They froze. Coming up the cargo ramp, revolvers in both hands, was a figure they all knew and had hoped to never see. The most renowned of all the Century Knights. The Archduke’s merciless attack dog: Kedmund Drave.
He was a barrel-chested man in his late forties, his clumsily assembled face scarred along the cheek and throat. Silver-grey hair was clipped close to his scalp, and he wore a suit of dull crimson armour, expertly moulded to the contours of his body by the Archduke’s master artisans. A thick black cloak displayed the Knights’ insignia in red, and the hilt of his two-handed sword could be seen rising behind his shoulder.
‘Back away from that lever,’ he commanded Frey. One revolver was trained on him; the other covered the rest of the crew. ‘Get over with your friends.’
Frey obliged. He’d sobered up fast. The effects of the alcohol had been cancelled by the chill shock of adrenaline. He wracked his brains frantically to think of a way out of this, because he knew one thing for sure: if Kedmund Drave took him in, he’d swing from the gallows.
‘Guns!’ Drave snapped, as he herded them together. ‘Knives. All of it.’
They disarmed, throwing their weapons down in a small heap in front of them. Drake looked them over critically.
‘Step back. Against the crates.’
They did as they were told.
‘Now. Who’s this Jez I heard you mention?’
‘She’s the navigator,’ Frey replied.
Drave glanced at the stairs leading out of the cargo hold. Deciding whether it was worth the risk of going up and getting her.
‘Anyone else?’
‘No,’ said Frey.
Drave took a sudden step towards them and pressed the muzzle of his revolver to Crake’s forehead. ‘If you’re lying, I’ll blow his brains out!’
Crake whimpered softly. He’d had just about enough of people putting guns to his head.
‘There’s not another soul on board!’ Frey said. He started with himself, and then pointed to each of the crew in turn. ‘Pilot. Engineer. Doctor. Navigator is in her quarters. You’ve got a full crew here. This one . . .’ he waved at Crake, ‘he’s just along for the ride.’
‘The others? The outflyers?’
‘Already gone.’
Drave glared at him, then took the revolver off Crake and backed away to a safer distance.
‘Both of them?’
‘Already gone,’ Frey repeated, shrugging. ‘They took off when they heard the Knights were on the case. Could be halfway to anywhere by now. We’re all alone here.’
Deep in the shadows between the piles of crates, two tiny lights glimmered. There was the heavy thump of a footstep and a rustle of chain mail and leather. Drave spun around to look behind him, and the colour drained from his face.
‘Well, unless you count Bess,’ Frey added, and the golem burst from
