The gyroscopes in Napoleon’s HoverVest slowed right down and he descended until he was about fifty metres above the army. He could clearly see the legion’s standard glinting in the sun.
‘Military unit recognised. It is the legion of Suetonius, governor of the province. He is making a forced march from the north to face Boudicca.’
‘Does that mean we’re close to our target destination?’
‘Negative, BB005. The queen has two more victories before her final battle. Also, Suetonius is biding his time, trying to lure her to a battlefield that suits him best.’
‘Let’s keep going then.’
Napoleon punched the FF button and the Roman legion vanished just like the earlier one.
A town came into view when the BEK stopped next.
‘Settlement identified,’ said Skin. ‘It is the trading town known as Londinium, later to be called London.’
‘That’s London?’ Napoleon stared down at a tiny collection of houses beside a river and some wharves with boats moored to them. ‘But there’s nothing to it.’
‘It is small, yes, but it is an important Roman trading centre,’ Skin explained. ‘That is why Boudicca will burn it to the ground, as she did with Camulodunum.’
Napoleon had seen enough destruction for one day. He pressed Fast Forward again, hoping this might be the final time.
He held his breath and crossed his fingers as the BEK whizzed. When it eventually hummed to a stop he let out a whoop.
A night scene loomed on the screen.
‘I think we’re in luck at last.’
‘Affirmative,’ said Skin afer a pause. ‘Target destination identified.’
Far below, Napoleon could now see thousands of camp fires. They were in two distinct groups – one much smaller than the other.
‘That is the Roman camp,’ said Skin. ‘QuickScan with Night Eyes indicates perhaps as many as 15,000 soldiers.’
The other cluster of camp fires was enormous. It seemed to spread forever, like the lights of a vast city.
‘And that must be Boudicca’s army,’ Napoleon said.
‘Correct. QuickScan suggests a little more than 150,000 warriors.’
‘That’s ten to one against the Romans. They must be worried about tomorrow.’
‘Possibly, BB005. After all, “Boudicca” means “Victory” in the Celtic tongue. However, the Romans are professional soldiers, organised, well trained and with superior weapons. The Britons are no more than a wild rabble – brave but completely disorganised.’
Napoleon felt Boudicca’s golden torc hidden inside his vest. ‘What are we waiting for then? Let’s get down there and return the queen’s necklace before it’s too late.’
Skin activated the Boot Boosters and set the HoverVest on Descent Mode. Soon Napoleon was heading straight for Queen Boudicca’s camp.
‘I wonder where she is?’ Napoleon said as he drew closer to the Britons’ camp.
‘Scanning for Queen Boudicca now,’ Skin replied, switching the HoverVest to Float Mode.
Napoleon drifted silently over the camp while Skin’s many nano-lenses beamed back and forth, searching for the queen’s tent. It was a few hours before sunrise, and most of the Britons were asleep, including many of the guards. The camp fires had long since stopped blazing; they now glowed in the dark like thousands of red eyes. Napoleon felt as if they were watching him.
‘Target located and locked in,’ said Skin after several minutes of scanning.
There, in the very middle of the camp, was a collection of five or six tents, all bigger than any others. A chariot sat outside the biggest tent of all, two horses tethered nearby.
‘Queen Boudicca’s tent is directly below,’ said Skin.
‘Great. So all we have to do is float down, leave the golden torc, and the mission’s done.’
‘Incorrect, BB005. The mission requires that the torc be returned to a special place.’
‘Oh no. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. What special place?’
‘The Great Torc is an object of ritual importance. It will belong in a special chest or casket, hung around the neck of an idol.’
‘What? And we’ve got to find this box thing somewhere down there in those tents?’
‘Correct, BB005.’
‘Forget it, Skin. We’ll never do it.’
‘That is incorrect, BB005. Ultra-sonic scanning has already been conducted on three of the five royal tents, eliminating them. Scanning the fourth as we speak.’
Napoleon sat back and waited. He wasn’t pleased at all. Even when they did find the special box, or whatever it was, he still had to get the torc into it somehow. Boudicca’s compound was very well guarded. He could see at least six guards, and not one of them was asleep.
‘Listen, Skin, I still think that — ’
‘Sacred casket of the Great Torc located,’ said Skin. ‘Deactivating ShieldField. Descending now.’
Before Napoleon could raise any more objections, he was floating down ever so quietly in an area behind Boudicca’s cluster of tents.
‘I sure hope you know what we’re doing, Skin,’ he whispered. ‘Because I don’t.’
‘Affirmative, BB005. Please squat and cover yourself with the CamoCape at once.’
‘What?’
‘Immediately. Persons emitting high level negative vibrations are approaching.’
Napoleon instantly dropped to the ground and threw the old cloak over himself.
‘Activating Canine Hologram 03.’ No sooner had Skin said this than two very large guards came around the corner.
‘I’m sure I heard something,’ one of them grunted, his Celtic words immediately translated into English by Skin. ‘By the gods of the Sacred Grove I am.’
‘You did indeed,’ the other guard laughed. ‘’Twas a mangy dog, you fool.’
Napoleon held his breath and stayed as still as he could. The guards eventually went away. He gave a sigh of relief, but in the very next instant heard a vicious growl.
He turned around. Standing right behind him was the biggest hound, with the biggest, sharpest teeth Napoleon had ever seen. And it was about to pounce.
‘Nice doggie,’ he whispered, about to throw off the cloak. ‘I’m just a boy. Look.’
But Skin stopped him. ‘Maintain CamoCape. Activating Canine Hologram 092 at Savage Level 7. And stand up as tall as you can, BB005.’
As Napoleon was under the cloak, he couldn’t see what he looked like as Canine Hologram 092. But he must have appeared ferocious, for as soon as he stood, the hound gave a squeal and scurried off with its tail between its legs. Napoleon had never seen so much fear in a dog’s eyes. ‘Cool, Skin,’ he said as he took off the CamoCape. ‘This is my kind of cloak.’
He gazed around. ‘So this is a sacred tent, huh?’
‘Correct. This is where Queen Boudicca will come in a few hours to dress for war.’
‘And she’ll want her precious torc to be where it should be. Right?’
‘Correct again.’
‘Let do it, then.’
Napoleon used the Laser Blade on the Helping Hand to silently slice open the side of the tent, and stepped through.
Napoleon was overcome at once by the intense darkness and the smell of incense.
‘I can’t see a thing, Skin,’ he whispered. ‘Please Auto Guide me to the casket.’
He walked slowly, in small steps, allowing Skin to control his direction. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found himself standing before what looked like an altar set inside part of an old tree trunk.
Sitting on the altar was a wooden casket about a metre long. Despite the dark, Napoleon could see it quite clearly, as if it had a glow of its own. He could make out the intricate carving on the lid.
He reached down and touched the casket, running his hand over the engraved patterns and precious inlaid stones. Then he lifted the lid slowly, his heart pounding. It creaked open, revealing the head and shoulders of a fierce-looking woman carved in oak.
‘It is
an effigy of Anu,’ said Skin. ‘Celtic super-goddess, mother of all mothers, terrifying warrior and goddess of Victory.’
‘I’m glad my mum doesn’t look like that.’
‘The torc, BB005. Place it around the idol’s neck.’
Napoleon reached into his vest and removed the torc. He leaned over the idol, and was about to fold the huge band of gold around its neck when a voice made him freeze.
‘Stop. Hold it right there.’ There was a pause. ‘Turn around,’ the voice continued. ‘Slowly.’
Napoleon did as he was told, slipping the torc behind his back. He gulped at once.
A sword pointed straight at his neck; he could feel the tip of the blade on his skin. At the other end of the sword was a girl about his height. Next to her was a smaller girl. She held a spear to his chest.
It’s the daughters of Queen B, he said to Skin via a thought channel. Looks like they take afer their mum.
Correct. They have been raised in the Celtic tradition of female warriors. Make no sudden moves.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ whispered little Morrig. ‘The flying boy.’
The older girl nodded. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.
‘I’m, I’m, um,’ Napoleon suddenly realised that in the rush to launch the mission, Professor Perdu had forgotten to tell him his mission identity. But luckily Skin quickly slipped the answer into his mouth. ‘I’m Celtarn of the Trinovante tribe,’ he stuttered, his words translated into the Celtic dialect.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Rhiann.
‘I’m, I’m . . .’ Napoleon couldn’t think straight.
‘He’s hiding something behind his back,’ the little girl said, and jabbed him with the spear.
‘What have you got there,’ the teenager shouted, tightening her grip on the sword.
Napoleon had no choice. He slowly brought his hands to the front.
‘The Great Torc,’ cried Morrig. ‘He’s stealing the Great Torc.’
‘No,’ stammered Napoleon. ‘I was returning it.’
‘You must take us for fools,’ snapped Rhiann. ‘Guards,’ she shouted. ‘Come at once.
Almost immediately several guards appeared, lighting up the sacred tent with their flaming torches. Napoleon was seized before he could do anything to escape. The golden torc was ripped from his hands and he was forced to his knees.
With swords, daggers and spears pressed against him from all directions, he could not move an inch.
There was a flurry of movement outside the tent, and in the next moment Queen Boudicca entered. Behind her was a man dressed in a black hooded cloak.
He is a Druid, Skin thought channelled. High priest of the Celtic religion. He advises Boudicca on what the omens mean and what the gods say.
Napoleon heard Skin, but he was more interested in Boudicca. Even though he had already seen the queen in her chariot at the Roman temple, he still couldn’t believe how tall and imposing she was. She had blazing red hair down to her waist, a large head and shoulders, strong arms and big powerful hands. Everything about this warrior woman was overwhelming.
‘Well, well. Look who it is.’ Queen Boudicca stared down at Napoleon. ‘The flying Roman boy from the temple of Camulodunum.’
‘I’m not a Roman. I’m Celtarn of — ’ ‘He’s a thief,’ the captain of the guards said to the queen before Napoleon could finish. ‘Your daughters caught him red-handed trying to steal this.’ He held up the golden torc.
Queen Boudicca glared at Napoleon with mounting fury. ‘A thief , eh?’
‘I was not stealing the sacred torc, your Highness,’ Napoleon replied. ‘I was returning it.’
The queen laughed. ‘A likely story. You’re a demon of some sort, I can tell that much. But you won’t fly away this time. Prepare to meet your end.’
‘Please believe me. The torc had already been stolen. I was putting it back.’
Boudicca shook her head. ‘All thieves lie. And under my rule, all thieves die. Take him away.’
‘Wait your majesty.’ The Druid priest stepped forward. ‘The boy speaks the truth.’
Queen Boudicca turned to him. ‘What makes you so certain, Knower of the Oak?’
‘I know the Signs. He has them in his Aura. He is a Gatherer, your majesty, from the Timeless Realm. He returns what is ours so that he may receive what belongs to him.’
‘And what is that, Wise One?’
‘The Spirit, your Highness. He is here to receive the Spirit.’
Spirit? Napoleon thought-channelled to Skin. What’s he talking about? He seems to know more about me than me.
Before Skin could answer, the Druid spread his arms wide.
‘To the Stone with him. That is where he will receive the Spirit. Take the Gatherer to the Stone.’
Napoleon was hauled to his feet and dragged from the tent. He was led through the camp, wild faces peering at him, fingers pointing, people muttering. A crowd gathered behind as he went, following him all the way to an ancient forest of oak trees.
Napoleon felt the fear growing as he descended deeper into the gloomy woods.
‘Do not be concerned, BB005,’ Skin whispered. ‘Druid rituals are always carried out in forests.’
‘I kind of knew that, Skin. I’m just worried about what sort of ritual these guys have in mind.’
‘I repeat, BB005: do not be concerned.’
Soon they came to a clearing. In the middle of the grove was a large stone altar. Napoleon was lifted up, laid on the stone and tied down.
‘Sorry, Skin, but right now I am feeling quite concerned,’ he said. ‘I don’t like this Druid ritual one bit.’
‘There really is no need for worry,’ Skin insisted. ‘You are their honoured guest.’
Napoleon’s brain was full of questions. How did the Druid priest know he hadn’t stolen the torc? How did he know he was a Gatherer? What was a Gatherer anyway? And what was this spirit thing they were talking about? He struggled to make some sense of it all.
But about one thing he felt certain: Professor Perdu knew more than she was admitting. He had to speak to her somehow.
Many of Boudicca’s tribe were dancing around the sacred stone now, beating drums and cymbals, blowing horns and bagpipes, and singing. In fact there was so much commotion that Napoleon was able to speak to Professor Perdu on his Battle Watch.
‘You set this up, didn’t you, Prof? You knew this would happen.’
‘The torc had to be returned, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No. There’s more to this than that. You knew that the Druid was expecting me. I’m not here just to return a piece of jewellery. I’m here to collect something for you, something far more precious than the torc. I’m right, aren’t I?’ There was no reply. ‘Prof?’
‘Sorry, BB005,’ the professor said eventually. ‘But you’re breaking up. I didn’t catch what you said.’
‘You don’t fool me that easily,’ said Napoleon. ‘You heard me, Prof. And when I get back – if I get back – I want some answers from you this time. Real answers, for a change.’
‘Reception problems, BB005. Contact lost.’ Napoleon’s Battle Watch went dead.
He shook his head. ‘It’s always the same with her, isn’t it, Skin? Always putting me off, never really answering my questions. I’ve had enough of it.’
Before Skin could reply, the dancing and drumming around Napoleon rose to a crescendo. He was surrounded by a frenzy of sound and movement.
And then suddenly it all stopped. One moment the noise was deafening. The next moment there was total silence.
What’s going on? Napoleon asked Skin via the thought channel.
The time has come, BB005.
The time? What are you talking about? What time?
The time for you to receive the Spirit. It has arrived.
As Skin spoke, Napoleon realised that the Iceni were staring intensely at him, and gradually moving closer. Queen Boudicca led the tribe – her daughters on one side, the Druid priest on the ot
her – their arms outstretched, their hands reaching towards him.
Soon thousands of faces were bearing down on him, thousands more eyes burning into him, hands reaching out. And then the hands began to descend. He felt them touch him, felt them press down. Harder, they pressed, harder.
‘Easy does it, guys,’ Napoleon said. ‘That hurts.’
But they kept pressing, until it felt as if they would crush him.
Napoleon cried out, but this time no sound passed his lips; he had no voice. He was being crushed, squeezed, squashed.
And then, when the weight became more than he could stand, it happened.
‘YIKES!’
Napoleon took off. He shot up into the sky like a human rocket. He flew faster than he’d ever flown before, faster than with his Boot Boosters blasting at Level 10 Turbo.
In a millisecond he was many hundreds of metres above the ground, staring down at a battlefield bathed in early morning sunshine.
‘Wha!?!’ He tried to yell but couldn’t even catch his breath.
‘Massive energy intake,’ said Skin.
‘Feels like I’m on fire,’ said Napoleon.
Napoleon was burning hot. It was as if he had a fierce electrical storm raging in his chest, sparks flashing through his veins. He looked down at his hands; they were glowing iridescent red.
‘I am on fire.’
‘You have absorbed the whole spirit force of the Iceni tribe,’ Skin explained. ‘This has flipped you into a fluid zone where the normal dimension of time and space do not apply.’
‘What’ll happen to me?’
‘Impossible to say at this point in time. We can only monitor the situation.’ Napoleon stared down at the battlefield, feeling dizzier and hotter by the second. The field looked like a board game with thousands of tiny pieces laid out. At one end were the Romans in neat square formations. At the other end, Boudicca’s wild rabble was like a huge wave about to wash over the Romans.
‘Looks as if the battle is about to begin.’
‘Correct, BB005. But it will be over in about fifteen seconds.’
Warrior Queen Page 2
