At a range of twenty metres the clamour of rounds hitting metal should have been as loud as a hailstorm on a tin roof – but instead she heard a strange echoing hiss. Little flares of light erupted across the fortress’s underside. Not sparks on the hull, but just below it, as if the bullets were being stopped before they hit—

‘It’s got a shield!’ she cried, simultaneously aware of how ridiculous it sounded – and that it was the truth. The qi energy levitating the leviathan also protected it, deflecting their attacks. Hammering the point home, one of the soldiers yelped as something hit him: a still-searing bullet, flattened by its impact against the shimmering forcefield wrapped around the fortress.

Those men familiar with the concept from superhero and fantasy movies ceased fire. It took the others a few seconds longer before they too realised that their guns were causing no damage. ‘Major! What do we do?’ one demanded.

Wu Shun watched the fortress gain height and speed as it headed for Xinengyuan’s distant sprawl. ‘We’ve got to bring it down before it reaches the city!’ The helicopters neared take-off revolutions; she moved clear of the blasting downwash.

Another soldier indicated the Z-20s’ twin miniguns. ‘Our rifles didn’t hurt it – what if those don’t?’

‘Then we need something bigger,’ she said firmly. ‘Get me the airbase!’

Nina’s rush through the lower level was disrupted first by the lurch when the fortress began its flight, then by the echoing cacophony that followed. Hundreds of oddly distorted hammer blows rang up through the floor. It took her a moment to realise that the troops on the ground were shooting at the vimana. Despite the fury of the assault, though, the bullets didn’t seem to be penetrating.

Thankful that she wasn’t about to be shot in the butt, she continued her run. Ahead was the armoury. The giant suits watched her approach through empty black eyes.

Knowing the room had no other exits, she almost ran past to head for the exterior hatch – then swerved inside as she saw the racks of spear-like Nephilim weapons. The qiguns, or baraka, as Gadreel had called them. He had used the crudely repaired core of one to kill his guards, his touch enough to trigger it. Presumably the full weapons worked in a similar, though less self-destructive, way.

If he could fire one, maybe she could too . . .

She ducked around the towering armour and pulled down one of the heavy, ungainly spears. How did it work? What she assumed was the business end was enclosed by an ovoid orichalcum cover, seams suggesting that it opened up. But how? Was there a trigger? She shoved the key into her clothing, then examined the spear as she hurried back to the entrance. The only visible feature on the shaft was an indentation about two inches across, a sliver of crystal set into polished stone within it—