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  The animal looked at her with curiosity, but had not yet decided to bark at his discovery. Allowing herself one small breath, Elaine slowly placed the palm of her hand on the mongrel’s head. When his teeth appeared, she presumed that she was about to be mauled. With no bite forthcoming, she peered more closely and saw an expression, much like a human smile, spreading across his canine features. Sitting firmly on his haunches, the dog then laid flat on his front paws, dropping his head low, as if in hiding from a pursuer. He did this repeatedly until Elaine understood the advice offered and huddled lower in the friendly foliage, whereupon the dog quietly growled his approval and disappeared back into the shadows.

  I’m going mad, thought Elaine. What’s a dog going to do? Save me?

  By now, Sworder had worked his way dangerously close to Elaine’s hiding place, only to catch a leaf with his torch. As shrubbery began to flame, he attempted to blow it out, but only succeeded in setting his tunic alight. Panicked slapping and stamping finally did the trick, after which he furtively glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed him being an idiot. His accompanying soldiers knew better than to incite the vicious and were already pointedly staring in the opposite direction. Once Sworder sidled away, hiding his burnt clothing, silent hilarity descended.

  Elaine was too afraid to experience amusement. Her terror had been exacerbated by the sudden return of the shabby beast, carrying a large piece of cloth in his mouth which he promptly dropped on her head. Elaine opened the saliva-stained, white linen wrap to reveal a full-length cape and hood, heavily embroidered with red stars and mythical beasts. Quickly donning the disguise, she was relieved to find that the cape completely covered her modern clothing. When the dog reached up and snapped his teeth on her cuff, Elaine nearly let loose a squeal of surprise. He relentlessly tugged on her sleeve until she understood that he wanted her to follow him. Realising that she had no idea where she was or how to escape, Elaine, the organised, logical scientist, shelved her cynicism and followed a smelly, flea-ridden mutt wherever he wanted to lead. Pulling the hood over her head and willing her features to fade into shadow, Elaine regained her feet and followed in the paw prints of her rescuer.

  As they passed the first searching soldier, a petrified Elaine was surprised when the man bowed in fear, eyes to the ground. When the dog growled and bared his teeth, the man rapidly moved away, giving them a wide berth. Elaine had no idea whose guise she had adopted, but clearly her canine friend had chosen well. This ritual of obeisance was repeated by every soldier, until the fugitive found herself back at the gate to the courtyard. Passing within inches of the posted guard, Elaine was relieved to see his eyes lower before the revered white robe.

  Unfortunately, the singed Sworder chose that moment to return, instantly spotting the mangy black dog and hollering across the courtyard, “What that dog doing here?”

  At the same instant, the guard’s eyes came to rest on Elaine’s sneakers. Confused eyes flicked back to her face. Recognition was instant. “Be here!” he shouted, whereupon the dog knocked him flat and delivered a savage bite to his arm, for good measure.

  All the soldiers came in pursuit with Sworder crying out a completely redundant, “Stop her!”

  Swivelling on his powerful back legs, the dog gently, but firmly, bounced his skull into the back of Elaine’s knees. She took the hint and, hitching up the cloak, began to sprint as fast as she could. Stretching out his long, powerful limbs, the dog overtook her and made a rapid swerve to the left, heading towards the castle. Surprised, but in no position to debate his decision, Elaine followed in his wake, pursuers snapping at her heels. They raced through a dimly lit stone archway with moonlight, barely visible, at its end. The canine leader let rip a shuddering howl, vying for attention with the metallic grinding that had suddenly begun. Peering through the darkness, Elaine’s attention was drawn to the great iron portcullis lowering into place, cutting off their escape route.

  The dog scrambled under the pointed edges and clattered onto the rising iron drawbridge. With the angle becoming ever more acute, he turned to see where the strange woman was. With no choice but to follow, Elaine slid under the closing portcullis, utilising a manoeuvre she had only ever seen in American baseball movies.

  “Safe,” she muttered, as the metal spikes slammed into their holes, behind her. The dog sounded forth with another howl that clearly said, ‘Get up, now!’

  Elaine tried to scramble to her feet, but was instantly dragged prostrate again. Bewildered, she looked back to see the cloak firmly held beneath an iron spike. She made an attempt to free herself, but with no success. The dog wailed again, the pitch rising to a brain-melting level.

  “I know!” she shouted, forgetting that she was addressing an animal. Slipping out of her comforting disguise, she left the torn cloak behind and pounded down the rising drawbridge, gathering all the speed she could muster. Flying off the end of the iron platform, limbs rotating in thin air, dog and woman leaped the widening gap and landed on the muddy earth with a solid “ooft”. Elaine glanced back. Her frustrated pursuers were chaotically trying to raise the gate and lower the drawbridge, recanting their previous order.

  Peering over the edge of the recently jumped moat, she was surprised to note that it contained, not water, but a haphazard scattering of various bones, many of which looked to have been human. A sudden scream from behind the castle was followed by a rising column of smoke, through which Elaine glimpsed a monstrous nightmare of grey limbs, teeth and fire, lurking within the moat. Wafting on the wind floated the smell of roasting meat.

  In no further need of a dog’s encouragement, Elaine scrambled to regain her feet, slipping in the mud. The dog headbutted her in the rear, which only caused her to dunk her face in the slime. She would have snarled right back at him, had the telltale grinding of the rising portcullis not taken precedence. Elaine took off in the direction of the surrounding forest, firmly on the sludge dipped tail of her scruffy, four-legged friend.

  Elaine and her shaggy escort reached the first line of trees and raced through branches that scratched skin and snagged muddy clothing. With darkness and the forest reducing her vision to little more than useless, she heard the commotion, a brief moment before blundering headlong into the fight. Crashing into a muscle-bound mountain of a man, Elaine bounced off and fell into more mud, without ever causing him to break stride. This was just as well, for he was deeply engaged in a savage sword fight with two men who, though somewhat smaller, were, nonetheless, committed to the kill. The dog, whose greater night vision allowed him to distinguish one shape from another, promptly joined the battle with teeth bared.

  “Where ye been?” the colossus threw in the animal’s direction, as though expecting a reply. “Sposed be lookout.”

  Dog emitted a muffled growl, his jaw currently engaged in worrying a man’s leg.

  From her muddy vantage point, Elaine could make out the shape of a horse, scraping its hooves in the dirt and whinnying in distress. A cart was attached, carrying a full load of…something she could only see in outline. People were fighting, blades flying. She couldn’t determine how many, but she could see that some had their faces covered, others not. Thinking, at first, that she must be seeing things in the shadows, Elaine could have sworn that she witnessed a grey squirrel, a fox and a ferret attach themselves to a man and sink their fangs into his face. The man screamed and clawed at them, grasping the fox’s brush and flinging the animal from him, even as the grey squirrel jammed a nut in his eye. Elaine shook her head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief.

  The melee came to an abrupt halt when a terrifying howl rent the air. Elaine had never heard such a sound before and it sent a shiver down her spine, for it was unmistakably that of a predator. Those with uncovered faces sprinted away as fast as was humanly possible, fleeing for their lives in numerous directions. They knew better than to stay and face the murderously indiscriminating owner of that voice.

  Terrified, the horse began to panic and was clearly about to b
olt, taking the precious cargo with it. The ‘wall of muscle’, whose back now held an imprint of Elaine’s face, grabbed the reins and vaulted onto the cart. With a queue of small animals assembling beside him on the driver’s seat, he shouted, “Hurry!” This was unnecessary, as it turned out, for his friends were already scrambling to help an older man climb on.

  “I be able,” he grumbled, ungratefully, as increasingly nervous rebels stacked up behind him.

  Running out of patience, the dog catapulted himself onto the cart and grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck, heaving him, head first, onto the cargo and ripping loose his face scarf.

  “Pilt,” snapped the old man.

  Jaws emptied, the dog looked over to where Elaine still lay and delivered a throaty howl. It was distantly answered by another nerve-shattering, predatory call.

  “Drevel,” the large man moaned. “Hush up.”

  The dog growled in response, volume greatly reduced.

  “Coming?” the colossus asked, hand outstretched to Elaine. “Best be going, now.”

  Elaine didn’t have much of a choice, so she levered herself out of more mud and grasped his hand. She found herself flying through the air, landing on sacks filled with all sorts of shapes, some soft, some jagged.

  “Mind food,” the older man grumbled at her.

  The dog rested his chin on Elaine’s shoulder, for which solidarity she would have been grateful, had he not had the tendency to dribble, and smell. She escaped his attention by manoeuvring herself off the sacks of food and tucking her limbs between those of the cart’s human occupants.

  “Renders!” screamed one of them, pointing wildly.

  All heads turned, but only the rustle of foliage was yet visible. The horse decided that he had waited long enough and made a dash for safety. Inertia caused Elaine to fall into the lap of the older man who, curiously, decided to forgo being a misery and smile at her.

  “Up ye get,” he advised, supporting her body as the cart raced into the night.

  The man with the extraordinary muscles had also shot backwards when the horse bolted from the starting gate. He landed on the food with a squelch, feet in the air. Struggling to regain his driving seat, he eventually righted himself on the speeding cart, whilst Grey Squirrel located the fallen reins.

  “Let horse run, Myrrdinus. Least knows where he going!” the older man yelled. The jibe was greeted with laughter from the packed cart, despite their dire situation.

  “Very funny,” the duly named Myrrdinus called back, gratefully taking the reins from Grey Squirrel’s outstretched paws. “Mind yer leg, old man.”

  “Here they come!” a woman yelled.

  Elaine looked back, witnessing a sight that wouldn’t go amiss in one of those fantasy horror movies she loved so much. Two unbelievably ugly beasts raced towards them, gaining on the heavily laden cart with every stride. Confused at their form, she stared in disbelief at the advancing hybrid mutations. The body of some sort of leonine creature seemed to merge into a furry head with a huge, elongated, crocodilian jaw. The look in their eyes, and the accompanying snarl, were enough to make Elaine instinctively back away until she pressed up against the edge of the cart and Myrrdinus’s backside.

  Glancing round, that young man lowered his scarf, revealing a face as handsome as his muscles were huge. He shouted down to her, “Myrrdinus, me. Who be ye?”

  “Elaine,” she politely replied, her mind floundering in the surreal nature of the request, amidst time travel and pursuing beasts.

  Myrrdinus, who had not the wit to disguise his shock at her revelation, exchanged a pointed look with the older man.

  “Drevel bringed her,” was the comment thrown up to him.

  Glancing at the dog, who was, once again, resting his head against Elaine, Myrrdinus decided that canine judgement was good enough and turned back to his driving.

  All the occupants of the cart screamed in terror and swiftly shuffled backwards when a render lunged at them, its teeth splintering a wooden panel. Heaving Elaine up beside him, Myrrdinus added another layer of terror to the occasion by handing her the reins. “Here,” was all the advice she was given before finding herself in charge of a speeding horse. Grey Squirrel, a fox and a ferret sat beside her, like driving test examiners, whilst Myrrdinus drew his sword and leaned out of the cart in a frighteningly precarious disregard for safety. The closest render instantly made a slavering lunge at his exposed limbs. Myrrdinus might not have been the brightest person in the neighbourhood, but his aim was ever sure. He managed to plunge the tip of his sword into one of the animal’s three eyes. Howling with pain, the render fell away, leaving his companion to continue the pursuit. Unseen, the wounded beast regained its feet and headed over the hilltop, taking an instinctive shortcut.

  Back at the splintering cart, the remaining render executed a flying leap and landed in the cart with a thud. Men, women and furry animals scrambled to avoid those jaws, but were sustaining serious scratches from sharp claws. Looking back in terror, Elaine screamed as she saw the older man thrust his right leg into the render’s open mouth. Those jaws duly snapped shut with horrifying force. Expecting to be treated to the sight of blood and gore, an incredulous Elaine watched as wood splintered with an audible crack.

  Myrrdinus tossed his sword to one of the women who promptly thrust it into the render’s exposed thorax, hoping to penetrate the beast’s heart. The traumatised animal gurgled, toppled off the cart and over the edge of a steep incline, taking with it the older man’s wooden leg and Myrrdinus’s sword.

  “Pilt!” the latter exclaimed.

  Elaine had no idea what that meant, but she hadn’t time to ask. The frantic squeaking and clawing of Grey Squirrel drew her attention back in the direction of the horse. More terror swarmed through her body when she realised that the density of the trees had thinned, revealing a considerable incline beside them. Elaine heaved on the reins, causing Myrrdinus and friends to crush together as the horse skidded to a halt, a nose length from the incline.

  “Always could park,” Elaine muttered to herself, in a rare joke.

  Nose to limb, the older man quipped, “Lose nother sword, Myrrdinus?”

  “Lose nother leg, Bert?” the younger man shot back.

  Jumping from the cart, Myrrdinus peered over the edge of the grassy cliff, but could see nothing in the thick darkness, below.

  “Least still be some food yer arnus not flatten,” came back the further jibe. “Where we be? Why asking ye? Should have begged Gwyneth to come.”

  Myrrdinus made an obvious gesture of ignoring that remark and looked up at Elaine, who was still perched in the driver’s seat. “Ye greening?”

  “What?” Elaine didn’t understand the cryptic question.

  “Greening?” Myrrdinus repeated, louder.

  “Be not deaf,” Bert pointed out, in a tone used for children. “She not knowing what ye say.”

  “Ye…greening?” Myrrdinus asked, slowwwly.

  “Hurting?” Bert explained, helpfully.

  “No,” Elaine stated, thinking knickers seen better days.

  Myrrdinus stared at her jeans and mud laden T-shirt. “What ye wearing?” he asked, a split second before the two-eyed render landed full on his chest in a flurry of claws and teeth.

  His friends fell over one another in an attempt to get out of the cart, landing in a heap of limbs in the mud. Elaine clambered from her perch and armed herself with the only weapon she could find: a pitifully puny branch. Thankfully, the dog managed to reach Myrrdinus before her and clamped his sharp teeth into the back of the render’s neck. Unfortunately, the beast didn’t even twitch, let alone loosen his grip on Myrrdinus, who was fighting with all his muscular strength to keep those jaws from devouring his face.

  A loud metallic ‘dong’, much like the sounding of a bell, signalled Myrrdinus’s salvation. The render’s two remaining eyes crossed as it slumped onto the young man’s chest, unconscious. Two mangy ears slowly re-appeared over the top of the beast’s se
nseless body, nervously rising after the pressing need to duck. A render-shaped dent in a large frying pan was testament to the necessity of that manoeuvre.

  Myrrdinus managed to lever the two animals off his body, only to find himself staring at a pair of feet that he knew, rather too well. His eyes travelled up the full length of his saviour, which didn’t take long for she was short in stature. Recognition culminated in a huff of annoyance, mingled with embarrassment.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” she said, a huge grin plastered across her features, dented frying pan still swinging from her hand.

  Myrrdinus regained his feet, only to have the little woman launch herself at him. This was none too easy, for she was also a tad overweight in addition to being tiny. She managed to land a kiss on his lips before he succeeded in extricating himself from her suctorial embrace.

  “Telled ye not to come. Be dangerly,” Myrrdinus spluttered, wiping his mouth.

  “Who for? Be saving yer life, horma legs,” quipped the energetic bane of his life. Holding back her riotous main of auburn curls with one hand, she dabbed at his bites and cuts with her shirt, revealing rather more flesh than he cared to see.

  “Not calling me that,” Myrrdinus snapped, turning his back on the plump little redhead to stare at the render’s body. Intermittent groans indicated that it was beginning to regain consciousness.

  “Hello, who be ye?” asked the tiny woman in her usual cheery fashion, noticing Elaine brandishing a large twig.

  Everyone immediately found something fascinating to stare at near their feet.

  “Elaine,” Myrrdinus answered for the newcomer, whilst she dropped the twig.

  “Asking her,” the woman told him, loftily; then realised what he’d said. “Elaine? That Elaine? One who…”

  “Just saying her name be Elaine,” Myrrdinus interrupted, heading off another verbal flight of fancy.

  “She seen all our faces,” his adversary shot back. “Wonderly.”