They remained in the chamber for a while longer, but they knew they were needed. Breaking the embrace was one of the hardest things Peter ever had to do.
Together they returned down to the hall. Hardgrist greeted them with a smile.
"Glad you're back." he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Looks like something is about to happen."
****
Despite what Gorn showed to the besieged crew in the tower and even his own forces, use of the stone was as draining on him as it was for Peter. Yes, he was used to using its power and that helped, but he had used it a lot this night. Even with a blood sacrifice, the dead were not easily raised from their slumber. The once-wolves were no problem, as they had been created long ago, but maintaining control of the dead and directing the once-wolves had exhausted him. There was also one little matter that would drain his power further. The three victims. He knew that he did not require three additional forces of the dead, but he knew what effect they would have on those in the tower. Having your own casualties rise up against you would be a demoralising death blow to the defenders.
He had the remains carried to a room off the courtyard. He then needed to be left alone. First he had to rest. Fifteen minutes would allow him to regain his strength and then he required time to enact the ritual. As they were so recently dead, the process was less taxing, but still it required considerable concentration and he must not be disturbed. Despite what he had said, things were not as one-sided as he led them to believe. They had thwarted him, surprisingly so, since he lured them to Earth. They had proved more resilient than he had expected. He knew little of the two from Demeter, but he was developing a greater regard for the boy, Peter. He should have been able to sway him at the Gill. He had almost managed to get him to willingly give him the Moonstone, but somehow the upstart had resisted. He had used the stone. Gorn knew that. He could sense when any of his army of the dead were returned to their graves. That took great power. Given time this youth could prove to be a real adversary. He must ensure Peter Calender did not have that time.
With strength regained, he set about raising the three corpses. The bodies had suffered badly in the passing from life to death, but that didn't matter to him. A risen body does not follow the laws of nature. Strength was given by the power of the necromancer and flesh is merely decoration. Muscle and sinew were not required and as long as they could still be recognised for what they once were, the effect would be catastrophic for their former friends.
The room pulsed with power, both from the words spoken and the presence of the stone. The galena crystal flared and flashed in response to the incantation. The storm raged both inside the room and outside. Gorn was silhouetted and finally the bodies twitched and returned. Shakily, at first, the three staggered to their feet. With lumbering steps they made their way out to join the others. Gorn was weakened again and needed to rest. 'Just a little while,' he thought, 'and then I will finish this once and for all!'
****
The door exploded into fragments that ripped through flesh. There was no warning and some of the defenders were caught in the blast. The lucky ones died instantly, the less fortunate took time, but the effect was the same. Most had been positioned behind cover and despite a lack of any military training, they sprang into action as the dead and wolves entered. The dead army staggered and limped through the hole left by the explosion and they struggled over the debris. Enabling the defenders to rain arrows and assorted missiles upon them. Their assault caused considerable damage to Gorn's army, but as they had seen before, it only slowed their progress. The once-wolves appeared from behind and they leapt in an inhuman way into the hall. A number were felled by the continuous rain of arrows and these began to block the entrance. The dying creatures lashed out at anything near and further attackers were killed by their own side.
The defenders had set up a number of barriers across the hall and this enabled them to fall back, if necessary, in an orderly and defensible way. Ravenscort had instructed and drilled the actors in the basics and he was impressed with the way they were holding together. Necessity truly did seem to be the greatest teacher. Three parallel barricades crossed the hall and the final line was just below the minstrel gallery. The giant antlers and hangings on the walls belied the chaos below. A ramshackle force, equipped with a range of historical weapons and armour, faced an inhuman host that cared little for their own, or any others' lives. Drooling and snarling, they now slowly advanced. With no means of defending themselves they took heavy casualties, but the mind that controlled them pushed them forward. The only limiting factors were the space where the door had been, the rubble and the increasing piles of bodies.
On they came, their intent clear. The once-wolves proved the most effective against the barriers. They were fast, agile and fearless. They leapt over the first line and hand to hand fighting ensued. The archers further back were now limited in their targets, for fear of striking their own side. Fangs were decisive in the melee and the tide moved in favour of the attackers. Ravenscort led a counter charge, Hardgrist, Peter and a small group piled over the second barrier and fell into the struggling mass. The space was constricted, but the group had been equipped with long knives that enabled maximum damage in close quarters. Ravenscort slashed at the throat of one of the nearest once-wolves that had a lighting engineer pinned down. Before the creature could rip out the man's throat, the short blade severed the creature's head and it fell still, snapping onto the floor. Pulling the injured man upright, he pushed him back towards the second barrier and relative safety.
Peter was dazed by the confusion and it took him a moment or two to see what was going on. In that time a beast leapt at him snarling and snapping. It was only a reflex action that saved his life as he fell to the side, swinging his own blade and more by accident it traced a deep gash into the side of the beast. The monster fell to the ground writhing and Peter followed up with a stab to the breast of the creature that stilled it. Turning, Peter saw Hardgrist struggling with another creature. The affable Viking had the beast by the throat. Its jaws snapped at his face, mere inches from reaching him and the man tripped over a body and fell backwards. Peter dived forward and pulled the creature's head back and slashed its throat. Blood fountained from the wound and covered the man's face. Spluttering, Hardgrist turned to Peter, a thankful look in his eye, and then pushed the boy to the side, as another once-wolf dived at him. Peter staggered up to his feet just in time to see Hardgrist finish the beast.
"Back to the barrier! Quick!" he yelled.
There was no delay, as the defenders scrabbled to reach relative safety. Casualties were mounting for the defenders, but there seemed an endless supply of attackers. The dead had advanced further and now were part of the affray, but suddenly, as if a signal had been given, the attack stopped and there appeared a space through which three figures came shuffling.
There was a sudden recognition from the defenders and a cry of grief, as they recognised the three who had died earlier in the courtyard. Behind the three came Gorn. In his hand he held aloft the galena crystal. The stone shone with a dark intensity that sapped the will of the defenders. Everything seemed to stop. Movement was in slow motion and freewill drained from the assembled defenders. Weapons were lowered and it seemed as if this was the end.
Suddenly a voice rang out, "Now! Do it now!"
It was Ravenscort's voice and it seemed to break the spell. Above them all a group on the minstrel gallery suddenly let loose a volley of objects. Spears, clubs, arrows, assegai and javelins fell like rain on the attackers. What had seemed like the end was now just a moment's hesitation, and the advantage swung back towards the defenders. This sudden assault gave them the time they needed to further retreat into the stairwell. Some carried wounded comrades and some dragged others, but no one alive was left in the hall. The door to the staircase was slammed shut and the attack was blocked.
There were less than thirty of the force still alive and a handful of these were severely wounded and wou
ld be of little use. Of the others, some were walking wounded and it was clear to everyone that it was now just a matter of time before Gorn's forces would overrun them. What had greater impact was the realisation that the three returned dead were waiting down the stairs. The permanence of death had been unmade. Death was supposed to be a release, but they had seen that it could be the start of unimaginable horror. They saw that fate for themselves and that ebbed their strength.
The stairs would be easier to defend and gave those above a great advantage, but the look on many of the faces showed the lack of will. Without hope they could not hold out.
Outside, the unnaturally ferocious storm still raged. There were at least four hours before dawn, if dawn would come. A group of five stood discussing the next course of action.
"They don't have much left in them!" Nightjar was stating what they were all thinking.
"That's true, but they will have to fight. The alternative is unacceptable. Gorn must not be allowed to get the stone. As it is, great damage to the laws has been done."
"They have shown remarkable courage and strength so far," said Peter, "they will surprise us yet! Listen everybody! I know what we have seen has shocked us all. Nightmares hold no terror like this, but there is always hope. We are not finished yet. We have to hold out until the morning comes."
There were mutters from exhausted throats.
"Rest while you can. I have the Moonstone and I will stop anyone and anything from getting up these stairs."
With these words there was a muffled, but clear voice of support and a small, but significant lifting of spirits.
Debbie Mather organised the wounded to be taken to the top rooms in the tower and set about first aid. Nightjar went with her and assisted where she could. Ravenscort planned further defensive points higher up the tower.
Little sound could be heard from outside the door. Peter stood at the top of the steps prepared to face any assault. He was on his own and this seemed right. If he truly was the Moonchild then he must take responsibility and prevent Gorn from achieving his goal. His world had changed forever. At first he thought it had only changed for him, but now he realised the significance of what was happening. This was real and the breaking of the laws was affecting each of the seven worlds.
As he stood there waiting, listening to the storm that continued to rage and to the silence from beyond the doorway, he caught a momentary sound of a distant horn. He thought he was imagining it, as the sound was distant and muffled by the gale outside. Lightning continued to flash and thunder rolled through the night, but in a lull he caught it again. The horn reminded him of something. He listened again and shortly the refrain could clearly be heard. It was nearer and louder and it was the call of a hunt. The horn rolled with the thunder now and Peter could hear the sound of approaching hooves and the bay of hounds. He rushed to the window and stared out into the night. Dark clouds rolled across the sky and the moon broke through, casting its silvery light on the natural world. High in the sky he saw something. He was not sure what it was, but he also saw the wolves outside the castle in the grounds look up, alert, listening. Suddenly there was a clear panic and the wolves began to run, fleeing in all directions.
It was at this point that Peter could clearly hear the baying. Giant dogs galloped into view. They fanned out and pursued the fleeing wolves. The dogs were single-minded in their objective. They bore down on the wolves in greater numbers and ripped them apart. They hunted as a pack. Their quarry stood no chance and despite their own ability the wolves had no defence against the great beasts. The horn continued to ring out and through the trees Peter caught a glimpse of a great antlered head. The horn was raised to its lips and the call marked the end of the wolves. A large pack of the dogs headed towards the castle and filed through the gateway. Peter could see the dead army face the ranging hounds. There was no sense of panic as they stood, but they seemed to lose direction and they flailed their arms and waited. The hounds cut them to pieces in moments. When they had finished it was as if they had never existed. They seemed to have returned to the earth from where they had emerged.
Peter rushed down the steps and opened the door. The hall was deserted, apart from the evidence of carnage; no living thing remained in the hall. He caught a glimpse of a fleeing figure dressed in a black cape, through the gaping hole where the doorway had been. 'Gorn!' He was making his escape.
Peter did not have the strength nor the will to pursue him, but still he followed him out into the courtyard.
"Wait, Gorn!"
Gorn turned and faced Peter.
"There is nothing to say, boy! I will have the stone. If not now, then soon. You have not won! Beware, life is full of surprises!"
Not waiting for a reply, he turned and Peter drew out the Moonstone from his pocket and it came to life in his hand. He began to focus his mind to send a bolt of light at the fleeing figure when a sudden white flash struck him in the face. There was a blur of feathers and then nothing. It took Peter a moment to regain his sight and he saw the quickly disappearing white owl fly into the safety of the woodlands. He turned to search for Gorn, but he had vanished. He had made good his escape whilst the owl had distracted him.
The storm still raged overhead and the sound of the horn could be heard disappearing into the distance following the retreating thunder tops. As he turned to the East, he saw the first rays of the sunrise break over the horizon. The sky was clearing and a new day was arriving. For some reason Peter felt that the world was returning to the rhythm, that order was restored.
"What had happened? What was the antlered creature, the huntsman? Somewhere in his memory he had heard of a 'Wild Hunt!', but that was just legend."
A small group of survivors came out into the courtyard. Ravenscort, Nightjar, Hardgrist and Debbie Mathers walked to him, with resolute expressions on their faces. The night had taken a great toll on all of those involved and many innocent lives had been lost.
"It isn't a victory," said Peter, "Gorn has got away and will be back for the stone. I am not sure what happened, but it wasn't us that defeated him!"
He was suddenly interrupted by a great crashing, and the tower that they had been in suddenly collapsed. A great cloud of dust blinded them as the structure that had stood for hundreds of years was suddenly destroyed.
Coughing and spluttering, the group stared at the destruction. They all instantly realised that there had been actors and crew in the tower and that there was no hope that they had survived. They also realised that they had narrowly escaped death by just moments. The dust began to settle and the ruins of the tower lay in a mass of masonry and wood.
White from head to foot with the dust from the destruction of the tower, the group just stared. A great sadness settled on them. Over forty lives had been lost, and what had been gained? Peter still had the stone, but their lives and those of all the friends and families of the victims had been changed forever. Only five were left.
"Oh my!' coughed Debbie. "There's nothing left! They're all gone."
She began to sob hysterically and the shock of the night set in. Nightjar took her in her arms and let her cry into her shoulder. Debbie's confident air had been replaced by the desperate emotions of someone whose innocence had been lost. The others just stood, dumbfounded.
"What are we to do?"
It was Hardgrist. He, like Debbie Mathers, had seen his world crumble around him. His life would never be the same and things could never return to the way that they had been before. Ravenscort and Nightjar turned to look at Peter, and Peter realised that now he had to take the lead. Somehow, he had become the carrier of the Moonstone and apparently he had to return order to the seven worlds.
"First thing is that we can't stay here. The police and emergency services will be down here before much longer. We can't explain what's gone on. "
"That's true," Hardgrist muttered."I can't believe it myself, so no one else will. Where can we go?"
The whole group, including Debbie Mathers, was
looking at Peter with expectant expressions.
'Here goes!' he thought. "I think we must return to where this all started. The house and garden where I found myself transported to Demeter. I think that is where we can find out more about what is happening. We must get away from here quickly."
The others nodded their agreement and Peter set off to the car park where he hope the minibus would be. The others followed and they looked a very dishevelled band as they reached the car park and found the vehicles undamaged. It was still just after dawn, but they realised that the rest of the film crew would be arriving soon. They must get well away before then. Hardgrist still had the key, which was very fortunate. They climbed in and the engine started on the second turn of the ignition.
"Are you alright to drive?" Peter asked.
"I'm fine. Just outside Lightholm?"
"Yep! Just a little way out on the Moorchurch Road."
"Got it!"
The little bus zipped along the road and the effect of the very ordinary rural scenery helped to lift their spirits. There were so many questions that everyone had, but they realised this was neither the time nor the place. The sun was higher in the sky and, as was often the case, the morning after the storm looked as if it was would be a pleasant and sunny one.
There was very little traffic on the lanes at this time in the morning. They saw a post van doing the rounds and, at one point, they passed a van that they recognised as belonging to the makeup crew. The driver seemed preoccupied and there was no indication that they had been recognised. They needed to put as much distance between themselves and the castle as possible. They hoped that the destruction would maybe be put down to perhaps a gas leak or some other acceptable disaster. The truth was no one was quite sure what had happened to destroy the tower. They surmised that maybe the destruction of the doorway had weakened the structure and that it became unstable and collapsed. This seemed to gain majority agreement, but Peter kept his own thoughts to himself. He believed it was likely an act of revenge from Gorn. Punishment for thwarting his plans.
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 15