“Who in Mashal could that be?” said Methistema after the knock on the door. “Wait here.”

She walked across the living room and through a door into the reception hall of the house. Jake, To’phoro, Yathom and Methistano went over and watched to see who was at the front entrance. To’phoro and Yathom were probably considering making a break for it now that the two adults were distracted, but they seemed to have been intrigued enough by what was happening to stay where they were for now.

Methistema undid a series of heavy locks and bolts and then opened the front door with care.

She stiffened immediately. On the other side were an old man carrying a staff, a woman with long white hair and a young girl, about Jake’s age. They were all wearing white robes with different patterns embroidered on them.

“Who are you and what do you want?” said Methistema.

Then everything went mental.

Without warning a series of black shapes hurtled into the back of the trio that were stood at the door. Just before they made impact, however, the old man span round and held up his staff, shouting something that Jake could not make out. An invisible wall seemed to block the black shapes, there was a flash of light and the man, woman and girl all fell forwards into the house, tumbling over themselves.

But what happened next really surprised Jake. Methistema, stepping out of the way of the falling visitors, reached down and pulled two long knives from out of her knee-high boots, then stabbed them downwards at the woman with white hair. The woman, at the same time, had produced a long sword, seemingly from nowhere, with which she blocked Methistema’s knives. How could this be? The new arrivals must be horrible, evil people for Methistema to attack them. They must be deserving of death.

Things only got stranger. And wilder. Just then, a series of winged reptile knights in black armour—that was the only way Jake could describe them—came in through the door, weapons drawn. The black shapes. What in hell was going on?

“Get them inside!” one of them was shouting. A deep, vicious voice. “Don’t let any of the citizens see us! Any that do, we kill!”

The front door slammed violently behind them. By this time Methistano had leapt into the fray as well. He made for the old man, aiming a ferocious punch right at his head. Again, right at the last moment, the old man twisted, dodging out of the way and sending Methistano crashing back the way he had come with a thundering blow from his staff.

The black knights fell on the three visitors with Methsistema and Methistano, slashing and stabbing and slicing all around. The white-robed girl had produced a sword as well and sprang to the defence of her older companions, joining the battle with the old people and the knights. The entrance area became a whirlwind of swords and knives, fists and staff, the owners of the house and the new arrivals becoming locked in a melee as they each fought to keep their lives—or to take the lives of the others.

Jake had no idea what to do and could only watch in shock and confusion. Whose side was he on? Should he even be on a side?

He decided he was on Methistema’s side.

There was a noise behind him. He turned. The other boys in the gang were smashing more windows and peering in through the one already broken into the living room.

“What the kak is going on in there?” said one of them.

“No clue!” said To’phoro, taking charge. “Let’s get out of here!”

They ran to jump back out of the broken windows. Jake didn’t want to leave Methistema behind, so he ran after saying “Stop! We should help them!”

“Not so fast!” said one of the black knights who had broken away from the main group. He had run into the living room and blocked their path to the windows, bearing a huge scythe. But that didn’t make sense! Jake had thought that the black knights were on the side of Methistema… So why was this one cornering them?

The knight growled at the boys, making a noise that was barely human. Jake supposed that it wasn’t. There was nothing that they could do get past. He looked to Methistema and Methistano for protection.

“Please, help us!” he cried to them.

In the adjacent room, Methistema, Methistano and the rest of the black warriors had surrounded the three white-robed visitors who stood back-to-back with each other at the centre of their vicious circle.

“What are they doing here?” somebody said. Jake couldn’t quite make out who had said it.

“They are looking for their heir,” said one of the black knights in the same deep, angry voice that had issued the commands.

“The one that was mentioned in the last directive?” Again the owner of this voice was harder to discern.

“Yes. A young boy with brown hair and a scar on his cheek. The hunt brought us here. For all we know, it might be one of those children. Kill them, Georges, for Echthros’ sake!”

The boys looked at each other. None of them had a scar on their cheek, but they each had brown hair.

The knight in front of them raised his scythe.

“NO!” shouted the woman with white hair. Somehow she had leapt over the ring of knights and was bounding towards them. She jumped again and came down with her sword just in time to parry away the swipe of the scythe which would have taken off Jake’s head.

“Run!” she yelled as she began to trade more blows with the scythe-wielder.

The white-robed woman had saved him! But Jake was too terrified to register his surprise properly. There was no time for that. He, To’phoro and Yathom all scattered in different directions, trying to find a way to get out, not understanding fully but understanding enough that someone was trying to kill them. The other soldiers were after them now too. They charged into the room, murderous cries issuing from their mouths.

“Kill the filth!”

“Spill their blood!”

“Break their bones!”

Every time a soldier came close to one of the boys, however, one out of the woman, the man, or the girl stepped in just time to block their attack and repel them. In the whirlwind of fighting, no black blade found its mark, each was turned away.

Jake darted in and out of those battling, trying to find an opening through which to escape. But each time he thought he had found one a black figure suddenly appeared in front of him, only to be met by a white figure just in time to save him, buying him time to change direction and try again, to keep looking for a way out.

He turned. In front of him now was the young girl with her sword, fighting Methistema with her two long knives.

What? That couldn’t be right. Apparently the white-clad arrivals were trying to protect them. But wasn’t Methistema on his side too? Methistema was the girl’s superior in skill and experience and was commanding the duel. But the girl . . . She seemed to possess some advantage or assistance that Methistema did not. Every time Methistema seemed to have her beaten, she would produce an unexpected flourish of her blade or spin around without looking with what seemed impossible reactions, in order to avoid the killing strike.

“Jake!” said Methistema. “Assist me!”

Without thinking about it any further, Jake ran into the back of the girl, catching her defenceless from behind as she duelled with Methistema, sending her sprawling to the floor.

“Yes!” shrieked Methistema with glee. She raised her knives high, about to skewer the girl for attacking her in her home, Jake was sure, but again, just in time the old man dived in front of her and sent his staff into her stomach with crack. Methistema was knocked back.

The girl turned to Jake. “What are you doing, you moron?!” she said. “We’re the good guys!”

“No you’re not!” said Jake. “You attacked this house late at night!”

“No we didn’t! You saw for yourself! We were just looking for someone!”

“Well who are you looking for then?”

“A girl the same age as me, who looks just like me.”

“What, you mean that girl tied up by the wall over there?”