blur. It’s moving about in the air – too fast to track . . .’

Salt’s expression suddenly darkened. ‘A grey aura signifies deception – something cloaked.’ He scanned the training room with an anxious gaze.

Thinking fast, Snow quickly slipped her helmet over her head and dropped its visor. She too scanned the room frantically. Moments later, she cried out.

‘She’s right! There’s some sort of shiny flying thing hovering just—’

A sudden twang-phizzz-thud cut her off. Something sliced through the air and buried itself in the far wall of the chamber. A golden object, the size of a small bird, appeared out of thin air just above Rake’s shoulder. It dropped like a stone to clatter onto the floor.

Rake turned to see what had just shot narrowly past his head. He stared wide-eyed at the crossbow bolt embedded in the stone wall.

‘Sorry!’ murmured Tea-Leaf. She lowered her bow, looking rather shocked at her own spur-of-the-moment action. ‘It’s just that . . . well . . . everything sort of came into clear focus for a split-second and I could see it was right behind you, Rake . . . and what with you saying that about deception, master, I thought whatever it was might be dangerous—’

‘Dangerous!’ hissed Rake. His face was drained of colour. ‘Did you not think that shooting past me was maybe a bit dangerous too? What if you’d—’

‘Enough, Rake!’ barked Salt. ‘Tea-Leaf acted on instinct, to protect you.’ He turned to Tea-Leaf sternly. ‘It was rash to take such a risky shot . . .’

Tea-Leaf looked down.

‘. . . but your aim is to be commended,’ continued Salt, more warmly. ‘As is your success in harnessing the Flow. A worthy effort.’

‘What is that thing?’ asked Hoax. Oddball had crouched over the mysterious golden object and was examining it cautiously. He lifted it onto his palm and rose to his feet. The others gathered round to take a closer look.

It was a mechanical creature – a replica of a giant beetle, crafted from brass and copper. Its wing cases were engraved with swirling geometric patterns. One was badly dented where Tea-Leaf’s crossbow bolt had glanced off it. Its delicate wings, made from ultra-fine copper leaf, were trapped awkwardly, still flicking weakly.

‘Some sort of surveillance device, I fear,’ said Salt. ‘A mechanical spy. Though from its design, I don’t think this was made by the Corporation.’

He spoke earnestly to Oddball.

‘I need you to find out exactly what this thing is, and where it came from.’ Salt’s brow furrowed. ‘It may already have recorded or transmitted the details of our training session. If so, we need to know.’

‘I’m on it, master,’ replied Oddball. He laid the still-twitching beetle device carefully on its back on the floor. Then he flipped open one of his suit’s yellow chest panels and took out a micro-toolkit and folding pair of telescopic goggles. ‘Stripping down this little beauty will be a pleasure.’

Salt addressed the other four young knights.

‘In the circumstances, I think it best to abandon tonight’s training. We’ll regroup when Oddball has something to report. In the meantime, be vigilant. Take extra care not to expose yourselves to suspicion.’

‘A clack lot of good that’ll do,’ muttered Hoax to Rake, as the two boys began removing their armour a piece at a time, ‘if our cover’s already blown.’

‘Let’s just hope it isn’t, Hoax.’ Rake looked grave. ‘For all our sakes.’