Over the following days, they kept as far away from any roads or centres of population as possible. They slept in trees or ditches, wrapped in dustbin bags and other items of rubbish, like two tramps. Sometimes they found a hollow where they could light a fire without being seen. Veitch cooked rabbits or birds, while Shavi satisfied himself with any autumnal berries and fruits or roots that he could scavenge.
On a day that began cold and overcast with light drizzle sweeping across the countryside in gusts, they made their way over fields towards the rendezvous point. Ahead lay a rise where they expected a good vista over the rolling valleys that led down to the Thames; the outer reaches of the London sprawl was not far away.
When they came close to the ridge, they dropped to their bellies and wriggled up the remaining few yards, their clothes already sodden and thick with mud. Peeking over the summit so they would not be silhouetted against the skyline, they witnessed a sight that made their blood run cold.
London lay beneath a thick bank of seething clouds that formed no part of the surrounding weather system. Occasional bursts of lightning punctured the oppressive gloom so they could see that, somewhere in the centre of the capital, a large black tower had been raised up. It was still incomplete, and the edges were indistinct, as if roughly constructed. It reminded Shavi of pictures he had seen of enormous termites' nests in the African veldt. Ruth had spoken of a similar tower she had seen in the Lake District, constructed from the detritus of humanity: abandoned cars, plastics, bricks and girders, old washing machines, anything that could be reclaimed and stacked. And all across the city, fires blazed, sending up thick gouts of greasy smoke to join the lowering clouds.
There were things buzzing the tower with the insistent, awkward motion of flies. The distance was too great to tell exactly what they were, but there were clouds of them, black and threatening. And from the periphery of the city, across the surrounding countryside, swarmed what at first glance appeared to be ants. The Fomorii scurried back and forth, thousands upon thousands of them, sweeping out in wider and wider arcs as they spread across the country. Their movement looked chaotic and meaningless, but that only masked the complexity of regimented actions designed to scour and destroy. It was a scene from Hell.
Veitch watched the panorama for long minutes, his face heavy with hatred and repressed anger. 'How the fuck are we going to fight something like that?' he said in a cold, dead voice.
In the shadow of the M25, Laura and the Bone Inspector sheltered amongst a tangled maze of wrecked and abandoned cars. Through gaps in the vehicles they could make out waves of Fomorii fanning out across the Essex fields.
'We don't stand a chance,' Laura whispered. 'They're everywhere.' She still felt sick from the shock of losing her arm. Pressure was building deep in her shoulder, as if her blood was about to gush out of the gaping socket, despite the stained shirt she had pressed against the wound; she still couldn't understand why she hadn't bled out.
'They're searching for us.' The dismal note in the Bone Inspector's voice told her he agreed with her assessment. Their luck had run out.
'What do we do? Stay here?'
'Nowhere to run. They're all around now.' He tapped a syncopated rhythm with his staff.
Laura rubbed at her shoulder joint; the pressure was growing unbearable.
'We can't stay-
Her words were drowned out by the sudden rending of metal. Cars flew on either side, as if they were made of paper. Laura flung herself backwards in shock. The Bone Inspector raised his staff in defence, his face drained of blood. Eight or nine Fomorii ploughed through the vehicles with ease, tossing aside what they could move, rending apart what they could not.
Laura thought: Shit. What a way to go.
The noise of crashing metal was so loud neither of them heard the hunting horn, and so they were surprised when the first of the Fomorii dissolved in a thin, black rain. To Laura, the world appeared fractured: frozen frames, sudden temporal jumps. The Fomorii were turning as one. Red and white dogs leaped through the air, their teeth tiny yet so very sharp. Spears tipped with cruel sickles sliced into the Night Walkers, the beasts falling apart at the slightest touch. Drifting through the grey rain were men on horseback, swathed in furs and armour, their eyes hidden by shadows.
In less than two minutes the Fomorii were gone, their remains steaming amongst the shattered cars. The Wild Hunt reined in their horses and cantered around the area as the one of their number with the most fearsome face dismounted. As he walked towards Laura he began to change; antlers sprouted from his forehead, fur and leaves intermingled across his body. Cernunnos passed the Bone Inspector as if he were not there and dropped to his haunches before Laura, his wide-set, golden eyes calm and soothing.
'Daughter of the Green, I greet you.'
'I thought you only came out at night in that last form,' Laura gasped, not really knowing what to say.
'The world has changed. Many rules are falling like autumn leaves.' Then he did turn to the Bone Inspector. 'Guardian, you have moved beyond the bounds of your calling on this occasion. You sought this one out at great personal danger, and you have protected her to the best of your abilities. I look kindly on you. A reward will come your way.'
The Bone Inspector bowed his head slightly. 'I seek no reward.'
'Nonetheless, it shall be yours.' Returning his attention to Laura, he trailed his long, gnarled fingers gently through her hair. 'Frail creature. Fragile creature, yet filled with wonder.'
Laura lost herself in the swirling gold in his eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, then rose. 'Come, this place is corrupted. We must find safe haven.'
All Laura could remember of the journey from her seat on Cernunnos's horsealthough he wore the hideous form of the Erl-King as he rode-was a blur of green fields and grey road. They came to a halt in no time at all on the fringes of Brentwood, where the Essex countryside still rolled out peacefully.
In a thickly wooded swathe of the South Weald country park, the Hunt dismounted and let their horses wander amongst the trees. The Erl-King became Cernunnos once more and led Laura off to a quiet area where he could talk to her privately.
'What's going on?' she said weakly as she lay against the foot of an enormous oak.
'Events move faster as they rush towards the point of greatest change. You are caught up in the flow, Sister of Dragons, as you were from the moment existence came calling for you. This is your time, your destiny.'
'What use am I going to be?' The pressure in her shoulder made her stomach turn. 'My arm-'
'Remove the rag.'
Laura hesitated, afraid to see the tangled parts that remained after her arm had been torn off. He urged her once more, gently. She dropped the stained shirt and looked away. The pressure in her shoulder grew unbearable and she was forced to ram her fist into her mouth to stop herself screaming. But within a moment the pressure had broken, to be replaced by another disturbing sensation: it felt like everything inside her was rushing out of her shoulder. It was impossible not to look.
What she saw made her mind warp. The dangling tendons and skin were moving of their own accord. Before her eyes, cells multiplied and grew into long tendrils that twisted and knotted, then fused, became bone and muscle and gristle. The stump of an upper arm protruded from her shoulder. The process grew faster, reminding her of time-lapse film of sprouting plants. The tendrils lashed so quickly her face was buffeted by the air currents they made. An elbow formed perfectly. A forearm and wrist. The palm came together in a blur, and finally the fingers, the nails added with a flourish.
She couldn't take her eyes off it. Slowly, she turned it over, examining it from every angle. It was her arm; she knew the patterns of light and shade from the muscle structure beneath the skin. Her stomach flipped and she thought she was going to be sick, but as she brought her hand to her mouth she noticed the circle of interlocking leaves Cernunnos had branded into her flesh on the eerie island in Loch Maree. 'The green blood, green skin… What did you do to me?' Thoughts trampled through her head. Her hands went to her stomach. 'I didn't imagine it. I was ripped open when that thing came out of me. And I. Mended myself?'
Cernunnos made a strange growling noise deep in his throat that was almost sympathetic. 'You are a Daughter of the Green. Within you is the potency of nature in all its fury and wonder.'
'What did you do to me?'
'Your old form had reached the end of its days-'
'You killed me?' Her mind was reeling.
'There is no life or death. All things have no beginning and no end. For the immutable laws, you only have to
