It was in their faces and in the way they shifted nervously on their feet, waiting for Dodinal to take the lead.
The knight shouldered his shield and set off away from the clearing, going around rather than through it. He listened for the sound of pursuit, but soon gave it up as hopeless; he could hear nothing over the noise of the men following behind him.
Dodinal became increasingly anxious. He might not hear the creatures, but the racket the men were making would carry a long way. Glancing over his shoulder he realised Hywel was still carrying the burning torch. While there was nothing he could do about silencing them, he could at least make it harder for the men to be seen.
He quietly called out the tracker’s name and beckoned him closer. “Put that out. They’ll see us from miles away.”
They stopped while Hywel did as Dodinal had told him. He rammed the torch into the ground and twisted and scraped until it was blackened and dead. Tiny flames began to dance across the undergrowth and he stamped on them until they too were out. Starting a forest fire would do none of them any favours.
“I should have thought of that,” Hywel said apologetically.
Dodinal did not answer. His eyes flicked forward as a sharp crack like a branch breaking came from ahead of them.
His searching eyes picked out something smaller than a bird arcing down from the trees, hurtling towards them.
Before Dodinal had the chance to bellow a warning, Hywel’s head suddenly snapped back. The tracker gave a soft grunt, sounding more surprised than hurt. Then his hands flew to his face and he staggered backwards, twisting in a slow half-turn, and collapsing heavily to the ground.
Acting without thinking, Dodinal dropped his shoulder and let the shield slide down his arm, then lifted it to protect his head. No sooner had he done so than the shield was struck a thundering blow.
Dodinal crouched over Hywel’s unmoving form, holding the shield up at an angle to protect them both as best he could. There was a small rock on the ground close to where the tracker lay. Now Dodinal wondered if Tomos had fallen into the river after all.
The sudden assault had left the men frozen. Now they shook off their inertia and erupted into action. Following Dodinal’s lead, they held their shields at the ready and crouched around him, covering him while he reached out with his free hand to feel Hywel’s neck for a pulse. Though fearing the worst, he was relieved to feel a faint tremor beneath his fingers. In the moonlight he could not see the tracker’s head but it seemed Hywel had only been caught a glancing blow.
They crouched and waited until their cramping muscles began to complain. Even then, they dared not move, dared not speak, hardly dared to draw breath. Dodinal braced himself as his keen ears detected a faint whistling racing towards them. A moment later he heard stone strike hard against wood, followed a moment after that by a grunt of pain. Whoever had been hit had not been badly hurt, though; the barrier of shields remained unbroken and steady.
Minutes dragged by. All Dodinal could hear was the fast and ragged breathing of men in fear of their lives. He listened for the creaking of branches.
A moment later, a stone hit the barricade, followed rapidly by another and then another, booming out like thunderclaps as they clattered against the shields. Wood began to splinter and leather began to tear with the ferocity of the onslaught.
“I’ve had just about enough of this,” a disgruntled voice suddenly muttered in the darkness. Emlyn. “Time to make those filthy bastards regret starting a fight with us.”
Dodinal glanced at the shadowy figures beside him, he could just about make out Emlyn putting down his shield. Madoc adjusted his arm so that his own shield covered them both, lowering it just far enough for them to see where the next stone came from.
Emlyn reached over his shoulder for his bow, notched an arrow and pulled it back, waiting. He did not have to wait long. “
They did not hear either arrow strike, but the wildwood was suddenly filled with an agonised screeching and a frenzied clatter of branches. Dodinal got to his feet, ignoring the screaming protests of his legs, leaving the other men where they were to protect Hywel.
The knight held his shield and spear at the ready, trying to gauge whether the creature was heading towards them or away, deeper into the forest. Soon enough, the screeching and crashing faded out of hearing.
Even then he waited. Those gargoyle monstrosities may be savage, but they were cunning too; a fearful combination. He dared not let his guard down, not when there could be more of them out there, hiding in the trees, biding their time, patiently waiting for the men to lower their defences so they could launch another ambush.
They had to move quickly. At least one of the creatures knew their location. It would be safer for them to get away than stay where they were, especially as they no longer had the torch to give away their position. Unless, that was, the creatures could see in the dark.
Dodinal shuddered at the prospect.
Undecided, he stood for several long moments, eyes closed and listening. There was nothing save the soft breathing of men and the shifting of cloth and creak of boot leather as they moved.
Finally, Dodinal abandoned his vigil. If there were any more devils were out there, they were in no hurry to attack.
He crouched and whispered, “We have to get away from here.”
“Have they gone?” Gerwyn whispered back.
“Yes. But I think there was only one of them, holding back to make sure they were not being followed. It’s impossible to be certain; those things are devious. So we’ll have to keep our guard up.”
“What are we going to do about Hywel?” Emlyn asked.
Dodinal had already asked the same question of himself.
While it was never wise to move a wounded man, especially a man with a head wound, they had no other choice. Leaving Hywel in the forest alone would be as good as condemning him to death.
“We either take him with us or someone will have to stay here with him until he comes around,” he said.
“I’m not staying.” Gerwyn responded immediately and with fierce determination. “Don’t get me wrong. Hywel is a good man. But I owe it to my father. Besides, they still have the boy. Rhiannon would kill me if I returned without even trying to bring him home.”
Then Madoc spoke. “There is not a man among us who would be prepared to abandon the search, Dodinal. We all have reasons for wanting to track down those godless bastards. But neither would we leave Hywel here. I say we take him with us, carrying him if needs be. If he recovers soon, all well and good. If not… we’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” Dodinal grinned, his heart lifted by this spirit of brotherhood. It took him back to his days of fighting alongside Arthur, when they had been outnumbered more often than not. Now, like then, they needed to stand together and fight as one if they were to stand any chance of victory.
“We will bind his wound and be gone from here before that devil has chance to return with more of its kind,” he said.
Hywel groaned but did not wake when Dodinal turned him to see his head in the moonlight. Fortunately for Hywel, the stone had whipped across his forehead, where the bone was thickest. A flap of skin hung loose, bleeding copiously. Gerwyn handed Dodinal a strip of cloth, and he bound the wound to keep it clean.
It could have been worse, he supposed. What worried him was that it may yet prove to be. Sometimes a hard blow to the head left a man damaged in ways that would only become apparent later.9
“How bad is he?” Emlyn’s concern for his friend was heartfelt.
“Too early to say. The wound should heal quickly enough.”
“Aye, but will he still be the Hywel I have known since we were babes in arms? I have seen such injuries before, Dodinal. I have seen good men turned into dribbling wrecks.”
“There is nothing we can do about it for now. As long as he breathes, there is a chance he will fully recover. I will carry him for as long as I can. Then we will rest. I want two men before me and two behind, shields at the
