Instinct took over, and the knight wheeled around and drew his sword. He had considered the village unassailable. He had been wrong. Something had got inside. Something that had opened up the guard’s throat so fast he hadn’t had time to cry out.
Dodinal searched the ground for tracks, but there were none to be seen. Branches creaked in the wildwood beyond the palisade. Whatever had taken the children had used the trees to move through the forest. Even so, climbing trees was hardly the same as scaling a wall three times as tall as a man.
Dodinal squinted up at the top of the palisade rising high above his head. He could not imagine anything that could scale it with no branches to haul itself up by. Yet something had got in.
The tethered hounds barked. A baby started crying shrilly. Dodinal winced. Between the barking and the infant’s wailings, he would not be able to hear any sound the intruders might make that could lead him to them.
He set off for the Great Hall, body tensed to strike at anything that came out of the shadows. The intruders had come for the children, no question of it. Dodinal was certain they were still inside the village; why kill the guard if they were prepared to leave empty-handed? He moved silently. If they had not seen him already he wanted them to remain unaware of his presence.
From the barn he could hear oxen shuffling nervously. A sheep bleated, low and mournful, and fell silent. As Dodinal neared the hall, a furtive rustling made him look up. Moonlight etched a shadowy figure, the size of a child, crouched on the roof. It was such an incongruous sight that for a moment he took it to be one of the village youngsters, up to mischief. The figure straightened, stepped forward and launched itself off the roof at him, leaping higher and farther than any child ever could.
It moved too fast for Dodinal to react, crashing into him and sending him sprawling to the ground, his sword flying from his hand. He scrambled to his feet and raised his fists, looking around wildly for the intruder, catching a glimpse of it darting into the shadows. Dodinal stood still, watching, listening, but he could hear nothing other than the barking of dogs and sounds of livestock roused to panic by the presence of a predator close by.
His face stung. He raised a hand and felt a thin cut down one cheek. His fingers came away bloody. Another scar to join the others, he thought darkly, but it could have been worse. Far worse. No wonder the guard had not had time to raise the alarm. Dodinal had been sliced so fast he had not felt it. A few inches lower and his life would have been draining out of him.
He bent to retrieve his sword. The Great Hall door crashed open and Idris and a handful of men spilled out, all unarmed.
“What’s going on?” the chieftain called, stepping towards Dodinal. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the knight’s face. “And what happened to you?”
“No time to explain. Something got in.”
The chieftain’s eyes were drawn to the palisade, which stood as solid and impenetrable as a rock. “Impossible.”
“Do as I say and be quick about it. Your man is dead. I would prefer it if no one else was killed while we stand around talking. Keep the woman and children inside, and the hound to guard them.”
Idris hurried the men back inside, returning with swords and spears and shields. Idris held a second shield, which he gave to Dodinal. The knight nodded his gratitude and slipped his arm through its strap. It was unadorned. Nothing like as fancy as the shield Arthur had presented him with, rimmed with gold and bearing the King’s motif of a red lion set against a crucifix. This was made of old wood and cracked leather, with a battered metal rim. It looked older than Dodinal, yet could not have been more valuable to him if it had been fashioned from gold.
Dodinal ordered the men into pairs. “Two remain in the Great Hall. Nothing gets inside, understand? The rest of you, scour the village. Be careful. Whatever it is, it’s fast and it’s dangerous.”
“There’s only one of them?” Idris looked surprised, as if he felt Dodinal had overreacted.
“I hope so, for all our sakes. You haven’t seen it move.”
The dogs continued their ceaseless barking. The baby’s crying suddenly got louder. Its parents must have carried it outside. Almost immediately a scream rang out around the village, bouncing off the high walls so that it was impossible to tell where it came from.
“Move,” Dodinal hollered. “Search the huts. You find anything, you kill it. It might have got in, but there’s no way it’s getting out.”
Another scream came, from Dodinal’s left. “Move,” he shouted, breaking into a sprint. Idris and his men followed close behind him.
As he rounded the nearest hut a dog lunged at him, growling and straining its leash. Distracted, he almost ran straight into the couple who had left the Great Hall with their baby. They were now racing headlong back to it, the woman holding the infant to her chest. She gave a startled cry, and her husband gasped at the sight of the towering shape looming out of the darkness towards them. Both slumped with relief when they saw it was Dodinal.
“What happened?” he asked, voice low and urgent.
“Rebecca wouldn’t stop crying.” The woman’s face was pale with shock. “I took her outside, hoping the air might help get her to sleep.” Her voice broke. She shook her head and clutched the baby tighter to her chest. Whatever she had seen, she could not bring herself to speak of it. Dodinal looked at the child’s father.
“I ran out when she screamed,” the young man explained. “I saw her looking up and…” He raised his hands helplessly, as if suspecting Dodinal would not believe him if he said what he wanted to say.
“And you saw something on the roof.”
The man gaped. “How did you know?”
“No time for that. Which hut is yours?”
The man pointed it out. There was nothing on the roof. They had neither seen nor heard it flee, so Dodinal assumed it was hiding somewhere nearby. “Get your wife and child into the Great Hall. Stay with them, a third man will not be unwelcome. Make sure the door is bolted. Don’t open it unless you know for sure who is outside.”
The husband nodded. He took his wife by the elbow and led her away. The baby cried relentlessly. Dodinal heard its lusty bawling even after they had carried it indoors. The parents were lucky they had not been killed, the child snatched from them.
“This way,” he said. Idris and the men followed him without hesitation. When they reached the couple’s hut he raised a hand for silence. The door was ajar; from inside came the flickering glow of a fire. Dodinal listened hard, but heard nothing. He edged forward.
The door exploded outwards, slamming against the wall with a resounding crash. A squat figure bounded out on all fours, straight at the startled men. They swung their swords, but the figure was faster than anything Dodinal had ever seen, weaving sharply left and right without losing pace. They may as well have been trying to strike the moonlight.
The creature suddenly reared up on its hind legs and lashed out at a villager as it loped past him. The man clutched at his throat and went down, a gurgling scream torn from his lips. There was no time to tend to him. The quicksilver figure was making directly for the Great Hall, and by the looks of things the man was already beyond saving.
Dodinal gave chase, determined to run it down, his heart thumping so he was only just able to hear the thud of footsteps behind him as the men struggled to keep pace.
Anger spurred him on. Two dead. How many more would die before they cornered this thing? They would have to kill it; it was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had already reached the hall, where it sprung up to the roof with a freakishly powerful leap. Dodinal was thunderstruck. What manner of creature was this?
He slowed and stopped. The men clattered to a halt alongside him, gulping air into their lungs. They had the creature where they could see it, and as long as they could see it, it could not harm their children. The only way it could get inside from where it crouched was through the smoke hole. Dodinal quickly discounted that as a possibility. Every living thing feared fire.
They had it trapped. Dodinal was determined it would not get away from them. Eyes fixed on the hunched figure, he pointed left, then right. Idris nodded understanding. The chieftain whispered hurried orders to his men. Moving slowly, not wanting to provoke it into attempting to escape, they spread out until they had taken up positions on all four sides of the hall. There was nowhere for it to go. If it tried to break through the cordon they would be ready. They would not again be caught unawares by its speed and lethal claws.
It must have realised they had it surrounded, for it stood on its back legs and paced the roof, yelping in an oddly high-pitched fashion. Dodinal peered into the darkness, wanting a clear sight of it, but there was too much distance and too little light between them.
Idris edged closer. “What now?” He had to raise his voice to be heard above the dogs. It was fortunate they were tethered. If they had been allowed to run loose they would either be in the way or dead.
“We wait.”
“And if that… whatever it is… stays up there all night?”
“Then we wait all night. Until it starves to death, if needs be.”
The baby would not cease its interminable crying. Dodinal wished they could do something, anything, to muffle it. Then, as if in mocking imitation, the creature threw back its head and howled. It was too big a sound to have come from such a small body, loud and piercing enough to hurt Dodinal’s ears. When it stopped he swore he could hear it echoing around in his head.
For a moment there was silence, and then there came a howling chorus from the forest beyond the walls. The men exchanged nervous glances. Dodinal tightened his grip on his sword.
He knew what was coming.
During one of Arthur’s sorties against the Saxons a volunteer had been needed to infiltrate an enemy camp while they slept, in order to determine their strength. Dodinal had stepped forward, aware he would be killed if caught. He slipped past the guards and out again with ease. The victory the next day was a resounding one, with every Saxon slaughtered but few casualties on Arthur’s side.
The creature on the roof had also been sent in under cover of darkness to scout the enemy terrain. Unlike Dodinal, it had been caught. Now it had summoned its kind to rescue it.
But what was its kind? Dodinal had never heard of a man who ran on four legs. For now it did not matter. He need only concern himself with staying alive so he could prevent any harm coming to those he had sworn to protect.
The ululating calls abruptly ceased, and there was a charged silence. Even the baby stopped wailing. Then they heard the sound of claws on wood, drumming rapidly. A man-like shape appeared above the palisade, a dark silhouette against the moon. It leapt up and balanced effortlessly on top of a post before flowing headfirst down the inside of the wall, its movements swift and sinuous.
A second figure appeared, then a third. No sooner had they set off, scuttling down the wooden posts, than more followed in their wake. Dodinal counted eight in all, including the scout. He nodded grimly, recalling the tracks at Madoc’s village.
Even from a distance he could see the creatures were as big as the chieftain’s mastiff, maybe bigger. They were certainly larger and bulkier than the scout on the roof, and it had already killed twice. Dodinal could not imagine the devastation they would cause if they were allowed to run loose. He had to take the battle to them, and strike the first blow before they could wreak havoc.
With a roar he hoisted his sword and ran at them, reaching the palisade as the first creature dropped the last few yards to the ground. It landed on all fours and immediately went for Dodinal.
The knight did not break his stride; to hesitate would be fatal. When the creature reared up and lashed out, Dodinal met its forelimb with his sword. There was a sudden jarring in his wrist as the blade scraped along bone. Blood splattered his face and filled his mouth with a hot coppery taste.
The thing shuddered and howled. Dodinal tore the sword loose and drew it back, ready to strike again. The creature was too fast, despite the wound, spinning lithely around and loping away into the darkness. More of them bounded towards him; Dodinal began to fall back. Voices were raised in battle cry behind him, and he grinned wide as Idris and his men, swords and spears aloft, stampeded towards him, boots rumbling like thunder as they charged across the ground.
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.