A dark form sprang forward. Dodinal felt the air rush across his face as its claws swept past him. Hell, but those things could move. If he had not instinctively jerked his head back, the creature would have taken his face off.
Its momentum threw it off-balance. It was too close for the sword to be of any use, so Dodinal slammed the shield against the back of its head, knocking it to the ground. The blow should have caved its skull in but it leapt to its feet and scrambled back before rounding on Dodinal, growling but staying just beyond the blade’s reach.
The smaller creature leapt down from the roof and joined the others. They attacked as one, scarcely making a sound as they tore across the ground towards the waiting men.
Dodinal stood firm, as did the villagers who had spread out to either side of him. As soon as the creatures were within reach, he thrust and slashed with the sword, lashing out wildly, using the shield to deflect the swiping blows aimed at him, some striking it with enough force to splinter the wood.
The beasts had no fear. They darted around at dizzying speed, fighting with jaws and claws. A man to Dodinal’s right screamed as one of the creatures snapped its teeth shut on his groin, and shook its head like a terrier worrying a rat. When the man lost his balance and fell, it let go of his groin, twisted and buried its head in his throat. With a wet ripping sound, the man’s screams were abruptly cut off.
Idris wielded his blade with reckless abandon, exhaustion forgotten. His voice rose above the din as he bellowed taunts and insults at the foes that scurried around him. When one of the creatures barrelled into the man at his side, upending him, Idris deftly spun the sword and rammed it deep into the thing’s flank. His roar was louder than its squeal of pain. They were fighting for their lives, and the chieftain relished every minute of it.
Dogs were unleashed to join the fray. They fell upon the creatures but were torn apart. Dodinal saw men go down. More wives widowed, more children doomed to grow up without fathers. Rage flared inside him, and he struggled to contain it. He could hurt people, kill them even, if he gave in to his anger, which did not distinguish friend from foe. Yet not giving in would get them all killed.
By now the creatures were cut and bleeding. Their movements were slowing down, but none had fallen. A sick feeling came over Dodinal. This was a battle they could not win. The villagers were brave but unskilled fighters. The creatures were fewer in number, but had strength and ferocity to compensate. Unless he could tilt the odds in their favour the men would not live to see daylight.
Slowly but surely they were forced to give ground. He realised the creatures were driving them deeper into the village, herding them like cattle. They must have sniffed out what was inside the Great Hall and were forcing the men away from it to leave the women and children vulnerable. Even as the thought occurred to him, the largest creature peeled away from the pack and leapt onto the roof.
Its weight was too much for the supports to bear. Splintering and cracking, the roof gave way beneath it. The creature tried to scramble clear, claws scrambling for purchase on the wooden struts beneath the thatch, and Dodinal watched in horror as it plunged out of sight, howling as it vanished inside the hut.
THIRTEEN
For a moment both sides froze, as if time itself stood still. Then the sounds of terrified women and children, helpless wails and disbelieving cries of despair, erupted inside the hall.
The seven creatures turned and raced towards the sounds, aware their prey was within reach. Dodinal reacted quickly. With no thought for his own safety, he took off in desperate pursuit.
The door was flung open and a handful of women ran out, screaming wildly, heading for the gates. Dodinal yelled at them to get back inside, but they were scared out of their wits. They did not know what they were doing or where they were going.
They never had a chance. The creatures swarmed over them like a dark tide, and their screams gave way to the tearing and crunching of flesh and bone.
Dodinal was sickened, but while there was nothing he could have done to save those poor women, there were others, children too, trapped inside, one of the beasts loose in there with them.
He ran to the Great Hall, past the frenzied slaughter. As he reached the door, he heard a clamour go up from behind him. He turned to see the village’s men seeking retribution for the slaughter. They rampaged across the ground and set about the creatures, bloodlust pushing conscious thought from their minds. They were so intent on revenge they were too slow to defend themselves when the creatures turned away from the mangled corpses and fought back.
One of the things threw itself up on two legs and lashed out at Elfed, the big tracker they said was strong enough to have wrestled a bear. Maybe that was true and maybe it was not. Either way, the blond giant was no match for the creature. He cried out and grabbed at his belly, dropping to his knees as steaming viscera tumbled out over his desperately grasping hands. The creature struck out a second time, snapping Elfed’s head around and breaking his neck. The big man hit the ground. Dodinal turned away and ducked through the doorway. Elfed was beyond his or anyone’s help.
Inside, he was confronted by a maelstrom of sights and sounds. He took them in within the space of a heartbeat. Broken wood and thatching lay strewn around the floor. Some of the debris had landed directly on the main fire and was burning. More debris smouldered around it. The air was hazy with dust and smoke. Sparks gusted up towards the gaping hole in the roof.
Women and children cowered in a corner beyond the table, directly across from where he stood. They cried and whimpered, mothers clutching infants to their chests and standing in front of the older children to shield them. Rhiannon had her arms wrapped tightly around Owain, holding her son with his face to her midriff. The look of sheer terror on her face was one Dodinal hoped never to see again.
Two men lay in crumpled heaps on the floor, blood spreading out around them. The mastiff was dead too, its head ripped from its neck. The dog’s eyes stared glassily at Dodinal from across the hall.
The father of the screaming baby had survived the onslaught, although he was bleeding from several wounds. He held out a spear, all that stood between the women and children and the great beast that prowled the hall. Fortunately for them, it was hurt and unsteady on its feet. Blood bubbled up from a deep gash in its head.
By the fire’s light, Dodinal saw it clearly for the first time.
It was an abomination. No other word would suffice. Its body was that of a man, but hideously deformed, and so emaciated that every rib stood out. Yet its arms and legs rippled with muscles, and where a man would have toenails it had claws, four on each hand and foot, long curved nails that tapped and scratched against the wooden floor as it paced from wall to wall, seeking a chance to strike.
The creature sensed or heard Dodinal enter, and swung its head to regard him. He found himself gazing into human eyes that gleamed with malevolent intelligence, set deep into a face that resembled one of the gargoyles that leered down from high on the walls of the Church of St. Stephen.
Its chin was long and protruding, its snarling mouth wide and bristling with sharp teeth, too many even for a mouth that big. Its skull was lumpish, as though it had been squeezed in infancy before its bones had properly hardened. A low forehead was set above heavy, ridged brows. The nose was flattened, the nostrils flared. Its body was devoid of hair, its skin leathery and ash grey in colour, pale enough for the firelight to clearly define every cut and scratch it had sustained in the fall.
Devils, the men had said. Maybe they had been right.
Dodinal threw the shield aside. A large piece of it had broken off; it would disintegrate if it took another blow. Better to be done with it now and have both arms free to wield the sword.