Bloodaxe Read online

  Worse still, the Twister was sucking the air from his lungs.

  Dizzy and gasping for breath, he could feel himself passing out.

  His eyelids grew heavy and a shadow wrapped around him.

  Everything

  became

  black.

  When Napoleon came to he was lying on his back.

  He could hear the crackling sound again. And this time he could make out some of Skin’s words: ‘Exit. Danger.’

  The words were weak, almost whispered. Skin must have been using tiny parcels of energy to help, even though all his circuits were probably fried.

  Napoleon rolled over, crawled slowly to his knees, then stood up and looked around him.

  He couldn’t see or hear clearly. Everything was blurry and muffled. But he could make out figures running towards him in the distance. They were coming closer and they seemed to be shouting at him.

  Napoleon rubbed his eyes and shook his head. The figures were shouting at him. And they looked very angry.

  They were soldiers from the King of Dublin’s army!

  The Twister had picked him up and hurled him behind enemy lines.

  ‘Skin?’ he shouted. ‘Prof? Where are you?’

  He stared at the charging warriors. Leading them was the biggest, ugliest, meanest soldier Napoleon had ever seen.

  He was shaking his sword and raging like a beast.

  Napoleon had no body armour, no weapons, no fighting software. Nothing!

  He picked up a sword. He’d fight if he had to. But what he really needed was a miracle.

  The enemy soldiers were less than twenty metres away when Napoleon heard the battle cry.

  Skin tried to translate, but only one word came through the static: ‘Valhalla!’

  Napoleon knew the rest of that battle cry. He looked up to see a group of Vikings charging across to cut off the enemy warriors.

  And Haeric was leading them!

  ‘Victory or Valhalla!’ Napoleon called to the young Viking.

  Haeric shouted back.

  Napoleon didn’t know what he said, but he saw the victory salute the prince gave as the two bands of warriors slammed into each other.

  Napoleon watched Haeric cut and thrust with his sword, leading his men on. He was about to join him when there was a crackle in his ear.

  ‘BB005? Do you read me?’

  It was the professor, her voice full of static. ‘Come in, Battle Boy. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in very deep trouble,’ he yelled back. ‘That’s where I am.’

  ‘What about Skin?’

  ‘Skin’s blown a fuse. I’m on my own and I’m caught behind enemy lines!’

  ‘You must get ready to exit,’ said the professor. ‘Do you understand? Omega Phase is rapidly approaching. Repeat, stand by for exit.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Napoleon shouted. ‘But where is the Exit Beam?’

  There was a pause, and then the professor spoke again. ‘OK, BB. I’ve got you on the screen now. Hmm. You are in deep trouble.’ Her voice was clearer now. ‘The beam is about two hundred metres to your left. Near the oak tree, by the stream.’

  Napoleon saw the beam. If Omega Phase finished before he reached the Exit Beam, he could be caught in this Battle Book for a long, long time.

  He turned to the wrangle of warring warriors and called out. ‘May victory be with you, Haeric!’

  Napoleon knew Haeric would not understand his words, even if he heard them above the battle roar. But he called out anyway.

  And Haeric shouted back, slashing his sword in the air.

  Skin did manage to translate these words: ‘Goodbye, my friend,’ Haeric had called. ‘And thanks.’

  The words came through weak and broken. Then Skin hissed and crackled, and Napoleon could smell burning fuses.

  ‘Hurry, BB!’ said the professor. ‘Not a moment to lose!’

  Napoleon sprinted across the battlefield as fast as his legs would carry him.

  He dived into the Exit Beam with only seconds left.

  ‘Yes!’ he yelled as it sucked him to safety.

  ‘It’s a tragedy!’ Professor Perdu buried her head in her hands. ‘Nothing less.’

  Napoleon was back in the Special Reading Room. He’d changed and was in the debriefing session.

  ‘You mean Skin?’ he said anxiously.

  She frowned. ‘No, Skin is fine. He just passed out, so to speak. A few fried circuits and microchips, plus one processing unit and the mother board destroyed. But all that’s replaceable. Skin will be as good as new in the morning.’

  Napoleon sighed with relief. For a while there he thought that Skin had been destroyed.

  He couldn’t imagine a mission without Skin.

  ‘I’m talking about the data,’ Professor Perdu moaned.

  ‘Oh, that,’ said Napoleon. He’d forgotten about the data.

  ‘It’s a disaster! All the data from the mission has gone. Destroyed by the Time Twister. We don’t know what happened to Haeric. The whole operation has been a total failure.’

  No, thought Napoleon. It hasn’t been a total failure.

  He’d learned something about himself on this mission.

  For a while on the battlefield, he had been totally alone.

  No Skin.

  No Prof.

  No special fighting software.

  He’d had to rely on himself.

  And he’d done OK, he reckoned.

  Haeric had done OK too.

  The Viking prince had proved himself a warrior and a real leader.

  Maybe Bloodaxe didn’t live to see that, but the king would have been proud of his son.

  As he rode home, Napoleon breathed the air deeply into his lungs and laughed.

  It had never felt so good to be alive.

  He was even glad to see Monty and Caesar.

  They were waiting at the front gate with their father.

  ‘Nice timing,’ said Captain Smythe, giving Napoleon a pat on the back. ‘We can still make that movie if you hurry.’