stop twenty or so metres later, in a wall of brightly coloured stackable tubs. A slim wooden wardrobe stood against the wall, its double doors tied together with string. The air was colder around the wardrobe, and Drake found himself rubbing his arms to try to keep warm.
His breath clouded into mist as he opened his mouth and said, “Hello?”
No reply came. Drake took a step closer to the wardrobe. It looked like a cheap, flat-packed one, which surprised him. If the Deathblade was as powerful a weapon as War had said, why keep it in a flimsy wardrobe? In fact, why keep it in a wardrobe at all?
“Hello?” he said again, raising his voice to be heard above the low droning noise that filled this part of the cave. The voice in his head stayed silent.
Drake raised the halo, casting its eerie yellow light across the walls and the ceiling. Above the wardrobe were four large vents. The cold breeze was blowing from within them. An air-conditioning system in a land without temperature. But why?
Welcome, chimed the whispers in his brain. I am the Deathblade. Have you come to claim my power?
“Uh... yeah,” Drake said. “I think so.”
Then come. Claim the power of the Deathblade as your own. “Where are you?”
There was a pause. Guess.
“Are you... are you in the wardrobe?” Drake asked.
I am in the wardrobe, the voice confirmed.
Drake took another step. “The handles are tied together,” he said.
Oh. Right, said the Deathblade. Who’s done that, then?
“Dunno.”
Someone playing silly beggars, I expect.
“Yeah, probably,” Drake said. He felt like he was losing his already slim grip on the situation. “Want me to untie it?”
Go on, then.
Drake approached the wardrobe. The draught from the air-conditioning was freezing. His fingers were beginning to feel numb as he hooked the halo over his wrist, and reached for the knots in the string.
Oh, but before you do, the voice said, those who seek to claim the Deathblade’s power, must first face the Deathblade Guardian.
Drake stopped untying the string. He looked the wardrobe up and down, as if its expression might somehow give something away.
“Deathblade Guardian?” he asked. “What’s that?”
POP.
A few metres away on Drake’s right, the lid of one of the plastic boxes that made up the floor sprang open. It landed with a clatter somewhere close to Drake’s feet.
In the glow of the halo, Drake saw an arm pull itself free of the box. The arm was around fifty centimetres long from the tip of the fingers to the elbow, where it ended in a tangle of wires. It was metal, chrome in colour, and had pyramid-shaped spikes jutting up from every knuckle where the fingers met the hand.
Drake watched the robotic arm drag itself slowly towards him. He didn’t move back. As arms went, it was a nasty-looking one, but it was, after all, just an arm.
POP.
Another lid flew into the air behind him. Another arm, identical to the first, dragged itself out. Drake turned side-on so he could see both of them. They crawled closer, pulling themselves across the floor on their long metal fingers.
“OK...” Drake muttered, suddenly feeling much less confident.
POP, went another lid. POP. POP. POP.
Drake spun. Robotic body parts were emerging from the floor all around him, like the final act of a future-set zombie movie. Sections of upper arm and of metallic thigh wriggled like snakes across the box lids. Two armoured feet hopped towards him, their metal shins pointing towards the cave ceiling.
Drake felt the cold touch of metal against his ankle. He leaped sideways and let out a little shriek. The hand clattered back down on to the hollow floor and Drake darted a few metres to the left, keeping out of its reach.
The body parts did not move to follow him. They kept hopping and squirming and crawling towards the spot where he’d been standing. With a whirr and a clank, the forearms connected with the upper arms, and the shins joined with the metal thighs.
“What the Hell is this?” Drake muttered, as the arms reached into other boxes and pulled out more parts. A chestplate. Two round shoulders, studded with deadly-looking spikes.
There was more whirring, more clanking, as these parts and more attached themselves to one another. Drake watched, awestruck and terrified in equal measures as the limbs connected with the newly formed torso.
POP!
A final box opened. Two long, curved horns rose up, followed by a gleaming metal skull. The skull’s mouth was fixed in a malevolent grin that stretched almost all