Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

He let Shavi sink gently back to the ground and headed for a clear path. But he’d only gone a few paces before he realised that he couldn’t leave Shavi behind, whatever the cost. He ran back and before Shavi could speak, barked, ‘Don’t say anything! Just keep behind me!’

Shavi pressed against an ancient oak, continually wiping the blood from his eyes. Mallory gripped his sword tightly, set his legs apart and braced himself. It was too late to change his mind: the Lament-Brood had closed their ranks and were drawing nearer. In the dark, Mallory couldn’t work out how many were approaching, but there were certainly more than he could destroy. But if this was to be his last stand, he would go out fighting.

For half an hour, Mallory battled fiercely, the air filled with the clash of steel and the hacking of flesh as brilliant blue light soared and fizzed and flashed as though they were at the centre of an electrical storm. The bodies of the Lament-Brood piled up all around, forcing Mallory to clamber on top of them, fighting for his footing so that he could strike again and again. And still the Lament-Brood came.

For Mallory, it was his finest hour. Blood seeped from a thousand cuts. His cloak was in ribbons, his shirt sliced open so that the cold bit into his bare chest. Every muscle was on fire, every ligament hurt and exhaustion always seemed but a hair’s breadth away. But still he fought, scything and hacking, parrying, stabbing, chopping, with a skill that exceeded anything he thought he had within him.

Determination clouded his mind and weariness wrapped it in cotton wool until he had little idea how long he had been there or even what he was doing. There were only the constant shapes looming out of the night, the purple mist, the attack, the body in front of him falling, and then the next enemy approaching.

And then he found himself lashing the sword back and forth but no longer feeling the juddering impact of steel on bone. Yet still he continued to fight, blinded by the fury of battle, until he felt a hand on his shoulder and a calming voice just behind his right ear: ‘Mallory, it is over.’

It felt as if a spell had been broken. His eyes cleared to reveal a mountain of bodies, parts scattered all around. Snow was falling softly on the still, motionless copse.

The exhaustion finally caught up with him and he staggered backwards into Shavi’s arms. ‘You proved yourself a Brother of Dragons tonight,’ Shavi whispered. ‘But you must not rest yet.’ Shavi’s face was covered with dried blood, but he was smiling. ‘We must be away, Mallory. Escape, before more come.’

Mallory nodded and somehow found some last vestige of strength in his limbs. He forced his way through the trees to where the horses waited. Shavi helped Mallory into the saddle and pulled himself on to his own mount. They scanned the snow-covered countryside, saw that there were no further Lament-Brood in the immediate vicinity and then rode as fast as they could over the treacherous ground.

At first, Mallory barely had the strength to cling on, but when the lights of Oxford finally sparkled on the horizon, he raised himself up in his saddle and looked to Shavi. ‘We did all right, didn’t we? Not such a pair of losers after all. Maybe there is still hope.’

Shavi smiled. ‘There is always hope,’ the seer said.

When they entered the city’s outskirts, Mallory and Shavi dismounted. They had hoped to sneak in quietly, but there was activity ahead. A makeshift barricade was being thrown up across the road from building to building: old vehicles, metal sheeting, household furniture piled high. Sparks from welding equipment arced in several places and the screech of metal goods being dragged around reverberated loudly, punctuated by barked orders.

Mallory was just about to urge Shavi that they should find another route into the city when they were caught in a powerful beam of light. Someone shouted threateningly, ‘Who goes there?’

‘Friend,’ Mallory replied loudly. ‘Two of us.’

A small group of heavily armed soldiers advanced from behind the barricade. Mallory’s hand went to the hilt of his sword beneath the remains of his cloak. The captain of the guard led the way, his features obscured by the hood of his thermal uniform. He shone the light in Mallory’s face, then illuminated his tattered clothes.

‘You must be freezing,’ the captain said. ‘What happened to your clothes?’ He indicated the cuts. ‘You’ve been attacked?’

‘These strange creatures set on us,’ Shavi said, feigning ignorance of the situation. ‘An army of them. We were lucky to get away with our lives.’

‘How far away?’ the captain said insistently.

‘About five miles-’

‘Jesus Christ.’ The captain spun around on his heels and hollered at the men working on the defences. ‘Get a move on! The enemy is almost here!’

He turned back to Shavi and Mallory, keeping the torch on their faces; he was still suspicious. ‘You’re lucky. We’ve had orders not to let anyone inside once the barricades are up.’ He nodded to one of his men. ‘Sergeant Priest here will take you to the gate office, where you’ll be collected for debriefing. Leave your horses at the gate.’

‘Can we find somewhere to rest and get a bite to eat?’ Mallory asked.

‘In a while. We’re under martial law — no one is allowed to wander the streets without an escort. And I need all my men here.’

The captain turned brusquely away and hurried on ahead of them, while Priest led Mallory and Shavi through a small gap in the defences. The minute they were through, a large panel of rusted iron was hefted into the gap and men rushed forward with facemasks and canisters to weld it into place.

Mallory and Shavi exchanged a secret glance, but the place was swarming with soldiers and there was no way they would be able to make a run for it. The horses were led off to stabling and some much-needed food and warmth, while Mallory and Shavi were guided to a brightly lit makeshift office. Priest left them inside with a guard on the door and returned to his duties.

The warmth of the room was a fantastic relief to the two frozen men, but they barely had time to consider their options before there was an outcry at the barricade. Part of the defences had collapsed, pinning two soldiers beneath it. The guard at the door rushed to help.

Instantly, Mallory jumped to his feet and swung open the door. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, but all the soldiers were involved in either rescuing the two men or patching up the barricade.

Motioning for Shavi to follow, Mallory glided into the shadows along the row of houses, keeping low. Within a minute, they were out of sight of the barricade and running as fast as they could manage in the heavy snow.

As they approached the city centre, they came to a sharp halt. The outline of the aged buildings against the night sky was indistinct, and there appeared to be another city shimmering over the top of it like a mirage, filled with a faint blue light.

‘You see that?’ Mallory asked.

‘I do.’

‘I’ve seen something like it before. In Salisbury,’ Mallory said. ‘For a time there was a warping effect that made the Cathedral stretch through into-’

‘T’ir n’a n’Og,’ Shavi finished for him, with a hint of awe.

Mallory shrugged. ‘Whatever you want to call it. Why is it happening here?’

But Shavi was silent.

As they progressed cautiously into the heart of the still, silent city, entrancing events began to unfold around them: a tiny figure flying high over the street leaving a trail of gold sparkles behind it; a wolf with the body of a man rooting in bins down an alley at the side of a restaurant; ghostly figures fading in and out of focus, not quite human, all garishly dressed; and then in the distance, coming down somewhere in the city, what at first looked like a comet with a blue tail, but then became the Fabulous Beast Mallory had seen at Barnsley House.