Shavi had only an instant to reflect on what could have had such an effect on near-invulnerable gods before the thick smoke rolled in again to obscure the rising tide of panic on the flyover.
'Laura!' he yelled again, moving amongst the rubble.
'Here.' Her voice was muffled. He found her struggling out from a thick shelter of vegetable manner that had kept the worst of the masonry from crushing her. 'The wonders of green blood,' she said by way of explanation.
He offered his hand to drag her out.
'Well, that didn't take long to go pear-shaped,' she said bitterly.
'They were too arrogant. And we should have trusted our own judgment more.'
Some of the gods staggered in a daze out of the swirling smoke. A few attempted to rein in the horses cantering around wildly. Laura watched Shavi's face grow serene; a moment later all the horses had calmed.
Baccharus came stumbling over the broken tarmac and twisted girders. 'Move quickly,' he yelled. He caught three horses and herded them towards Shavi and Laura. The other Tuatha De Danann were already mounting their own steeds.
Shavi and Laura had barely taken the reins when a gust of wind cleared the smoke and dust to reveal a sight that rooted them to the spot. All around, silent and unmoving, were the Fomorii, their monstrous faces turned towards Shavi and Laura. It was an eerie scene, as if they were robots waiting to come alive. The pile of broken masonry on which they and the Tuatha De Danann stood was a tiny island in a sea of black.
Shavi and Laura jumped on to their horses, casting around for a way out. A breeze rippled across the immobile sable statues. They began to move.
The shrieks and howls that rang out were deafening, the sight of the Fomorii sweeping forward in a tidal wave enough to drive all conscious thoughts from their minds.
Baccharus threw Shavi a strange sword with twin blades and a jewel embedded in the handle. 'Press the jewel,' the god yelled.
Shavi looked at the weapon in incomprehension.
'Press the jewel!'
The Fomorii were surging forward. One of the Tuatha De Danann tried to fend them off with a sword, but sheer force of numbers dragged him from his horse, and both he and the mount were swallowed up by the sickening tide.
Laura lashed out at Shavi's arm, shocking him alert. 'Press the jewel, you moron!'
Shavi thumbed the gem. He felt a subtle sucking sensation deep in the heart of him as a blue spark began to crackle between the twin blades. The Fomorii appeared to recognise what was happening, and obviously feared it, for their forward motion halted and the shrieks died away with a ripple of apprehension. The Blue Fire burned a little higher up the blade.
Then, Shavi understood. He closed his eyes and focused his concentration on his heart, his spirit. The effect was remarkable. He jolted as an electric surge rushed through him, and when he opened his eyes, the Blue Fire was burning brighter than he had ever seen it. It tore up the remainder of the blades in an instant.
He thought he heard a whisper of terror rush through the Fomorii, and then the sapphire energy exploded from the sword like a summer lightning storm. The force almost knocked him from the horse; for a moment the whole world was blue. He heard Laura's exclamation of wonder, and when next he looked there was a massive blast zone around them where lay the charred remains of many Fomorii. Beyond it, the other Fomorii were backing away frantically.
Shavi felt so exhausted he could no longer sit upright. He slumped against the horse's neck as the sword slipped from his grasp. Laura caught it. 'I think we'll save this for later, don't you?' She slipped it into an empty scabbard fixed on Shavi's saddle.
Baccharus was at their side, his skin so pale there was barely a hint of gold in it. 'Come, we must not tarry here. The Night Walkers will not hold back for long. Although they fear like beasts of the field, their individual existence is meaningless. They will give themselves up happily for the will of the collective.'
A pitched battle was raging along what remained of the flyover and the stretch of the M4 they could still see. The Fomorii were clambering over the edges of the motorway, getting torn apart by the array of Tuatha De Danann weapons, then coming back for more. And on the rooftops Mollecht was unleashing more of his plague-blasts.
'We won't be getting any help from them,' Laura said. She looked round and pointed to a path that had been cut through the Fomorii.
They had no idea where they were going, knew there was little hope for such a small band riding ever deeper into enemy territory, but there was no chance of them going back. Even so, they refused to countenance failure, and thoughts of their deaths never entered their minds.
The only route open to them was along Hammersmith Road. They soon left behind the main mass of Fomorii, more concerned with defeating the Tuatha De Danann army than with hunting a few stragglers. Yet there were still random bursts of movement in the buildings on either side.
Baccharus was accompanied by nine other gods. They all looked stunned, as if they'd taken a detour into a world they never dreamed existed. Baccharus, however, had best overcome the blow and was now leading the group; they obeyed him blindly, glad that someone else was taking the responsibility.
The road led on to Kensington High Street. It was snarled with discarded cars, trucks and a burnt-out bus, forcing them to ride on the pavement. Names from another age reached out to them: Smith's, Boots, Barker's department store.
The smoke was thicker towards the eastern end of the high street. Kensington Palace was still burning, its roof collapsed, the walls blackened and broken. The huge security gates that had closed off the road leading to the palace had been torn down and lay mangled and barely recognisable in the street.
'I wonder what happened to the Royal Family,' Shavi mused as they passed.
'Those sort of people always have a bolt-hole. The Great and the Good.' The contempt in Laura's voice was heavy. 'The secret service probably spirited them off to a cushy estate in Scotland long before all this came to a head. And I bet they never told any of the little people that Armageddon was coming to their doorsteps.'
Ahead of them the green expanse of Kensington Gardens stretched out towards Hyde Park, silent and eerie in the drifting smoke. Baccharus reined in his horse uneasily and scanned the stark trees towards the Serpentine. 'Some of my people used to come here on summer evenings,' he said. 'They would steal children and take them back to the Far Lands. Some would stay, some would be returned.'
Shavi closed his eyes, letting himself read the atmosphere. 'It is a liminal zone,' he said. 'Green space in an open city. The boundary between here and T'ir n'a n'Og is fluid.'
'I tripped here once,' Laura said. 'It was summer. Everything was yellow and green. Me and a friend dropped a tab up near Temple Lodge, then went out on a boat on the lake. Just drifting along. It was… peaceful.' The memory jarred with the landscape that now lay before her. She shivered. 'I don't think we should go in there.'
Behind them the sound of pitched battle grew more intense. Someone was screaming, high-pitched and reedy, so despairing they all wanted to cover their ears. Another explosion sent a booming blast of pressure over them.
Shavi noticed shapes moving in the doorways across the street. Fomorii were emerging slowly. They looked wary, as if they knew of the sword even though they had had no contact with the other group.
Laura fought back another wave of nausea when she looked at them. 'God, this place is disgusting! It's infested.' She turned to Shavi. 'Are you up to using that super-cool sword again?'
He shook his head. 'It is powered by the spirit. It will take a while to bring my energy levels back up.'
Baccharus pointed along Kensington Road towards Knightsbridge. 'The Night Walkers are attempting to cut us off. Moving across the road ahead, coming up behind us.'
'Then we go across the park,' Shavi said. 'Perhaps lose them in the smoke. We cannot afford to move so slowly.'
They spurred their horses and headed into the disquieting open space of Kensington Gardens.
The smoke was even thicker there, blowing in from the palace, and from another large fire burning somewhere nearby. They kept their scarves tied tightly across their mouths, but it was still choking them; their eyes reared so much it was often hard to see the way ahead.
It was Shavi who first recognised they were no longer alone. His ears were attuned to the shifting moods of nature and he felt the pressure drop rapidly. It was followed by rapid footsteps padding in the grass all around,
