Demon Rider

He threw his sword into the trees and turned in the saddle to address the others. 'Do as they say! They will spare our—'

'King Pedro and Castile!' Hooves thundered, mud sprayed, horses whinnied in alarm. Having won his way past the pack train, the don came charging down the trail with his lance couched.

It should have been obvious that Don Ramon de Nunez y Pardo would not surrender to a common footpad, nor even forty of them. Or perhaps he thought he was leading a whole army of armored knights against the Moors. Whatever the reason, honor demanded death. Toby spun Smeorach around and kicked him harder than the poor beast had ever been kicked. Astonished but ever willing, Smeorach leaped forward. Toby rode him straight into the oncoming maniac.

The don held his lance in his right hand, aimed to strike an opponent approaching on his left — that was correct technique for jousting, and he was undoubtedly well practiced in the arts of chivalry. But the terrain was very treacherous, and one thing that almost never happened in the best tilting yards was a horse careering into you at high speed from the right and a young man of very large size hurling himself on top of you. Lance, shield, knight, Longdirk, and Midnight all went over together in an explosion of mud and stones. The outraged Smeorach carried on up the trail as fast as his hooves would carry him.

* * *

The brigand leader walked over and put the crippled Midnight to death with a single deft thrust to the heart. He peered at the don, then wiped his sword on the animal without bothering to administer another coup de grace. He took a longer, warier look at Toby.

The world had not quite stopped spinning. He had managed to rub most of the mud out of his eyes but had not yet catalogued all his scrapes and bruises. Still too sick and shocked from the impact to think of sitting up, he returned the brigand's calculating stare as well as he could from ground level.

Total disaster! In three years of wild adventuring, he had never failed so hopelessly. Even in his visions of Oreste's dungeon or the Inquisition's torture chamber he had been alone, whereas here he must endure the reproach of friends who had depended on him. Now he could appreciate Brother Bernat's warning that he would no longer have the hob to defend him. Worst of all, he had accepted the old man's word for it that next time the hob would take him over permanently. He might have been wrong. It had never done so before. For the others' sake, Toby should have risked possession. The don had done the honorable thing, while he must live with his guilt — Montserrat piled on Mezquiriz.

Only the monotonous hiss of the rain disturbed the silence of the forest. Then Dona Francisca threw herself on top of her son with a wail. His helmet had fallen off; his auburn hair trailed in the mud. He was either dead or stunned.

The surviving members of the company arrived on foot — Pepita, Josep, Gracia, Senora Collel, and Hamish leaning on Jacques's shoulder. Brigands closed in around them with drawn swords. Others had already taken charge of the horses, moving as if they had performed this operation many times.

Toby sat up — carefully and painfully.

'That's far enough, sonny!' snapped the leader. 'Jose, keep an eye on this one. If he as much as twitches, kill him.'

'With pleasure, Caudillo.' The nearest guard took up position in front of Toby, aiming a cocked crossbow at him. He was a rangy youth with a nasty leer on his unshaven face. 'It will not be a difficult shot.'

Toby groaned and just sat where he was in the mud. The spinning slowed.

Night and fog were closing in. Vague shapes of horses jingled and splashed as they were led away down the road. The captives huddled together at the verge, surrounded by their grinning captors. Some of the brigands dragged Francisca off the don and began searching his body for valuables. The monk lay where he had fallen, ignored.

The caudillo stepped up to Gracia and leered. 'You're worth keeping. You'll come with us.' He raised his voice. 'The rest of you take your clothes off — all of them.'

'That is barbaric!' Toby roared.

'Kill him if he speaks again, Jose.'

'You promised not to harm us—'

'I promised nothing. Shoot him at the next word, Jose. That's an order.'

Toby stared up helplessly at Jose's teeth and eyes shining mockingly in the gloom.

The caudillo sneered down at him. 'Too late for heroics, little boy. You can keep your lives if you behave, but that's all. Nothing more. The run up to the monastery will warm you. This one has a treat in store for her.' He poked a finger at Gracia's bottle. 'What's in this?'

She clutched it with both hands and tried to step back, but there was a tree right behind her. 'Nothing, senor!' she wailed.

'Nothing?' The caudillo seized the bottle in one hand and her throat in the other. With a yank, he broke the thong and snatched it from her grasp.

Gracia screamed and tried to reach for it. Toby ground his teeth, horribly aware that any visible move would provoke the twitch of Jose's trigger finger that would end everything. At his back, his hand groped the gravel in search of a rock small enough to throw, large enough to damage…

The caudillo pulled out the stopper and tilted the bottle. Nothing emerged. He snorted and tossed it over his shoulder. It shattered. 'We'll fill your flask for you tonight, senorita. I told the rest of you to take your clothes off. Do I have to kill one of you to get…' He turned and peered up the road. 'What's that noise?'

The crossbow menacing Toby fell away as Jose stepped back, staring fixedly at something in the woods. His eyes seemed uncannily bright in the gloom. 'Oh, no!' he wailed. 'No, no!'

Toby risked a quick glance around and saw nothing behind him except darkness and tree trunks. What was going on?

With a shrill scream, the caudillo drew his sword. 'Leave me alone! Begone!' He parried like a fencer, then began slashing and leaping as if beset by invisible foes, gradually drawing away from the captives.

More of the brigands cried out and started flailing pikes or swords at the fog. Their frenzy grew wilder, their screams of terror louder. Metal clashed against metal. The prisoners were being totally ignored. Injuries forgotten, Toby lurched to his feet and made a dive for a fallen sword. He came back armed and much happier for it, although he could see that there would soon be no enemies left. His friends huddled in around him, as if he could defend them from what was happening. Gracia clutched at him, and he put an arm around her.

'The voices!' she cried. 'Oh, do you hear them, senor? Do you hear what they are saying?'

'I hear nothing.' But he could feel the hair on his scalp stir.

Pepita's squeal sounded more like laughter than fright. Senora Collel shrieked wordlessly and kept on shrieking until Toby gave her a shove. 'Be quiet!' he said. 'Will you draw attention to us?' She choked into silence.

There was no escape, for the road was blocked in both directions by cavorting weapon-wielding madmen, whose windmill strokes were inevitably starting to find flesh-and-blood victims. Screams of terror were being overwhelmed by screams of agony and mindless rage. Jose was still the closest; he swung his bow like a club at a swordsman, who turned on him with a string of lurid oaths. The two of them engaged in a wild duel, bow against sword, both slashing ineptly as if they could not see each other properly, both shrieking hysterically.

'Villains! Monsters!' the caudillo bellowed. 'I will not accept your lies!' He felled Jose from behind. The other man promptly reversed his sword and threw himself on it. A crossbow bolt thudded into the caudillo's breastplate, toppling him backward. He kicked a few times and then lay still.

It was almost over. A few vague figures still screamed and howled in the fog, battling one another without mercy or any visible reason. When they lost their weapons they went for each other with bare hands, punching and strangling, battering heads on rocks. Several hurled themselves over the edge of the track, their yells dying away in thuds and crashes among the trees on the slope below.

'Wraiths?' Hamish said. 'Can you see them, senora?'