'And we're not Satanists. Does that make me mad when I hear it. There is no Satan in the pagan religions — that's a Christian invention. No personification of pure evil. We look to nature for our guidance, where evil doesn't exist, just a dark side and a light side to everything. Our deity has two aspects: the horned male and the triple goddess of mother, maiden and crone. Christianity demonised the male one, turned him into Satan with the horns and the tail and the cloven hooves, but he's really a god of nature, embodying aspects of the flora and fauna-'
'Sorry to interrupt your history lesson, Sophie, as interesting as it is, but we're about to be attacked.' It seemed that his sword whispered as it slid out of the sheath; an aural trick, nothing else.
Before Sophie could say anything more, the shape loomed towards them. At first, it appeared to be on its knees, then loping like a wolf and finally upright. Mallory had the unnerving feeling it was floating an inch or so above the ground, its legs motionless.
One of the travellers had made the mistake of drifting off to one side. He was in his forties, but prematurely aged through drink and too many drugs, his hair thin on top but long and wiry down the back. He saw it first and let out a shriek that made Mallory's blood run cold. The traveller was rooted for a second, then half-turned to run, but it was too late.
Coming up fast on him was a thing with the body of a man, but a head that was just a white skull with an angry red light seeping out of its hollow orbs. Its clothes were black, tattered in part as if it had been wrapped in a shroud, but gleaming black armour lay beneath.
The creature shimmered as it bore down on the traveller, appearing to change shape slightly so that its limbs elongated, the hands stretching into bony talons. It swung one and took the traveller's head off at the neck.
One of the girls fainted, hitting the turf as a dead weight. Mallory could feel the desperate eyes of the other travellers heavy on him.
The thing fell down on the corpse, tearing with its talons in a frenzy until the body fell apart. Then it ducked down into the soft tissue and began to feed so ravenously that the blood flew like rain.
Mallory's first reaction was to look after himself, but he couldn't do it. He gripped the sword with both hands and took a step forwards.
At Mallory's movement, the creature raised its head, the bone now stained scarlet. Mallory wished it would let out some growl so he could characterise it as flesh and blood, but it was as silent as the grave. It launched itself towards him, eerily lighter than air as it tore across the distance between them.
The ghostliness wrong-footed him so that he wasn't ready for the force of impact. It felt as if someone had thrown a full oil drum at him. He went down underneath it as screams erupted all around.
It didn't use its talons immediately. Instead, those seething red eyes began to inspect him. Mallory had the feeling of being dissected, his hopes torn apart and thrown away, his fears peeled back. He could smell the traveller's fresh blood, but beneath it there was the odour of loam and rotting vegetation. It opened its mouth briefly, then closed it with a clack of bare teeth.
Mallory acted just as it launched its attack. When it shifted its weight to raise a bony hand he rolled to one side, brought up his knee and levered it off him. The thing was already flinging itself back at him like a cornered wildcat. He tried to bring up the sword, but there wasn't room and he could only jam it crossways between them awkwardly. The creature's talons were just a flash. If Mallory hadn't snatched his head away instinctively it would now be bouncing alongside the traveller's.
He tried to fend it off with his left arm, but to his horror it brought its skull down sharply and closed those ferocious jaws on his forearm. He yelled with pain, but at the same time seized his opportunity to arc the sword around into the creature's ribs. It felt as if he'd swung it into the trunk of an oak tree.
But it did enough. The creature released its grip on his arm and recoiled, still silent even when Mallory yanked the sword out, bringing part of a bone with it. In that instant, Mallory knew no earthly sword would have had any effect; the dragon-sword sang in his hands, setting his nerve endings alight.
Now the thing hung back, floating eerily from side to side, its hideous red-stained skull cocked as it surveyed him in a new light. It only took a moment to size him up before it attacked again, unannounced and with rattlesnake speed. Mallory had the merest instant to respond; he shifted weight, parried, but it was like trying to fence with a cloud of claws and snapping jaws.
For fifteen minutes the battle raged back and forth. Occasionally, Mallory would sneak through the creature's defences to slice into his unbelievably dense body. More often it would catch him a glancing blow that would make his teeth ring, or raise droplets of blood with a rake of its talons. But with each wound, Mallory felt the dull rage within him grow colder and harder, focusing his mind, sharpening his reactions. He couldn't see Sophie or the travellers — even their cries were lost to him. Everything was centred on the grinning skull, the abomination that had no right to cause suffering when so much already existed.
He saw the opening, instantly dissected tactics and all possible responses, then acted with a swiftness that turned his sword arm to a blur. The dragon-sword drove into the creature's chest, and then Mallory gripped it with both hands and drove down with all his strength. It felt as if he was forcing the blade through stone.
As the thing began to split in two, Mallory snatched the sword free and slashed. The red skull flew free, rattled on to the ground and bounced across the turf.
Mallory staggered back, catching his breath after the exertion, still shaking with the battle rage. Sophie stepped in to support him.
'Are you OK?' she said, with deep concern.
He steadied himself, then quickly herded her away from the carcass, still quivering with its death throes. 'Let's get moving.'
'You need to rest. We've got to treat your wounds.' She gently dabbed at a deep cut on his forehead.
'Too risky. Anything else out here won't give us time to rest.'
Reluctantly, she agreed. The travellers, who were now looking at Mallory with new eyes, grateful but awed, picked up Miller's stretcher and set off as fast as their weary legs would muster.
They hadn't gone far when the girl who had fainted cried out once more. Mallory followed the line of her pointing finger to the place of his battle. In a pool of moonlight, the creature was rising up from the ground, body rejoined, skull firmly reattached. It steadied itself for a second, then turned towards them.
'It's not going to let us go,' the girl moaned.
Mallory cursed, feared he wouldn't have the strength and the luck to defeat it again, wondered how many times he'd have to attempt it before the bony jaws were feeding on his own lights.
'Get moving,' he said.
'What are you going to do?' Sophie said.
'Just get moving. I'll catch you up.'
'You're stupid-'
Eyes blazing, he spun round, but his voice was low and moderated. 'You've got a responsibility to these people who trust you. And you need to get Miller back. This is my job, for better or worse. You do yours.'
She marshalled the others without further discussion. They headed off, but her voice floated back to him. 'Catch us up, Mallory. We need you.'
Then it was just him and the thing sweeping over the grass, black shroud flapping in the wind, jaw open in a silent scream.
He fought for a half-hour this time, eventually stabbing the sword through its right eye socket before shattering its skull. He spent the next ten minutes chopping the body into chunks no bigger than a bag of sugar before lurching away, exhausted.
He caught up with the others, and this time they had fifteen minutes' grace before the thing came at them again.
Three more times he battled it. Each fight lasted longer, each time he grew weaker, picked up more wounds, undoing all the good works of the Court of Peaceful Days. After the last one he was convinced he wouldn't be able to do it again.
Sophie remained silent, but her eyes never left him. She understood his suffering, knew there was no point in discussing it, but in her silence there was a support that gave him an added reserve of strength.
The fluttering silhouette was against the now clear sky of the horizon when they came over a rise to find serendipity. Scattered across the downward slope were the picked-clean bones of soldiers, their shredded uniforms blowing in the breeze. A tank stood silently, a hole rupturing its side; Mallory had no idea what could have committed such a devastating attack. And beyond it was a covered truck, the driver's door sagging open where the
