Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘They’re coming from three directions.’ Hunter glanced around quickly; Laura and Mallory both knew that he was looking for a place to make a final stand. ‘Have you seen Sophie and Shavi? If we can find the Void before the rest of the Lament-Brood get here, we might actually be able to achieve something.’

‘Sophie helped me out earlier,’ Mallory said. ‘Then she drove off in the jeep with Shavi.’

‘Not seen either of them since they dropped me off,’ Laura said.

‘Where the hell are they?’ Hunter cracked his knuckles irritably, before adding to himself, ‘And where’s Hal?’

Rapid gunfire interrupted them as a small group of soldiers hurried past from the south. The leader saw Hunter and yelled, ‘Fall back! They’re coming!’ The men disappeared along Cornmarket Street. The steady tramp of thousands of feet could be heard approaching up St Aldate’s.

‘We’re going to get boxed in if we follow them,’ Mallory said.

‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ Hunter replied.

‘Shame. And it’s such a beautiful night,’ Laura said. She raised her face so that the big white flakes could settle gently on it.

Laura climbed on to Hunter’s horse and they caught up with the soldiers as they veered right into Market Street. Further along Cornmarket Street, a wall of Lament-Brood moved towards them. Mallory, Hunter and Laura galloped into Market Street, where Government workers were congregating in Jesus College and the other buildings surrounding it in a futile bid for safety.

Ahead, Hunter caught a glimpse of gold amongst the falling snow. As he neared, he saw that it was the Tuatha De Danann, their battle armour gleaming as they waited, bristling with arms. Lugh hailed them.

‘This is where we make our stand,’ Lugh said as Hunter jumped down to greet him. ‘The street is narrow enough for us to hold back the main flow of the enemy.’ He motioned behind him to the Divinity School. ‘And if we fall, you Brothers and Sisters of Dragons may retreat in there. It is defensible. You may be able to hold it for a while.’ There was little hope in Lugh’s voice, but oddly little despair, either; he acted as if impending doom was just another twist in life’s plan.

Hunter surveyed the Divinity School. It was easily the most beautiful medieval building in Oxford; he couldn’t have imagined anywhere better for a last stand. For hundreds of years, the walls had rung with the lectures and disputations of the Theology Faculty, with talk of higher purpose, of meaning. It would be a fitting context for their defeat.

Mallory gripped Llyrwyn when he saw Caitlin marching towards them from the shadows of the ancient building. Lugh held up his hand. ‘Hold your sword, Brother of Dragons. She is one of you once more. A Sister of Dragons.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Caitlin said when she stood before them. ‘I made a mess of things. But I’m all right now. I can help.’

‘How did that happen?’ Mallory asked suspiciously. He couldn’t forget the unbridled ferocity he had seen inside her on the frozen river.

‘I think saving Sophie was the key,’ Caitlin replied hesitantly. ‘I don’t know… It might have been some kind of test.’ She shrugged, smiled. ‘Whatever, I passed. The Pendragon Spirit came back into me.’ She closed her eyes beatifically, revelling in the surging energy she could feel inside her. ‘I’m a Sister of Dragons again… and I’ve still got the Morrigan inside me. But I can control her now.’

‘Nearly a full complement of the true Five,’ Mallory said.

‘Nearly.’ Hunter’s jaw was set. He wondered if Hal was really going to let them all down when they needed him the most.

The teeth-jarring drone of the King of Insects rose up once more, the noise echoing even more loudly off the closely packed buildings. Lugh gave an order in a language that Hunter couldn’t understand, and the gods fanned out across the street.

‘We should be standing with you!’ Mallory yelled to Lugh.

‘You will get your chance to fight, Brother of Dragons,’ the sun god said. ‘You form the second rank. Any of the Lament-Brood who break through must be dispatched by you.’

Hunter, Mallory, Caitlin and Laura exchanged silent glances. They all knew that it was too late to consider tactics, too late to give in to despair at their diminishing chances of survival. They were in the twilight hours and the light was fading fast. All that was left to them was to immerse themselves in the moment, to fight the battle before them, and to hope that others would save the day.

The Lament-Brood came first, a purple-tinged wave breaking against the golden shore. Hunter speculated that the King of Insects had sent them ahead to test the defences. The monstrous being hovered back, watching intensely, wasps swarming around its head. The Lament-Brood slashed and hacked with the weapons embedded in their limbs, not caring whether they lived or died. The first wave fell like corn at harvest time, but their ranks were replenished in seconds. They would not be repelled, they would not be beaten.

Even so, the Tuatha De Danann fought with breathtaking skill and fury. Hunter, a dedicated student of the art of war, had never heard of anything like it in the annals of human history. The fluid movements of the gods’ swords became a golden blur flashing back and forth, lightning strikes that sent heads and limbs flying and made a growing mountain of the desiccated, soulless bodies of the Lament-Brood. In that moment, Hunter saw clearly why the Celts had considered them gods. The Tuatha De Danann were glorious; their human form made them appear commonplace and understandable, but they were far, far beyond human, refined power like electricity briefly taking a shape humans could recognise.

Lugh was in the forefront of the battle, one foot braced against the bodies of the Lament-Brood as he cut down all who came at him, seemingly with no need for rest. To Hunter, he looked like the sun itself, for a powerful light shone off him the more invigorated he became; and seeing the dedication with which the Tuatha De Danann threw themselves into the defence of Fragile Creatures, Hunter wondered if there was a chance they could win, despite the odds.

Like the others, he was gripped by the battle and the clashing of steel, but his attention was disturbed by a presence beside him. It was Ceridwen, floating like a ghost from the Divinity School. ‘You are seeing the twilight of a race,’ she said. Tears glistened in her eyes.

And as if in answer to her words, the first of the Tuatha De Danann fell. A flurrying cloud of golden moths soared up to meet the falling snow from the place where his body had been sundered by a Lament-Brood axe. In that instant, Hunter knew that he had been fooling himself. However great the Tuatha De Danann were, they were just a handful against a multitude, and like the rocks on a beach they would slowly be eroded by the pounding waves.

Laura darted forward and retrieved the sword dropped by the departed god. She offered it to Hunter. ‘A going-away present,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Use it wisely.’

Hunter gripped it tightly, enjoying the way it appeared to sing in his hands. ‘Get set,’ he shouted.

‘There’s just too damn many of them,’ Mallory said bitterly.

Another of the gods fell in a burst of golden wings. Caitlin removed one of the axes fastened to her back. A chill ran through Hunter as he saw the odd cast of her face: the Morrigan was preparing for battle.

‘Since the first glimmer of light in the universe, my people have been bound into the heart of Existence,’ Ceridwen continued in a low, mournful tone that oddly rose above the sound of battle. ‘We thought we would always be here, always standing proud with a view across the many lands. But now our age is coming to an end.’