Chapter Fourteen

He cocked his head to one side. He hadn't understood the question. I tried to put it another way. 'If, when this is over, there are two Martians, but only one human alive, will you have won?'

Xznaal lifted his head. I saw him standing where he was now, bathed in moonlight in the ruins of London, mist on the ground, the sky icy blue. His heavy claws were raised in triumph. The image was so strong, so familiar, that try as I might, I couldn't see it ending any other way. I was crying even before he had given his answer. I was only human, after all.

'That would be victory,' the Martian concluded.

End of extract

'They are firing on the crowd. We need an air strike,' Bambera declared. Before she had finished speaking, there was another banshee wail, another tremor as a sonic blast hit home.

'We need a miracle,' the Brigadier replied, reaching for his radio. 'And this is our last chance to make one happen. Greyhound to Eagle. Launch.'

Extract from the memoirs of Professor Bernice Summerfield

Xznaal grabbed the back of my head and forced it down onto the block. I turned my head as far as I could without breaking my neck. The axe was in his other claw.

'That's a two-handed axe,' I told him. 'Don't I get a last request? Can I call my lawyer? At least let me compose some famous last words. Sorry to babble on a bit, but if this is - as I believe it to be - "it" and I'm going to die, then I'd like to spend my last twenty seconds on this Earth swearing and generally kicking up a fuss about how unfair this all is and how I'm too young to die.'

I resolved to keep my eyes open.

Then there was the whisper.

'It ends now, Xznaal.'

The soft voice had come from all around us: echoing from the walls of the Tower, rumbling like thunder in the distant mountains. The Ice Lord was looking around, trying to locate the source of the voice.