They seemed to be countless, to stretch all the way across the field towards the woods. There were animals among them too. Was that a leopard, lifting its elegant head towards them? Was that a stag, head piled high with antlers? There was certainly a hare, strange aerial ears high and twitching, sitting quietly by the bank of the moat. Leana bristled and shrank back to a line of shrubs.

The three of them came slowly over the lawn towards the house end of the bridge. They were now separated from the mass of Samdhya only by a few feet of wood. And the water, thought Tom. Behind them the house was in darkness.

‘They can’t cross over the water, remember,’ Zita whispered as they arrived.

The Samdhya at the other end, Tom realised with a gentle lurch of recognition, was the same one who had spoken to him on the path behind his school.

‘The Swinton whelp,’ he hissed. ‘But forgive me.’ His accent was strange, as if the words came to him with difficulty. ‘My name is Rohenga.’

The name of the Samdhya who had met Margaret Ravenswood.

‘The Hawk in the Mist,’ sighed Zita.

‘I have a message for you, Thomas Swinton. We have been hunting the Knot, and we are near to finding it. And when we do …’ He held out his hand. In it, a ball of light was forming. ‘This water will not stop us.’

The drums began to beat, wilder and wilder, and a wolf howled.

‘In some ways we have already found it. In some ways we have already broken through your wards, and over the water, and into your house. In some ways we have already smashed open the prison and released our sister. Your kinsman James Swinton lies dead. And you three …’

A great shout arose from the Samdhya. The drumming and the howling intensified.

Rohenga pressed forwards. The wards around the gate shimmered and went silver as his face pushed right into them. Tom felt Rohenga’s power in his own body, in his own essence.

‘You three are his creatures. Thomas Swinton, you are James Swinton, as an acorn is an oak. We will come, and we will take you. Three times the sun will rise and set, and then the Knot will be found.’

Rohenga retreated and, taking aim, flung a ball of flame at the wards. The impact drained Tom, and he staggered, clutching at the bridge for support.

Throwing his head back, Rohenga opened his throat and let out a war cry that seemed to go on for ever, and the countless Samdhya joined in.

Zita’s arm snaked around Tom’s shoulders; and then, when he looked up, the whole expanse in front of him was empty.

Not a single Samdhya remained.

Chapter 13

9th June, 1846