Fighting monsters and demons in association with BBC Cult.
The soldiers had all noticed Tamara and reined their horses in. Their galloping charge had been halted and now the phantoms began to surround her and the carriage, the moonlight passing through their translucent forms. Several of the ghosts moved aside to allow another rider to pass amongst them. He had been at the head of the charge and now he trotted his horse toward Tamara, and she felt the breath go out of her. More and more she felt as though she were dreaming, her thoughts almost incoherent. The leader of the charge rode a white horse, a horn slung around his neck and a white feather in his cap. He wore a short sword that hung from his golden belt. His hair was thick and curly, dark as the night, and his eyes were blacker than the deepest shadow.
There was something about him that was more solid than the others but it took Tamara a moment to comprehend that his flesh was not transparent. He had been just as invisible as the others before, but now that they had materialized, he did not seem like a specter at all.
Once more her eyelids fluttered and then he spoke to her and she felt as though she began to come awake. His horse was closer than she had thought and it snorted hot breath in her face. She could smell it. Which made no sense at all to her, for how could she smell a ghost?
