Lady Blackbird drew her sword and advanced to attack her advesary.
“En garde, Lord Scurlock!”
Lord Scurlock sighed.
It was the kind of sigh a man makes when the evening has gone badly and somebody has just spilled gin on the carpet.
He rose from the throne.
He was tall, thin, and dressed in a black coat that looked as though it had been tailored by a funeral director with a grudge.
A silver chain hung from his waist.
At the end of it was a watch.
The watch was ticking backward.
“Must we?” Scurlock asked.
Lady Blackbird lunged.
Scurlock stepped aside.
She struck the throne.
The throne screamed.
Lady Blackbird spun and attacked again.
Scurlock parried with one finger.
The blade stopped an inch from his chest.
“Good sword,” he said.
“Good finger,” she replied.
He smiled.
Then he flicked her sword across the hall.
It landed beside Captain Avery.
Avery picked it up.
“I dislike him,” he said.
“You’re not alone,” said the Guardian.
The Guardian was hiding behind engineer Leonardo.
Scurlock looked at him.
The room became colder.
“You,” he said.
The Guardian swallowed.
“Me?”
“You pulled the lever.”
“That was her.”
Scurlock walked toward them.
Behind him, the golden throne folded itself into the shape of a chair.
“Lord Scurlock,” said Avery, raising the sword, “what exactly are you planning?”
Scurlock stopped.
Through the enormous windows came the sound of something moving across the sky.
Not flying.
Dragging itself.
Scurlock glanced upward.
“For once,” he said, “I’m not planning anything.”
The marble floor trembled.
“Then what is that?”
Scurlock looked at them.
“That,” he said, “is the reason I built the door.”
Avery frowned.
“The door exploded.”
“Yes.”
“Was that part of the plan?”
Scurlock considered this.
“No.”
The ceiling cracked.
Something enormous looked down through it.
Scurlock smiled without humor.
“Now,” he said, “we may all attack together.”
ping:
Dreamquest 