Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘You don’t have to die here,’ Hunter said.

Ceridwen shook her head. ‘We have chosen to make a stand with the Fragile Creatures, our kindred now. We will not let you down, whatever is to become of us. The Golden Ones will fight to the last.’

She bowed her head slightly, then returned to the Divinity School as if the battle had already ended.

At the far end of the street, beyond the looming bulk of the King of Insects, Hunter could just make out a disturbance, rapid movement, the flash of steel.

‘The Wild Hunt,’ Mallory said in awe.

Otherworldly horses, filled with power and ferocity, cut a swathe through the Lament-Brood. Their riders brought down scores of the enemy with long pikes affixed with sickle-shaped blades. Every now and then, strange red and white dogs ran up sheer walls before descending on the Lament-Brood with snapping jaws.

Though the Hunt fought ferociously in and out of the surging currents of the Lament-Brood, there were not enough of them to make any significant impact. Hunter felt his mouth grow dry, his palms sweaty, familiar signs that told him instinctively that battle was not far away.

Four more of the Tuatha De Danann fell on one edge of their defensive line, leaving a gap through which the Lament-Brood surged. Caitlin bounded forward in an instant with a blood-curdling yell and a flash of an axe, and the first of the Lament-Brood dropped to its knees, its head cleaved in two at the level of the top of its ears. Caitlin followed through with a backhand slash that took down another. And then she was fighting wildly, using not just the axe, but tearing at throats with nails and teeth if her strokes were constricted. Eyes were torn out, ribs dug open and snapped, jaws ripped off.

And then Mallory was at her side, the blazing blue flames of Llyrwyn adding a majestic counterpoint to the Morrigan’s horror of blood and death. Together they plugged the gap.

Yet there was only the briefest lull, for more gods fell at the other end of the line and Hunter threw himself into the fray to fight alongside Laura, who was using both a short sword and her own abilities to send nature rampant in the vicinity, bursting bodies with suddenly sprouting trees or tying others up in constricting ivy.

In the thick of it, there was no room for distraction; every iota of concentration and energy was given over to staying alive. Each opponent was only inches away from Hunter’s face, their eyes glassy, their flesh peeling back to reveal the bone beneath. And as each one fell, another took their place. Wounds multiplied across Hunter’s body.

Then an axe came crashing down towards him. Hunter barely avoided it, but the blow continued to fall and sheared Laura’s sword hand off at the wrist.

‘Don’t worry!’ she cried. ‘Don’t worry!’ She staggered back, clutching at the stump, her face drawn. But there was no blood.

Hunter had no chance to check whether she had crawled back to safety, for the Lament-Brood were instantly forcing their way through the gap in the line, driving the other defenders back.

‘Retreat! Regroup!’ Lugh yelled.

Hunter ran into the shadow of the Divinity School and only then did he see with dismay that a mere seven of the Tuatha De Danann remained. Lugh stood amongst them, heroically organising his dwindling band for their final stand, and though his face remained stoic and committed, Hunter knew what desperate thoughts must be raging through his head at the impending destruction of his race.

Lugh saw Hunter staring and said, ‘We stand and fall as brothers, our two peoples joined for all time. Equals. What do you say, Brother of Dragons?’

‘I say we’re proud to have you at our side, Lugh.’ Hunter’s attention was caught by Laura sitting against a wall.

‘Keep your eyes on the battle,’ she snapped. ‘I can look after myself.’

Though he couldn’t be sure, it appeared to Hunter that where her stump had been, something was growing.

Mallory was suddenly at his side. ‘This is madness. We’ve barely made a dent in the Lament-Brood and that big bastard is still waiting there, untouched. If he’s directing them, we should try to take him out.’

‘I agree,’ Hunter said. ‘But how do you propose we get through that lot?’

The next wave of Lament-Brood reached them a second later. The defenders fought furiously, but their numbers were too few. They were driven back and back, until they were pressed against the ancient brick walls. Hunter knew the signs: they were minutes from being overrun.

Another of the Tuatha De Danann fell, and then another, as Hunter yelled, ‘We can’t hold the position! Get inside the building and barricade the doors!’

But they were already too hemmed in to escape to the Divinity School’s entrance. While striking out with his sword, Lugh turned to Hunter and said, ‘Get set, Brother of Dragons. The Golden Ones will buy you time.’

Hunter knew what he meant, and felt a wave of sadness wash over him. But there was no time to consider it or even to acknowledge Lugh’s final act of sacrifice. While Hunter fought for his life against two of the Lament-Brood, Lugh drove forward with his remaining men, apparently towards the King of Insects. The Lament-Brood instantly turned all their attention on the gods.

Lugh led his men into the heart of the surging mass. There was no possible escape; blows were raining in from every side.

With Caitlin fighting a frenzied rearguard action, Hunter led Mallory and Laura through the open door of the Divinity School. Once inside, Hunter turned to look back. Golden moths were glowing amongst the snowflakes.

But Lugh fought on alone, not relenting in his determination to repel the attackers, until there was a bright flash like the sun coming up on a glorious day. When the light cleared, he was gone.

Hal refused to give in to despair. While the cries of the supernatural beings that filled the cells around him grew more frenzied with each passing hour, he had reached a Zen-like state where he had just about managed to prevent the guilt and the powerlessness from eating away at him. All his hope was placed in Hunter and the others. They would discover where he was, and then overcome all odds to free him. That was the kind of thing the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons did.

The door swung open and two armed guards stood there. ‘It’s time, traitor,’ one of them said with an underlying note of contempt. ‘We’re to take you to your place of execution.’

The hammering at the doors sounded like the end of the world. Deafening echoes reverberated so loudly throughout the Divinity School that Mallory had to yell to be heard above the din.

‘What’s the point of this?’ he shouted. ‘All we’re gaining is a few more minutes. Sooner or later they’re going to break in and this place will be a slaughter house.’

Hunter remained unaccountably calm. Though the others couldn’t see the signs in his face, Lugh’s sacrifice had affected him deeply — a higher being giving up its existence for a lesser life form; it brought sharply into relief the responsibilities that he had already accepted.

‘We’re not giving up,’ he said calmly.

The Divinity School was a long hall with a flagged stone floor and rows of tall windows on opposing walls that flooded the place with sunlight during the day. Overhead, a carved, vaulted ceiling added to the atmosphere of majesty, which coexisted uncomfortably with the chaotic sound of the Lament-Brood attempting to smash down the doors with their weapons and fists.