Sky Wolves (17 page)

‘Hat-i, Hat-i, Hat-i,’ chanted the wolves.

‘I’d go home now, if I was you,’ said Skoll.

But having come this far, Flo wasn’t going to give up now. And besides, she had no idea how to descend.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’d better stop her, then.’

Behind her all the wolves howled with laughter.

‘Stop Hati!’

‘That’s a good one!’

‘This should be worth watching!’

Flo ignored them. The cord tugged in her mouth and she followed it, moving more gracefully now and gaining speed. The pack of heckling wolves streamed behind her like an evil balloon as she flew.

‘Boris,’ moaned the caves. ‘Checkers.’

Checkers flattened himself to the ground, snarling and ready to spring. Boris looked worried.

‘Don’t go running off, Checkers,’ he said. ‘Remember what Black Shuck said about the Harpies.’

‘Boris and Checkers,’ the caves moaned. ‘Come to us!’

Checkers barked furiously and looked as if he wanted to dive straight into the swamp. Boris sighed and sat on him. All the air shot out of Checkers as Boris’s considerable weight descended.

‘What did you do that for?’ he gasped, when he could speak.

‘Shut up,’ said Boris uncharacteristically. ‘I’m thinking.’

‘Well I don’t – suppose – you – could – do – it – somewhere – else – could – you?’ puffed Checkers.

‘No,’ said Boris.

‘Come to us,’ moaned the caves.

‘What’s – there to think – about anyway?’ grunted Checkers, squirming.

‘Well, for one thing,’ said Boris, ‘I’m trying to work out how we cross the lake.’

‘Come, Boris. Come, Checkers,’ sang the caves.

Black Shuck had said that only one of them would call their names, but at this distance it was impossible to tell which one.

‘Look,’ said Checkers, with a desperate wriggle. ‘If you’d – just – get – up – I promise – I won’t go – running off – or do – anything – stupid. OK?’

With a grunt, Boris heaved himself off Checkers, who immediately ran off, plunging straight into the lake.

‘Checkers, Checkers,’ moaned the caves.

‘Look, Boris,’ Checkers called. ‘It’s like I thought – it’s quite solid round the edges. We can walk across, easy -’

Then he sank like a stone.

‘Your turn, Boris,’ sang the caves, evidently enjoying themselves.

Boris heaved a sigh of absolute exasperation. Sometimes he lost patience with Checkers, he really did. He got up slowly and plodded towards the edge of the lake. Checkers’s head surfaced briefly, struggling for breath, then sank again.

Boris thought. He thought about crossing the lake and about how the voices on the other side seemed to be able to see them. But they couldn’t leave the caves, presumably, or the Harpies, whatever they were, would have attacked them by now. For some reason they wanted to lure them into the lake.

Checkers’s head broke the surface of the water again.

‘Bo’ he said, and sank once more. He couldn’t say anything else because he was trying hard not to swallow the water.

Boris thought he should probably speed up his thought processes, but speeding up was not something Boris did.

The lake would be difficult to swim through, since it was more like a swamp, and there was the flowering branch to carry. It was a long time since Boris had swum.

‘Come on, Boris,’ chanted the caves, and Checkers, rising again, said, ‘B-’

Boris sighed, then turned round slowly and lowered his tail into the water towards Checkers, still thinking. Almost immediately he felt the curious deadening effect he had felt in his paw. There was definitely something very wrong with the lake. Yet Black Shuck had told them to swim it, and the Harpies evidently wanted them to as well. Of course, that wasn’t the best reason for doing it…

Boris felt Checkers’s jaws closing on his tail. He stood and heaved, moving slowly away from the water’s edge. And very slowly, a muddy and bedraggled Checkers emerged like some great sea creature from primordial slime.

‘Thanks, Boris,’ he said, and keeled over like a stone.

Boris waited. The caves had stopped chanting now, temporarily thwarted. Slowly the feeling returned to his tail. Meanwhile, Checkers started to cough. It occurred to Boris that the reason the Harpies wanted them to swim the lake was because they knew they wouldn’t survive the experience. And maybe that was what Black Shuck had intended all along. What was it he had said?
No living creatures may cross the waters of the underworld.

Checkers made an attempt to rise, then slumped again. Even though he hadn’t swallowed the water, he felt as though his whole body was drugged.

Black Shuck had also said something else, Boris remembered.
All roads lead to that dread entrance.

‘Hmmm,’ Boris said.

Checkers struggled to a sitting position.

‘Oh, Boris,’ he said. ‘I thought I was a goner there.’

His speech was slow and slurred. Boris stared away from the lake, back towards the wood. Then he glanced at Checkers.

‘Can you walk?’ he asked.

‘I – think – so,’ Checkers said.

He struggled to get up and made it on the fourth attempt.

‘Good,’ said Boris. ‘Follow me.’

And he set off, plodding back along the path they had so recently walked with Black Shuck.

Although he was going slowly, Checkers had some difficulty keeping up, and it occurred to Boris that the lake, which would have stunned or killed a less energetic dog, had simply slowed Checkers down. Really, he was almost normal now.

‘Where are we going, Boss?’ he said.

‘Back into the wood,’ said Boris.

‘Oh, right,’ said Checkers. ‘Er – why?’

Boris didn’t answer. The path was curving now, as he’d thought it might, though it hadn’t curved before.

‘Eh – that’s funny,’ said Checkers.

Boris plodded on. The path left the wood again and curved steeply uphill.

‘We didn’t come this way before,’ said Checkers, his voice sounding stronger and more normal with every step. ‘What’s it doing
now?
’

For the path was twisting, leading sharply up through rocks.

Checkers caught up with Boris and began nudging him from behind.

‘Where’re we going?’ he said.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Are we nearly there yet?’

‘Hang on a minute,’ he said. ‘What about that lake? And the caves, remember?’

Boris didn’t answer. He was too busy clambering over rocks. Mist swirled around him, so he could hardly see, but at last he seemed to have reached the highest point of the climb. They were on a plateau of rock. He paused for a moment, recovering his breath, then trotted over to the edge and looked down.

‘What?’ said Checkers from behind him. ‘Where are we?’

‘Come and look,’ said Boris.

Checkers looked. He let out a long breath of admiration that was almost a wolf-whistle.

‘Boris, old son,’ he said. ‘You’re a flipping genius.’

For there below them was the lake, steaming gently. They could see that they had gone all round it and were now on the other side. They could also see, as they peered over the edge, that they were looking down a cliff that was pitted with openings, as though it had a hundred mouths.

‘Boris,’ Checkers said, ‘you’re a star! Mind you,’ he added, ‘I don’t fancy climbing down there.’

‘We might not need to,’ Boris said. ‘Look.’

Just behind them and a little to the left, there was an opening in the plateau of rock. Beyond it was another opening that neither of them had noticed. Checkers was astonished.

‘’Ere,’ he said. ‘They weren’t there before.’

But even as he spoke, the rocky ridge rumbled and quaked and several small stones scattered past them over the edge. A third fissure appeared to the right.

‘Checkers,’ Boris said warningly, ‘don’t go bounding off.’

‘As if I would,’ Checkers began, when the rumbling and quaking started again, and the rock parted, almost beneath their feet.

Checkers poked his nose into it right away.

‘Rabbits!’ he said, quivering all over, and he would have dived straight in if Boris hadn’t caught hold of his collar.

‘Checkers!’ he said. ‘There’s only one opening for us, remember?’

‘Mmm – rabbits,’ Checkers said, his eyes already glazing over.

Somewhat reluctantly, he allowed himself to be hauled across to the next hole.

‘Now look, Checkers,’ Boris said, ‘when we come to the right opening, it’ll sound like the tolling of a bell. My hearing isn’t what it used to be. You’ll have to find it. But it won’t work if you go diving down every hole you come to. Whatever you smell down there, whatever you hear, promise me you won’t dive in.’

Reluctantly, Checkers promised. He sniffed cautiously at the next hole and cocked his ear at it. Then he looked at Boris with a strange light in his eye.

‘It’s an ice-cream van!’ he said, wagging his tail furiously. Checkers had once chased an ice-cream van clear across the city.

Boris sighed. He caught hold of Checkers’s tail just in time to stop him disappearing into the hole.

‘It’s the Harpies again,’ he explained, when he had dragged Checkers clear. ‘They’re still trying to lure us in. We’ll have to be very careful.’

‘That’s me, Boris,’ Checkers said promptly. ‘You know me.’

He stuck his head right into the next hole and began barking in a muffled way. Boris caught his tail again.

‘But Boris, there’s
cats
down there,’ he said. ‘Hundreds of them! Just let me get at them ’

‘
No,
Checkers,’ Boris said firmly. ‘What did I tell you -’

But he was interrupted by the terrible rumbling and quaking of the ridge once more, as yet another hole appeared. If this went on, Boris realized, they wouldn’t have any decision to take. They would simply fall through.

The next hole smelled like barbecued sausages and Checkers had trouble restraining himself again. The baying of hounds got him all excited and Boris had to bite his tail hard. But finally, on the seventh or eighth try, they could both hear a noise like the tolling of a bell, faint but distinct, from the depths of the earth. Boris looked at Checkers and Checkers looked at Boris. It was the one hole neither of them had any desire to go down.

‘Er – after you, Boris,’ said Checkers.

Boris sighed. They both peered over the edge of the hole.

It seemed a long way down. Checkers’s paw dislodged a small stone and it was ages before they heard a muffled
plop,
as though it had had to travel far to reach dank water at the bottom of the deepest, darkest well. Both dogs’ ears drooped at once.

‘Well,’ said Boris, ‘I think we -’

But he never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment the whole of the rocky ridge shook itself violently, with a terrific, rumbling roar, and the hole in front of them widened so that they lost their footing and plunged downwards into it, tumbling over and over into the deep, dark pit.

Gentleman Jim and Pico gazed in astonishment at the giant man suspended before them in midair. He was so tall that his head seemed to merge with the surrounding stars in the sky, while his feet hung well below the cliff edge and could not be seen. They could see the three dazzling stars of his belt, from which hung the hilt of a sword and a short, curving horn.

At last, Pico found his voice.

‘WOOF!’ he said, meaning
Who are you, and how can you stand in midair like that, and how did you get to be that big?

The giant sighed, and the sound was like the rustling of stars.

‘My name is Orion,’ he said, in a voice as distant as starlight. ‘I am doomed to travel the skies for all eternity.’

‘Doomed?’ said Gentleman Jim slowly, while Pico said, ‘Travel the skies!’ in an impressed kind of way.

‘Yes,’ said Orion. ‘I am doomed.’

‘It doesn’t sound like much of a doom to me,’ Pico said.

‘What would you know?’ said Orion, with a trace of bitterness. ‘Do you know how far you have to travel up here before you see anything? How long you have to wait
before anything happens? Thousands of light years – that’s how far
and
how long. Thousands of light years of nothing. Vast oceans of emptiness, the rolling wastes of time, followed by, just for variation, nothing at all.’

Gentleman Jim cleared his throat. ‘Hrrruummph!’ he said, meaning that they should get on.

But Pico wasn’t listening. ‘I thought the universe was a very exciting place,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Orion.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Pico. ‘You must have seen amazing things – stars and galaxies and – and things that we mortals can only dream about!’

‘Don’t get me started on that one,’ said Orion. ‘It is true that I have seen remarkable things. Meteor showers, the birth of suns – but so few and so far apart. Do you know how far it is from one constellation to another? Or what lies between? I can tell you. Nothing. Nothing at all. Do you know what nothing looks like?’

Gentleman Jim thought that this line of conversation had gone on long enough.

‘What did you do, exactly, to deserve such punishment?’ he asked.

Orion bent his mighty head towards them. Beams of starlight showered from his eyes. ‘Once, when the earth was young,’ said Orion, ‘and the stars were more brilliant than they are today, and the morning breeze was fragrant with the scents of nature, and the dew on the grass was sweet and piercing, I made a boast that I, Orion, mightiest of hunters, could kill any living thing the earth produced. It was no idle boast. The earth ran wild with game and whatever I saw I killed. Nothing escaped the flight of my
arrow or the shaft of my spear, neither bird, nor fish, nor four-footed creature. And I killed for pleasure, not need.’

Pico clutched Gentleman Jim’s ears. ‘Senseless slaughter,’ he muttered. ‘Carnage!’

‘Indeed,’ murmured Orion. ‘And the great goddess Gaia, Mother Earth, thought so too. She it was who sent the scorpion to kill me. Only Artemis, goddess of the hunt, took pity on me. She transmuted my flesh into stars, though my soul was lost. No living creature mourned for me, apart from my dogs, who were ever my companions in the chase. And two of these she placed with me in the sky for company. Without them I should indeed have been alone.’