Sky Wolves (22 page)

He felt the first impact as he hit the earth’s atmosphere.
The beam of light disappeared and he tumbled over and over, enveloped in darkness.

This is it,
he thought sadly, as images from his past life flashed through his mind. Images of training Gordon, sniffing the scents of field and forest, capering joyfully with his friends and even of lying on a mound of squealing puppies and feeding from his mum flickered past as though on a fast-forwarded film. There was so much more capering and sniffing and feeding left to do, he reflected mournfully, but now he never would.

I wonder
… he thought, but he had no time to find out what he wondered, because the next moment the ground, soft and springy with asphodels, but not quite soft and springy enough, rushed up and hit him, driving all remaining thoughts out of his mind.

Boris and Checkers stared at the mountain of dog poo. Neither of them could think of a single thing to say.

‘Blimey,’ Checkers managed at last.

He was about to add that he wouldn’t like to meet the dog that came from, when he realized there was no point. They were about to meet him. In fact, they had to track him down and fight him.

‘Boris,’ he whispered, ‘what are we going to do?’

Boris’s eyes were watering freely. This had to be the stench Black Shuck had talked about – the one that passed all understanding. He stayed where he was, with his tail curled between his legs and his nose pressed to the ground, trying not to breathe. He felt as though he was in a bad dream, and if he stayed very still and didn’t do anything unexpected, he might just be able to wake up.

‘Boris,’ Checkers whispered again, ‘we have to do something.’

Boris didn’t want to do anything. Over the years he had perfected the art of doing nothing and it had always served him well. Sometimes he experienced the urge to do something, but if he waited it always went away again.
Now he didn’t have to wait. The urge to do anything at all had completely left him.

Very unusually Checkers was also standing still, but he was quivering all over.

‘Boris,’ he said again, ‘we have to find him ’

He was cut short by the deafening blast that was Cerberus’s howl.

All round the plains of Hell it rolled. The gates of Hades vibrated in the blast and the five rivers of the underworld boiled and churned in their beds. Gorgons, Harpies and Furies flapped their wings and rose, shrieking, into the air. Boris’s heart did a little pirouette and his lungs clapped. His eyes felt as though they were leaking out of his ears.

‘Looks like we won’t have to search too hard,’ Checkers said, as the dreadful noise finally died away.

Boris was astonished that Checkers was still able to speak. His own voice rattled feebly in his throat, then died away.

‘Best get a move on,’ Checkers was saying, and he stepped forward with a determined air into the cave that was just beyond the mighty mound.

Boris had no choice but to follow. If he had known the way out at this point he might well have taken it, even if it had involved swimming the dreadful Styx. But he didn’t know the way, and he didn’t fancy wandering round the underworld on his own. Besides, he had to look after Checkers. All that was left of him that was recognizably Boris was the spark of loyalty that meant he could never leave his friend alone. Though he very much wished that his friend wasn’t such a complete and utter lunatic.

‘Come on, Boris!’ urged Checkers. ‘We’ve got a monster to fight!’

Boris didn’t even have the heart to contradict Checkers. Cerberus’s howl had driven all thoughts of peaceful negotiation out of his mind. Very reluctantly, he took a step forward, and then another one, into the hollow mouth of the cavern. His legs felt like wool and the ground beneath his feet crunched unpleasantly. He stepped forward again and crunched some more. When he looked down he couldn’t see much in the horrid gloom, but he realized, with a pang of horror, that he was stepping on bones. Big bones and little bones, scattered all over the floor of the cave. There were skulls too, grinning unpleasantly up at them as if to say,
You’ll look like this soon.

‘Can’t be far now,’ said Checkers.

Boris wondered why his friend wasn’t more frightened. Or depressed. That was how he felt – terrified and depressed in equal measure. But Checkers was trotting forward as though he didn’t know what fear meant. As though he was just going to meet his friends on the croft, on one of those happy days that now seemed so long ago.

‘When we get up to him,’ Checkers was saying, ‘you’ll have to attract his attention.’

Boris had no desire at all to attract the attention of the monstrous, three-headed hound. He looked at Checkers in dismay. There was not even a trace of the nervousness Boris had seen in him before, though he was trotting to certain death. His tail was up and his ears pricked and alert.

What’s got into you?
Boris thought.

What had got into Checkers was the lust for battle. He could feel the ancient call of it, surging through his veins.
At last, at last!
it was calling. He now felt that all his life he
had been preparing for one, great fight. As though all the generations of fighting dogs that had sired him were cheering him on; as though every little spark that had driven him to tackle ordinary enemies, such as cats and other dogs and the settee, was culminating in this fiery urge to fight whatever the cost. He didn’t know whether he would win and he didn’t even care. The lust for blood, even his own blood, had come upon him.

‘Checkers,’ said Boris.

‘What is it?’

‘I can’t remember why we’re doing this. Can you?’

‘Doing this? Well, of course I can. We have to, don’t we? Because if we don’t, then… And besides, we… Well, in any case, we’re here now, aren’t we, so –’

Suddenly, he tripped over something. He managed somehow to restrain himself from barking fiercely. Boris bumped into him from behind, then they both stood and considered the thing that Checkers had fallen over. It was long, thick and scaly, like an enormous snake, but it culminated in a point, and as the two friends looked at it, unnerved, it twitched. Swiftly they dodged as it made a powerful sweeping movement from side to side. It was a tail, though it was like no tail of any beast they had encountered before. It was ridged along its upper surface in scaly spines and, as they scrambled backwards to avoid it, the tail swung itself forcefully against the walls of the cave. The cave walls shook and the reverberations were felt throughout the underworld.

Cerberus was wagging his tail.

‘FEN-RIR!’ howled Hati, and the parcel of wolves bobbing by on the wind joined in.

‘Fenrir, Fenrir, Fenrir!’ they chanted.

Nothing happened. Flo, who was cowering beneath Hati, remembering the terrible howl she had heard on the croft, managed to look up and around. No one was there.

‘FEN-RIR-IR!’ howled Hati again, and once more the parcel of wolves joined in.

There was no reply.

Trembling and desperate as Flo was, she felt a faint, encouraging spark. She even managed a smile. ‘Well,’ she said, about to make a witty comment to the effect that some people were never around when you needed them, but then suddenly the universe coughed.

It coughed and spat out an enormous wolf, right next to Flo.

His eyes were like blowlamps and his teeth, bloody fangs. From his massive jaws dripped an electric drool. Flo tried urgently to pass out.

‘YOU CALLED?’ he said, in an enormous voice, and it was Hati’s turn to smile.

‘Fenrir,’ she said, ‘this poodle has been playing games with destiny.’

‘HAS SHE?’ boomed Fenrir, turning his scorching glare on Flo. ‘
WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO
?’ he said.

‘M-me?’ said Flo weakly, somewhat surprised that she could speak at all. ‘N-nothing.’

‘She tricked Skoll,’ said Hati venomously. ‘She bound him and his gang with the Thread of Destiny and prevented him from devouring the sun!’

Tell-tale,
thought Flo, wondering why her brain wanted to make flippant comments now of all times.

‘
DID SHE
?’ said Fenrir with a low growl that rumbled round the sky like thunder.

‘She
tried
to bind me,’ Hati continued, adding with a scornful flick of her tail, ‘As if!’

‘
INDEED
?’ said Fenrir, prowling dangerously close to Flo. ‘
DO NOT IMAGINE THAT YOU CAN BIND ME, LITTLE DOG. NOT EVEN THE GODS GOULD BIND ME. THEY HAD TO FORGE A SPECIAL CHAIN, FROM THE FOOTFALL OF A CAT, THE SPITTLE OF A BIRD, THE BREATH OF A FISH, A WOMAN’S BEARD, THE SINEWS OF A BEAR AND THE ROOTS OF A MOUNTAIN. AND SEE – THAT CHAIN IS BROKEN
!’

Flo peeped round him and could see that indeed there was the broken end of a chain dangling from his neck.

‘Go, Fenrir!’ shouted the parcel of wolves, and Hati smiled exultantly.

‘The-chain-that-may-not-be-broken
is
broken!’ she said. ‘Now nothing can stop us! Rip out her throat, Fenrir, then we can divide her into pieces and share the spoils. Then
you can devour the sun and put right the damage that has been done.’

‘
RIGHT
,’ growled Fenrir, and he moved towards Flo.

A terrible trembling travelled along Flo’s spine from her tail and rattled her teeth.

‘I-I-I w-wouldn’t d-d-do that if I were you,’ she managed to say.

‘
NO
?’ said Fenrir, pretending to be surprised, ‘
WHY NOT
?’

Flo couldn’t think of a single reason that Fenrir would be likely to accept.
Because I really don’t want you to,
was hardly going to work. Fenrir grinned a horrible, ravening grin. He opened his jaws so wide that Flo could only see the horrifying darkness within. Then he snapped them shut on the Thread of Destiny around Flo’s paws.

‘
I MIGHT NEED THIS
,’ he said, ‘
TO LOOP AROUND THE SUN. BEFORE I SWALLOW IT. WHOLE
.’

Flo clung desperately to the thread. ‘You can’t,’ she said, playing for time, though she hardly knew why.

‘
CAN’T WHAT
?’

‘Can’t swallow the sun. How could you? No one could.’

Hati and Fenrir laughed, but not in a good way.

‘
I COULD SWALLOW THE WHOLE UNIVERSE IF I CHOSE
,’ said Fenrir. And he pulled Flo nearer, as if he would swallow her too in a single bite.

‘Bet you couldn’t,’ she said, pulling away.

‘
DO YOU DARE DOUBT ME
?’ said Fenrir, with an ominous growl.

‘I’m just saying – that’s all,’ quavered Flo. ‘You boys are all the same – you‘ve always got to show off.
You swallowed
the sun today. Well, I .swallowed a whole universe.
You’ve always got to boast about something.’

Flo never understood how she dared to say all this. It must have been the knowledge of certain death that was prompting her into uncharacteristic boldness.

Fenrir howled. It was a long, appalling howl of destruction and ravening rage. Flo almost dropped the thread. She was rattling like a set of castanets.
This is it, now,
she thought. The choice between the jaws of the wolf and a fall through infinite space.

‘
DO YOU DARE TO DOUBT ME
?’ Fenrir howled, very loudly.

‘Well, show me, then,’ squeaked Flo.

Hati snorted in contempt.

‘Do not let her bait you!’ she snarled, baring all her horrible fangs. ‘You are worse than Skoll’s rabble! Destroy her now!’

Fenrir paused, his jaws gaping wide. Flo could see that he was torn by the need to demonstrate his prowess and the desire to rip her apart. For a second that stretched on to infinity, Flo could neither speak nor move, but only stare at him like a terrified rabbit in the path of a train.

Fenrir opened his massive jaws. And he went on opening them, wider and wider, until Flo could see at last how a single wolf might be able to swallow the sun, the moon and all the stars. Wider and wider opened Fenrir’s jaws, and the sound that came out of them was indescribable. It was like the roaring and howling of many beasts, the screeching of parrots, the yowling of a thousand cats being pushed through a cheese-grater. There were thunderbolts and hurricanes and erupting volcanoes in it, and all around
Fenrir the skies flashed in torment. Even Hati thrashed around in agony and the tied-up wolves yowled and gibbered. Flo felt her eyes rolling back in her skull and her brain clawing its way out of her ears. She lost all sense of where and what and who she was; she knew only that somehow she had to stop that horrifying noise.

Then Fenrir snapped the thread from Flo’s paws. He swallowed it and went on swallowing, more and more thread disappearing into his throat like the longest snake in the world. He tore at the thread that bound the wolves and swallowed that too, and in their haste to get away from him the parcel of wolves began to plummet from the sky.

All this Flo saw in a lightning flash, before she too plummeted earthwards, with a terrified wail.

From a long, long way off, Gentleman Jim heard something calling his name.

Gordon,
he thought, and felt a distant impulse to move. It travelled all the way from his spine to his brain, before fizzling out.

‘Gentleman Jim, open your eyes,’ the voice said, and something wet nudged him.

Impossible,
he thought.
I’m obviously dead.
He ignored the voice, assuming that whatever it was would sooner or later realize he was dead and leave him alone.

But the thing, whatever it was, tugged his ear.

With a momentous effort of will, Gentleman Jim forced one eyelid up. He was staring at a greenish, tangled plant. So ugly and contorted was it that it hardly deserved the name ‘flower’. A sickening greyish green with tangled spikes rather than petals, it emitted the kind of vapour that made you wish you had lost your sense of smell and an air of corruption that was obscenely malign.

‘Gentleman Jim,’ it said.

Gentleman Jim wasn’t having it. If there was one thing worse, he thought, than hurtling through impenetrable
darkness, it was landing on a bed of grotesque, talking flowers that stank like satanic cabbage.