Tales From The Wyrd Museum 2: The Raven's Knot (38 page)

On to the ground the fiend smashed. From its twig-crowned head a prickling black mist steamed into the night, whilst the creature quivered and screeched in its death throes and every trembling feather melted into smoke.

All that remained, lying upon the grass, was the unconscious body of a woman and, tangled in her hair, were the slashed tatters of a crow doll.

‘One down!’ Peter yelled triumphantly, but more of Woden's unhallowed conjurations came shrieking in wrathful vengeance, rending their claws through the vicar's clothes and scoring bloody gashes across his face.

In the chaos of flaying quills and plunging beaks, the gleaming spear ripped and stabbed, but there were too many of the hellish horde for Peter to contend with and the lethal, yammering storm seethed slaughterously about him.

Edie wanted to run to help him but five more distorted terrors had fixed their unclean sights upon Neil and Tommy, and came whooping in to snatch them away from her and Miss Veronica's presence.

‘Get back you, ‘orrors!’ Tommy wailed, abruptly seizing Miss Veronica's cane and thrashing it in the malformed, feather-framed faces, as the ferocious claws gripped his coat and started to drag and pull at him.

Defying the abject terror which consumed him, the tramp brought the stick cracking down against the corpse flesh of the grotesque heads and clattered it roughly from side to side, jabbing it into the great dark eyes, incensing the winged abominations all the more.

Flesh-freezing screams rang over the slopes
of
Glastonbury Tor and the tramp was clawed and bitten, but still he battled, striking and prodding, clouting and beating.

Edie ran to his aid and the Valkyries shied away from the fey, sprite-like child, caterwauling in disarray, for the forces of doom sparkled in her pixie-hood and they dared not attack her.

Despairing, Neil wondered what he should do, but he had no weapon to fight with. He stared helplessly at Tommy's valiant figure with Edie Dorkins capering around him, before switching his gaze to the dark, frenzied cloud which roared and assailed the Reverend Galloway.

Peter was totally obscured by the screeching monsters, their battering wings and scything talons engulfed him completely. Yet in the midst of that furious mass of hate and malice, the spear sliced arcs of light and the grass smouldered where the poisonous Valkyrie blood dripped and splashed.

From the clamouring mob there came a curdling yowl and another of the feathered ogres crashed on to the ground, shortly followed by a third. Their bodies blistered and scorched, withering down to the human frame beneath, and the ragged remnants of the controlling dolls were whisked away by the wind.

But Peter's strength was failing. The numbers were too great and their evil might finally overcame him. Neil and Miss Veronica watched in dread as, torn and bleeding, the vicar gradually succumbed to the destroying, shrieking creatures.

His attacking blows were beginning to miss their mark and the spear floundered in his grasp, overshooting the plumed targets and swiping through empty air.

Stumbling, he toppled unsteadily on his feet and at once a bitterly sharp beak snapped at his neck and tore out a hunk of flesh.

Peter howled and clasped his hand to the wound. Lashing out feverishly, he ripped the blade through a flailing wing, but the creature leapt up and hit out fiercely with its claws. The barbed talons hooked into the vicar's wrist. His arm was flung back over his head which threw him to the ground, and the blade went spinning from his grasp.

With triumphant yells of carnage and bloodshed gargling over their slavering tongues, the apparitions pounced upon his fallen body and their dark wings wrapped about them.

High over the heads of Neil and the others, the enchanted blade catapulted, racketing through the overhanging branches, before plummeting down and embedding itself in the soft mud of the narrow trackway behind them.

Horrified at the sickening spectacle of the tormenting Valkyries, Neil bolted through the stile to retrieve the spearhead and Quoth flew after him.

Hearing the vicar's howl of pain, Edie whirled around and gasped to see the hideous raven women clawing at his body, lowering their leprous heads to drink his blood and gorge upon his flesh.

Hollering, she barged across the slope, her arms outstretched. The foul creatures hissed their displeasure but fell back all the same.

Edie knelt by Peter's battered figure, but she was too late—he was already dead.

Wheeling overhead, Hlökk viewed the scene below and a hideous, profane plan formed in the monster's corrupt mind.

Flying in pursuit of his master, Quoth urged the boy to hurry.

‘Haste! Haste!’ the raven gaggled. ‘Nine terrors yet remain!’

Glimmering in the darkness, the spear's upturned blade pulsed and shone, and Neil dashed down the path to fetch it. But, before he had run three steps, there came an urgent clattering of huge primary feathers and the misshapen form of Hlökk swooped through the trees.

With its malignant travesty of a face contorted into a vision of despair, the terrifying servant of Woden dived towards the hapless boy, shrieking and bellowing, and Quoth was cast aside as it thundered down.

Racing towards the pale, shimmering light, Neil could feel the creature's hot, putrid breath blast upon his neck and suddenly Shrieker's massive wings were beating and thrashing all around him.

With a barbarous snarl, the Valkyrie jerked its repulsive head to one side, then brought it swinging around and its powerful beak smashed against Neil's skull.

There was a horrible crack and, with a cry, the boy collapsed senseless on to the path.

‘Master Neil!’ Quoth yelped from the hedge where he had crash landed. ‘Avaunt from him, thou base scavenger of carrion! I shalt put out thine great gogglers if thee touch him!’

Hlökk’s ghastly face regarded the insignificant bird for a moment then a chilling, rasping cackle rattled in the spectre's throat.

‘’Your brother iss dead?
it croaked,
‘’but we sstill sserve the Gallowss God. He made uss, he called uss, we will obey him?

Quoth quickly clambered from the brambles to carry out his threat as best he could, but with a tremendous sweep of its wings, Hlökk left Neil unmolested and returned to its sisters.

Frantically the raven bounded over the path. ‘Master Neil!’ he cried. ‘Shrieker is gone. Quick, awaken! The peril is not yet over. Methinks a new evil is afoot.’

But to Quoth's dismay, the boy did not move. The raven glanced fearfully back to the gateway where two of the Valkyries were taunting Tommy, driving him further along the hillside—away from the stile where Miss Veronica stood alone and anxious.

Edie Dorkins looked up from the Reverend Galloway to see Hlökk circle overhead, croaking its instructions and, to her astonishment, the other raven women reared up in answer and came lumbering towards her.

The girl narrowed her eyes and rose to stand her ground. She could see that the creatures were afraid of her, but still they came and a twinge of doubt surfaced in the child's thoughts.

Thrashing their enormous wings, the Valkyries stalked forward. Edie raised her arms in challenge and took a prowling step nearer.

The braying din from the horrors’ beaks grew louder but this time they refused to be cowed and Edie glanced back at Miss Veronica nervously.

‘Here, child!’ the old woman called. ‘Hurry!’

Edie fled back to her and the feathered nightmares charged after.

*

In the pathway, Quoth saw all of this and perceived that Hlökk was executing some loathsome, dark design. Torn with anguish, the raven wanted to stay at his master's side to watch over him, but he was also greatly distressed to see the others so beset with evil and he understood that the spearhead was their only way of fighting those horrendous apparitions.

Scuttling down the track he approached the glimmering blade and fluttered around it, attempting to pluck it from the thick mud it had fallen into. Yet the weapon was too large and unwieldy for the bird to lift. It had embedded itself firmly in the soft ground so that the blade pointed upwards and the sharp edges cut his feet when he tried to clasp them around it.

‘It budgeth not!’ Quoth wailed. ‘What am I to do? All is woe—alas, alack!’

Glancing from his master, over to where the Valkyries were assailing Edie and Miss Veronica, the raven flapped his wings to go and help them, but suddenly he heard Tommy's dismal cries and didn't know who to fly to first.

Distraught by indecision and panic, the raven finally chose the girl and the old woman, for Woden's servants were concentrating their ghastly energies upon them and Miss Veronica was crying out in fright.

Soaring over the path, Quoth rushed to join them and do whatever small service he could, but before he reached the gateway, Aidan's dying words came to him once more.

“Tis madness!’ the raven spluttered, as at last he realised what the gypsy had been trying to say. ‘Loon ravings, no more! And yet—what other hope have I?’

Darting through the trees, he flew over the open ground of the lower slopes, leaving Edie and Miss Veronica to confront the infernal foes on their own.

He veered across to where the tramp was beset by Biter and Screamer—the walking cane still flailing in his hands.

Up to that point the raven women had been toying with the old man, afflicting and tormenting him—relishing the terror ingrained upon his florid, craggy face. But the sadistic sport was over now—Hlökk needed them elsewhere and they set about the tramp in deadly earnest.

Feverishly, Tommy thrashed the stick at them, shouting for all he was worth, desperately calling upon aid which never came.

Suddenly, Quoth came sweeping through into the frenetic fray and landed upon the tramp's shoulder. Tommy was so frightened by the horror of Biter and Screamer as they clawed and pecked at him, that he didn't even notice.

‘Old one!’ Quoth was forced to squawk in his ear. ‘Harken to me!’

Tommy jumped, startled by the bird's unexpected voice and turned his head, distracted.

Immediately Biter pounced, snatching the infuriating cane from the old man's hand and hurling it across the hillside. Screamer's talons flashed out and tore through Tommy's forearm, shredding the sleeve of his coat and gouging a savage wound in his skin.

The tramp wept with the agony and stumbled back as they attacked him, but upon his shoulder, Quoth steadfastly remained and yelled at him.

‘Save thyself!’ the raven cried. ‘Save us all! Thou hast the power!’

Sobbing in terror, Tommy waved his hands before his face and staggered under the Valkyrie's horrendous battering.

‘With his dying gasp Aidan named thee!’ Quoth continued, ducking and dodging the slashing claws which reached for the tramp's throat. ‘Think! Why wouldst he do such? Why couldst thou remove the crow doll when no other could? What is thy hidden secret? Why hast thou forgotten?’

Tommy blundered on, his face cut by the vicious quills which churned about him.

‘Tommy doesn't know!’ he wailed. ‘Save him, someone—Gabriel, Uriel. Send him angels! Oh, dear God, hear him!’

Clinging to him grimly, Quoth's one eye grew wide with excitement and he hooted with joy.

‘Zooks-hurrah!’ he shrieked. ‘I have it! Thy tale of war, of the battle where thou didst see the shining ones-’tis all true! Canst thou not see, canst thou not recall?’

‘No!’ the tramp screamed as Biter tore three jagged rents along his back and he fled up the hill in the vain hope of reaching the tower.

‘Tommy's angels!’ he howled. ‘He must have them!’

Screeching bloodily, the Valkyries snapped at his hands and plunged down to bite his legs and the tramp could run no further.

‘Thou wast not a foot soldier!’ Quoth cried, scrabbling to remain by his ear as the tramp was overwhelmed by the destroying raven women. ‘Thou art no mortal. Thou art thyself a shining one—stranded in human flesh! Tommy—
thou
art the angel! Dost thou not see?’

His face streaming with blood, the tramp stared at the raven dumbfounded, but it was too late. Screamer and Biter slammed into him and Tommy fell to the ground; squealing, Quoth was dragged with him.

Buried beneath the baying, trampling Valkyries as they pecked and feasted upon his flesh, Tommy's shrieks were quickly lost and Quoth was swamped in the unholy pair's foul shadow.

Away from the terrible scene of slaughter, Edie Dorkins and Miss Veronica flinched from the gathered monstrosities which screeched and squalled before them, and edged through the stile.

‘What's happenin’?’ Edie cried, as a frenzied blur of sharp quills whisked the air before her.

‘They're driving us back,’ Miss Veronica answered. ‘Herding us down the Tor like sheep.’

‘But why?’

The old woman shook her head. The Valkyries propelled them down the path, hemming them against the hedge with their furious beating—controlling every footstep of Woden's hated enemies.

‘I don't like this!’ Miss Veronica whimpered. ‘Some vile purpose lies behind it. Look at their horrible faces, they don't like being so close to us but something's mastering their fear. They're excited, all of them, listen to their blaring voices—something's going to happen. Oh, Edith, I'm afraid.’

Driven further down the muddy trail, Edie held on to the old woman's hand and stared along the path to see where the raven women were directing them.

Close by she could see Neil Chapman lying unconscious in the mud, and a little way ahead...

‘Veronica!’ Edie cried. ‘We've got to stop this! Don't let ‘em take us down there! I know what they're doin!’

Desperately, the girl tried to push her way clear of the goading feathers, but the Valkyries screamed at her and seven sets of brutal claws lashed out to bar her way and thrust her back along the desired route.

‘It's no use,’ Miss Veronica told her. ‘We must go where they want us to.’

‘But we can't!’ Edie yelled. ‘Look!’

The old woman stared down the track and sharply drew her breath when she saw what awaited them.

‘By the great Ash!’ she exclaimed.

Seeing their horrified expressions, Woden's hulking, winged servants crowed and yammered and proceeded to jab and poke with their sharp beaks, pushing their victims more swiftly down the path.