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, moving back and forth. Although the smoke was too dense to see what was there, he had the unmistakable feeling that it was hunting.
"Be on your guard," he said quietly.
And then they all could hear the running feet, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind. They reminded Laura of a group of preschool children at play. There was no other sound; not the shrieks of Fomorii, no voices at all.
Baccharus motioned for the other Tuatha De Danann to bring their horses close together. They urged their steeds to step lightly, but every now and then the hooves would hit a stone with a clatter.
"What are they?" Laura whispered.
Shavi shook his head. The footsteps moved closer, as if their owners had begun to get their bearings. The Tuatha De Danann reined their horses to a stop and drew their swords.
The throat-rending, bloodthirsty cry behind them made Laura almost leap from her saddle. The Tuatha De Danann whirled ready to lash out, but it was too late. One of them was torn from his horse and thrown to the ground, where a squat figure about five feet tall stooped over it, its muscular arms rending and tearing with a frantic clawing motion. The agonised screams of the god were sickening, but the sheer brutality of the attack froze them in place.
Laura was nauseated to see the figure was wearing a hat made out of human body parts-she thought she saw half a face there-and its tangled, black hair was matted with dried blood. It turned and bellowed triumphantly. Its bloodstained teeth were large and broken, its features monstrous, but its skin was green and scaled in part. Laura felt a wash of cold.
Another launched itself from the smoke towards one of the Tuatha lle Danann. Its huge hands were grasping with long, jagged nails as it roared ferociously. The god reacted quickly, swinging his sword down to split the beast's head open. It fell to the ground, twitching and vomiting.