The Mandate of Heaven by Mike Smith Page A

document, having finally lowered his pistol.  “But I cared a lot about hers.  She didn’t deserve that fate, but something, better.  She had her whole life in front of her.  I was holding her in my arms, at the very end.  As I watched her life drain away I swore to myself that I would find those responsible—”
    “Seems we did that for you,” Javier smirked, motioning to the half-dozen men around him.
    “—and watch as you all burn ,” my father hissed, venomously.
    For the full decanter of wine was no longer in his hand, but instead whirling through the air in their direction.  Shocked at the unexpected action the men automatically reacted—stepping aside, watching the spiralling bottle go end-over-end, but by doing so they all momentarily took their eyes off my father.
    I was the only one to realise that his hands were no longer empty, but now grasping the fusion pistol that he had withdrawn from the desk, at the same time he had reached for a new pen.
    The beam from the pistol instantly reached temperatures of well over one million degrees centigrade, striking the crystal decanter dead-centre, its contents instantly ignited, sending shards of glass and burning liquid spraying in all directions.  The resulting fireball engulfed the room, consuming the men arrayed around it.  Even muffled behind the door their screams of pain, as the flames consumed them, were clearly audible.  The fireball didn’t stop there however, but ignited the carpet and then the ancient books.  In the space of a few heartbeats the room turned into a scene from Dante’s Inferno.
    And into this picture, through smoke and fire, stepped my father—the devil reincarnated, with his fusion pistol glowing, the white light piercing the blaze, reaching out towards his victims, time and time again.
    The armour they wore was useless against such a thing, the beam piercing the entire way through them.  Between the smoke, flames and speed of the assault they were blinded; two dead before the others even had time to react.  Javier only saved himself at the very last moment, from the unerring accuracy of father’s pistol, when he jerked Lucas in front of him, absorbing the blast.  Discarding the now dead body, with a curse, Javier frantically tried to bring his own weapon to bear, having holstered it prior to picking up the letter.
    He would never have made it in time, as already my father was adjusting his aim to fire again, were it not for with a cry, another stepped from the flames.  His dark body armour smoking, with small patches of flames clearly visible, still burning, where the flaming liquid had engulfed him.  He towered over my father, a veritable giant of a man, possibly forty years younger and over a hundred pounds heavier.  Swinging his assault rifle as if a club, directly at my father’s head—
    My father caught the weapon with his free hand, brushing it away from him, like a bothersome gnat.   He literally tore it from the man’s grasp, negligently discarding it like a broken toy.  The man had no time to reach for another, as the fusion beam swung back around in his direction, literally decapitating him.
    Father was still turning around when the sound of another gunshot echoed around the room.
    He stood frozen in place, seemingly stunned, raising his free hand where it had instinctively covered his chest.  He stared in disbelief at the hand that came away bloodied.  Taking a faltering step back, the fusion pistol fell from his nerveless fingers, landing with a thud on the floor.  Everything was still for a moment, dark shadows dancing everywhere, cast by the flames that were now climbing the bookshelves.  Taking another step back my father collided with the desk, only then did his legs finally give out, and he slid to the floor, head resting against the side of his desk.
    Javier and the two other remaining men, took a cautious step forward, but lowered their weapons after a moment’s hesitation, when it became