‘The sword is not dead,’ said the princeling. ‘It just needs …’
His voice trailed off.
‘Fine,’ said the Cracker. ‘Then I'll be takin’ it to the Fat Man and getting all that coinage.’ He turned back to Tark and Zyra. ‘But first, I needs to be getting rid of these two.’
The Cracker punched the air in front of him and a bolt of energy sizzled towards Zyra. She jumped, rolled and sprang back to her feet with the ease of someone sitting down to tea. Meanwhile, Tark dashed for the nearest door and hid behind it.
‘Stands still my pretty bint,’ said the Cracker, all his attention focused on Zyra.
In response, Zyra flung two of her throwing stars at him.
As she did so, Tark slipped out from behind the door and raced to the next, working his way around to the Cracker.
The Cracker held up his gloved hand, palm out. The stars disintegrated in a crackle of energy.
‘Nice try,’ he said. ‘My turn.’
He pulled back his gloved fist, ready to punch another energy bolt at Zyra. Zyra cartwheeled across the whiteness, a spinning streak of red, and flung herself behind one of the doors.
The Cracker threw another energy bolt. It exploded on the door Zyra was hiding behind, but with no visible effect.
Princeling Galbrath watched as Tark slipped out from behind his current door and edged towards the former mage's robes and wand. The princeling dug in his pocket and pulled out the toad.
‘You may yet be of use to me,’ he whispered.
‘Croak,’ answered the toad.
The Cracker was about to shoot off another bolt at Zyra, when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled around and hurled a bolt at Tark instead.
Tark dived for the wand and the energy sizzled past him. He grabbed the wand and staggered to his feet as the Cracker took aim again.
The princeling also took aim and threw the toad. The former mage landed on the Cracker's head with a wet plop, distracting him from Tark. As the toad slapped a webbed foot into the Cracker's eye, the Cracker grabbed him and held him aloft, ready to dash him against the nearest door.
But Tark now had the wand, and although he had no idea how to use it, he raised it high and flicked it in the direction of the Cracker. Sparks shot from the wand and hit the toad. With a croak and a puff of purple smoke, the toad turned back into the mage and flattened the surprised Cracker.
As the smoke cleared, Tark, Zyra and Princeling Galbrath approached. The Cracker lay unconscious in a crumpled heap, the naked mage, also unconscious, beside him.
‘Now there's a sight I hope I never have the misfortune to see again,’ said the princeling. ‘For the sake of the Designers, someone cover him up!’
Zyra shuddered her agreement.
Tark scooped up the mage's purple robes and threw them down over the former toad.
‘Me thanks to ya,’ said Tark to the princeling. ‘But the sword's still mine.’
The princeling eyed Tark and then sprinted for the sword. Tark flicked the wand again. It fizzled, but did little else. He dropped it and gave chase.
The princeling dived for the discarded sword o’ light. His hand closed around the hilt as Tark landed on top of him, bringing his elbow down hard on the princeling's arm. The princeling shrieked and let go of the sword. But he also bucked and threw Tark from his back. Scrambling to his feet, the princeling made for the sword again. It was almost in his grasp, when a sizzling bolt of energy burst right next to him. He looked up to see Zyra, wearing the Cracker's energy glove and a self-satisfied grin.
‘Gives it up, snotling! The only reason ya ain't dead already is ’cause yar toad-flinging saved Tark.’
Princeling Galbrath snarled, then hung his head in defeat.
‘Rights,’ said Tark, elbowing the princeling in the back of the head as he strode past. ‘Times to enter Paradise.’
Boom!
The noise reverberated through the whiteness. Tark and Zyra froze.
Boom!
The door that Tark and Zyra had entered through shook violently.
‘Ya don'ts suppose?’ asked Zyra.
‘Nah!’ said Tark.
‘What?’ asked the princeling.
Boom!
A large dent appeared in the door.
‘Quick,’ ordered Zyra. ‘Hides the stash.’
Tark hastily concealed the shopping cart behind another door.
Boom!
The metal door buckled and twisted, then flew off its hinges. Vera stood framed in the doorway, the sewage tunnel visible behind her.
‘Run!’ hissed Zyra, and the three of them dashed for cover behind the doors.
Vera stepped into the whiteness, trailing sludge and spitting a rat tail from her mouth. She was covered in wounds and dripping blood, her pearls gone, her make-up smeared, her clothes stained and tattered. Two of the monks’ crossbow bolts still protruded from her broad back.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she shrieked, an odd quaver to her voice.
‘Doesn't nuthin’ stops that woman?’ said Tark.
‘It ain't no ordinary woman,’ replied Zyra.
‘Who is she?’ asked the princeling, eyes boggling. ‘What is she?’
Tark and Zyra ignored him.
‘Wots are we gonna do?’ asked Tark.
‘We needs the sword o’ light,’ said Zyra, turning on the princeling. ‘How do we recharge it?’
‘I'm not about to tell you that,’ said the princeling, crossing his arms. ‘I'll never get it back.’
‘If ya don't tells us, we is all done for,’ hissed Tark.
The princeling turned his back on them.
‘Why, ya little — ’ Zyra raised her gloved fist.
‘The glove!’ said Tark, excitedly. ‘That might slow her down.’
‘A whole temple full of armed monks couldn't stop her. Do ya thinks this glove's gonna do much?’
‘It's all we's got.’
‘Well, I thinks we just hides,’ said Zyra.
‘Peek-a-boo!’ screamed Vera, looking around the side of the door at them.
They nearly jumped out of their skins, but regained their senses and ran. Vera lumbered around the door.
‘I've got plenty of time,’ shouted Vera, toying with them. ‘I might even destroy the access console!’
‘Wot's that?’ asked Tark.
‘The pedestal that gives you entry to Designers Paradise,’ said the princeling. ‘Don't you know anything?’
‘Well, I guess we has gotta fight,’ said Zyra, stepping out in plain view.
Tark nodded and followed her.
‘Speak for yourselves,’ said the princeling, crouching lower.
‘All rights,’ shouted Zyra. ‘Ya wanna fight? Well heres we are.’
Vera stalked towards them.
Zyra took aim with the glove and fired three bolts of energy in quick succession. They hit Vera square in the face. The first stopped her in her tracks, the second made her stagger back, and the third knocked her off her feet.
Zyra and Tark looked at the fallen dragon's wife, then at each other.
‘Didn't expect that to work,’ said Zyra with surprise.
Princeling Galbrath joined them as they approached Vera. The flesh on her face was charred and hanging in tatters, revealing a face-shaped metal casing.
‘Wot in Designer's Paradise are ya?’ whispered Tark.
‘Vera 919,’ answered Vera, without moving her metal lips. The voice was distorted, with an electronic twang. ‘Cyborg. Wife model. Inbuilt retrieval prerogative. Special order for Edgar. Constructed by Fat Man Inc.’
‘The Fat Man has got a finger in every pie,’ said Princeling Galbrath knowingly.
‘Complete retrieval,’ said Vera.
Her hand shot up and grabbed Zyra's arm. She sat bolt upright, then stood shakily as Zyra attempted to break free.
Tark jumped back and drew the sword o’ light.
‘Tells me how to recharge it,’ he yelled at the princeling. ‘Or we is all dead.’
Vera lifted Zyra off her feet, tore the glove from her hand and enveloped her in a slow, crushing bear hug. Zyra kicked and punched and thrashed about, but Vera's arms slowly constricted, crushing the air from her lungs.