The Savage Knight

wake Hywel.”

“Very well.” Dodinal hesitated, thinking he should say more, but realising there were no words in the world to make Rhydian feel any better, or any less alone. “Goodnight, then.”

Rhydian responded in kind, and Dodinal went back to the fireside, where he returned his spear and sword to the ground. As Rhydian had no immediate need of his pack, Dodinal took it to rest his head on. Wrapping his cloak tightly around him, he settled down close to the fire and closed his eyes. With his thoughts as turbulent as the river’s harsh lullaby, sleep was a long time coming. When at last it did come, it was filled with dark and twisted dreams.

He was back in the village, in the chaotic aftermath of the attack. With a groan of horror he saw it was not Idris who lay dead on the ground but Rhiannon, her dark hair matted with blood where her skull had been staved in. Owain sat cross-legged next to her, rocking back and forth, holding his mother’s limp hands in his. He looked up accusingly at Dodinal and opened his mouth as if to say something.

No words emerged from his lips, only a long drawn-out scream, a shrieking so ghastly the battle-hardened knight clapped his hands to his ears to try to drown it out. There was no stopping it. The scream went on and on. It drilled into his skull until he felt it would burst.

He woke with a start. His eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, looking wildly around in confusion. It was only when he felt the heat of the fire and heard the scream again, cutting through the air like a knife, that he realised he was no longer dreaming.

SEVENTEEN

It came again, weaker this time, ending with a kind of choking sound that was more dreadful than the scream had been. There was no need for Dodinal to rouse the men, who were climbing to their feet and arming themselves. Hywel pulled a strip of cloth from his pack, bound it around the end of a branch and thrust the torch into the fire to light it.

There was a name on every man’s lips, but they did not say it. There was no need. They could see Rhydian was missing from the camp. Tomos was surely dead, so there was no one else it could be. Even those who had not known him well were shaken by what they had heard; they grasped spears and shields with sweating hands as they hurried from the camp after Dodinal, who had not waited the short time it took Hywel to light the torch.

Instinctively they followed his lead, not once questioning how he knew which way to go or how he could move so assuredly in the darkness. Such was their trust in him it did not cross their minds. For their part they could only see the stately trunks the torch’s guttering light revealed as they ran, struggling to keep up with the knight. There were no more screams, for which they were thankful.

Gerwyn forged ahead of them, almost losing his footing in the tangled undergrowth in his haste to draw level with Dodinal. “It’s those devil creatures, isn’t it?” he gasped. “They have Rhydian.”

For a moment Dodinal did not respond. Then he nodded, too distracted to realise that Gerwyn could not see him. “Yes, they have him.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper. “No more talk. Forget about what they might have done to Rhydian. Start worrying about what they might do to you if they are still around.”

They rushed through the forest, Dodinal at the van with Gerwyn at his shoulder and Hywel immediately behind. The remaining three followed, grouped close together so that no man was left alone. They knew all too well how silently and swiftly the creatures could strike. None of them had heard Rhydian being taken.

They reached a small clearing, and Dodinal raised a hand to halt them. This was the source of the screams. It was nothing more than a feeling in his bones, but he trusted his feelings enough to know that from here on they had to continue with the utmost care.

He hung his shield over his shoulder so he could hold the torch in one hand and the spear in the other, mouthed wait here to his companions and stepped cautiously into the clearing.

It was deserted, as far as he could tell. He turned slowly, eyes straining to catch sight of anything out of place. There were no tracks to be seen. The ground was undisturbed.

Dodinal turned to face the men, shaking his head. He was on the verge of returning to them when he heard a soft tapping like rainwater dripping from the trees after a storm. Except it had not rained that day; the sky had been a cloudless blue from dawn until dusk. Almost afraid of what he might see, Dodinal held the torch aloft and looked up.

Lightning had struck one of the huge, ancient trees that edged the clearing. It had sheared off high above Dodinal’s head, ending in a ragged stump and a thick bough, no longer than a man’s arm.

Rhydian had been impaled on it, the branch’s broken end protruding from his chest. The corpse stared at Dodinal with empty eye sockets. The skin around them was pierced and bleeding where the creature had dug in its claws to grip him before gouging out his eyes.

But that was not the worst of it.

Dodinal backed away, a groan of revulsion building in his throat.

Rhydian’s groin was a gore-soaked mess where his manhood had been torn away. It had been rammed into his mouth so that his cheeks bulged and his genitals protruded from his lips like a swollen tongue, resting against his red-smeared chin.

Dodinal was vaguely aware of someone violently retching.

Then his own stomach rebelled and he had to turn away before he too emptied his guts on the ground. In his time, he had witnessed the most barbaric deaths on the battlefield. Truth be told, he had been responsible for a great many of them. But that had been in the heat of battle. He had committed violence only against men who would have ended his life had he not ended theirs first.

This was different. If Rhydian’s death had been intended to scare them away, the creatures could have just killed him and left his body for them to find. Instead they had tortured him, broken him with acts of the most obscene cruelty. They had not merely wanted to frighten the men. They had wanted to drive them mad with terror.

He staggered away from the clearing.

It was Gerwyn he had heard retching. The brehyrion’s son was bent over at the waist, dry-heaving. The other men gathered around him, stunned, faces ashen as they stared with appalled expressions at the body, mercifully returned to the shadows now that Dodinal had lowered the torch. Gwythyr was visibly shaking, his eyes wide, his hands pressed to his mouth. Perhaps it had occurred to him that his son had been lucky to die how he did.

“We have to get him down,” Gerwyn said weakly. He straightened and wiped a hand across his mouth, then spat on the ground. “We can’t leave him up there. It isn’t right.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Madoc snapped. “We have to get away from here now. Those things could still be around.”

This was met with a general murmur of agreement.

Anger flashed across Gerwyn’s face. “Would you be as hasty to leave a friend of yours like that? He deserves a decent burial.”

Dodinal held up a hand for silence. “I understand. He was your friend. But Madoc is right. It’s not safe to stay here. We assumed those creatures were long gone, and Rhydian paid for our mistake.”

“But — ” Gerwyn started.

Dodinal spoke across him forcefully. “Someone would have to climb the tree and cut him down. Will you? And even if you do, then what? We have nothing to dig a grave with. We would have to leave him on the ground for wolves and carrion birds to finish what those creatures started.”

Gerwyn tried to interrupt, but Dodinal would not be silenced.

“We have to go, now. Only a fool would believe they would have gone after slaughtering Rhydian. They are out there, waiting. Waiting for one of us to wander off, and then…” He did not finish the sentence. There was no need to. “ But we will not give them that chance. We stay close at all times, understand? If any of you needs to piss, we all stop and you piss where you stand.”

Gerwyn fumed for a moment, but relented. The men had given him no choice. If he had insisted on getting the body down they would have left him behind and carried on. They could not wait to get away from the clearing.