a slight advantage in that they had no concern for their own preservation; one would sacrifice itself so another could gain a better position in a fight. The shimmer of golden moths over the scene added an incongruous touch of beauty to the horror, so that after a moment Ruth felt she was watching a strange, detached cartoon, shifting in a syrupy slow motion as golden snow fell languorously.
'Are they going to fight to the last man?' she said when she couldn't bear to look any more.
'They're not men.' Veitch was seized with a cold anger. 'They've forgotten the job. We're going to lose everything because they're locked up in their own stupid, bleedin' rivalry.'
Before Ruth could answer, their attention was caught by frantic movement in the air down in the valley. Rising from the drifting smoke were black shapes that looked like flies from their perspective. 'Fomorii,' Ruth said. 'Flying ones.'
It was never easy to get a fix on the fluid shapes of the Fomorii, but Ruth was sure she could make out wings like a bat, but gleaming and rigid, as though they were made of metal. As the creatures fell down towards the heath, their insectile body plates shifted, folded out and slotted into place until they were covered with a hideous ridged and pitted armour. Numerous horns rimmed the skull while the eyes glowed a Satanic red from deep within Stygian orbits.
As Ruth and Veitch watched, a pair of the flying Night Walkers broke away from the formation and targeted the two of them. 'Come on!' Veitch turned his horse in a bid to outrun them.
The flying Fomorii were like small jets, flattening their wings against their backs to build more speed. As their shadow fell over Ruth, she threw herself to one side. It was enough to avoid a killing blow from talons of black steel but she still felt a ringing impact on the side of her head, knocking her from the horse. She hit the ground hard, seeing stars, feeling a wetness seeping into her hair.
When she next looked up, the two creatures had zoned in on Veitch. They hovered, avoiding his blows, then diving in between his sword thrusts with the speed of hummingbirds. Even so, they'd only managed to land a couple of minor blows on him; blood trickled from a cut on his temple, another on his cheek.
As Ruth pushed herself dazedly to her feet, she saw Witch feint and then rip his sword along one of the creature's bellies. Thick, black liquid gushed out, steaming in the cold air. It narrowly missed Veitch, splattering on the grass where it sizzled like acid. But in the Fomor's dying spasm it had knocked Witch's sword from his hand, and the other one was preparing to sweep in for the kill.
Though her head felt like cotton wool, Ruth acted on instinct. She snatched up the Spear from where it had fallen and hurled it with all her strength. As the creature dived down, the Spear rammed through its skull, neck and out of its belly. It dropped to the ground like a stone.
Veitch snapped round towards her. At first his face was unreadable, but then a grin crept across it. 'So you can be as big a nasty bastard as the rest of us.'
After reclaiming the Spear and Ruth's horse, they only had a second or two to consider their options before they realised a section of the Tuatha De Danann force was rushing towards them. The flying Fomorii were wreaking havoc amongst the outer reaches of the Golden Ones, but hadn't yet progressed to those fighting in the thickest of the melee. It was obvious they had tilted the balance firmly in the direction of the Fomorii.
Lugh and Nuada patently recognised this for they were in the forefront of the retreat. The conch-like horn sounded insistently above the clash of battle and the bloodthirsty screeches of the Fomorii. The Tuatha De Danann attempted to extricate themselves from the thick of the fighting. Many fell in the course of the retreat.
Soon Ruth and Veitch's horses thundered across the heath. The airborne creatures continued to harry those at the rear, but away from the battle there was more room to use Goibhniu's weapons. Once a handful had plummeted from the sky the other Fomorii hung back, waiting for the right opportunity. Dropping back further, the Night Walker forces regrouped to drive the Tuatha De Danann eastwards; once the gods hit the built-up areas, their retreat would fragment.
Ruth could see this was not lost on Nuada. His face was drained of the arrogance that had turned his earlier smiles into a sneer; a stony cast hid his concern.
Veitch knew it too, was probably aware of it before anyone else. 'We can't keep running!' he yelled above the pounding of a thousand hooves.
'Then what do you suggest?' Nuada snapped.
The thoughtful expression that crossed Veitch's face brought a smile to Ruth's lips; she recognised it instantly. 'There's one route that'll take all this lot, horses and all, right into the heart of where we want to go,' he said.
'Then why was it not proposed earlier?'
'Because it's probably bleedin' dangerous.' Veitch turned to Ruth. 'The tube.'
Ruth was struggling to keep up, but Veitch's suggestion gave her added impetus. 'Of course! The whole city's got tunnels running under it everywhere!'
'Not just the train tunnels. There's other shit down there. Secret passages for the Government and the army. Disused lines and everything.'
Nuada reined in his mount; they had reached the eastern edge of the heath. Within a couple of minutes, the rest of the Tuatha De Danann would be milling around them, jammed into a bottleneck and ready for the slaughter.
'Make haste! There is little time!' Ruth thought she sensed a hint of respect in Nuada's voice.
'Okay, here's the deal. If we all head to the nearest station the Bastards'll follow us down and pick us off. But what they really want is you, Lugh and the other top dogs. Me too, probably. We're going to draw some of them off, try to lose them. Ruth's going to lead as many of your lot as she can to Archway station and then move up with some more to Highgate.' He winced. 'The rest are going to have to fend for themselves.'
'Agreed. They can honour themselves by holding off the Night Walkers until we reach our destination.' He made to go before turning back to Veitch. 'You are a true champion of your kind, Brother of Dragons.' And then he was away, passing on the plan to his lieutenants.
The flush of pride rose up in Veitch's cheeks and he tried to turn away before Ruth could see. She rode up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder so she could pull him closer to whisper in his ear. 'You're the hero, Ryan. Everybody knows it.'
He looked deep into her face, unable to find any words that could express his thoughts. Instead he pulled her closer to kiss her just once, on the cheek; it was a kiss for old time's sake. And then he spurred his horse to round up the men he needed.
Veitch, Lugh and Nuada led a band of about thirty eastwards through the pleasant streets that bordered the heath. Within a couple of minutes they were at the place Veitch had identified from his encyclopaedic strategic memory. Highgate Cemetery brooded behind stone walls and chained iron gates, a maze of paths amongst the crumbling Victorian monuments to the dead, festooned with ivy, shadowed by clusters of dark, overhanging trees.
Lugh smashed down the main gate with one blow of his boot. They drove their horses deep into the heart of the cemetery where they dismounted. Veitch knew he had made the right choice: plenty of places to hide amongst the stones and mausoleums, the groves and hollows and mounds that gave no clear line of sight.
Yet he couldn't help a shudder when he looked round at the stones. It was the Grey Lands all over again. Images of the dead beneath his feet rose unbidden into his mind, and however much he tried he couldn't stifle the thought of them listening and shifting, gradually clawing their way up to the light.
Before he made any further move, he climbed into the low, twisted branches of an ancient yew. Through the thick greenery he could just make out the cemetery perimeter. He had been right there too: the Fomorii were milling around in the streets beyond, confused. Their hive-mind was good for any obvious confrontation, but anything involving guile and difficult choices left them at odds. It helped that he could not see any that stood out as leaders. No flapping crows, no enormous, powerful warriors like the one that had pursued them from Edinburgh.
After a moment the main body of the force set off to track Ruth through the trees, but they had hesitated long enough for her to have a good headstart. A large group turned towards the cemetery. A chill ran through Veitch as they flowed over the walls and amongst the stones like shadows at twilight. Several of the flying Fomorii joined them, swooping low over the graves, searching for any sign of their prey.
Veitch dropped from the branches to Nuada and Lugh. 'You know what guerrilla warfare is? We split up into ones and twos, pick off as many as we can while we make our way across the cemetery. We meet up on the other
