up into the air, while the other clattered against the ground, throwing out a spray of angry sparks.
“Famine, War’s down!” Pest yelped. “Help him!”
“Bit busy,” Famine grunted. He was careening round in circles, his scooter tilting on to two wheels as he tried to outrun another of the robotic orbs.
“Yah!” cried Pest, and his horse raced towards the fallen War. Two of the spheres raced to intercept him, and he dismounted mid-gallop, letting the horse continue on. The spheres didn’t react quickly enough. They continued to chase the horse, leaving Pestilence free to pick up War’s fallen sword.
“Flippin’ Nora, what’s that made of?” he winced, as he tried to raise the weapon off the ground. His knees almost buckled as he lifted it with both arms. “Right,” he said, using all his strength to raise the blade above his head. He took aim at the sphere that had immobilised War. “Have some of this!”
Pest tried to bring the sword swinging down, but he couldn’t summon the energy. His eyes opened wide with surprise as he began to topple backwards, pulled by the weapon’s weight.
The sword clanked against the pavement as Pest landed in a heap on the ground. Frantically, he tried to get to his feet, but the two spheres that had been chasing the horse had now realised their mistake.
Whirling saw-blades emerged from within both balls as they spun towards him, closer and closer, the saws’ teeth chewing hungrily at the air.
Screaming, Pest kicked backwards across the tarmac, his face fixed in a mask of terror. He raised his hands, the shreds of melted rubber still clinging to his fingers.
“Virus thing, virus thing!” he wailed, trying to repeat his earlier trick. But he had no idea how he’d done it then, and no ones or zeroes were flying from his fingertips now.
With a whine of their blades, both spheres picked up speed and lunged at the fallen horseman. A blur of black collided with one of the spheres, sending it bouncing along the road.
“Gotcha!” Famine cried, skidding his scooter round in a one-eighty degree spin. The sphere’s blade retracted, allowing it to roll across the concrete. It hurtled after the scooter, picking up speed with every bouncing roll.
Famine jumped from the moving scooter. Jumping was not something he did often, but, despite the size of him, it was something he did rather well. He sailed through the air, like a wrestler off the top turnbuckle, his arms and legs splayed wide.
His full weight came down on top of the sphere, and kept going until it hit the ground. He lay there, wobbling gently for a few seconds, before he rolled on to his back. A thin oblong sheet of metal remained on the ground where he had landed.
“Get away, get away, get away!”
Famine tried to sit up, but his stomach got in the way. He could only lift his head, could only watch as the spinning blade of the other sphere closed in on Pestilence.
“Pest!” he bellowed. “Look out!”
That, Pest thought, was probably the most pointless thing Famine had ever said, but there was no time to tell him that. There was no time for anything but closing his eyes and holding his hands in front of his face. He hoped he cut open easily. He could imagine nothing worse than the blade having to hack repeatedly at his flesh and sinew as it tried to slice its way through him, but it would be just his bloody luck.
The sphere shattered like a conker as another of the balls smashed down hard against it. Pest looked up to find War standing on trembling legs, sparks dancing along his beard.
The barbed hook was still attached to the back of his neck, but War had managed to grab hold of the wire that tethered him to the sphere. He roared with pain as he swung the ball round in a wide circle above his head, making it whum-whum-whum as it looped round and round.
And then, with a vaguely comical twang, the cable snapped. The sphere arced through the air before bouncing off the barrier surrounding the approaching robot.
“Shield’s still there,” War announced. He tore the hook from his neck and stretched his cramped muscles. Then, smoothing down his beard, he retrieved his sword.
The sounds of screaming were getting more distant as people saw sense and started legging it to safety. That was one problem taken care of. Unfortunately, there were plenty more problems where that came from.
Five more spheres hung in