Sky Wolves (15 page)

‘So you see – we don’t want to
fight
him as
such
,’ Boris finished lamely. ‘We just want him to come with us – and defeat Fenrir.’

Black Shuck looked as amused as a smouldering hell hound could.
‘Well, that’s all right, then,’
he said.
‘Maybe you could throw a ball for him. Oh –I forgot – you haven’t got one.’

Checkers and Boris were feeling definitely discouraged by now. Squashed, even.

‘Ragnarok,’
Black Shuck said thoughtfully, as though to himself, and the ground around them quivered.
‘So you are trying to save mankind. Just like a dog,’
he added in tones that suggested they deserved everything coming to them.

‘Not just mankind,’ Checkers said.

‘We have to save the whole world,’ said Boris.

‘Because a mistletoe twig told you to,’
Black Shuck said, and both the dogs were silent.

‘Of course, it’s always possible,’
he went on,
‘that if this world were to end, another, better world would take its place. One in which mankind did not dominate the rest of creation and each animal had its rightful place.’

Boris and Checkers looked at him.

‘Just a thought,’
he said.
‘Well, I’d love to hang around a bit longer, discussing the best way to save mankind, but there’s people to stalk, lonely travellers to frighten out of their wits, that kind of thing. I’ll have to be going.’

And he twitched his mighty tail and turned round.

‘Wait a minute,’ Checkers called. ‘You can’t just leave us here!’

‘I’m afraid I can,’
Black Shuck said, then he reached up towards a single, flowering twig and snapped it off with his great jaws.
‘You might need this,’
he said to Boris, and he lowered his head and tucked it into Boris’s collar.
‘For the ferryman.’

Then he turned and walked into the mist, leaving a trail of smoking stubble in his wake.

‘Come back!’ Checkers barked, his voice falling on muffled air. He stared regretfully at the space where the great hound had been. ‘I quite liked him,’ he said to Boris. ‘He was all right, really. Better than –’

He meant, better than being all alone on the shores of the birdless lake, which led to the caverns of the underworld and the river of death. Not to mention the unspeakable Guardian. Boris understood this, but neither dog wanted to finish the sentence.

At that moment, the mist swirled back and they could see the furthest shore.

On a bright, sunny, cloudless day the scene in front of them would have been merely depressing. However, in the dank grey mist it was a sight grim enough to make both dogs burst into tears, if only they’d known how. The water looked as though it was coated with slime. It was more like a swamp than a lake. From time to time stinking bubbles broke the surface, discharging noxious vapours into the reeking air. No life stirred. Only a few straggling reeds hung over the edges of the lake, as though broken in spirit. And there, on the other side of the lake, was a vast rock face,
full of caves that looked, as Black Shuck had said, exactly like open mouths.

‘Right,’ said Checkers on an outbreath. ‘Er – what did he say, about crossing it?’

‘You mean about the certain death?’

‘No,’ said Checkers. ‘Not that bit.’

‘He said we had to swim,’ said Boris.

Checkers was not a dog who usually held back from swimming. He had swum in the sea, in the canal, in the children’s swimming pool and even in a silage tank. Wherever there was water, Checkers dived in. But this black, stinking swamp was something new in his experience, something he had no desire at all to go near. He hung back.

‘You can go first, if you like,’ he said generously to Boris.

After a moment, Boris trotted to the edge of it and gingerly stuck one paw in, withdrawing it instantly.

‘Boris,’ said Checkers, ‘this is your big chance. You always wanted to be a hero.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Boris. ‘That was you.’

He looked at the water. The paw he had dipped in felt curiously deadened.

‘There’s something funny about this place,’ he said.

And at that moment the caves began to moan.

Meanwhile, Gentleman Jim and Pico had also emerged from the storm, into a snow-covered world. The snow was crisp and dry and crunched under Gentleman Jim’s paws. Frost-stiffened grass crackled as they passed and the occasional shower of snow fell from the branches of a shrub as they went by.

The snow glittered all around them, in every direction as far as they could see, and the frost formed itself into patterns on rocks and stones, wreathing them in flowers. Everything was perfectly still, as though they were the only living creatures on the earth. It was rather beautiful, but Gentleman Jim felt a growing sense of unease.

Apart from the imminent ending of the world, not to mention such concerns as where they were and how they were supposed to find this mighty hunter, there were three things troubling Gentleman Jim.

First, the silence was rather eerie. Where were the birds and wild animals? Had everything suddenly gone into hibernation? Where was the noise of the city? In all of Gentleman Jim’s considerable life, he had never been anywhere where there was no noise at all.

Second, there was no sign of the sun or moon. They
seemed to have entered a vast twilight in which only the first pale stars pricked the dull sky. The stars were in themselves beautiful, but Gentleman Jim hoped very much that the sun and moon hadn’t already been devoured by ravening wolves, in which case they were already too late.

And third, though his eyesight was no longer what it was, he thought he could see a point ahead where everything simply ended, as though the whole world had fallen off a cliff.

He hadn’t mentioned any of these concerns to Pico yet, because he didn’t want to worry the little dog, and also because any noise he made seemed unnaturally loud in the silence. Besides, he suspected that Pico’s eyes were sharper than his own, which would mean that from his lookout point between Gentleman Jim’s ears, he had probably already worked out what there was to know.

Pico, however, was facing in the opposite direction. Worried that they wouldn’t be able to find their way back, he had scrambled round so that he was looking behind, at the way they had come. This had enabled him to come up with a troubling fact of his own.

There were no tracks. Gentleman Jim had been crunching his way through the snow for hours now and
his
tracks at least should have been clearly visible. The snow had virtually stopped falling, apart from an occasional flake drifting lazily downwards as though trying to make up its mind whether to land or not, and there was no wind. Gentleman Jim’s great paws should have left a clear trail all the way back to the croft, but the snow seemed to be covering them up. Pico found himself watching the tracks very hard. The snow didn’t look as though it was moving at all, yet three
or four paw-prints behind them, Gentleman Jim’s tracks simply disappeared. And there were no tracks of any other kind either, bird or fox or rabbit.

Pico was paying such close attention to the disappearing tracks that he almost fell off Gentleman Jim’s collar when the great dog cleared his throat.

‘AHEM!’ said Gentleman Jim, and a nearby shrub quivered, sending cascades of snow from its branches. ‘Er – I don’t suppose you know where we are, do you?’

Pico scrambled round hastily, so that he was facing the back of Gentleman Jim’s neck.

‘Can you still see that star?’ Gentleman Jim enquired.

‘Oh, yes,’ Pico said, gazing round quickly, though in fact, now that there were a few stars out, he could no longer tell which was the right one. ‘I’m sure we’re still going in the right direction.’

Gentleman Jim nodded. ‘Take a look ahead, will you?’ he said.

Pico pulled himself up Gentleman Jim’s neck until he was looking out between his ears. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said.

‘That’s right,’ said Gentleman Jim.

‘Oh,’ Pico said, suddenly understanding. ‘I see.’

For ahead of them was a ridge of snow slightly too high to see over and very long. It extended to the left and right as far as the small dog could see. Beyond this ridge, there appeared to be – nothing. Only the stars twinkling in the deepening sky. It was as if the whole world suddenly stopped there.

Gentleman Jim sighed. ‘I didn’t like to mention it before,’ he said, ‘but the earth seems to be coming to an end.’

Pico slid a little way down Gentleman Jim’s neck, then scrambled up again.

‘My word,’ he said.

Neither of them could see over the ridge of snow, but both of them had a horrible impression of nothingness on the other side. It was almost as though someone had rolled the world up like a carpet. Behind them stretched the vast, glittering plain they had just crossed and before them, it seemed, was the end of the world.

Pico licked his lips. ‘It is clear what we must do,’ he said.

‘Is it?’ said Gentleman Jim, surprised.

‘Yes,’ said Pico, very definitely. ‘We must clamber up that icy ridge and leap into the void.’

Gentleman Jim seemed less convinced. ‘Well, that’s
one
idea,’ he said.

‘Do you have another?’ asked Pico.

‘No, but -’

‘Then I suggest we do not delay.’

Gentleman Jim stayed where he was, oppressed by the sense of vast immeasurable emptiness on the other side. He looked up at the ridge. Even the sky seemed blacker beyond it, as though emptied of stars.

‘Gentleman Jim,’ said Pico, ‘remember the nobility of your blood.’

What Gentleman Jim was remembering was that he had almost no desire at all to discover a void, whatever it was. He coughed, playing for time.

‘Hrrrummppph!’ he said. ‘Did Jenny say what we were supposed to do once we were
in
the void?’

Pico thought hard for a moment.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Ah,’ said Gentleman Jim.

‘But surely that is for us to find out.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Gentleman Jim, whose nerves were telling him that he should definitely not, on any account, go over that ridge. ‘Are you sure you can still see that star?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Gentleman Jim,’ said Pico sternly, ‘you cannot be thinking of backing out now.’

‘Well,’ said Gentleman Jim, ‘not backing out as
such,
but -’

‘Put me down!’

‘Pardon?’

‘Put me down at once! If you will not take me to the void, I will make my own way!’

There followed a short, tense discussion in which Gentleman Jim pointed out that there was no need to get huffy and Pico pointed out that Gentleman Jim should be ashamed of himself, and Gentleman Jim said that Pico was far too stroppy for a midget, then yelped as Pico nipped his ears, and finally Gentleman Jim said that if Pico was determined to go flinging himself into any old void that came along, who was he, Gentleman Jim, to prevent him, and he lowered himself to the floor so that Pico could slide down his nose.

For the next few minutes, Gentleman Jim watched in a resigned kind of way as Pico tried and failed to clamber up the ridge. He tried approaching it scientifically, by looking for footholds, but the walls were glassy and sheer. Then he tried running at it, from increasing distances, but he got hardly any further than his own height before tumbling back down again and burying himself in snow. Finally, he
spent several moments jumping up and down at it, like a miniature kangaroo, but it was hopeless. He was far too small to project himself over the ridge.

Frustrated, he turned round and mustered what was left of his dignity.

‘Gentleman Jim?’ he said.

‘Ye-es?’ yawned the big dog.

‘Would you be so kind as to assist me, please?’

Gentleman Jim thought of saying that even with his assistance Pico was unlikely to get very far, since the ridge was much bigger than both of them, but he knew that Pico would just take this as a further sign of giving up. Pico was the kind of dog who never, ever gave up. Gentleman Jim would get no peace unless he went along with him. Besides, he reflected, they were perfectly safe. There was no way that either of them could climb that ridge.

So, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself, Gentleman Jim stood up. And as he did so, he saw something he had never seen before.

A constellation was rising over the edge of the ridge. This was nothing unusual in itself, of course, and Gentleman Jim even knew the name of it, since Gordon was a keen amateur astronomer. Orion was rising as usual, but then, much less usually, Gentleman Jim thought, it began walking towards them.

Several expressions of surprise and disbelief battled for possession of Gentleman Jim’s face. His jaw flopped about at a loose end for a while, then he barked loudly.

‘Look!’

‘What is it? What is it?’ barked Pico, jumping up and down.

Gentleman Jim had just enough presence of mind to lower his nose so that Pico could scramble up again, but when he did, he almost fell off Gentleman Jim’s neck in shock. Both dogs stared in astonishment as the great constellation approached, its stars burning brighter and brighter. Gentleman Jim thought of running, but where was there to run to? All the short hair on his back bristled as the outline of the constellation resolved itself into an enormous burning man. His eyes, hair and sword gleamed with a cold, white fire. He rose over the edge of the ridge and remained poised in midair, gazing down at them.

‘ARE YOU LOOKING FOR ME?’ he said.

In the ordinary course of things, Flo would have expected to land some time shortly after leaping. Her whole experience of the world had taught her that if you leapt, you landed, or indeed fell. She had been a particularly bouncy puppy and had learned this lesson many times.

‘What goes up must come down,’ Myrtle had told her.

‘Pride comes before a fall.’

‘He who climbs furthest falls hardest,’ and so on.

Flo, the most intelligent of poodles, had learned all these lessons by heart. But they weren’t helping her now. Because, in fact, she had leapt but not landed.