Ruler of the Realm

Thirty

The boy was a Faerie of the Light by the cut of his eyes, a raggedy lad little more than thirteen years of age. The servants had discovered him wandering on the edge of the Hairstreak Estate – quite safely since the security system hadn’t yet been armed. He claimed he’d got lost while collecting firewood for his mother, which might well have been true. There were several deprived Lighter families living on the edges of the estate and the nights were growing chill. But there’d been no fire in the cottage last night. Hairstreak’s guards had grabbed the boy and put him in a cage. It was now hanging from a tree on the main avenue as a warning to others.

‘It’s not an exact test, I suppose,’ Pelidne said quietly. ‘He’s hardly going to run towards the mansion.’

Hairstreak was watching with fascination as two of his servants lowered the cage to the ground, withdrew the bolt, then melted away into the bushes. Although he was free now, the boy stayed where he was, staring after them suspiciously.

‘Going… coming,’ Hairstreak shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter so long as the system functions properly.’

Eventually, cautiously, the boy moved to the edge of his cage and tried the door. It swung open. Still he didn’t get out. He looked up and down the main driveway as if expecting somebody to come along it and grab him.

‘Where’s the nearest node?’ Hairstreak asked curiously.

‘Less than thirty yards, sir.’

‘Which direction?’

‘Any direction. The grounds are peppered with them.’

The boy was leaving the cage now. His most predictable action would be to race along the driveway towards the main gate, but he was clearly too wary for that. He waited a moment, then seemed to make up his mind. Crouching low, he ran across the driveway in the opposite direction to the servants and disappeared between two rhododendron bushes. Hairstreak eased back on the joystick and rose to follow him.

From his new vantage point, Hairstreak could see the boy running full pelt over rough grass. As Pelidne predicted, he got less than thirty yards before a tracker emerged from its bunker and hurled itself after him.

The child didn’t stand a chance. The tracker hit him full force from the side, knocked him heavily to the ground, then leaped on to his chest, growling savagely. The boy was game, Hairstreak had to give him that. He struck out wildly and twisted desperately in an attempt to break free, but the creature sank metal teeth into his shoulder and, seconds later, the boy’s eyes rolled upwards and he lay still.

‘What’s our alert status?’ Hairstreak asked curiously.

‘Level 1, sir, for the purpose of the test: seek, hold and immobilise. At Level 2, the tracker would chew his arm off: seek, hold, immobilise and cripple. At Level 3 it kills him: lethal force authorised.’ Pelidne hesitated. ‘Would you like me to raise the alert level, sir?’

‘No, let’s wait until I have more time to enjoy it,’ Hairstreak said.

‘What do you want me to do about the boy?’ Pelidne asked.

‘When he wakes up, let him go. It’ll do no harm at all if he talks about his experience – might discourage other trespassers.’ Hairstreak began to pull off his goggles, then stopped. ‘What’s that noise?’

‘Noise, sir?’

‘High-pitched whine.’

Pelidne leaned across and made an adjustment on the control panel. A penetrating sound filled the little chamber. ‘Aircraft alert, sir.’

A look of pleased surprise flitted across Hairstreak’s features. ‘How interesting. I hadn’t realised the system detected aerial approaches.’

‘The spell-field forms a sphere, centred on the house. It detects intrusion from the air and underground. This isn’t likely to be an attack, of course – more like a commercial coach line or something of that sort. It’s sensitive enough to pick up high-altitude disturbances.’ Pelidne made another adjustment. ‘If you relax your neck muscles, sir, the goggles will automatically turn your head in the direction of the intruder and simulate an image if it’s too far away for visual detection.’

Hairstreak sat back in his chair and allowed his head to roll against the backrest. At once his perception was speeding through the air outside, zooming to a higher altitude than anything he’d so far achieved. He felt like a mountain haniel launching from a snow-covered peak.

‘It’s not a commercial coach line,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s a personal flyer.’

The whining alarm suddenly began to pulse urgently. ‘And it’s just penetrated the detection sphere,’ Pelidne said. ‘Would you like to shoot it down, sir?’

Hairstreak raised an eyebrow above his goggles. ‘Can I do that?’

Pelidne gave a bleak little smile. ‘You can even do it legally, sir – the craft has now entered our airspace. Just press the red button on the top of your joystick. The system will do the rest.’

‘Fascinating,’ Hairstreak said.

His thumb stroked the red button.