He stepped forward. “Leave this to me,” he told the injured man, voice low, eyes not once moving from the growling, pacing creature. “Take the women and children outside. Keep away from the fighting. Run from here as quickly as you can.”
The man’s face was tight with pain and fear. “And you?”
“Forget about me. Just go.”
The man nodded gratefully and hurried away. Dodinal had his back to the women and children. He did not see them leave, but he heard them, the rapid clatter of shoes on wood, the swish and rustle of cloth, the nervous whispering of children, older voices hushing them. Heard them, but paid them no heed, for he dared not turn away from the beast even for a second. He knew how fast it could move.
Even now it was coiling to leap at them as they rushed outside. Before it could pounce Dodinal yelled and struck out with the sword. The beast shrieked in agony when the cold iron slashed its flank; it spun and darted away from him, claws splintering the floorboards as it scrambled further into the hall, out of the reach of the firelight.
Dodinal had a feeling it would not be content with skulking in the shadows for long. He skirted the fire, intending to drive the thing further back and buy the women and children more time while they made good their escape. His foot kicked against wood, and he glanced down. A piece of timber as long as his sword had fallen from the roof and lay partly ablaze in the flames. He stooped and grabbed the unlit end, holding it out before him as he straightened.
The creature barked and growled, its movements increasingly agitated as Dodinal advanced step by cautious step. He waved the makeshift torch from side to side in one hand. In the other he held the sword aloft and poised to strike.
It reared up and arched its back to display its genitals, taunting him. Dodinal responded by ramming the torch into its exposed belly, and the acrid stench of burning meat filled the air. Its gargoyle face made even more hideous with pain, the creature screeched and dropped down on all fours, then twisted round and clattered to the back of the hall where it disappeared behind the hanging hides, leaving them swinging and flapping in its wake.
Dodinal’s mouth tightened. It was time to end this. He lifted the torch to the hides. They were as dry as parchment after countless years hanging in the heat of the Great Hall’s ever-burning fires. They singed smokily, and then burst into flames. Fire clawed at the roof timbers until they too began to smoulder.
Cold air gusted between the open doorway and the hole in the roof, creating a draft that intensified the heat still further. Then came a whoosh and a shower of sparks as the thatch ignited. A searing wave swept over Dodinal, so fierce it was all he could do not to fall to his knees. He felt his hair burning, and he brushed at it violently to put it out.
Suddenly the hut was filling with choking black smoke. Dodinal spun on his heels and dashed for the door. He had to get out before the entire structure collapsed and burned him alive.
He lost his way in the dense smoke, and could not find the door. Sheathing the sword and keeping hold of the torch, he reached out, pressing his hand against the wall, and followed it blindly, trusting to luck he was moving in the right direction. His fingers found the empty space of the doorway and he stumbled out into the blessedly cold night air, retching and coughing up the oily soot that filled his mouth and lungs.
He slammed the door and used the torch to wedge it shut, shoving the burning end against the wood. It would not hold for long if the creature tried to break down the door, but with any luck the fire would have reduced the godless thing to bone and ash before it had time to get out.
Chaos reigned around him. Some of the creatures were mauling bodies on the ground while others harried the surviving men, darting in to cut and then scampering away, giving the villagers no chance to strike back. Women and children who had fled the hut ran screaming into the village, but the flames from the blazing roof reached high into the sky, driving back the darkness and leaving them nowhere to hide.
The beasts suddenly broke away from the men and went after the women and children, bounding across the open ground, moving as one like a pack of wolves hunting game. Dodinal struggled to head them off, but his chest felt as though a band of steel had tightened across it, and he could not find the breath for speed.
A woman screamed and went down, arms flailing wildly as the creatures tore into her. A child’s piercing cry rose above the sound of slaughter. Immediately the creatures turned aside from the savaged body and took off, heading straight for the palisade.
Dodinal could not fathom why they had abandoned the attack. Then the light from the rising flames intensified, and he saw that one of the creatures was running on two legs, holding a young girl aloft like a trophy. It barked and howled and gibbered. The rest of its hellish brood howled and barked in return.
He heard a woman’s despairing voice ring out.
“Annwen.”
Then they were scrambling up the stockade. Shadows cast by moonlight striped their hairless bodies as they clambered and leapt from post to post. The girl wailed as claws scraped and splintered the wood. The beast that had taken her held her pressed to its chest with one muscular arm. It was using its free hand and both clawed feet to propel itself up the wall. They were gone within seconds. The child’s cries faded as the creatures carried her into the forest.
Dodinal’s boots kicked up earth as he came to a shuddering halt. His chest heaved with exertion and the lingering effects of the smoke. Without waiting to catch his breath, he turned and pounded across the ground. He rushed past the Great Hall, the flames clawing at the sky, running towards the gates.
The guard lay where he had left him, forgotten in the carnage. Blood formed a dark aura around his body. Dodinal charged past the corpse without a second glance. He hoisted the wooden bar free of the brackets and hurled it aside, shouldering the gate open.
The barking and yelping had ceased. Nevertheless, he could hear the creatures as they escaped through the forest, the distant crashing and groaning of branches as they hurled themselves from tree to tree.
He stood just outside the gate, torn by indecision. Part of him wanted to give chase, to find the girl and save her if he could. The other part, the part not driven by anger, recognised he lacked the pace and strength to catch them. That aside, he knew they would change direction at random before coming down to ground. Finding their tracks in the moonlight would be impossible. They would make their way north, of that much he was certain. But there was a lot of country to the north and he was not familiar with the land hereabouts.
They could be anywhere.
Dejected and livid, he stowed the blade and went back inside the village, telling himself he would go after the girl as soon as possible. His first concern was Rhiannon and the boy. He had lost track of them in the confusion, after they had fled the Great Hall.
It was with relief that he caught sight of Rhiannon, moving slowly among the dead and wounded, stumbling as she walked even though she did not appear injured. He hurried towards her, feeling heat on his face as he passed the Great Hall, its roof ablaze. Sparks and smoke boiled into the night sky. Flames bathed the village with their fitful orange light. The walls were charred, but their oak frames were slow to burn. Before long, even they would ignite, and that would be the end of it. Idris would have to build another home.
Rhiannon gasped and fell to her knees. Dodinal turned suddenly cold. Please, he thought, let it not be Owain.
He quickened his pace, guts tightening with dread.
When he reached her, he saw it was not her son that lay still on the ground, but Idris. Rhiannon was kneeling alongside his body. She had lifted his head to place it on her lap and was bent over it, fingers running through the long white hair that spilled across her waist.