enissimo slowed and pointed above their heads to the branches. Ned could quite clearly see all manner of winged birds. Pigeons, eagles, hawks and owls – and each and every one was scouring the forest with their beady ticker eyes.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tinks’s Big Brother was right – the Twelve’s eyes and ears had been plucked and now kept watch over Barbarossa’s forest.
“Grr.”
Ahead of them they heard several grunts and snarls, followed closely by a piercing howl. Gorrn’s oozing form wobbled nervously and Mr Fox pulled the silenced pistol from his side as Benissimo edged forward.
The trees began to thin out and through the twilight Ned could see that up ahead a small river crossed their path, and on its banks, a little upstream, sat a group of huddled, powerful creatures: four weirs, from the wolf-pack. Before the world had gone mad, their kind had been tasked with keeping the reserve’s borders, but it was well known now that they had sided with Barbarossa and his cabal. Ned had been chased by a weir on Benissimo’s flagship and had met others in St Albertsburg. They were gruff, violent creatures and their muscly torsos were covered in matted fur. Their combination of claws and fangs made them look terrifying, more so because their kind had quite forgotten what it was to be human. These were wolf-men and they lived for the hunt.
Benissimo put a finger to his lips and indicated in the opposite direction, downstream. Ned saw two more weirs coming to join the others. They were between both sets of creatures now and would be found before long unless they crossed the river. They had no choice. As quietly as they could, Ned and his party waded into the water.
Though the river wasn’t wide, it was ice-cold, waist-deep, and its rocks underfoot were slimy and loose. As the water rose around him, Ned breathed in painfully. Step by tentative step they moved, Ned’s heart and chest pounding, the river’s cold current biting at his skin. There was now less than twenty feet between them and the second group of wolf-men. There was a flap of wings above them and a small kestrel swooped down low, first one then another. Was it one of Barba’s tickers? Had they been spotted? One of the wolf-pack noticed, its keen ears pinned back and its slack jaw loose and wide as it sniffed at the air. The other three’s fur bristled and they growled deep and low, scanning the riverbank for movement.
And that was when it happened.
Ned had noticed at various points in his life that when something truly awful took place, it appeared to do so almost in slow motion. As they approached the other side of the bank, he felt his foot give. It was slow and steady, but by the time he tried to counter the action, it slipped away from him entirely and Ned fell back into the freezing river with a loud splash. Gorrn’s ooze muffled sound – but not, as it turned out, all sound. The weirs all stared as one, and as soon as they spotted the oozing shadow moving across the water, Gorrn began to shake.
A violent roar and all four weirs pounded through the river at a frightening pace, the other two closing from downstream. Benissimo and Mr Fox grabbed Ned by the shoulders and threw him on to the riverbank with a violent sweep of their arms.
“Odin’s beard! RUN!” bellowed Benissimo.
Behind them the forest erupted and Ned, the Ringmaster and Mr Fox hurtled away as fast as their legs could carry them. Ned’s clothes were sodden and his chest was pounding so hard he thought he might black out before the fang-toothed monsters caught up with them. Twice he stumbled and twice Mr Fox righted him. Branches broke underfoot and tore at Ned’s cheeks as he charged forward, but it was no use – the pack’s leader was gaining and fast, till Ned could almost feel his breath at his neck, his claws and teeth ready to gouge. Seeing the closing weir gain, Mr Fox turned deftly and unloaded his gun.
Pft, pft, pft.
Three successive shots and the weir howled, crashing to the ground in a jumble of angry limbs. The others stopped over him, enraged to see the life drain from one of their own.
“Silver bullets?” asked Ned as they surged on, and Mr Fox grunted a “yes”.
“Arooo!” howled the other wolves, and the forest answered.
Ned couldn’t see them, only hear the pounding of their feet as the ground shook. The taiga had come alive and it was speeding towards them. To their left and right branches snapped and trees shook, and from high up in the sky came the screeching of metal birds, flocking and preparing to dive.
“We can still make it. Just a few more feet – COME ON!” urged Benissimo.
And on they ran.
Ned couldn’t or wouldn’t look behind him but from the corner of his eyes he saw weirs gaining fast, not only wolf-men now, but the bear-clan, great hulking brutes of furred muscle barrelling towards them like trains – half man, half bear and all monstrous rage. Ned’s limbs burned like fire. They couldn’t hope to outrun them and there’d be no surviving if it came to blows – not without his ring!
“We’re nearly there. Move!”
Ned looked ahead in horror. Benissimo must have gone mad. The sun’s first rays were dawning and Ned could see that the forest had thinned to a clearing and beyond it a complete dead end – the foot of what seemed to be a steep cliff.
“Bene, what are you doing?! This is a dead end!” yelped Ned.
As the forest gave way to the clearing and daylight spilled in from above, Ned could just make out a ledge in the rock face ahead; it must have been a good hundred feet above them. Just then two figures appeared at its edge and peered across the wood. The ground behind them thundered loudly as their enemies grew closer and Mr Fox turned and fell to one knee.
“Use your Taser, Ned – I’ll down as many as I can. Bene, I trust you have a plan?” he shouted anxiously as he raised the gun’s sights to his eye.
But Bene was just standing looking up at the ledge. A third figure had joined the other two on the ledge. He was far larger than the others, at least twelve feet in height, and Ned noticed that he and his two companions were wearing strange headdresses – until he realised that they weren’t headdresses at all.
“Antlor and his herd, last of the great stags!” announced Benissimo triumphantly.
The mighty creature raised a horn to its lips and blew.
HUUUR!
The forest behind them, every metal flapping wing and every snarling mouth, became quiet and still.