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inevitable, the prostrate specimen lashed out with his staff, and it was his
younger rival who now sprawled on the floor.
The two mages staggered to their feet, and Armitage saw their lips moving.
The microphone in the room had been disabled long before, but the expressions
on the two subjects faces showed that fighting spirit was still strong within
each of them. Further entertainment and edification seemed to lie in store,
and the Haven man settled back in his chair to witness the final
confrontation.
The younger subject drew back his hands, a snarl of defiance on his lips, and
the other specimen prepared himself for another spell. Armitage leaned towards
the monitor in expectation of another titanic onslaught, but he gaped as a
booming voice hisown voice! blasted from the Control Room's speakers with
shattering volume.
"Stop what you are doing at once! I am your despised enemy. You remember all
that I have done to you, and you hate me for it. This order cannot be
countermanded, and you will under no circumstances obey any other order of
mine!"
The two mages stopped in their tracks. Bemusement and confusion flitted
across their faces, to be replaced by expressions of resolve and hatred, not
directed to each other, but to some common foe.
Armitage could not fathom the source of the false voice, but he knew his plan
had miscarried, and a cold, lambent frisson of fear lashed through his every
nerve."Terrence!"
Armitage shrieked the name with an urgency born of pure panic, and the senior
Technician rushed to his side, his forehead furrowed and his jaw slack.
"I swear that was nothing of my doing, Administrator, Terrence gasped. It
must have been that treacherous, whining wretch, Deeks. I've warned you about
him before."
"Deeks! This is the Administrator. Come here! Armitage yelled, but the
portly Technician did not respond. Terrence rushed away, but he returned a few
moments later, his expression blank.
"He's not here, Administrator."
Fighting to counter the panic rising within him, the Administrator turned to
his junior. D'you think that fake message will affect the security teams at
all?"
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The Technician shook his head, distracted. They'll all have heard it,
Armitage, but they're all Phase Three Pacified. The implants will sense any
deviation from nominal and adjust neurotransmitter levels accordingly. It's a
more robust method of control than Augmented Vocal Control."
"Good, Armitage snapped, grabbing a microphone. Team Seven, Team Eight,
security alert, Section Brown Nine, room 115. Respond with extreme prejudice
to all non-Haven personnel. Immediate."
With a sick feeling of anxiety, he turned back to the monitor. The older
subject, Xylox, had just blown out the door of the Test Lab, but the guards
would be there in a moment or two. He switched to the corridor circuit, and
was relieved to see the arrival of armed guards; at least they were still
loyal to him. He breathed a sigh of relief, and he felt a moment of
embarrassment at his momentary funk. As the older subject stepped into the
corridor, the guards opened fire with automatic weapons, which spat hot,
leaden death at the mage.
To Armitage's astonishment and horror, the test subject seemed unharmed by
the lethal hail of bullets, but all the guards staggered and collapsed in a
spray of blood.
Xylox turned his face upwards and gave an angry, defiant cry that was
reproduced in tinny fidelity over the speaker:"Armitage, I declare myself your
nemesis and executioner! Tremble and quail, for your end is at hand!"
"We'll see about that, Terrence grunted. He seemed far more confident than
Armitage felt. Don't worry, Administrator, I'm about to release the security
doors around their section. If we can just hold them for ten minutes or so, I
can hook up some Victor X-Ray to the ventilation shaft; we have ten canisters
in Secure Lab Nine, enough to kill ten thousand people. Those doors are
six-inch thick boride steel with internal ceramic layers; they won't get
through that in a hurry."
"Victor X-Ray? Armitage queried, his brows wrinkling.
"Nerve gas, Administrator, Terrance said. The slightest whiff of it, and
they'll be stone dead in seconds. If they hold their breath, it'll pass though
their skin and eyes. They're dead; be sure of that."
"Thank you, Terrence, Armitage said, sighing with relief. I don't mind
admitting I was beginning to get worried there, but I felt sure I could rely
on you."
* * * *
The two mages strode down the corridor in perfect synchrony, their faces
identical, impassive masks of stern intent. A few minor Haven functionaries
came out of side doors, but Grimm and Xylox paid them little heed. Their
argument was not with these minions, but with their Administrator.
"I advise you to stay in your rooms, Grimm told the wide-eyed individuals.
Stay inside, and you will be safe. I cannot vouch for your security
otherwise."
The people followed his advice with alacrity and without exception; perhaps
stupid people did not last long at Haven.
"I must confess myself a little disappointed at the lack of resistance,
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Xylox complained. I was looking forward to somewhat more of a challenge. If I
could only "
At that moment, a loud, hissing clang interrupted the older mage's monologue,
as four grey walls slammed down, penning the pair of thaumaturges in a large
metal cell.
"Is this enough of a challenge for you, Brother Mage? Grimm asked, with only
the slightest trace of sarcasm.
"Even magic-resisting iron buckles with heat, Brother. Xylox raised his
hands, screamed a spell in his unique Questor tongue, and flung a handful of
scorching magical energy at the door. Flames washed over the metal, but to no
effect. The door's surface now showed concentric circles of various colours,
but the integrity of the door appeared unaffected.
Grimm, the son and grandson of blacksmiths, could distinguish steel from pure
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