dapple-grey horses. He didn’t need to be told who they were. They were only fourteen years old and they commanded all these men; they had brought them here. Their strategy would either win or lose the day. Jamie couldn’t see their faces. They were riding with their backs to him. But he knew he was looking at Matt and Flint and he wished that they would turn round, if only for a moment. He wanted to look at their faces. He wanted to see his brother, Scott.
But the two of them were continuing forward, and it was only when he looked past them and across to the other side of the field that Jamie understood the full horror of what they were about to face. The army of the blue star was hopelessly outnumbered. It was facing certain death. For every one of them, there were ten of the enemy. Human and non-human, they went on for as far as the eye could see. Sometimes it was hard for Jamie to work out which was which.
In the front line were the most wretched of all, the human slaves who had put their trust in the Old Ones and stayed with them to the bitter end. This was their reward. They had all been chained together, either naked or covered with a last few rags, their names branded into their flesh as if they were cattle. They had been given wooden clubs and axes with which to defend themselves. Many of them had been disfigured, missing eyes or ears. Even worse than that, some of them had had the lower part of their arms cut off and replaced with jagged blades so that they and their weapons were one.
Behind them were more humans: surely the ruling classes. These were the people who Scar had referred to as overlords and advisors. They had swords and shields and – some of them, at least – odd pieces of armour. They were pale and sickly, for although they had been happy enough in their positions of power, they had no stomach for the fight. Even from a distance the fear and cowardice could be seen in their faces.
Then came four lines of horsemen – Jamie could only think of them as knights, encased in black armour. The first two were identical to the fly-soldiers he had seen on the way to the City of Canals. But there were two more lines behind them and these were so ugly and grotesque that Jamie could barely bring himself to look at them.
Perhaps they were the officers. Perhaps they were human beneath the armour. It was impossible to know. They had blades jutting out of their shoulders, their elbows and their knees. Their helmets were also surrounded by vicious black spikes so that, from the neck up, they were like porcupines. Their horses had been mutilated with silver bayonets jutting out of their foreheads, screwed into place just above their eyes, turning each of them into a grotesque version of a unicorn. The knights were standing rigidly to attention. How many of them were there? It was impossible to say. Each was the same height as his neighbour. In fact, they could have been the same man, replicated a thousand times. They were holding shields – also surrounded by spikes – and striking them rhythmically with the flats of their swords. That was the booming that Jamie had heard. Seeing them now and hearing the sound froze his blood.
The worst was still to come.
It was an infestation. Jamie couldn’t think of another word for it as it bled out of the forest, pouring into the field. Jamie had thought this would be a fight between two armies, but what he was seeing now was a horde with no shape or formation, just an oozing mess of nightmarish creatures desperate for the kill. They carried clubs studded with nails, huge axes, spears, nets and pitchforks. Some slithered. Some scuttled forward on three legs or more. They were half man, half animal, as if the two had been mixed up on purpose, to see what could produce the most hideous result. Some were part scorpion, like the creature that had attacked Jamie at Scathack Hill. But there were also man-dogs, man-crocodiles, man-eagles and even man-sharks, a crazy mixture of arms and teeth and beaks and scales and feathers and claws, all brought together to create unimaginable monsters.
And finally there were giant animals passing through the forest, high above the trees, looming up behind the army yet not quite part of it.
The first was a spider. It was about twenty metres high, standing on eight elongated legs, with a fat poison sac hanging beneath its stomach. It had two feelers that twitched in front of it as if testing the air, and great fangs dripping venom and saliva. As it turned its head, Jamie saw the army reflected many times in the glistening black mirrors that were its eyes. Once it attacked, it would be invincible. Swords and arrows would be useless against it. They might as well fight it with pins and needles.
A huge monkey had appeared next to it, jabbering and screaming with a hideous, high-pitched voice. It wasn’t muscular like an ape but almost insect-like, with a long tail and filthy, matted hair. It had only four fingers on one of its hands. As it stood there, the trees suddenly parted and a gigantic hummingbird burst into the air, its wings beating so fast they were just a blur. The bird was creating a storm around itself, whipping up dust and dead branches. A moment later another bird appeared, soaring up into the sky. This one was a condor the size of a plane. It flew overhead, its own wings thundering as they made the air shudder and vibrate.
And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, Jamie saw a single figure making his way through the middle of his army, advancing to take his place at the front. This was the commander… it had to be. He was riding on an animal that at first glance looked like a horse, but which had horns, burning red eyes and steam rising like smoke from its mouth and nostrils. Thirteen more riders surrounded him but he seemed not to notice them. His eyes were fixed on the two boys directly ahead.
“Chaos,” Scar whispered.
“What?” Jamie couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.
“He has no name. But that’s what we call him. He is the King of the Old Ones.”
Jamie had to look at him twice. Once to see him. Once to understand what he was seeing.
He was human-sized, but he seemed bigger. He seemed to swallow up everything around him like a black hole in outer space. Jamie knew that he was looking at pure evil and that there was nothing more empty or more destructive in the universe. Chaos had no face. No features of any sort. With his every movement, he destroyed the area around him. He didn’t just move. Without even trying, he cut his way through the world.
Jamie had no idea how long he had been standing on the hill. He felt rooted there. Time seemed to have stopped.
The two opposing armies faced each other. Just for a moment, everything was still. The knights stopped beating their shields and silence – somehow shocking – fell onto the battleground. There was a soft breeze. The grass bent and the banners fluttered. Somewhere, a horse snorted. There were about thirty metres between Matt and Flint and the forces they had come to fight.
Chaos had reached the front. He took out his sword. Jamie heard the metal grinding as it came out of its sheath. A moment later, he spoke – but he did so without opening his mouth. The sound seemed to come from him like water rushing out of a pipe, and although he had not raised his voice above a whisper, it echoed across the battlefield and reached them high up on the hill.
“The power of the Five has been defeated,” he said. “One of you is trapped far from here and one of you has been killed. He died painfully. And now, you cannot win. Lay down your arms and I will be generous. I will give you a quick death. The rest of you I will allow to serve me. There is no need for this battle. You know it has already been won.”
Matt said nothing. Jamie saw him reach down and draw his sword. That was his answer.
The King of the Old Ones nodded slowly. He said nothing more. Suddenly he raised his weapon, lifting it above his head. It was the signal. At once there was an explosion of screaming, cheering, laughing, shouting. A thunder of hooves. A crash that might have been thunder.
The black army surged forward.
The battle had begun.
THE FIRST CIRCLE
All too quickly, the killing started.
The army of the Old Ones came like a tidal wave rising up from a black and boiling sea. The slaves in the front line were the first to move, rushing forward with their axes and clubs as if they couldn’t wait for their own, inevitable deaths. Behind them the knights marched, one pace at a time, relentless, swords raised. The heads of the unicorn horses were writhing as if in pain, the metal horns stabbing at anyone who came close. Then came the man-creatures, tumbling across the field, lashing out with claws and teeth. And finally there were the monster animals. To Jamie, watching from the hilltop, they looked unstoppable. They were so huge, surely they would have
