hen Ned woke up, it was to his door being almost ripped from the wall in a tear of metal and fibreglass by a furred hulk of terrifying strength, eyes focused and nostrils flared for the doing of harm.
“George?”
“Quickly, old bean, they’re everywhere.”
A second later and Ned was hurtling down the corridor in a T-shirt and pants, his ferocious protector leading the way like a crazed bulldozer, Gorrn hugging the ceiling behind them. All around Ned could hear more shouting and guns being fired and as they passed by yet another corridor, Ned could see that it was filling with smoke.
“What’s going on, George?!” spat Ned through gasps of air.
“Assassins, hundreds of them. They gained access through an old mineshaft and they’re attacking anything with a pulse fitting your or Lucy’s description.”
As they turned a corner, a gor-balin came tearing towards them, a curved blade in its hands and a face brimming with malice. The creature’s yellow eyes widened at the sight of George, but it continued its charge nonetheless, flecks of spit at its mouth, and muscles bunched for stabbing. George grabbed its arm with a painful snap before throwing it to the wall. There was a loud crunch and the gor-balin lay motionless where it fell.
“Come on, old bean, we’ve minutes before lockdown. After that every corridor will be closed.”
But Ned was still staring at the gor-balin. This was St Albertsburg all over again – nowhere was safe from Barbarossa, not even the Nest! He meant to finish them all before the real battle had even begun, and if George was right, Ned and Lucy were his next target.
George grabbed a dumbstruck Ned by the waist and carried him at a gallop.
“Where are you taking me?!”
“To Lucy and Mr Fox. There’s a safe room just a bit further on – I’ll come for you when the fighting’s done.”
“What about Mum and Dad – where are they?!”
“In the thick of it, with Benissimo.”
“But we have to get them, George!”
“I’ll head straight to them once I know you’re safe.”
Ned’s head filled with images of his mum and dad, surrounded by gor-balin assassins on every side.
“What about the lockdown?! Gorrn, go to them – hurry!”
“Unt!” grunted his familiar from above.
“PLEASE, GORRN!”
There was a reluctant “Arr”, and Gorrn turned the other way, towards the battle. He might not have been the most conversational of familiars, but when it came to fighting and biting there was no one better suited to the task, and Ned prayed that he would reach his parents in time.
Ned turned to look ahead and as he did so, George suddenly slowed. Ahead of them a pair of gor-balins had just dispatched one of the BBB’s guards, and now turned to face Ned and George.
“Hold on!” said George, who was about to leap at them, his legs flexed in readiness, when Mr Fox stepped out from a doorway. His face was red, angry beyond words, and he lashed out at the gor-balins violently.
“This is my –” the heavy Taser found one of the creature’s necks and it shook in a painful spasm – “COMPOUND!”
Ned had rarely seen anything like it. He was as fast as Monsieur Couteau, with his mum’s flair and training, but the singular purpose with which he used his baton took Ned’s breath away. Every strike was both clinical and violent, and as the gobs fell to a heap, he almost felt sorry for them. A staggered Ned could only wonder at the man as Mr Fox looked away to regain his composure.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, gentlemen. Inside, if you will,” urged Mr Fox.
The BBB’s foremost agent began talking into his earpiece, flicking from one comms channel to the next as his men provided a stream of garbled intel. His expression had completely changed now, the anger all gone. It was replaced by a face carved from marble – expressionless, alert and completely focused on the task in hand. He’d seen that look before and it had been worn by Benissimo. Both men would ride whatever storm to protect their own.
When Ned entered the safe room, he saw his friend and Medic waiting for him.
“Lucy! Have you seen Mum and Dad?”
“No, Ned, but I can ‘feel’ them – they’re alive, I’m sure of it.”
Ned let himself relax, if only slightly.
“She’s right,” said Mr Fox. “The heart of the fighting has been in the top floors and from what I’m being told, your parents and Benissimo have led a victorious counter-attack through the middle. It seems that Barba has, at least this time, underestimated the forces he needed for a proper assault … George, we’d best head up and help the others. I have the codes to get us through once the corridors are shuttered. There’s a party forming to mop up what’s left of the gobs. Ned, Lucy, this room is made of reinforced concrete and stainless steel. Nothing is getting in or out till I lift the lockdown, which will start as soon as these doors close again behind us. Don’t worry, I should think you’ll be out of here within the hour.”
George and Mr Fox then exited the room in a hurry, the automatic door’s pneumatic sliding mechanism opening for them on their way through. As it started to close again, there were two loud crunches from the corridor outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of falling bodies on concrete.
“What was that?” asked a terrified Ned.
He had just seen what Mr Fox was capable of, and he knew that taking George out was an almost impossible feat. The hairs on his neck and arms began to prickle.
“I don’t know.”
Lucy moved quickly, drawing out a dagger that Monsieur Couteau had given her and turned to face the door. Very slowly, the door’s heavy steel mechanism that had been closing started to work backwards.
“Stay behind me, Ned.”
“Shouldn’t you be behind me?”
“Do you have a weapon?”
“Fair point.”
The door slid open and Ned’s nose was hit with a vile and familiar smell. There on the other side was the unsightly bulk of Mo, club in hand and fresh from use, followed immediately by a grinning Meanie.
Instinctively, Ned raised his ring, but even as he did so his face fell. He thought of daggers, of ice and fire, of anything, and the more he tried, the more it fizzled to nothing.
“Gotchi-gotchi, jossy-boy,” boomed Mo.
And he had. Ned wanted to scream – the two clowns were like something from a horror film, all in black but with their same brightly coloured hair and cracked make-up. Their new clothes did little to mask the stench in the windowless room, but it was their smiles that turned his stomach.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Lucy warned and closed her eyes, readying herself to use her powers when Meanie raised his musket.
“No blinky-tink, twitchy-witch, or I’s shootin’ you deadsie.”
There was literally no escape – not this time. Not even George could burst into the room, because his great protector was unconscious on the floor outside. It was then that another figure walked through the door and sealed their fate.
Sar-adin’s eyes were glowing a fiery red. He was still in his human form, but there was no mistaking the power that rippled across his skin. There were few things Ned hated more than clowns, but one of them was standing in the room right beside them. This was the Demon who had destroyed Kitty in a final furious outburst. Back then, Ned and the old Farseer had defeated Sar-adin in battle. But that was a different time, and a very different Ned.
“Murderer!” he seethed.
“Jossy-boy’s pet blob do murder! Blob kill weenie-Eanie. Only two cloons noo, two ANGRY cloons.”
“Silence!” said Sar-adin, raising his hands. His eyes glowed more brightly and his fingers began to smoke with the smell of burning sulphur.
“You failed! Your gobs are losing and you won’t get away, not this time,” said Lucy, hand gripped firmly on the handle of her blade.
Meanie, the tallest of the clowns, laughed. It was high-pitched and cruel, and Mo smiled greedily beside him.
“We not coomes for de odders. We only coomes for yous two.”
Mo and Meanie closed the gap between them till Ned’s eyes watered from their stench. Ned stepped closer to Lucy and took her hand as they shared a terrified look.
“Now, Sar-ee-dins, crushin’ and smushin’?” begged Mo.
“Yes, now,” said Sar-adin, and his hands erupted in a flash of blinding fire.
For a moment the room turned hot and white, and when Ned refocused his eyes he saw two small piles of burnt soot, smoking on the floor. Ned and Lucy stood speechless. The Demon had turned the clowns to blackened powder before their eyes.
Slowly, the fire playing across Sar-adin’s skin died out and he lowered his arms.
“Repulsive creatures, were they not? Now, I wish to speak with you. Both of you.”