“Yeoman Gillam has taken on the Armourer’s responsibilities, just until we are able to appoint a successor. He has a rather interesting idea about how we might get you inside without raising the alarm.”
LC nodded to Gillam, who blushed and eased back the lid of the box to reveal a small crown. Alfie had never seen it before. He was sure he would have remembered if he had, because along with its lush purple velvet and shiny platinum arches it was topped by the most enormous diamond he had ever seen.
“Wow, talk about bling,” said Alfie, lifting out the crown.
The immense gem was almost see-through. As he turned it, light refracted through its countless edges, dancing across his face.
“The Koh-i-Nur Diamond, Majesty,” said LC. “It means ‘Mountain of Light’. Rather apt, don’t you think? Believed to have been discovered in India some time in the thirteenth century, though its exact origins are something of a mystery. Try it on.”
Alfie felt silly putting the tiny crown on top of his head. There was no way it would fit. But the moment it touched his hair it seemed to press down on him as if he were trying to carry a gallon bucket of water on his head.
“It’s heavy!’ he cried.
“Take a look at yourself,” said LC, turning a long mirror to face him.
Alfie blinked. He was standing right in front of the mirror and yet he could not see himself. Instead all he saw were the rows of Yeoman Warders busy at their desks behind him. He spun round, then looked down at his hand. It wasn’t there.
“WHOA!”
Alfie heaved the crown off his head and tossed it back into the box. He checked the mirror and patted his body. Sure enough he could see himself again.
“Don’t ask me how it works, sir,” said LC. “Nobody knows.”
“Wait a minute,” said Alfie. “Are you telling me that all this time I’ve had a crown that can make me INVISIBLE and you’re only telling me now? Don’t you think that might have been useful, like when I was fighting for my life against those Vikings?”
“No doubt, Majesty,” said LC. “But Brian was in charge of weaponry, and he didn’t approve of using it.”
“Why not?” asked Alfie.
Yeoman Gillam finally piped up. “Probably a bit worried about the curse.”
Alfie couldn’t speak for a moment. Both LC and the beefeater were avoiding eye contact.
“Um… what curse?”
Twenty minutes later, the Defender was walking down Whitehall wearing a small crown topped with a cursed diamond, his only consolation being that he was at least entirely invisible. He loitered by the tall iron gates of Downing Street, within touching distance of three armed policemen, breathing as quietly as he could. The curse of the Koh-i-Nur Diamond was purely a legend, according to the Lord Chamberlain. Supposedly, it only affected men who wore the crown, a number of whom were said to have died rather sooner than they might have wished. While the women who wore it, such as Queen Victoria, didn’t turn invisible, they seemed to suffer no ill effects either, which felt a little unfair to Alfie. LC assured him there was no proof the curse was real, but perhaps to be on the safe side not to wear it for any longer than absolutely necessary and to be sure to take it off if he started to feel faint or sick or like he might die suddenly.
At last a civil servant trotted up to the gates waving her security pass at the policeman, and Alfie was able to scurry through behind her like a Tube fare dodger, being careful not to bump into her back. He followed the official as she hurried along the pavement and up to the grand black door with the famous number ten on it. The police constable standing guard wished her a good morning and knocked. Alfie heard the heavy clunk of a bolt being released from the other side and it swung open, letting the woman and her invisible hanger-on through. Alfie had done it; he was inside the prime minister’s house! He hurried up the wide, curving staircase past the oil portraits of prime ministers, from the very first, Sir Robert Walpole, all the way to the formidable Vanessa Thorn herself, complete with her black hair in a bun.
LC’s voice crackled in Alfie’s ear. “No time for sightseeing, Majesty. You must find the prime minister and persuade her to help us.”
Alfie wanted to snap back at LC, something about not needing a reminder of the mission, thanks very much, but he couldn’t risk talking out loud. The first and second floors were bustling with officials and house staff, so there was no taking the invisibility crown off here.
Alfie turned a corner and knocked the elbow of a young man in a suit who was hurrying past him.
“Sorry!” Alfie blurted, and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. Oops.
The staffer looked around for a moment, puzzled, before quickening his pace and disappearing into an office. Another ghost story to be added to the legends associated with the old residence.
Alfie took a deep breath, turned another corner and found himself standing right in front of the hulking figure of Agent Fulcher.
“Oh no,” said Hayley, watching the video feed.
Alfie froze. Fulcher was sitting down, resting her hand on a large silver box, while her partner Agent Turpin was arguing with a prim-looking secretary nearby.
“We’ve been waiting for an hour!”
“I know, sir, but as I told you, the prime minister’s last meeting is running late. I will let you know as soon as she is able to see you.”
Turpin grunted and returned to the waiting area. As he passed by Alfie, he stopped for a moment and sniffed the air, like a rat catching a scent. Alfie held his breath. But Turpin shrugged it off and slumped on to the chair next to his partner.
“The cheek of it, making us wait like this,” he grumbled. “She’s the one who wanted the demonstration.”
“She is the prime minister, I suppose,” muttered Fulcher.
Turpin blew out air between his teeth and folded his arms. Alfie padded to the nearest staircase.
The third floor residence was much quieter. Alfie knew that Thorn didn’t have a husband or family, so with any luck she would be alone. It might have been his imagination, but he was starting to get a headache around his temples. Was this what an ancient curse taking hold felt like? Stuff it – he removed the crown and clipped it on to his belt.
LC’s voice came in over the radio, sounding alarmed. “Majesty, I’m not sure that is wise.”
“Says the guy who gave me a cursed crown,” Alfie whispered back.
Alfie unclipped a scout orb and sent it hovering ahead of him through the maze of corridors. He followed at a safe distance, seeing in his mind’s eye what the orb was seeing, waiting for any sign of the prime minister. A security guard crossed the corridor ahead of the orb. Thinking fast, Alfie commanded the orb to set itself down on the nearest side table. The guard, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, doubled back and approached the table. Alfie watched the guard’s curious face in extreme close-up as he picked up the orb and frowned at it. Dismissing it, he put it back on the table and ambled away. Alfie waited for him to disappear before rounding the corner and retrieving the orb.
Suddenly Alfie heard a strange grunting sound coming from the other side of a door. He eased it open and poked his head in to see the prime minister, her back to him, wearing gym kit and boxing gloves, whacking a punch-bag with surprising force. His first instinct was to laugh – it was so unlike his mental image of her – but in that second she caught sight of his reflection in the window. Thorn gasped and dived for her desk – Alfie guessed she had some sort of panic button there, which would bring armed guards running. Gambling that the desk was made from British oak, he whipped his hand up and commanded it to move. The desk shot across to the other side of the room, leaving the prime minister spreadeagled on the carpet in its wake.
Alfie tried to help her up, but Thorn shook his hand away.
“Don’t touch me, you freak!” she snapped.
“I just want to talk, Prime Minister,” Alfie said in his best low superhero voice.
He knew he had to be caref
ul what he said. Any hint that beneath the Defender armour was just the boy king she loved to look down her nose at, and Thorn would never listen to him. She sat in her chair and waved a hand at the leather armchair opposite. “Fine, let’s talk. You have two minutes before I scream for help.”
Alfie sat. “The threat to the country is not over,” he said. “The Black Dragon has returned. We know who he is.”
“Who?” asked Thorn.
“I… I can’t tell you that.”
“Ha! You know nothing.”
Alfie kept his cool and continued. “The Dragon and the man who created him are the ones who raised the Vikings from the dead. They plan to use them; we’re not sure how, but we know it’s going to be … well … um… bad.”
Behind the visor, Alfie winced. He was messing this up. He could imagine LC and Hayley back in the Keep rolling their eyes as he fluffed his pitch to the PM.
“You can’t tell me this, you don’t know that…” said Thorn. “Not the most convincing argument for, what, a full deployment of the army? Nation on red alert?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” she said, apparently not phased by having a superhero sitting in her office, “I think the Vikings are long gone, back to whatever hole they crawled out from, along with our entire gold reserve. And rather than letting me get back to the business of running the country, you would have me plunge us into another full-scale panic! No, I’m more interested in who you really are. The almighty Defender. I wonder…”
Hayley screamed through the radio at Alfie: “IT’S A TRAP! MOVE!”
But before Alfie could react, the door crashed open and Fulcher burst in, carrying what looked like a ray-gun from a science-fiction movie. She pointed it at the Defender and pulled the trigger. A spiral of blue light shot out, coiling round Alfie like a serpent, pinning him to the leather armchair.
The prime minister took the portable panic alarm from her pocket and tossed it on to her desk. “Always have a back-up plan,” she said.
Alfie tried to reach his sword, but his arms were pinned to his sides. He tried to command the strange, pulsating lasers to release him, but they didn’t respond. Turpin strolled in, looking very pleased with himself.
“You wanted a demonstration, Prime Minister,” smirked Turpin. “I’d say money well spent, wouldn’t you?”
“What is this?” gasped the Defender.
“Cyclotron Particle Accelerator. Most powerful energy there is, state of the art,” boasted Turpin. “The army’s been developing them for years, but they let us borrow one after Fulcher had a word with them.”
“This is a mistake,” said Alfie. “We’re on the same side!”
He could hear shouting from the Keep over his radio, the Lord Chamberlain issuing orders.
“Hang tight, Alfie – LC is scrambling the Yeoman,” said Hayley.
Thorn circled the Defender, revelling in having him at her mercy. “We’ll see whose side you’re on,” she said. “Agent Turpin, can it remove his armour?”
Turpin nodded to Fulcher who turned a dial on the apparatus. The laser coils tightened on the Defender’s armour, twisting and gripping it with immense power. Alfie groaned in pain – it felt like someone was pulling his arms and legs from their sockets. A coil slid round his neck, squeezing till he was choking. The armour might not break, but if this carried on much longer he would have to remove it himself.
POP!
A sudden rush of warm air swept through the room and Red Robe appeared next to the Defender. Before anyone had time to react, Red Robe punched a hand through a gap in the laser ropes and touched the Defender. Both of them disappeared into thin air and the lasers, cut loose, whipped around the room for a few moments like severed power lines, sending Turpin, Fulcher and the prime minister diving for cover.
Alfie landed on his backside right outside Number Ten. Red Robe appeared beside him at the exact same moment with his hand still on his shoulder. The policeman standing guard at the door opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, then snapped out of it and scrambled to grab his radio.
“CODE ONE! INTRUDERS INSIDE EXCLUSION ZONE!”
Two other officers were already running in their direction from the black iron gates that blocked off one end of Downing Street.
“DON’T MOVE! ARMED POLICE!” they screamed, raising machine guns.
Red Robe pulled Alfie to his feet.
“I don’t know how you just did that,” said Alfie, “but I wish you’d landed us further away!”
Red Robe took his hand and gripped it tight. “Don’t let go. This might make you a little dizzy."
Gunfire erupted, but in the same split-second they disappeared again. Alfie gasped as they reappeared slap bang in in the middle of the busy road on the other side of the iron gates. An open-topped bus was bearing down on them, the driver leaning on the horn, and waving in panic behind the windscreen as the brakes screamed. Alfie screwed his eyes shut and braced for impact. But the next thing he knew he had landed with Red Robe on a quiet rooftop overlooking the road they had been standing in a moment before.
“Sorry about that,” said his saviour as he pulled Alfie away from the edge and, gliding ahead of him like a ghost, led him through a maze of air ducts, gutters and flagpoles. Across the rooftops of Whitehall, Big Ben chimed the hour. “I can only blink-shift to a place I can see.”
“Blink-shift?” asked Alfie, wary.
The leering, bug-eyed mask Red Robe was wearing was kind of freaking him out. Now that Alfie was up close, he could see it was carved out of some kind of wood and painted in faded silver and gold.
“Yeah, blink-shift. I made it up. Easier than saying ‘teleportation spell’. But it’s more like stepping stones than one giant leap,” Red Robe replied. They’d reached a fire escape on the other side of the building. “You’ll be all right from here, won’t you?”
Alfie grabbed Red Robe’s arm before he could disappear again. “Wait. Why have you been watching me? Why did you help me?”
Red Robe stroked the chin of his carved, monstrous mask. “Look, I’m supposed to be somewhere else…”
“Come on, it’s not like it’ll take you long to get there, is it?”
Red Robe laughed. “Fair enough. Well, the reason I helped you is easy. Anything for a friend, Alfie-bet!”
He removed the grinning mask to reveal a face that was very familiar to Alfie. “TONY?!” Alfie whipped off his own armour and gaped at his friend in shock.
“Surprise!” laughed Tony.
“But, how did you—? When did you—? You’re so tall!”
“Yeah, I have a little help with that.”
Tony pulled back his embroidered red cloak to reveal that he was in fact hovering two feet in the air on a curious-looking ornate green disc with a hole in the middle. On its outer edge was carved a dense pattern of Chinese characters.
“You have a hoverboard. Cool,” Alfie said.
“Ha, you’re funny, Alfie. It’s the chuán guó xi. The Heirloom Seal of the Realm. Been in my family for centuries.”
They sat down together on top of an air-conditioning unit, listening to the sirens of the police cars that were flooding the streets below. Alfie looked at his friend, amazed.
“So you didn’t know I was a blue blood too, huh?” Tony said.
“Are you kidding? I thought your dad was a banker.”
“He is. But a hundred years ago his great-great-grandfather was Emperor of China. After they ditched the monarchy our family changed its name and moved away. But our family’s powers must have stuck around.” Tony shrugged. “I’ve been blink-shifting since I was three years old. We got through so many nannies.”
Alfie smiled, amazed. “You knew all along that I was a superhero, but you didn’t say anything?”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Tony, there’s something else you should know. Richard – he’s not who he seems to be, he’s…” Alfie’s voice falt
ered.
“The Black Dragon, I know. Bummer or what?” Tony surprised Alfie with a fierce hug. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything. But it’s classified.”
“Classified?” Alfie smiled, half laughing, half-annoyed. “I am the king, you know.”
“I made a promise to someone super important that I wouldn’t tell you anything. Sorry, Alfa-betty spaghetti.” Tony pulled his staring-eye mask back on, gathered his red cloak around him and drifted to the edge of the roof. “But don’t worry, I’ll never be far away.”
“Hey, what do I call you now? You know, the other you?” Alfie asked.
“They call me Qilin. Like ‘Kill-in’ but with a Q. See you around, Mr Shiny-White-Armour-Man-on-a-Ghost-Horse.”
“Defender.”
“Yeah, that’s easier.”
Qilin gazed to the horizon, and with a pop, disappeared into thin air. Alfie thought he saw him rematerialize on a distant rooftop for a moment and wave back, before vanishing again.
LC’s voice crackled in Alfie’s ears – his radio and helmet-cam were coming back online.
“Majesty! Thank goodness! How did you escape?”
“I had a little help, actually.”
“Help? From whom?”
“A new friend. Well, old friend really, I’ll fill you in later. Has Yeoman Seabrook fetched Ellie yet?”
“He encountered some heavy traffic on the way to Wimbledon, Majesty. But he’ll be with her soon.”
“Alfie, if it’s all about to kick off,” Hayley interrupted. “You should really get back here.”
Alfie knew he should be putting the country first right now, but it felt like his family was falling apart again, just like it did when his parents split up. He had to cling on to what was left.
“No. I’m going to get Ellie myself. I won’t be long.”
Alfie summoned Wyvern and rocketed off the rooftop.
Dark Age Page 16
