“Of course not,” Eowyn replied as he moved forward to inspect the damage. “It’s beyond repair.”
“We should move the people away from the doors and upon the platform,” suggested Nicolas as he scanned the room. “Perhaps we can move the children upstairs?”
“Some are too young to be away from their mothers,” Edmond replied. “No. We will all remain here.” He beckoned to the other three elders to step closer. “If we meet with Grolle tonight, better we do so in unity. Families should be together, not separated.”
“Agreed,” said Eowyn as he moved his gaze towards the platform. “Still, we should move as many as we can to the rear of the auditorium and away from here.”
The men moved about the room quietly, helping families to move their gathered belongings and bedding to the platform. All the while, the horses continued to pull upon the doors.
The rumbles from the entrance continued to vibrate throughout the room, sending dust trickling down from high above.
Eowyn returned from assisting one group up to the platform and made his way to help another.
The doors were tugged upon again and a soft creak was heard throughout the room.
Several gasps followed as all eyes turned towards the doors.
Eowyn crept towards the large wooden structure. The doors were pulled again.
He watched the upper beam hold in place. To him it seemed fine.
Turning back to the frightened people huddled inside the Great Hall, he held his hands up reassuringly and smiled.
“It’s all right,” he said as he nodded his grey head. “It’s holding fast.”
Violently, the doors were wrenched again.
An enormous, deafening crack filled the expanse of the room as the great panels vanished into the street.
The confident elder turned towards the opening and dropped to his knees as a tall, hooded figure entered the Great Hall. It sliced its curved sword through the air and took Eowyn’s head clean from his shoulders.
Screams erupted as the elder’s body fell to the floor.
A large number of Night Demons entered the auditorium. Three of them made their way to the remaining elders who stood defiantly with heads held high.
Curved blades were sunk into their bellies and retracted quickly. The men fell to their knees in pain and the blades were slid across their throats.
The other cloaked figures moved about the room, lifting children away from their protesting mothers and carrying them into the night.
Catherine stared, mouth agape as the warriors made their way towards her. She gripped Linet tightly and shook her head at the hooded figure.
“No, no,” she cried. “Please, no!”
The clawed hands reached out and tore the little girl away from her mother. Linet screamed frantically, tears streaking down her face.
Catherine stood to pursue but was pushed to the floor be another warrior.
Sybil grabbed both of her daughters by the arms and bolted up the stairs to the living quarters above the auditorium. A warrior followed her, disappearing from the view of those in the main room.
A warrior lifted Agnes from Martha’s arms next and tucked her under its arm. Its claw-like hand then took Jane by the arm and pulled her from her mother. Martha screamed and crawled after them, but was kicked by the warrior that pushed Catherine to the floor.
Both women lay upon the ground bawling uncontrollably. There was nothing they could do as their children were taken from them.
The Night Demons lifted young suckling babies gently as their mothers were bound and led outside also. The youngest of the female serves were also taken away in such a manner.
The sound of something bouncing down the stairs to the living quarters caused Catherine and Martha to turn their heads. As they watched, Sybil’s head rolled across the floor as the pursuing Night Demon re-emerged gripping Isabel and Alanna by the arms with each hand.
The warrior made a deep coughing noise and two others hastily made their way over. Each of them took one of the young girls and jostled them through the auditorium and out the broken door.
Eventually, the Great Hall had been cleared of all youngsters and adolescent girls. All that remained were the ill, elderly and heartbroken mothers who wept loudly, calling after their children.
The Night Demons started filing out of the room one by one, leaving the grieving mothers to themselves. As the last of them retreated through the door, a trumpet blast was heard.
A thick silence followed and hung in the air for a very long time.
Some mothers continued to bawl while others lay wide-eyed and frightened, staring towards the open door.
Suddenly vulnerable to whatever was outside, they wondered what the Night Demons had in store for them.
Then their curiosity was answered.
A great whooshing sound and sudden gust of wind announced the arrival of their doom.
It slowly stuck its head through the doorway of the Great Hall and roared thunder.
Hands clasped to ears and screams of fear and terror ensued.
The beast let out a low guttural noise before taking a deep breath of air.
“Gods, please,” Catherine whimpered as a great jet of fire filled her vision.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Richard dropped to his knees as the beast spewed fire into the Great Hall. Flames burst through the roof as the fire took hold in the building.
The dragon took another breath and spat another jet of fire through the door. Even from this distance, Richard felt the heat of the flames.
Several of the attackers had turned and fled while a large number remained to continue the fight. Rising to his feet, full of rage, Richard hacked through the warriors one by one.
Nine of his men still stood by his side as they fought the last three dark warriors. It wasn’t long before the three hooded Night Demons were lying upon the street.
Looking up from the bodies, Richard saw the great dragon still positioned before the Great Hall, disgorging flames into the auditorium.
He ran along the road, the sound of his footfalls dimmed by the eruptive noise of dragon breath.
The beast lay upon the steps with its wings folded upon itself, exposing its side to the council member.
Not knowing what else to do, Richard plunged his long sword into the dragon’s flesh just below the wing. He pushed with all of his might, feeling something break inside the beast. As he pushed even further, the blade vanished below the scaly surface until only the hilt remained bare.
The dragon roared and recoiled its head from the Great Hall’s entry. Stepping back, Richard saw enormous flames engulfing everything inside the building.
As far as he knew, and apart from the nine men approaching from behind him, all of his friends and fellow village men had been destroyed.
He no longer cared what happened to him.
The dragon turned its giant head towards its attacker and snarled, baring impressive and immense sharp teeth.
With no sword in his hand, Richard spread his arms and closed his eyes.
“Here I am, dragon,” he yelled. “Take me.”
The beast opened its mouth and recoiled its head.
The nine men standing behind their commander surmised that fire was about to engulf them all. They too closed their eyes and prepared for their journey with Grolle.
The beast swayed to the right before toppling over and smashing into a group of cottages.
The crash forced all eyes open. When it was apparent that they were not on fire and that the beast had fallen, they started to laugh.
A terrible roar bellowed from the clouds above.
They had forgotten about the other monster in the sky.
It dived towards them from the west, its mouth agape as it drew nearer and nearer.
This time there would be no escape from the beast’s flames. Lifting his hands to the sky, Richard prepared for death.
The dragon’s speed intensified as it drew air into its lungs
.
“Here I come Grolle,” Richard called.
A trumpet call sounded, long and loud.
The dragon abruptly swooped back towards the sky. A strong gust of wind hit the ten men upon the ground and knocked them off their feet.
Richard turned to watch the great beast climb further into the western sky.
“Come back,” Richard called as he rose to his feet, feeling cheated. “Bastard.”
The dragon disappeared into the clouds with a thunderous roar.
Richard stared after it for a moment before turning towards the fallen beast. He walked towards the giant carcase with determination.
“Where are you going?” asked a soldier.
“To get my bloody sword,” he answered.
Flames had burst through the rear door of the Great Hall and forced the nine surviving men in the alley to seek refuge inside the first kitchen. They couldn’t comprehend what had happened.
After jousting with the twelve Night Demons, they prepared to face another onslaught from the enemy. Their hearts raced in anticipation and they all but ran down the alley to greet their foes.
Then the trumpet call bellowed through the air and their enemy withdrew.
Left alone to wait and wonder what was going on, the men returned to drinking cider and eating bread. In some ways, they were relieved to have a chance to rest up, but at the same time, they couldn’t help sharing a curiosity for what was happening beyond their little passageway. The stable master was tempted to leave and lead the men from their post to see what was happening.
Then the trumpet was sounded again.
Within moments of the call the great flying beast passed low overhead. Not waiting to find out the beast’s target, Francis ordered all of his men to take cover in the kitchens.
Considering that the outer walls of the building were made of stone, the horse master believed they were much safer from the dragon’s breath inside than upon open ground.
He wasn’t far wrong.
Incredible intense heat wafted towards them from the back of the Great Hall. The men concluded that the building was being attacked from the front. Their thoughts were with Richard, the thirty swordsmen and bowmen upon the roofs as they cowered in the back room of the little kitchen.
Crackling timber and splintering beams could be heard as the jet of fire enveloped everything inside the building. The worst sounds of all were the screams and cries of the women and old men trapped inside.
The men huddled together for their own safety as they heard many poor souls perishing in the deadly blaze.
When at last the beast ceased its incessant barrage of fire, the men braved the chance to move back into the alleyway to inspect the damage. Carefully and precariously, they moved to the door, ash falling from their tunics as they moved.
The stable master ventured out first and peered towards the roof of the Great Hall where he saw colossal plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.
Fire had broken through the walls of the giant structure in a number of places where they lapped at the thick wooden structure. He imagined the building would be ablaze for some time.
Turning to his men, he saw grey shells of ash covering each one of them. The burly man chuckled, causing some of the ash to fall from him like powder to the ground.
The men looked at him curiously, not quite understanding how he could laugh at such a time as this.
“Sorry,” he said, regaining his composure. “I know it’s bad, but you should see yourselves.”
“If it’s anything like you, Francis,” said a stable worker, “then it isn’t any laughing matter.”
A loud crack and a snap were heard from high above them. Large chunks of flaming wall came crashing down upon the overturned wagon setting the stacks of barrels on fire.
“Come on,” the burly man instructed. “It isn’t safe here anymore.”
“I don’t think it’s safe anywhere,” said a swordsman as they moved towards the western edge of the Great Hall.
They moved in single file, backs against the wall of the adjacent building to the giant structure, shifting their eyes from what lay ahead and the inferno before them.
Gradually, they edged their way to the street that led to the front doors of the Great Hall. There, they saw nine swordsmen standing near the entrance, peering down the road past them.
“Coming out,” Francis Lytton called as he stepped into the street for all to see.
The soldiers glanced towards him momentarily before returning their gaze past him to further along the road.
“Is it dead?” one of the nine men called.
“What do you mean is it…?” the brawny man began.
“Well it didn’t complain when I got this back from it,” Richard called from behind him.
The stable master turned to see the council member holding his blood soaked sword up for his men to see. Behind him lay the lifeless body of a giant beast.
Ashes continued to fall from the horseman as he stared, mouth agape and curious as to how this was accomplished.
“Looks like you need a bath, my friend.” Richard smiled, giving the big man a hard pat on the back. A large puff of ash exploded all around the Francis’ face, causing him to cough and sneeze.
A solemn presence overcame them as all men gathered at the base of the steps to watch the flames burning from within the Great Hall. The heat was still intense and the smell of burning flesh drifted through the doors towards them.
“How many were in there?” asked a swordsman.
“Only the women and the frail were left to burn,” Richard replied as three archers ran along the street to join them.
“The children?” asked Francis.
“They were taken,” Richard replied.
A swordsman turned to the archers. “Did you see where they took them?”
“They headed east,” answered one. “But we didn’t see if they made it to the wall or not.”
“How many of you are left?” Richard asked.
“We are all that remain,” the archer answered.
The men watched the flames as they silently prayed for the souls inside and pondered what actions to take next.
“Do you think we are all that is left?” a stable hand asked them all.
“Maybe there are some who are hiding,” suggested a swordsman.
“They would be the wise ones if they are,” said another.
“Not very brave though,” put in a young archer.
Richard smiled wryly. “In my experience, bravery never kept anyone safe from harm. Neither did cowardice. Hiding probably was wise for some, but it didn’t help anyone in there now, did it?”
The long beams creaked and weakened in the flames, eventually crashing to the floor as they gave in to the weight of the roof. Embers and sparks exploded through the open doorway and lifted into the sky as the men looked on.
A pink glow touched the ends of the clouds in the east. A rooster crowed in the distance.
A new day had come.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tomas was exhausted but knew he wouldn’t fall asleep. The sounds of movement around him kept him alert. He listened intently to the unrecognisable language spoken between the Night Demons. Most of it consisted of low throaty sounds with hard and sharp noises.
They clicked mostly when they moved behind him and made soft purring sounds. Gentle nickering informed the boy that the horses were close.
He hoped his mare was all right.
The hessian bag placed over his head prevented him from seeing very much. Odd shapes moved to and fro about him as the warriors busied themselves. His mouth was still gagged and his hands bound. When he was removed from the saddle, he was placed upon the ground where his feet were also tied together.
The light and warmth from a nearby campfire was a welcome treat. He lowered himself to his side, facing the orange glow. Some blurry shadows moved about it, but he couldn’t make out what they were. He assumed they belonged to the Night Demons
who, by the looks of it, were sitting around the flames to keep warm.
The sound around him seemed unusual, as if it bounced around him. He wasn’t able to discover why this strange phenomenon was taking place.
That was until he heard the menacing roar of a dragon.
The sound was distant, but not too far away. He realised the great beast was outside in the open and he was prisoner inside a cave. The cavern must have been huge for the Night Demons to be able to bring horses within its shelter.
Tomas knew it was near impossible to lead a mount into a dark, enclosed space without some kind of objection from the animals. Yet, here they were.
His mare had been led all the way to where he now lay.
The sound of the roaring dragon dimmed. The steeds snorted their disapproval of the monster, stamping their feet and squealing in complaint.
A hand suddenly hoisted Tomas to a seated position. At first, he thought they were going to make him sit for the duration of his stay. Perhaps this was their idea of torturing children. Possibly, this was a game to see how long the boy could stay in one position before passing out.
The clawed fingers lifted the hessian bag to expose his gagged mouth. The bag was folded so that it stayed lifted to the bridge of his nose.
The gag was untied and taken from his mouth. Before he could protest, something circular and small was placed against his lips.
It was a canteen.
He pursed his lips tightly, determined to not drink their poison. Who knew what it was they were trying to force down his throat?
The Night Demon squeezed both of the boy’s jaws with one hand, forcing the mouth wide open. Tomas had no idea how the warrior had done that to him.
Cool liquid flowed over his tongue. He had no choice but to swallow in great gulps as the canteen was lifted high, forcing the flow of the liquid to gush quickly into his mouth.
Water.
It was water.
Swallowing hard and fast, Tomas took in as much as he could. It had been hours since his last drink and he was terribly thirsty.
Suddenly, the flow stopped and the gag was retied in place. The hessian bag was lowered to cover his entire face and he was gently lowered back upon his side before the warrior stepped away.
The Walls of Woodmyst Page 21