Chapter 15As the first of a small but robust-looking squad of stern-faced native soldiers came barging into our copse, Johan was the first to react. He snatched up a flintlock and would have fired it, but by sheer luck — coupled with our own negligence — we had deposited our gear in long, wet grass, and the powder failed to ignite. Nevertheless, the aggressive gesture was obvious enough to the soldier, who swung his obsidian-bladed mace and smashed the pistol from Johan’s grasp, in several pieces. Johan fell back with a cry, clutching his broken fingers, and though Dr. Alcott endeavoured to lend him some aid, she did not even have time to examine the damage before the branches parted again to admit more soldiers and a figure no less hostile-looking, though far more extraordinary.
She look
