by Unknown
Mark blinked in dismay. As Tanner’s hand again went to the barrel of his gun he could have sworn that he could see right through the flesh to the metal below. The illusion only lasted a second until the flesh solidified into an old man’s rough skin again.
‘You...you’re dead?’
‘Partly,’ Tanner grunted.
‘You’re a ghost?’ Amy asked.
‘Quite the opposite. A ghost is a spirit, whereas I am...never mind. You will find out the truth if you make it that far.’ Tanner lifted the shotgun and threw it to Mark. In reaction he grabbed the gun out of the air.
‘You’ll need that where you’re going, boy.’
‘I can’t shoot a gun,’ Mark squeaked.
‘You can and you will.’
Mark looked down at the gun. It was surprisingly light in his hands. The gun felt more like a toy than the real thing.
‘It’s just a light bore,’ Tanner explained. ‘It only fires rock salt.’
‘What good will salt do?’
‘It can stop demons.’
Demons? Shocked, Mark jerked his head up to the man.
But Tanner was nowhere to be seen.
From out of the very air came Tanner’s voice. ‘I’ve tried to protect children from Skathalos for too many years. Now it’s your turn, lad. Good luck.’
Amy had grabbed hold of Mark’s forearm and despite everything he suddenly felt empowered by her touch. He looked at her and she nodded silently. They were still in this together.
‘What now?’ she whispered.
From out of thin air came Tanner’s voice again. It sounded like a whisper, as if the man was receding at speed from them. ‘Follow Rip. He is yours now, Mark Darrow. He will take you to Skathalos. He will protect you...if he can.’
8
Mark and Amy looked at each other. Then they looked at the collie dog. Rip was sitting where Tanner had been standing only a moment ago. The dog watched them, its deep eyes full of sadness. Slowly it licked its chops then stood up.
‘Things are getting weirder and weirder,’ Amy announced.
Mark didn’t stop to think about the disappearing farmer. He didn’t think about what the man had said, either. It was enough to know that Tanner had once lost a friend to Skathalos and had tried his best to get him back. Tanner had failed to save his friend, and, to atone, he’d made it his business to try to protect other children from this...this...what was Skathalos?
A demon.
Rip turned round and walked away.
The dog approached the waterfall. It stepped into the trickle of water coming off the rocks, then pushed its nose into the water.
‘What’s that mutt up to?’ Amy asked.
Mark didn’t think that the dog was thirsty.
He watched and he saw Rip’s nose disappear inside the water. Then its head was gone. The dog moved forward and now its shoulders had disappeared inside the flow.
This isn’t possible, Mark thought. The water was little more than a splash: how could the dog submerge itself all that way?
Now only the dog’s tail was visible and it swished side to side as if beckoning Mark to follow.
‘Where’s it going?’ Amy looked more excited than frightened. Mark hitched up his jeans, not wanting to be outdone by a dog. He stepped into the stream, following as the white tip on Rip’s tail disappeared under the waterfall.
‘There must be a cave or something,’ he said to Amy. Right at that moment, though, he knew there was much more to the dog’s disappearing act than that. Through the water he could see the algae-slick rocks beneath. There was no cave. In some books he’d read when he was younger, children could enter Narnia by way of a magic wardrobe. It looked like the way to Skathalos’s world would just be a little wetter.
The shotgun that Tanner had thrown him came equipped with a carrying strap. Mark slung the gun over his shoulder. Then he moved to the waterfall. Reaching out with trembling fingers, he felt the cold sting of the water. But there was nothing of the stones beneath. Quickly he jerked back his hand. Part of him expected that his wrist would show only a stump, that his hand would have been shorn off and left wherever Skathalos dwelled. But – he was thankful to see – his hand was whole. He was wiggling his fingers to check they wouldn’t fall off when Rip’s head suddenly plunged out of the water. The dog barked once. It was a sharp command. Mark jumped, slipped, and went down on his backside in the muddy stream.
Behind Mark, Amy laughed. But then she came forward and helped him up. She held tightly to Mark’s hand. Mark didn’t let go. She smiled at him and light winked off her brace. Mark wondered if he would taste metal if he kissed her. Like that was going to happen! Blinking rapidly, he led Amy forward, following Rip as the dog again disappeared under the waterfall.
Holding tightly to Amy’s hand, Mark closed his eyes. He pushed into the water, thinking how much of an idiot he’d look if he smacked his face into rocks. But then something odd happened: he felt like he was turning to water. At least it would be water if water were thicker, like jelly or slime. Mark panicked, but Amy was pushing in from behind him and he had no other option than keep moving forwards. The sensation only lasted seconds. Mark felt whole again.
He opened his eyes.
When he did, he wished he’d kept them closed.
He was in a dark place. It was hot and damp and filled with a horrible stench.
But that wasn’t why he wanted to close his eyes and run screaming back the way he’d just come.
He was surrounded by human skeletons. They were piled knee-high all around him. Some of the bones were scattered, as though a mighty wind had blown them here and there, but most of the skeletons were held together by fragments of clothing or by dried tendons and scraps of parchment-like skin.
He heard Amy taking a sharp breath. Then she asked, ‘Where are all their heads?’
Mark hadn’t noticed, but now that he searched the piles of bones, he found that not one of them had a skull.
Skathalos was too handy with those shears of his!
Mark pointed.
‘Look there!’
Some of the bones had been crushed and splintered.
Amy picked one up.
‘Are those teeth marks?’ she asked, holding a chewed leg bone up in front of Mark’s nose.
‘Uh, oh,’ Mark said. ‘I don’t like the look of this.’
His was the understatement of the century. He knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. ‘Maybe we should go back,’ he offered.
Amy was looking over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think we can, Mark.’
Mark turned quickly. Behind him wasn’t the inside of a waterfall but a solid wall. He quickly groped for the surface, expecting his hand to sink through it as it had on the way inside. His fingernails raked across hard stone. A stone chip went under a fingernail and he pulled his hand back, hissing.
Amy was right. There was no going back that way.
Rip barked. It was only a short sound, but it echoed through the darkness, as though they were inside a great cavern.
‘This way,’ Mark said, taking hold of Amy’s hand again. He felt comfortable with taking her fingers in his. Any other time, his face would have been red with embarrassment. He was silently pleased to find that Amy held him just as tightly.
‘Where is that mutt?’ Amy wondered.
Mark saw a flash of white against the darkness.
‘Over there,’ he pointed, and then set off, ploughing through the littered bones on the floor. The brittle bones crunched beneath their feet.
‘All these poor people,’ Amy said. ‘Do you think they’re people like us? People who went after Skathalos?’
Mark shook his head. ‘These are his victims. The children he stole and whose heads he took.’
There were hundreds – if not thousands - of skeletons. If all of these people had failed to escape Skathalos, what hope did he have of saving Shax?
By answer the cavern shook.
At least, that was
what it felt like. The skeletons all trembled and bones clattered and clashed against each other.
Mark and Amy skidded to a halt.
‘What was that?’ Amy whispered.
I don’t know,’ Mark said. But they were about to find out. Somehow, he knew his chances of saving Shax had just grown a lot slimmer.
Correction, he thought, our chances are zero.
Erupting from under the bones came a flood of black shapes.
‘Rats!’ Mark yelled.
‘They aren’t rats!’ Amy corrected him.
9
If there was anything that frightened Mark more than headless corpses it was rats. He hated their glistening black eyes, their chisel teeth, and their hairless tails that twitched like worms. But more than anything he hated their hands. They were like the stubby little fingers of a baby, only equipped with sharp talons.
Ordinary rats would have been enough to make him run for his life. But these things were enough to make him run screaming.
They were twice the size of a rat, and they didn’t have the normal buckteeth, but sharp canines. Their tails were scaly like a snake and they had a wicked looking stinger on the end. On their backs were plates of armour that looked like the carapaces of giant insects.
These weren’t rats. They weren’t scorpions. They were like a mix of both. In his mind, Mark tried to make sense of these alien things, to name them, and all he could come up with was Scatters!
The scatters called like hyenas excited by the smell of blood, the manic screeching growing in pitch as they scampered closer.
Amy yelped. So did Mark. Then he yelled, ‘Run, Amy. Run!’
They had only one way they could go, but the scatters were boiling out of the piles of bones in their hundreds. They would be blocked within seconds and Mark had visions of being borne down under their weight, the heaving mass of creatures tearing at their flesh and stripping them down to their bones as they had to all these other bodies.
Amy’s presence made Mark braver than he’d have been on his own. Likely he would have given in to the inevitable, collapsed in a heap and let the beasts have their dinner. Not when he had Amy to think about, though. He ran directly at the nearest one, shouting. Then he kicked the beast and sent it somersaulting through the air. From all around him came that insane screeching, but they didn’t seem as happy as they had a few seconds ago.
‘Look out!’ Amy shouted.
Mark spun around and booted another creature out of the way. The thing shrieked and Mark thought he might have broken its back. As the injured thing landed on the floor, some of its cousins fell on it and tore it to ribbons.
The injured scatter was easy prey. Mark just had to make sure that he gave them other victims, so that they would decide that Amy and he were too much trouble.
He ran and booted another scatter as if putting a football into the back of the goal net. Some of the scatters followed the flying body, but others still came at them. One of the screeching things launched itself and landed on Amy’s back. Mark watched in stunned silence as it lifted its head, opening wide its jaws. Then he slapped the creature away and it rolled on the floor, spinning quickly to fend off some of its friends coming to feast on it.
‘Thanks,’ Amy gasped.
‘It was nothing,’ Mark told her, even though it had taken all his nerve to put his hand on the repulsive thing.
Mark thought he was doing quite well. He wondered if Amy was impressed by his heroics. He threw another kick, but his target was too quick. It nipped at his ankle as his foot swept by. Mark went down on his back and immediately the scatters swarmed towards him.
They were all over him, lunging and snapping, their scaly tails quivering in anticipation as they sought to sting him. Their manic voices filled Mark’s ears and he couldn’t even hear his own screams of terror. He was only vaguely aware of another voice, and it took him seconds to realise that it was Amy yelling angrily as she used her feet to kick at the creatures swarming over him. He felt teeth dig into his arms, his legs, and the pain helped him struggle up, kicking and thrashing to loosen the scatters’ grip on his limbs. One of the beasts crawled over his head and bit down on his right ear. Luckily its teeth chewed down on the frame of his glasses, missing his flesh by a hair. Amy grabbed the scatter in both hands. It twisted, trying to snap its teeth down on her wrist but she flung it down hard on the floor, stamping on it for good measure.
Some of Mark’s attackers turned on their downed companion.
Amy tore another scatter off Mark’s back, and Mark snatched one off his left leg and sent it flying through the air.
‘Thanks,’ said Mark.
‘It was nothing,’ Amy’s face told the lie and they both laughed and it sounded more like hysteria.
Then they were both running again, but on their heels came a flood of the creatures. The scatters’ hunting calls sounded like the taunting gang that had chased Mark through the back alleys of the city. Mark and Amy were silent now. The terror was caught in their throats.
Ahead of them loomed two gigantic trees. In this place – like a subterranean cavern – trees were out of place. It took only seconds to see that the trees were very ancient and must have been buried here countless centuries before. Over the centuries the wood had been petrified and what now stood before them were two gigantic pillars of stone. Rip was waiting for them between the two tree trunks. In typical doggie fashion, he cocked his leg and marked his territory.
‘Why isn’t he helping us?’ Amy yelled.
‘I don’t know,’ Mark yelled back.
Behind them the maniacal noise rose in power and the flood of scatters were joined by thousands of others, a tsunami of glittering eyes and sharp teeth and stinging tails.
That’s why! Mark realised.
They skidded between the two trees and on to a path that led down into darkness. Rip stood his ground, nonchalant. The tide of scatters rolled towards the collie dog and Mark wanted to scream at the dog to run. But he knew there was something happening.
Rip stood directly between the two trees, as though challenging the flood of scatters to come to him.
They came on, their talons scratching on the rocks, their screeching rising in pitch.
Rip woofed.
It was just a short sound.
Then he began to shudder.
Despite themselves, both Mark and Amy came to a halt to watch.
Rip’s body began to shudder more, as though he was the epicentre of an earthquake. His form stretched, shoulders bulging, tail bristling. Already some of the scatters had sensed something that they didn’t like about their prey and the tide began to slow. Some of the scatters halted in their tracks and were buried beneath others coming on from behind.
Rip grew.
And he grew.
There was nothing about him resembling a collie dog now. Now he was the size of a horse and his hair stood out like barbs. His front feet wore huge lion-like talons, while his back legs were like those of a hippopotamus. His low-slung head elongated so that his jaws resembled the clashing jaws of a crocodile.
Now almost all of the scatters were aware of what they faced, and it was as if the tide had just struck a cliff-side. The flow smashed to pieces, bodies twisting and contorting in their frantic attempt at escape.
Rip lived up to his name.
He swept his huge jaws in amongst the front ranks of scatters, snapping, and rending and ripping. Bits of scatters went flying. Blood splashed. There was no joyous screeching now, just shrieks of horror. Rip lurched forward, sweeping the scatters a second time, this time with claws and teeth. More bodies went flying and not all of them were in one piece.
The scatters were fleeing Rip now, but he wasn’t finished. He went after them, snapping bodies in two. The scatters fled, digging back under the skeletons from where they’d first come from. Rip smashed their hiding places with his claws, then tore apart the scatters trying to seek new shelter.
He looked like he was enjoying himself.
Behind him, Mark and Amy had returned to stand between the petrified tree trunks.
‘Oh, my God!’ was all Amy could offer.
Mark adjusted his glasses. He was equally fascinated and repulsed by what he was witnessing.
Finally, Rip turned around and walked slowly back towards them. Amy jerked, ready to run, but Mark touched her on her wrist. ‘It’s okay, Amy. He’s on our side, remember.’
As Rip approached he was shuddering again. This time his body diminished as he drew closer. When he was no more than a couple of feet away, he was once more small enough to look up at them from their knees. He lolled his tongue and panted.
‘Uh, good doggie,’ Mark said. He reached out tentatively to pat the dog between its ears. Rip licked his hand. Then it grinned at him and trotted by. It paused to pee on the opposite tree trunk – warning the scatters what would happen if they followed, Mark fancied. Then Rip took off down the trail that led into darkness.
From somewhere ahead of them, Mark and Amy heard him bark.
‘He wants us to follow him,’ Mark said.
‘You want us to follow that?’ Amy whispered. ‘It’s not flaming Lassie the wonder dog! It’s a monster.’
No, Mark thought. Shax wasn’t the only one who knew odd facts. Mark had seen pictures of the thing that Rip had become: Ammut, a crocodile-headed, lion-bodied deity of ancient Egypt, who was supposed to eat the hearts of the wicked. The Egyptian version was a female, but he guessed that Rip could be one of its descendants.
Whatever Rip was, he wasn’t an enemy. Tanner said that the dog would protect them from Skathalos...if he could. Skathalos must be a terrifying monster if something like Rip might not be enough to stop him.
‘Come on, Amy,’ Mark said.
Remembering the shotgun strapped to his back, Mark pulled it around and held it in both hands. He had never fired a gun before, but he was now under no doubt that he was going to have to learn quickly. Taking test shots were out of the question: the gun came with two barrels, but Tanner hadn’t given them extra ammunition.
