faded into the background, to be replaced by an amorphous feeling of wonder.
The journey passed in a blur, faster than they could ever have galloped on normal horses. They only slowed when London hove into view, and in that instant all brightness drained from them. In the centre of the city, the monstrous black tower rose up, its summit lost in the clouds that swirled continually overhead. Greasy black smoke lapped up towards them from the fires that burned all around. There were things flying, and things moving on the ground, but Church didn't focus on any of them.
All he could think of was the prophecy of him watching a burning city that had haunted his nights since his visit to the watchtower between the worlds. It had felt like the ultimate in desolation, and as he sat there, watching the scene for real for the first time, he understood how true that feeling had been.
Chapter Seventeen
Despite all they had seen, Laura and Shavi were still overwhelmed by the incongruous sight of an army of otherworldly beings trooping along the M4, where tourist buses and cars and articulated lorries had once trundled bumper to bumper. Occasionally they passed an abandoned vehicle, windows smeared in thick dust, that only added to the sense of dislocation.
There had been a brief flurry of activity as they came into London past the now-silent Heathrow Airport. A group of Fomorii had attacked, shrieking and howling, but it had been half-hearted and directionless, and the attackers had drifted off once their casualties had started to mount. The Tuatha De Danann were armed with a terrifying array of weapons constructed by Goibhniu and his brothers in their secret smithies, some of which could deal death at a great distance, but it did not appear that this show of strength was the cause of the retreat. Many of the Fomorii had disappeared into the houses that lined the motorway, while the flying Night Walkers had retreated into the bank of thick clouds.
'I expected greater defiance,' Baccharus said as the road wound past Osterley towards Brentford. 'They will not allow us to drive directly into the heart of their nest, where their most sacred thing resides.'
The atmosphere didn't help the growing apprehension. When the wind blew in the wrong direction, Shavi and Laura had to cover their mouths and noses with scarves to keep out the choking smoke filled with sickening chemical undertones. It was cold, too, the sun mostly obscured by the clouds; they were wearing several layers of borrowed clothes beneath their old jackets.
The fires blazing near to the motorway brought little warmth, but cast a hellish red glow across the empty houses, shops and business premises. Homes stood with doors torn off and windows smashed. In some the roof had caved in, while in the worst places entire streets had been demolished. Although many areas appeared relatively untouched, it was almost impossible to imagine the Fomorii occupation, and how terribly the residents must have suffered.
Shavi continually scanned the buildings on either side, until Laura said, 'Can't you do something? You're supposed to be the big magician.'
'Any abilities I might have are shamanic. I prefer a quiet space to meditate, something to put me into the right frame of mind.'
'You set all those animals on the Bone Inspector at Rosslyn Chapel. Can't you send an army of… I don't know, badgers, on ahead?'
'Badgers?'
'You know what I mean. Anything.'
He coughed into his scarf as a swirl of smoke engulfed them. 'We would need a Ryan or a Church to offer any true resistance to a direct assault by the Fomorii. Or even a Ruth, if what I hear of her advancing abilities is true. This is not the best situation for us.'
'Speak for yourself. I've learnt a few new tricks myself since I became the Chlorophyll Kid.'
'Oh?' He eyed her curiously. 'What can you do?'
'Mind your biz. And hope I don't have to show you.' She tied her scarf tighter so she resembled a Bedouin riding into a sandstorm.
The lack of resistance was unnerving even the Tuatha De Dannan now. They were moving more cautiously, watching the surrounding cityscape for any sign of movement, Goibhniu's bizarre weapons levelled for a quick strike.
Baccharus rode up next to them once more. 'The Night Walkers are an underhand race. We fear an attack from the side or rear, rather than an honourable face-to-face confrontation.'
'An ambush makes sense,' Laura mused. 'Veitch made a smart suggestion for the two land teams to use the motorways to get right into the city quickly, but it does make us sitting targets.'
'The Golden Ones,' Baccharus said self-deprecatingly, 'are too proud to hide.'
Ahead of them the Hammersmith Flyover rose up as the houses and shops fell away on either side. As they passed over it, Laura could see the edges of the roundabout under the bridge way below, and the rooftop of the Hammersmith Odeon. 'At least we're above the snipers now.'
'Not for long,' Shavi noted. 'The road drops down quickly towards Earls Court.'
'Thanks for wrecking my one tension-free moment of the day.' Movement away to her right caught her eye. 'Look at all those birds. What are they? You know, I haven't seen any pigeons yet. Do you think they've all moved out to the country?'
Shavi watched the flock swirling around one particular rooftop. 'Crows,' he said, and the moment the word had left his lips, he knew. Anxiously, he turned to the Tuatha De Danann. 'Beware-!
His warning was cut off by a deafening explosion. The ground beneath their feet rolled like water, then dropped suddenly. Shavi was still watching the birds fly into a tight formation that made the shape of a man when he realised he was falling.
Laura was yelling and fighting with her horse, which was frantically attempting to gain purchase on the crumbling road surface. They were all engulfed in noise: the panicked whinnying of the horses, the yells of the gods, the crack and rumble of the shattering flyover, the booming bursts of more supports getting blown out, a roaring cacophony that threatened to burst their eardrums.
They were lucky all the supports didn't go at once. Instead of dropping in one block, the bridge concertinaed, twisting one way, then the other, so those who were on that section slid back and forth as they moved towards the ground. Shavi and Laura were best placed. On the area where they had skidded it only fell sharply for the final ten feet, but that was enough to fling them both from their horses as they were showered in rubble.
Shavi blacked out briefly, and when he came to there was a large chunk of concrete crushing down on him. With an effort he managed to drag it off, but he could feel the blood soaking through his clothes; nothing appeared to be broken, though. He staggered to his feet, calling Laura's name. The air was so choked in dust and smoke, it was impossible to see more than a few feet, but what he could discern was bad enough. Many of the Tuatha lle Danann had been torn apart or crushed by the falling sections of bridge. Horses lay dead or dying all around. A few of the gods staggered to their feet in one piece, and a similar number of the horses had survived.
The smoke and dust cleared enough to reveal the rest of the army in a chaotic melee on the remaining part of the flyover, desperately urging their mounts to move back along the motorway towards the slip road to ground level. It was exactly as Laura had foreseen: there were too many of them fighting for too little space. They were easy targets.
A sound like wind rushing through a derelict house filled the air. Mollecht was on the edge of the building, the crows that made up his body flying in everfaster formation. The crows increased their speed until they were just a blur, and then a hole opened up in their centre. The sound of rushing wind became almost deafening. There was a flash as a fine, red spray erupted out of Mollecht's body, sweeping across the gulf to the Tuatha lle Danann struggling to get off the bridge.
As it fell across them, the reaction was instantaneous. Black, mottling patches sprang up across any exposed skin. Foam burst from their mouths and their eyes rolled as they clawed at their throats. Those nearest to the shattered end of the bridge staggered backwards and plummeted to the ground, bursting open like sacks of jelly.
