Molly fell back to give me room to work, but she wouldn’t leave me. She muttered fiercely under her breath, trying to put together some combination of magics that might work. I had confidence in her. After all, she did have a lot of experience when it came to fighting Droods.
I cut viciously at Uriel with my golden blade, and he parried my every move with his flaming sword. I was grunting with the effort of each blow now, but he never made a sound. The edge of my sword slammed into his left shoulder, opening up a long cut in his armour, but no blood flew. I cut him again and again, but he never cried out once. The armour repaired itself, and the Angel fought on. A slow chill ran through me as I wondered what, exactly, was underneath that armour.
Molly yelled for me to get out of the way. I disengaged and stumbled back, gasping for breath. Molly conjured up a bottomless hole under Uriel’s feet. He dropped into it a few inches, and then his great wings cupped the air and he shot up into the sky, leaving us behind. He dropped down again some distance away, looking for new prey. I thrust my sword into the ground and leaned on it tiredly. Molly came over to join me.
“You forgot about the wings?” I said. “Really?”
“Don’t nag,” said Molly.
She closed the bottomless hole with a gesture, while I looked around to see how the rest of my family was doing.
The Angels were surrounded by armoured Droods, throwing themselves forward from all sides. But the Angelic Droods wielded their flaming swords with inhuman speed and power, slicing through my family’s armour almost at will. Droods cried out and fell, and the Angels stepped over the dead and kicked the wounded aside to get to their next victim. Our numbers were enough to slow the Angels, but that was all. Some Droods threw themselves bodily at the Angels and hung on to their arms and shoulders, trying to drag them down through sheer weight of numbers. But the Angels just shrugged them off with superhuman strength and kept fighting.
Droods were falling everywhere now. Their armour protected them from everything short of a direct hit, and even when the armour was broached it repaired itself. But the men and women inside the armour stayed hurt. More and more were falling to the churned-up, blood-soaked ground and not rising again. None of the other Droods would retreat from the fight, not while the family was under threat, so they fought on. Until they fell or died. There was always someone to step forward and take their place, because they knew their duty. Anything for the family. The Angelic Droods kept fighting, their flaming swords rising and falling with cold, implacable fury. Now and again a Drood would risk everything to get close enough to run an Angel through with their golden blade, but the Angel seemed to take no hurt at all.
“That is still Heart armour, right?” said Molly. “So if we can just wear the Angels down, their armour will run out of energy?”
“That’s the theory,” I said. “Though I don’t recall it working too well with the Demon Droods.”
“Maybe you should call on the Pook again.”
“He never leaves the Old Library. Besides, he’s probably full.”
“You ready to go back to work?” said Molly.
“I’ve got my second wind,” I said.
I hadn’t, but I couldn’t stand around any longer and watch my family suffer. I summoned up what was left of my strength and raised my sword, and the Matriarch’s voice rose sharply above the clamour.
“Fall back! Everyone get away from the Angelic Droods! The defences in the grounds have been activated; let them do their work!”
All across the lawns, armoured Droods retired thankfully. Some leaning on others, some having to be carried or dragged. The Angels held their positions, looking around uncertainly. They didn’t know about all the terrible things we’d installed as ground defences since their time. I smiled harshly behind my mask; they had no idea of what was about to hit them.
My family had learned a lot since the last few times our grounds were invaded. By the Springheel Jacks and the Accelerated Men and the Dancing Dead. We’d put all kinds of hidden weapons in place to slow down, disorient, or just kill the hell out of the unwary enemy. Scientific and magical, laterally minded, and downright vicious. Because whoever invades our grounds and dares to threaten us where we live has already thrown away the rule book and deserves everything that happens to them. The defences are there to do the things we don’t want to do ourselves, because it would take too long to clean the blood off our armour afterwards.
I saw the Sarjeant-at-Arms gesture sharply, and all hell broke loose.
Tanglefields—shimmering energy fields that jumped up out of nowhere to wrap themselves around the Angels and drag them down—erupted around the Angelic Droods. The fields caught three of them before the rest shot up into the sky. Ravening energies crawled all over the trapped Angels as they struggled and kicked helplessly on the ground. The energies tightened, scarring the Angels’ armour like living barbed wire until it began to crack open under the pressure. Some of my family started cheering, only to break off as one Angel lurched to his feet and threw the energies off him with one great shrug of his golden wings. The other two did the same, and tanglefields that could have wrecked a tank or crushed a golem just disappeared.
“That shouldn’t have been possible,” I said numbly.
“Must be the angelic nature,” said Molly. “They’re not just material beings any more.”
“That’s . . . disturbing.”
“Well, yes. Feel free to file a complaint later, if your family has a Tough Shit Department.”
Two Angels dropped down out of the sky, thinking the area was safe now. The moment they landed, teleport mines activated, and sent a hundred different parts of them to a hundred different locations across the grounds. My family cheered again as bits and pieces of Angels pattered down over the lawns, only to break off again as they realised each piece was still wrapped in golden armour. The teleported pieces had barely touched the ground before they went shooting back across the lawns to recombine into the two Angels. Who appeared entirely unaffected by the experience.
“Okay,” I said. “That is hardcore.”
“Heavenly hardcore,” said Molly. “What are they inside that armour?”
“God knows,” I said. “What is made on Heaven’s loom cannot be unmade in the material world.”
Molly looked at me. “What?”
“I was quoting,” I said. “From Jane’s Guide to Angels.”
“You’ve read up on angels?”
“Know thy enemy.”
More hidden weapons manifested across the grounds, rising up out of hidden bunkers. Time Bombs, Warp Spasms, and Reality Inverters; vicious and powerful, but none of them enough to stop the Angelic Droods. The brightly shining winged figures were hit again and again by forces designed to bring down whole armies, and didn’t flinch once. Because things of the material world held no terrors for them. The Armourer charged forward, strange new weapons shimmering in their hands. Their lab assistants followed close behind, each of them armed with something foul and awful. They hit the Angels with everything they had, unloosing terrible energies that had no place in any sane world, but the Angelic Droods just shrugged them off.
They surged forward, flaming swords in their hands, and Maxwell and Victoria had no choice but to throw aside their useless tech and grow their own golden swords. They went to meet the Angels, and the lab assistants were right behind them, manifesting strange golden weapons of their own. They fought bravely, until the Angels struck them down. Because they were Droods, and because they were devoted to their Armourer. Maxwell and Victoria fought side by side, and then back to back, and would not leave the field—because they were Droods, and because they were devoted to their assistants.
One Angelic Drood headed straight for the Matriarch, cutting down everyone who got in his way. She didn’t flinch, holding her sword at the ready, but the Sarjeant-at-Arms was quickly there to stand between the M
atriarch and the Angel. The only Drood who hadn’t armoured up. Two really big and ugly guns appeared in his hands. He opened fire, and the Angel lurched and staggered under the impact. But he didn’t fall. The guns disappeared from the Sarjeant’s hands, to be replaced by two disturbing alien things I didn’t even recognise. He fired again, and the Angel’s armour twisted and deformed under the ravening energies. Only to repair itself, almost immediately. The Sarjeant cursed dispassionately, and the weapons disappeared from his hands. He put on his armour at last, and filled his hands with a huge double-headed golden war-axe. He hefted it thoughtfully, and strode forward to face the Angelic Drood. The Matriarch went with him, golden sword at the ready. Because they were Droods, and knew their duty.
I ran to join them, with Molly pounding gamely along beside me. Maggie was still my Matriarch, and the family needed her more than it needed a field agent who was already dying. I hit the Angel from behind, my sword slicing right through his spine. He fell to one knee, but his armour had already sealed over whatever damage I might have done to the body beneath. I cut at the Angel again and again while it was down, but it was all I could do to hold it there. Molly whooped loudly and jumped up onto the Angel’s shoulders. She placed both hands flat on either side of his golden head, and terrible energies erupted between them. The Angel screamed and threw her off. Molly hit the grass rolling, and was quickly back on her feet. The Angel opened his wings and shot up into the sky, still screaming.
I raised a golden hand and Molly high-fived me. The Sarjeant was already looking round for another enemy. The Matriarch nodded briskly to me.
“We have to keep the Angels out of the Hall. If they gain access to some of the things we keep in there these days . . .”
“Like Alpha Red Alpha?” I said. “Or the Armageddon Codex?”
“You had to say that out loud, didn’t you?” said the Sarjeant. “But there is still something else we can try . . . All Droods: Fall back to the Hall! Do it now!”
The Droods turned as one and hurried back to the Hall. I think a lot of them were glad for an excuse. I went back with the Matriarch, Molly sticking close beside me. The Sarjeant fell back step by step, keeping a careful watch on the Angelic Droods. The surviving lab assistants were the last to leave the field, because they practically had to drag the Armourer along with them. Maxwell and Victoria were taking the deaths of their assistants personally. Pretty soon, all the Droods had lined up together, forming a golden barrier in front of the Hall. The Angelic Droods stood together, watching us, no doubt suspecting a trap. The Sarjeant-at-Arms laughed briefly. A dark, disturbing sound.
“That’s right. Make yourselves a good target.”
“What have you got in mind, Sarjeant?” I said breathlessly. “What is there that’s left?”
“The robot guns,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? Your guns didn’t do much good!”
“The robot guns have been upgraded,” said the Sarjeant.
He nodded to the Matriarch, and she spoke a Word loudly. All across the grounds robot guns rose from their hidden emplacements underneath the lawns. Long barrels whirred loudly as they turned to target the Angelic Droods, and then they all opened fire at once. The sound of dozens of robot guns firing together was painfully loud, and the Angels staggered back and forth as they were pounded repeatedly from every side.
“Steel and silver bullets, blessed and cursed,” said the Sarjeant, smiling unpleasantly. “Depleted uranium and magical crystals. Along with a whole bunch of alien stuff we don’t even have names for yet, that can do very nasty things to living tissues. Some so appalling they even disturbed the crap out of the lab assistants.”
“All very impressive,” I said. “But I can’t help noticing that none of the Angels are falling.”
Some bullets ricocheted away from the Angels’ armour, and some punched right through. The sheer impact of so many hits drove the Angels this way and that, but still they refused to fall. One by one the robot guns fell silent as they ran out of ammunition. The thunder of the guns died away until only a few guns were left firing, and then one . . . and then none. The long barrels swung back and forth, targeting one Angel or another, but there was nothing more they could do. The Angelic Droods slowly straightened up and looked at us. The Sarjeant-at-Arms swore briefly.
“What is the world coming to, when you can’t rely on really big guns to get the job done?”
“You know,” said Molly, “we could just scatter. Run in all directions. They couldn’t follow everyone.”
“They’d never stop coming after us,” I said. “You heard Uriel. They want every single one of us dead.”
“Besides,” said the Matriarch, “Droods only run one way: towards the enemy. Sarjeant-at-Arms, take the lead.”
“An honour, Matriarch,” said the Sarjeant. “Droods! Form up behind me! Let’s show these Angels what hell on earth is really like!”
He sprinted forward, with the Matriarch running at his side. I was right behind them, with Molly at my side, and the Armourer and their lab assistants were right behind us. And after them came the rest of my family. Droods in their armour, who would not be intimidated by anyone.
We charged across the churned-up mud of what had been our lawns, our heavy feet throwing dirt and grass in every direction, to hit the Angelic Droods head-on. Because there was nothing else left to do. The Angels stood their ground and waited for us, flaming swords in their hands. We slammed into them like an incoming wave crashing against the rocks. An overwhelming force hitting an immovable object. Flaming swords and golden blades rose and fell. Molly used her magic to shield as many Droods as she could, to give them a fighting chance, but I could see the strength going out of her with every spell she cast. Until only her iron will kept her on her feet. She’d been through so much, and even the infamous wild witch of the woods had her limits. There was nothing I could do to help her, so I just threw myself at the nearest Angel and hit him with everything I had.
The tides of battle rolled this way and that, the Angelic Droods driven back and forth by the sheer pressure of numbers, but even when an Angel fell under a dozen hacking blades, they always rose up again. I heard the Matriarch cry out, and looked round to see an Angel drop out of the sky like a golden bird of prey, heading straight for her. Somehow she’d been caught out in the open, on her own. The Angel brought his flaming sword crashing down, backed by the momentum of his descent, and although the Matriarch braced herself and brought up her golden sword to parry the blow, the impact was enough to knock her off her feet. She sprawled helplessly on the grass, only half-conscious, her golden sword disappearing from her hand. The Angel crashed to earth standing astride her and raised his flaming sword with both hands—to stab her through the chest and pin her to the ground.
I ran forward, crying out loudly to distract the Angel, but he didn’t even look round. There was no way I could get to them in time. And then Peter appeared out of nowhere, not even wearing his armour, to stand defiantly between the Matriarch and the Angel. The flaming sword punched through his chest and out his back, in a thick gout of blood. Peter cried out once, a soft old man’s sound, but he didn’t fall. Somehow he still stood his ground, and grabbed the Angel’s wrist with his bare hands. Smiling grimly.
“We’ve learned some new tricks since your time. Like a close-range self-destruct, built into a very-secret agent’s armour. For when you absolutely have to take your enemy with you. Anything for the family.”
He spoke a Word, and his torc exploded. Peter and the Angel disappeared in a blast of intense light, and when it faded away there was no trace left of either of them. The last of the very-secret agents was dead, following his duty to the end. The twelve remaining Angels put back their heads and let out a single harsh, desolate howl. As though they couldn’t believe one of them was gone. That such a thing should even be possible.
Everyone stood still, caught up in the moment.
And then another Angelic Drood headed straight for the Matriarch. She scrambled up onto her feet to meet him, her sword back in her hand. But now I was close enough to intercept the Angel. I had no intention of duelling this one, because that hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Instead I pulled my sword back into my glove and put all my energy into running. So that when the Angel finally went for the Matriarch I was there to throw myself at him and haul him down onto the ground. He tried to stab me with his flaming sword, but couldn’t find a way to drive it home at such close range. We rolled back and forth on the grass, trading blows with all the strength our armour could provide.
I grabbed hold of the Angel’s throat with both hands and pressed down hard. I’d remembered an old trick, that strong armour can sometimes override lesser armour, if the wearer’s will is up to it. I locked my golden hands onto the armoured throat and concentrated, and my hands passed through both sets of armour to reach and fasten onto the bare flesh beneath. For all its angelic nature, it felt like a perfectly ordinary throat to me. So with a cold, inflexible rage I throttled the life out of the Angelic Drood.
He kicked and struggled beneath me, slamming blows into my side so hard they hurt me even through my armour. He dismissed his flaming sword so he could grab my wrists with both hands, but he couldn’t break my hold and he couldn’t shake me off. I strangled him, pressing down with all my strength, until finally I realised that he had stopped breathing and stopped moving. It took a long moment before I could make myself let go of him. Behind my golden mask, my lips had drawn back into a death’s-head grin.
He killed Peter. He tried to kill the Matriarch. The Angels wanted my whole family dead. They had no mercy in them, and neither did I.
I got to my feet, breathing raggedly. I’d taken a lot of punishment from the Angel before he died, and it was all I could do to stand upright. My wounded arm ached fiercely; I must have opened the cut again. But still my armour held me up. I looked down at the dead Angel, and wanted to say That was for you, Peter. But I just didn’t have the strength.
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