Nightrise

own wings thundering as they made the air shudder and vibrate.
    And then, just when he thought he couldn't take any more, Jamie saw a single figure making his way through the middle of his army, advancing to take his place at the front. This was the commander…it had to be. He was riding on an animal that at first glance looked like a horse but which had horns, burning red eyes, and steam rising like smoke from its mouth and nostrils. Thirteen more riders surrounded him but he seemed not to notice them. His eyes were fixed on the two boys who were directly ahead.
    "Chaos," Scar whispered.
    "What?" Jamie couldn't move. He could barely breathe.
    "He has no name. But that's what we call him. He is the King of the Old Ones."
    Jamie had to look at him twice. Once to see him. Once to understand what he was seeing.
    He was human size, but he seemed bigger. He seemed to swallow up everything around him, in the same way as a black hole in outer space. Jamie knew that he was looking at pure evil and that there was nothing more empty or more destructive in the universe. Chaos had no face. No features of any sort.
    With his every movement, he destroyed the area around him. He didn't just move. Without even trying, he cut his way through the world.
    Jamie had no idea how long he had been standing on the hill. He felt rooted there. Time seemed to have stopped.
    The two opposing armies faced each other. Just for a moment, everything was still. The knights stopped beating their shields, and silence — somehow shocking — fell onto the battleground. There was a soft breeze. The grass bent and the banners fluttered. Somewhere, a horse snorted. There were about fifty feet between Matt and Flint and the forces they had come to fight.
    Chaos had reached the front. He took out his sword. Jamie heard the metal grinding as it came out of its sheath. A moment later, a sound seemed to come from him like water rushing out of a pipe, and although it was not raised above a whisper, it echoed across the battlefield and reached them high up on the hill.
    "The power of the Five has been defeated. One of you is trapped far from here and one of you has been killed. He died painfully. And now you cannot win. Lay down your arms and I will be generous. I will give some of you a quick death. The rest of you I will allow to serve me. There is no need for this battle.
    You know it has already been won."
    Matt said nothing. Jamie saw him reach down and draw his sword. That was his answer.
    The King of the Old Ones nodded slowly. He said nothing more. Suddenly, he raised his weapon, lifting it above his head. It was the signal. At once there was an explosion of screaming, cheering, laughing, shouting. A pounding of hooves. A crash that might have been thunder.
    The black army surged forward.

    The battle had begun.
    SEVENTEEN
    The First Circle
    All too quickly, the killing started.
    The army of the Old Ones fell on the opposing side like a tidal wave rising up from a black and boiling sea. The slaves in the front line were the first to move, rushing forward with their axes and clubs as if they couldn't wait for their own inevitable deaths. Behind them, the knights marched, one pace at a time, relentless, swords raised. The heads of the unicorn horses were writhing as if in pain, the metal horns stabbing at anyone who came close. Then came the man-creatures, tumbling across the field, lashing out with claws and teeth. And finally there were the monster animals. To Jamie, watching from the hilltop, they looked unstoppable. They were so huge, surely they would have been able to win this battle on their own.
    The giant monkey had leaped forward into the middle of the opposing ranks. In the next few seconds, dozens of men and women were thrown aside as it swatted them with its paws, dashing them to pieces.
    Horses reared in terror, throwing their riders. Metal clashed against metal and in an instant the grass was splattered with blood as the first casualties fell. Jamie looked for Matt and Flint but already they had disappeared, folded into the confusion. For what had a few moment ago looked like a neat map, the forces lined up with mathematical precision, had now become a sprawling, hideous mess.
    Matt's forces had begun to fight back.
    The archers, positioned behind the main body of the troops, fired one volley after another, the sky darkening as hundreds of silver arrows curved overhead and fell, finding their targets. Twenty or thirty of them hit the