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. 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.