Anthony Horowitz - Nightrise

And finally there were giant animals passing through the forest, high above the trees, looming up behind the army yet not quite part of it.

The first was a spider. It was about twenty metres high, standing on eight elongated legs, with a fat poison sac hanging beneath its stomach. It had two feelers that twitched in front of it as if testing the air, and great fangs dripping venom and saliva. As it turned its head, Jamie saw the army reflected many times in the glistening black mirrors that were its eyes. Once it attacked, it would be invincible. Swords and arrows would be useless against it. They might as well fight it with pins and needles.

A huge monkey had appeared next to it, jabbering and screaming with a hideous, high-pitched voice. It wasn’t muscular like an ape but almost insect-like, with a long tail and filthy, matted hair. It had only four fingers on one of its hands. As it stood there, the trees suddenly parted and a gigantic hummingbird burst into the air, its wings beating so fast they were just a blur. The bird was creating a storm around itself, whipping up dust and dead branches. A moment later another bird appeared, soaring up into the sky. This one was a condor the size of a plane. It flew overhead, its own wings thundering as they made the air shudder and vibrate.

And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, Jamie saw a single figure making his way through the middle of his army, advancing to take his place at the front. This was the commander… it had to be. He was riding on an animal that at first glance looked like a horse, but which had horns, burning red eyes and steam rising like smoke from its mouth and nostrils. Thirteen more riders surrounded him but he seemed not to notice them. His eyes were fixed on the two boys directly ahead.

“Chaos,” Scar whispered.

“What?” Jamie couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

“He has no name. But that’s what we call him. He is the King of the Old Ones.”

Jamie had to look at him twice. Once to see him. Once to understand what he was seeing.

He was human-sized, but he seemed bigger. He seemed to swallow up everything around him like a black hole in outer space. Jamie knew that he was looking at pure evil and that there was nothing more empty or more destructive in the universe. Chaos had no face. No features of any sort. With his every movement, he destroyed the area around him. He didn’t just move. Without even trying, he cut his way through the world.

Jamie had no idea how long he had been standing on the hill. He felt rooted there. Time seemed to have stopped.

The two opposing armies faced each other. Just for a moment, everything was still. The knights stopped beating their shields and silence – somehow shocking – fell onto the battleground. There was a soft breeze. The grass bent and the banners fluttered. Somewhere, a horse snorted. There were about thirty metres between Matt and Flint and the forces they had come to fight.

Chaos had reached the front. He took out his sword. Jamie heard the metal grinding as it came out of its sheath. A moment later, he spoke – but he did so without opening his mouth. The sound seemed to come from him like water rushing out of a pipe, and although he had not raised his voice above a whisper, it echoed across the battlefield and reached them high up on the hill.

“The power of the Five has been defeated,” he said. “One of you is trapped far from here and one of you has been killed. He died painfully. And now, you cannot win. Lay down your arms and I will be generous. I will give you a quick death. The rest of you I will allow to serve me. There is no need for this battle. You know it has already been won.”

Matt said nothing. Jamie saw him reach down and draw his sword. That was his answer.

The King of the Old Ones nodded slowly. He said nothing more. Suddenly he raised his weapon, lifting it above his head. It was the signal. At once there was an explosion of screaming, cheering, laughing, shouting. A thunder of hooves. A crash that might have been thunder.

The black army surged forward.

The battle had begun.

All too quickly, the killing started.

The army of the Old Ones came like a tidal wave rising up from a black and boiling sea. The slaves in the front line were the first to move, rushing forward with their axes and clubs as if they couldn’t wait for their own, inevitable deaths. Behind them the knights marched, one pace at a time, relentless, swords raised. The heads of the unicorn horses were writhing as if in pain, the metal horns stabbing at anyone who came close. Then came the man-creatures, tumbling across the field, lashing out with claws and teeth. And finally there were the monster animals. To Jamie, watching from the hilltop, they looked unstoppable. They were so huge, surely they would have been able to win this battle on their own.

The giant monkey had leapt forward into the middle of the opposing ranks. In the next few seconds, dozens of men and women were thrown aside as it swatted them with its paws, dashing them to pieces. Horses reared in terror, throwing their riders. Metal clashed against metal and in an instant the grass was splattered with blood as the first casualties fell. Jamie looked for Matt and Flint but already they had disappeared, folded into the confusion. For what had a few moments ago looked like a neat map, the forces lined up with mathematical precision, had now become a sprawling hideous mess.

Matt’s forces had begun to fight back.

The archers, positioned behind the main body of the troops, fired one volley after another, the sky darkening as hundreds of silver arrows curved overhead and fell, finding their targets. Twenty or thirty of them hit the monkey and although, in comparison to its own huge size, they were little more than needles, they stung its face and blinded one of its eyes. The monkey howled in pain, baring its teeth, but held its ground. Then there was an explosion and a white glowing missile shot past it, just missing its head. Jamie turned to see where it had come from. He had thought the cannons had opened fire, but in fact the shot had come from one of the copper pipes that he had noticed before. The pipes were a crude type of bazooka which the men had hoisted onto their shoulders and which they were aiming into the enemy forces. Jamie saw another one go off, the white-hot missile streaking through the air on a trail of smoke. This one found its target. One of the knights had broken through Matt’s lines. There was an explosion and he was gone, quite simply blown apart.

There was no way to tell where the line between the two armies had been drawn. It seemed as if both sides had abandoned any strategy as soon as the battle had begun and were now engaged in completely random, hand-to-hand combat. Matt’s soldiers were standing their ground, holding the man-creatures at bay. Yet the bodies were beginning to pile up. Medical teams were already rushing into the field with stretchers, somehow emerging again with the injured, carrying them to a makeshift hospital that had been set up among the tents. Even in these early stages, and as much as he hated to admit it, Jamie was sure he was on the losing side. The odds against them were too great.

And still Scar refused to move. Nobody had noticed her and her troops, high up on the hill overlooking the battlefield, partially concealed behind the pine trees. They were only a hundred strong – not enough to make any real difference. But Jamie couldn’t bear just standing there. He felt wretched, a coward.

“We have to go down!” he exclaimed.

“No!” Scar was furious. Her eyes were fixed on what was happening down below and her whole body seemed to be frozen.

“Why not? We’re not doing any good.”