‘We’ve come to take you home,’ Rose repeats, her arms wrapped tightly round his waist. ‘Please wake up!’ Her voice is desperate. It’s how I feel too. His dry vacant eyes and still chest tell me that we’re too late. We were stupid to think there were rules about how long we had to get to Grandad. Crowky doesn’t have rules. Everything about him and his castle is chaotic and messed up.
But I’m not ready to give up and suddenly I have to have Grandad back. Rose must feel this too because we both start rubbing his cheeks and his hands, and calling out to him.
The side of my face is pressed against him when a deep wheeze comes rattling out of his parted lips. It sounds terrible, but it’s a sign of life and when we hear another one, and then another, we’re so relieved we laugh.
His eyes squeeze shut. ‘Arthur, Rose . . . ?’ His voice is a hoarse whisper.
‘Grandad!’ we cry.
One of his arms flops down and I grab hold of it. Warm fingers curl round mine. Then his other arm drops and he collapses heavily to the ground. He pulls us into a weak hug. I hold him tight until I realise that he’s struggling to suck in air.
‘Here.’ I find his inhaler and he takes it from me and sticks it in his mouth. He’s supposed to shake it. He’s supposed to take slow, deep breaths. But his fumbling fingers pump the canister again and again, and he sucks in the medicine until I pull it away from him. ‘Give it a chance to work,’ I say, ‘and you need to save some.’
He nods, then half opens his eyes and rests his head against the wall. Squeezing our hands, he breathes like he’s greedy for air, until gradually his breathing slows, then falls into a regular rhythm. Rose finds a dirty blanket on the floor and drapes it over his shoulders.
Eventually he’s strong enough to look from Rose to me. Then we see the flicker of a smile. ‘Looks like Roar does still exist, Arthur.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It’s all I can think to say.
His eyes dart around the chamber. He swallows, then licks his dry lips. ‘Nothing to be sorry about . . . Look at this place.’
I take in the cavernous room that Grandad’s imprisoned in. It’s round and looks like a large, empty theatre. It has a domed ceiling and stone walls that are blackened, like they’ve been scorched by flame, although it’s bitterly cold in here. Above us, circling the whole dungeon, is a gallery.
‘The scarecrow usually appears up there,’ Grandad says, nodding towards the gallery. ‘Sometimes he says nasty things, but usually he just stares at me, then goes away again.’ His voice sounds dry and rusty and I wish I had some water to give him.
‘This place is horrible,’ says Rose.
Grandad manages to shake his head. ‘It’s incredible, Rose. Cold, yes, and dirty, but quite incredible and I’m alive, aren’t I? That thing he did to me, squeezing me, it was painful and frightening, but it actually stopped my wheezing.’ He smiles, but it doesn’t convince me or Rose. It’s a weary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘But he does not like you two. You need to get out of here!’
‘We’re not leaving without you,’ I say. ‘Right now an army of girls is attacking the castle. This is our chance to get you out of here!’
Grandad lifts up one foot and rattles his chains. ‘Better get rid of these then.’
‘Definitely,’ I say, picking up one of the chains and following it to where it loops through the ring in the wall. ‘We need a tool. Something to smash it.’
Rose and I jump off the platform and explore the chamber, trying to find something, anything we can use. But except for the torches and a few bits of straw and the blanket, the chamber is empty. ‘Arthur, you stay here,’ says Rose. ‘I’ll look in the cells.’ Then she runs out of the room.
‘Come here, Arthur.’ Grandad pats the floor next to him. ‘Share my blanket.’ I climb back on to the platform and sit next to him. Grandad throws his dirty blanket over my legs. ‘It’s not very nice,’ he says. ‘I think it might have come from Crowky’s bed. Or does he sleep in a nest?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know much about him at all. I’m just starting to realise that. Roar has got a bit . . . wild.’
‘It’s magnificent.’ The effort of saying this last word, makes him rest his head back against the wall and take several deep, wheezing breaths. He has two more blasts on the inhaler. ‘Bliss . . .’
For a moment we just sit there and listen to Grandad’s breathing as it slows down. Then I decide to ask him something that I’ve been thinking about ever since I arrived in Roar.
‘Grandad . . . how come you knew this place was real? I thought you were trying to get me to play. But you weren’t, were you?’
Eyes still closed, he shakes his head.
‘And up in the attic, when I said I’d been bitten by a real dragon, you didn’t even blink.’
He turns to me and opens his eyes. ‘Arthur, I believed that you’d been bitten by a dragon because I’ve been bitten by a dragon too.’ He pulls up his shorts, and there, just above his knee, is a thin scar. ‘When I was a little boy I found this . . . magical place, just like you found Roar. I visited it. I played in it. I’ve had a long time to think about it and I wonder if every child has a world like this, only not all of them are lucky enough to find it.’
‘But if you’re right, everyone would be talking about it. It would be on the news and the internet.’
‘Arthur, if you listen you’ll realise everyone is talking about it! Ask someone about the best game they ever played, and you will see it in their eyes. They go back there, just for a moment as they remember a magical time. They don’t know they’re describing something real. It’s become nothing more than a game to them.’ As Grandad talks he seems to get stronger. ‘Maybe these worlds are all over the internet: ghosts, trolls, fairies, the Loch Ness Monster! Where do they all come from?’
‘A world like this . . .’
‘Exactly!’
I frown. ‘How come you can still remember your world? I’m eleven and I’d almost forgotten Roar.’
‘I can still remember my world because I have never stopped visiting it!’ Grandad’s eyes light up, as if he’s been longing to tell me this.
‘But . . . where is it?’
‘It’s at the back of the jam cupboard in the cellar.’
I laugh, then stop when I realise that he’s serious. I picture the cupboard in the corner of Grandad’s cellar. It came from Mauritius and I’ve always liked it because it looks like it might have been kept in a pirate captain’s room, all carved wood and flowers made out of shells. It’s tucked between the chest freezer and the coal store, and full of twenty-year-old pickled onions and dusty bottles of pineapple jam.
‘Do you still go there?’
Grandad nods. ‘Sometimes. It’s quite a squeeze these days. My knees aren’t so good and while I’ve got bigger the jam cupboard has stayed the same size. I’ve often wondered why it’s never gone away. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never grown up, not properly.’
‘What’s it like?’
He laughs. ‘Incredible. I’ve always wanted to tell you about it . . . There are no scarecrows, thank goodness, and it’s very watery: floating cities and forests, and ships that can lift off the water and sail through the sky. There’s this palace of ice that drifts on a cloud. That’s where my dragons live. I’ve been very lucky to have it.’
Something about how Grandad says this, as if he’s almost given up on seeing his world again, makes me jump to my feet. ‘Grandad, we’re getting you out of here.’ I pull at the chains clamped round his ankles, trying to think of some way we can wrench them apart. ‘I promise. Right now the Lost Girls are fighting Crowky and his scarecrows, and we’ve got dragons waiting for us. As soon as we get these chains off, we can take you home!’
Rose runs back into the chamber and I see that her hands are empty. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘All the doors were locked.’
In a panic I blurt out, ‘I’ll get Win.’
Rose looks amazed. ‘Win? What can he do?’
‘Maybe h
e could use his magic to blow the chains apart.’
‘Win couldn’t use his magic to blow a daisy chain apart . . . But the dragons might be able to melt them.’
I try to imagine the dragons finding us, pushing their way through all the passageways. Would it be possible? We have to try. ‘I’ll fetch them,’ I say, jumping down from the platform.
I’m running towards the door when it slams shut in my face. The bang echoes round the chamber. I grab the handle and push as hard as I can. At first I think it’s jammed shut, but then I realise the door is locked, and that means someone has locked it. ‘Win!’ I yell, banging my hands down on thick wood. ‘WIN !’
With a rusty scrape the hatch in the middle of the door slides open. Taking a deep breath, I step closer and look into the dark tunnel. And that’s when I hear a ruffle of feathers, and a scratchy voice hisses, ‘I’ve got you now, Arthur Trout!’
Crowky steps out of the shadows and stares at me. His hair is sticking up even more wildly and he’s still wearing Grandad’s T-shirt, only now it’s ripped and grubby. Suddenly he grins and his smile is so wide that a couple of stitches pop open and some straw floats to the ground. ‘Amazing . . . Roar’s mighty masters, Rose and Arthur Trout, simply walk into their very own dungeon!’
‘Let us out,’ I say, standing as close to the bars as I dare.
Rose appears at my side. ‘Let us take our grandad and go home,’ she says. ‘You never have to see us again!’
Crowky’s eyes grow wide. ‘Oh, but I want to see you, Rose. I want to see you all the time.’
‘What do you mean?’
His stick fingers grip the bars. ‘I worked something out that everyone else was too stupid to notice.’ He pushes his sack face against the bars. ‘We need you. You always disappeared for a while, went to Home, or whatever that place is called, but then you’d turn up again like a bad smell.’
This is too much for Rose. ‘We’re the bad smell?’
Crowky puts a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh. Then, one day, you just stopped coming. Months, then years passed with no sign of Arthur or Rose. At first it was marvellous. The mischief I caused!’ His face lights up before twisting into a scowl. ‘But strange things started to happen. First, there were the earth wobbles, then holes appeared in the most inconvenient places and things started to disappear. The unicorns were the first to go. I couldn’t care less about them, but when these stopped working . . .’ He hunches his shoulders, letting his wings unfold until they’re brushing the sides of the tunnel. They beat once, twice, sending a single feather floating through the bars, ‘I was furious. And all because of you. But I wasn’t going to sit in my castle, mouldering. I built my army. I made spies that could fly for me. But what good were they if Roar was splitting in two? Although it pains me to say it, without Arthur and Rose Trout Roar falls apart. Literally!’
‘How do you know all those things happened because of us?’
My words must sound hollow because Crowky throws his head back and cackles. ‘It has everything to do with you! When you turned up at the Crow’s Nest I flew for the first time in years!’
Rose shakes her head in disbelief. ‘So . . . what? You’re just going to keep us here?’
He smiles and nods. ‘I spent hours in that tunnel waiting for you to come back. Then, finally, that old man came through and when he started calling out for Arthur . . . Well. I knew it was only a matter of time until you came looking for him. Yes, I’m keeping you here, Rose Trout. I’m keeping you here forever.’
Crowky says these words with such relish that dread sweeps through me. Will we be a case on the news: two children and their grandad who vanish during their summer holiday?
Rose must feel this too because she grabs hold of my arm. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘Oh yes I can. But I won’t just keep you here, Rose, I’ll terrify you here! Down in my dungeon you won’t be feeling happy thoughts. I’ll keep you scared. I’ll keep you wondering what wicked thing I’m going to do next.’
‘But . . . why?’ asks Rose.
He presses his face into the bars. ‘For FUN, Rose, because it’s what I do!’
I grab Rose’s hand and she squeezes my fingers tight.
‘I’ve enjoyed waiting for you to find your way here,’ Crowky continues. ‘I’ve imagined every little moment of panic you’ve had, every scare, every pinprick of fear . . . and it felt GOOD!’
This is too much for Rose. ‘Let us out! You can’t keep us here!’
‘Yes I can, Rose, but I won’t keep the old man. I have no use for him now that he’s lured you to me . . . well, except as food.’ With a grin Crowky grabs a lever set in the wall and yanks it down.
A groaning, clanking sound throbs through the chamber and the stones under our feet start to tremble. Then the whole floor starts to slide back taking us with it.
‘Rose . . . Arthur,’ says Grandad, ‘what’s going on?’
When we turn round we understand. The floor of the chamber is disappearing into the walls and a gaping hole is opening up. If the floor doesn’t stop moving soon Grandad’s going to be stranded! Without stopping to think, I run forward and jump.
I land on the edge of the platform with my legs hanging down in the hole. I quickly pull myself up and rush over to Grandad. With a sudden thud the floor stops moving. Now a great pit lies between us and Rose. She stares at us through the smoke drifting out of the pit. ‘What did you do that for?’ she cries.
That’s when I realise I’ve left her all on her own.
‘Yes, Arthur, that was a very foolish thing to do!’ Crowky’s voice echoes from somewhere above. He must have left the doorway because he’s now staring down at us from the gallery. He paces up and down, his wings fluttering with fidgety excitement. ‘I’m not going to let your pathetic heroics ruin my plan. I’ve been looking forward to this for such a long time.’
Grandad tugs on my sleeve. ‘What’s in that hole, Arthur?’
I crawl to the edge of the platform and peer over. A disgusting smell drifts out of the pit: a mixture of meat, sulphur and something that reminds me of the reptile house at the zoo. Fear prickles over my skin as if my body can sense danger, and then, far down in the pit, I see movement.
Something is crawling towards me.
‘What is that?’ I whisper.
Crowky leans over the wall of the gallery and cackles. ‘Someone very, very hungry, but don’t worry. She only eats food from her special feeding area . . . Oh no! Your grandad appears to be chained to her special feeding area!’
The huge, gnarly creature creeps higher up the wall and into the dim light. She has red eyes and thick, cracked skin. Black smoke seeps from her nostrils and her teeth glint in the darkness.
I gasp. ‘Bad Dragon . . . !’
As if in reply Bad Dragon opens her jaws in a deadly grin and breathes out. Flames race up the wall of the pit, sending me scurrying back towards Grandad. He pulls me to him, and we press our backs against the wall as the flames lick our feet.
‘Arthur,’ he says, ‘is it my imagination or is it getting hot in here?’
Rose puts two fingers to her lips and whistles. She does it again and again.
‘No one can hear you,’ calls Crowky in a sing-song voice, just as Bad Dragon’s snout appears over the side of the pit, followed by her enormous craggy head. She sniffs the air curiously.
Rose whistles again and again, but I can’t believe the sound can travel through all the twisting stone passageways back to the sea cave.
‘Sit back and enjoy the show, Rose,’ says Crowky. ‘Although I should warn you, Bad Dragon is a very messy eater. Arthur, you might like to step to one side. We don’t want her thinking you’re dessert.’
‘Arthur –’ Grandad tugs on my sleeve – ‘am I right in thinking a dragon of the “bad variety” is crawling out of that hole with the intention of eating me?’ His voice is surprisingly calm, even though the flames billowing from the pit are making him drip with sweat.
‘Yes .
. . that’s pretty much it. We’re sitting in her feeding area.’
He tries to push me away. ‘Then get away from me!’
I shake my head and watch as Bad Dragon starts to heave herself out of the hole. ‘Rose!’ I shout. ‘Can’t you stop her? You used to be able to make her roll over with one click of your fingers!’
‘Gobood gobirl,’ says Rose gently. ‘Cobome tobo Mobummy . . .’
Bad Dragon twists her head towards Rose and stares at her, eyes narrowed. Suddenly her jaws snap open and she sends out a blast of fire that makes Rose stagger back.
Crowky laughs. ‘You’re just a tasty morsel to her now. No different to any of the other snacks I toss down there.’
Bad Dragon’s claws grip the edge of the pit and her eyes slide back towards her feeding ledge and me and Grandad.
And that’s when I hear a distant thud, thud, thud of pounding feet. Bad Dragon hears them too, and tilts her head slightly. The thuds get louder, and there’s a smashing sound as if something is bashing against the walls of the tunnel. Then there’s a huge crash as something slams into the door. The thick wood splinters, but it doesn’t break. Up on the gallery, Croaky snarls with annoyance.
Suddenly Win’s face appears at the bars. His eyes widen in horror. ‘Guys . . . I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Bad Dragon is, like, right there!’ Behind him I can see two large bodies, one red and the other blue. It’s Pickle and Vlad!
Rose runs to the door. ‘Help me get Pickle and Vlad to breathe fire on the door. We need to burn it down. Arthur, you distract Bad Dragon!’
‘What? How do I do that?’
‘Think of something!’ Rose starts issuing a series of Obby Dobby commands to Pickle and Vlad.
All Bad Dragon’s greedy attention is focused on Grandad. ‘Oi!’ I shout, waving my arms around and moving away from Grandad. ‘Over here, you big ugly beast!’
Bad Dragon ignores me and snarls at Grandad, singeing the edge of his blanket. I feel in my pockets and pull out the first thing I find: Grandad’s carrot key ring. I hurl it at Bad Dragon’s head, but with one puff of fire she turns it to ash. At least I’ve got her attention. Her eyes narrow again and she stares hard at me.
The Land of Roar Page 15
