The Caged Griffin Read online

  He gave Rake a sly wink.

  ‘And if that thing were to come apart while you were twirling it about – well, you could easily end up clobbering yourself in the chops!’

  A sudden, agonized howl reached their ears from the Arena. It was immediately followed by an outburst of uproarious laughter from the audience.

  A broad grin spread across Hoax’s face.

  ‘And imagine how embarrassing that would be . . .’

  Chapter 2

  Decimal’s Place

  DECIMAL LIGHTLY TOUCHED the tip of his right index finger to the control screen. A stream of data flooded up the wires in his arm. The computer chips implanted in his brain fizzed into life.

  The downloaded information flashed across Decimal’s mind. He could see digital maps; readouts from scanners; data on weapons – everything he wanted to know about the soldiers and military equipment under his command.

  The Chief of Peace was pleased. Things were going well. Almost all his White Knights were in position. The last unit was being battle-tuned right now, here in the West One Peace Keep. They would soon be ready to join the attack force, bringing it to its full strength of four thousand robot troops.

  All that was needed then was the green light from the Chairman.

  If things were going to plan, the Chairman would already have made his announcement. Once the cover story about the reactor leak was in place, the Corporation’s ‘task force’ could go into action.

  Decimal twitched his right eyelid. It had a micro-switch beneath it – one of many electronic components that the Chief of Peace had chosen to have surgically added to his body. He was as much machine as human.

  The control screen filled with a vidcam image of the battle-zone. It showed the front ranks of White Knights, in precise formation, silently awaiting the order to advance. Just beyond them, a curving wall of green light rose from the ground. It was part of a vast dome of energy that enclosed a large circular area.

  Another eyelid-twitch activated the camera’s zoom. It closed in on a cluster of derelict buildings at the centre of the enclosed area – the remains of the ancient reactor. Decimal switched the camera to thermal imaging mode. He could make out the heat shadows of several bodies moving among the ruined buildings.

  Fools, he thought coldly. They don’t stand a chance. They’ll be wiped out.

  The troublemakers had been particularly foolish to hide out within striking distance of a Peace Keep. The Corporation’s fort-like Keeps stood at regular intervals all around Nu-Topia’s perimeter. The West One stronghold was an ideal command centre for Decimal’s operation.

  ‘General. Permission to report.’

  Decimal turned to look into the visored face of a White Knight, standing stiffly to attention behind him. The soldier’s gleaming armour was marked with a black shoulder flash.

  ‘Yes, Captain? What is it?’

  ‘Sir, the executive shuttle is approaching the Keep’s docking bay. Estimated time of arrival less than four minutes, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain.’

  So the Chairman was on his way. Good. Now the party could really get started . . .

  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 meda
llion 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.’

  Chapter 4

  Message in a Beetle

  ‘. . . AND THIS MORNING’S top news once more,’ drawled the holovid newsreader. ‘Following yesterday’s discovery of a toxic leak at the derelict Epsilon power station, the Board of Directors has announced that an exclusion zone has been set up around the reactor. Members of the public will not be allowed within three kilometres of the site. In a statement last night, the Chairman said that this measure was one of several being taken by Perfect Corp to ensure the continued safety of Nu-Topia’s citizens.’

  Hoax looked up from his bowl of lukewarm nutri-gruel and gave a snort.

  ‘Safety, my backside! He’s up to something out there on the Limits, or I’m a Venusian.’

  Rake took a final reluctant mouthful from his own bowl of grey gloop, then shoved it away in disgust.

  ‘Certainly smells a bit fishy, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What?’ smirked Hoax. ‘The leak story or your porridge?’

  Snow sat opposite the two boys on one of the long benches of the Academy canteen. The hall was warm and airless, and filled with the chatter of the many cadets and Gladiators who lined its tables. For anyone who had had very little sleep – like the three young Armouron – it was an unpleasant atmosphere. The mornings after their secret night-time training sessions were always a struggle.

  The news update was being projected in the centre of each table. The three friends watched bleary-eyed as the bulletin continued. The familiar face of the Chairman suddenly occupied the space before them.

  ‘The situation, though serious, has been brought under control by the swift and courageous action of our White Knight task force . . .’

  ‘Kettles can’t be courageous,’ grumbled Hoax. ‘They’re androids.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Rake. ‘But the rest of Nu-Topia still buy the Corporation’s line – that they’re “elite human troops”. They’ll be cheering them on too.’

  Hoax shook his head despairingly.

  ‘. . . under General Decimal’s direction,’ oozed the Corporation boss, ‘a state-of-the-art containment field – an electromagnetic barrier – has been set up around the danger area. Nothing can pass through it. The handling of this crisis once again shows that under Perfect Corporation management . . .’

  The Chairman gave his trademark smile.

  ‘. . . it’s a Perfect World.’

  As the holovid winked out, Snow pulled a face.

  ‘Urgh! That man’s oilier than canteen custard!’

  The boys chuckled their agreement.

  ‘I wonder where Oddball is,’ said Rake. ‘He never came to bed. Must’ve been up all night tinkering with that beetle thing.’

  ‘Well, if anyone can figure out what it is, Oddball can,’ said Hoax. ‘Nobody knows their way round mechanical stuff better than he does.’

  ‘Do you know what I reckon it is?’ mused Rake. ‘I reckon—’

  But the others never heard his theory. At that moment, the tall, thin figure of Brand came striding towards their table, a severe expression on his face.

  ‘Right, you three!’ he snapped. ‘You’re to come with me immediately. Punishment detail!’

  A hush fell over the hall as the cadets on the neighbouring tables stopped chattering. They were keen to see what had got Brand fired up.

  ‘Punishment?’ asked Rake, puzzled. ‘What for?’

  The wiry supervisor gave him a nasty look. ‘You know what for, boy! Master Salt has heard about the little stunt you pulled in the Arena yesterday.’

  He nodded to where the Gladiators sat at the top end of the hall. Stamper was watching them with a satisfied sneer on his face – and a very obvi
ously blackened left eye.

  ‘I don’t follow,’ protested Rake innocently.

  Brand leaned towards him.

  ‘Either you or one of your friends here was responsible for tampering with a Gladiator’s equipment,’ he hissed. ‘If it wasn’t you, then perhaps you’d care to give me a name . . .’

  Rake shrugged.

  ‘Sorry – dunno what the clack you’re talking about. I heard Stamper was just so clumsy he whacked himself in the eye.’

  Hoax and Snow tried, unsuccessfully, to hide their smirks. Brand’s face reddened.

  ‘I imagine the three of you will be less pleased with yourselves once you’ve spent the next three days engaged in the task Salt has devised as your punishment.’ He gave a cruel smile. ‘Cleaning out the stinking, rat-infested drainage tunnels in the bowels of our Academy’s ancient foundations. No breaks, no meals, no sleep.’ His leer widened. ‘That will be fun, won’t it?’

  He stepped back and resumed his fierce scowl.

  ‘Now – move it!’

  Brand was right – the old tunnels really did stink. The part of the Old School where the Armouron met secretly had a pleasantly cool, earthy atmosphere. But this area was altogether different. As Brand marched them along yet another dingy, damp passageway, the cadets wrinkled their noses against the foul smell.

  From the shadows up ahead, an opening appeared in the passageway’s wall. Through it, a set of spiralling stone steps descended into darkness.

  ‘Down there!’ snapped Brand, giving Rake an impatient shove.

  The stairs led to a small, badly lit chamber. There was someone waiting for them in the gloom. It was Salt, stony-faced. Oddball stood beside him, looking decidedly glum.

  Salt said nothing by way of greeting, but nodded to Brand as he emerged from the stairwell behind them.

  ‘I found these three at breakfast,’ reported the supervisor. ‘I see you’ve already tracked down the other one.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Brand,’ growled Salt. ‘You may leave them to me.’ He cast a harsh gaze across the four youngsters. ‘As their supervisor, their foolish behaviour has caused me much embarrassment. I wish to oversee their punishment personally.’