by Livi Michael
PUFFIN BOOKS
Livi Michael is the author of four books for adults and the bestselling series of books about Frank the hamster for younger children. Her award-winning book for older children, The Whispering Road, has received much critical acclaim. She has two sons and lives near Manchester.
Books by Livi Michael
For younger readers
Frank and the Black Hamster of Narkiz
Frank and the Chamber of Fear
Frank and the Flames of Truth
Frank and the New Narkiz
For older readers
The Whispering Road
The Angel Stone
Sky Wolves
LiVi MICHAEL
PUFFIN
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
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First published 2008
1
Text copyright © Livi Michael, 2008
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
978-0-14-191861-7
To my good friend Jackie Robinson – dog-walker extraordinaire
Contents
Out of the Void
1 The Birthday Party
2 New Day, New World
3 Gentleman Jim
4 Boris
5 Checkers
6 Flo
7 The Doggie Post
8 In Which Something Very Unusual Happens
9 An Unwelcome Guest
10 In Which More Unusual Things Happen
11 Jenny’s Tale
12 Sam
13 The Task Revealed
14 The Chapter of Being Lost in a Storm
15 In Which Flo Looks Before She Leaps
16 Beyond the Void
17 Black Shuck
18 In Which Gentleman Jim and Pico Come to the End of the World
19 The Chapter of Not Being Devoured by Wolves
20 In Which Boris and Checkers Plunge into a Hole
21 In Which Gentleman Jim and Pico Leap into the Void
22 The Greatest Love
23 Sam Finds a Way
24 The Bowels of the Earth
25 The Chapter of Being Foxed by a Wolf
26 Shot from the Sky
27 Cerberus Wags His Tail
28 The Chapter of Facing an Invincible Foe
29 A Chapter of Souls
30 The Monster’s Tail
31 The Darkest Hour
32 The Chapter of Not Being Destroyed by Furies
33 In Which Flo Meets a Norn
34 The Rage of Cerberus
35 Over the Rainbow
36 Reunited
37 The End of the Rainbow
38 Ragnarok!
39 The End… and a Beginning
40 A Tangled Thread
41 The Beginning
Out of the Void
At first there was only swirling mist, then shadows, then shifting lights. Finally her paws struck something solid and gritty and she was clambering upwards, out from the place of no return. Still holding the precious twig in her mouth, she scrabbled at the solid surface, her head and shoulders in one world and her rear end in quite another, and almost dropped back in as something thundered past.
Shaken but undeterred, she scrambled on to the road and cowered in the blaze of lights as there was another thundering roar.
Lights, more lights, and noise such as she had never experienced before. Her paws shifted on the grit and the texture of the road, too, was unfamiliar. She had come to a place of monsters and demons, of channelled fire and lightning and thunder and wind. She flattened herself against the blast as another demon swept past, the heat and stench. Where in the nine worlds was she?
Wherever she was, she couldn’t go back. There behind her, through the mist, lay the void, gently quivering. It made soft sounds she could barely hear. As though it was lapping at the edge of this world. But in front of her were the roaring demons with eyes that flashed along the road like lightning. Suddenly she realized they were chariots – chariots of thunder and flame. The road shook beneath them.
But she had come so far, she could not give up now. Anything was better than Nothing. She would have to try somehow to reach the other side. She could just about see that there was another side, briefly but repeatedly illuminated in the flares of light. That was where she needed to go – away from the void. She put one paw out, then hastily withdrew it as another chariot roared past and then another.
Remember, she told herself as her heart quailed, and it quailed further as she realized she had almost forgotten her purpose. But she held the flowering twig between her teeth, summoned the remaining strength in her muscles and, at the next pause in the traffic, shot like an arrow into the road.
Faster and faster she ran, narrowly avoiding one chariot, then another. In fury they blared their dreadful cries and she was deafened, but running still. She could feel the air whistling past her ears and through her teeth. And she could make out trees and bushes on the other side, she was almost there, when a stunning pain shot from her hip to her spine and she keeled over, hearing only the screech of the chariot, as she sank once more into darkness.
1
The Birthday Party
It was Sam’s worst birthday party ever. He and his mum had just moved house, and now they lived in the middle of a strange city, where they didn’t know anyone.
‘You’ll soon make friends at school,’ his mother said.
She had invited her aunts, Aunty Lilith, Aunty Joan and Aunty Dot (who hadn’t arrived yet), and they sat in the front room, eating cake and discussing their varicose veins.
‘Like bunches of grapes,’ said Aunty Joan. ‘Still, at least I’ve got legs,’ she went on briskly. ‘Poor Edith’s having her other leg off soon.’
Aunty Lilith, who was deaf, said, ‘Eh?’
‘I SAID, EDITH’S HAVING ANOTHER LEG OFF.’
‘That’ll be her third,’ said Aunty Lilith.
‘No, dear, legs. Edith’s having her other leg off.’
‘Why would she do that?’ said Aunty Lilith, very surprised. ‘She’s only just had them put on.’
‘Edith,’ bellowed Aunty Joan. ‘Edith’s legs. You told me about it, remember?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did!’
‘No, no, dear, that’s Edith. You can’t go line-dancing without any legs.’
>
Aunty Joan turned faintly purple, then gave up. ‘Why don’t you open your present?’ she said to Sam. ‘I don’t know where Dot’s got to, but I don’t think she’ll mind.’
Reluctantly, Sam picked up the bulky parcel. He’d had presents from his aunts before. As soon as he started opening it he could tell it was a jumper they had knitted themselves. His aunts knitted all the time, so you’d think they’d have got better at it.
‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ his mother said. ‘Why don’t you try it on?’
Sam just looked at her.
‘Come on,’ she said.
With a vast sigh, Sam pulled off his hoodie and tussled his way into the knitted jumper. It was about the right size for Aunty Lilith, who was a very large lady, yet strangely, the neck was too small. It took the combined efforts of both Sam and his mother to wrestle his head through, then a mass of hairy wool fell to his knees.
‘You’ll grow into it,’ his mother said, in an undertone.
‘How?’ said Sam, and indeed the jumper was rather an odd shape. One arm seemed to be lower than the other, and it pouched out from the neck like a smock.
‘Such an unusual colour,’ his mother said brightly.
Sam was just thinking that it looked as though someone had been sick down the front.
‘Scrambled Egg,’ said Aunty Joan. ‘It was on offer at the shop. Sixteen balls for the price of one.’
‘I saw it first,’ said Aunty Lilith.
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Yes, I did!’
‘No, you didn’t – you wanted to buy that Purple Meringue. Just because Edith had bought some.’
‘Can’t hear you,’ said Aunty Lilith.
Aunty Dot picked it up in the end,’ said Aunty Joan to Sam and his mum. ‘We had to ask her three times, because she kept forgetting.’
‘It’s a brilliant jumper,’ said Sam. ‘But – maybe I should take it off now – it’s – er – getting a bit warm.’
In fact it was freezing, since the temperature had recently dropped and the boiler wasn’t working.
‘Well, you can always wear it for school,’ said Aunty Joan.
His mother caught the look on Sam’s face. ‘Perhaps we should play a game,’ she said hurriedly, and Aunty Joan suggested they could play Pass the Kidney Stone, since Aunty Lilith had brought hers with her in a jar.
But before things could get really exciting, the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll go,’ said everyone except Aunty Lilith, who hadn’t heard.
Aunty Dot appeared, carrying a bundle wrapped in a blanket.
‘It’s only me, dears – oh, I’ve had the most terrible shock – just wait till you see what I’ve got here.’
‘What is it?’ said Sam’s mum, hurrying forward to help.
Just then the blanket barked. Sam’s mum jumped back in alarm as a small white head with brown ears poked out of it.
‘It’s a dog!’ cried Sam in great excitement.
‘Yes, yes, my darling, don’t you fret,’ said Aunty Dot, in the voice she usually reserved for policemen and babies in prams. ‘Everything’s all right now. Aunty Dot didn’t mean to hit you with that nasty car.’
Everyone made way for Aunty Dot as she carried the small bundle through to the kitchen, explaining breathlessly what had happened.
‘Just travelling here on the ring road – came out of nowhere – didn’t see a thing – felt it, though – must have clipped her – I don’t know if I should take her to the vet’s -’
The little dog was only aware of a cacophony of light and noise. She had come from the darkness into a glaring yellow light that was quite unlike anything she was used to – burning torches or candlelight flickering on the walls of the great hall, or the natural light of sun and moon. There was a harsh quality to this light that hurt her eyes and made her vision blur. And there was a background noise beneath the babble of voices – a whirring and ticking and clicking, and the distant roar from outside – that made no sense to her at all. She had come to one of the realms of Chaos, she thought, and began to tremble all over.
Meanwhile, Aunty Dot was examining her, feeling all the way along her spine.
‘I think she’s hurt her hip,’ she said.
The small white dog submitted to this examination because she could tell from Aunty Dot’s touch that she knew what she was doing. But when she tried to remove the twig, the dog clamped her mouth firmly shut, bracing herself, and Aunty Dot succeeded only in pulling her nose forward.
‘Looks like – mistletoe,’ she said wonderingly, and the aunts exchanged significant glances.
The dog stared at them all. Through her blurred eyes they looked huge and impressive. There was an unusual quality to them that she couldn’t place, yet something about it tugged at the threads of her memory. Everything in the room was vibrating with an energy of its own, but it was almost as though these three women had a different vibration from everything else. She didn’t know whether or not to be afraid, or more afraid than she already was. Then her blurred glance fell on the little boy, who was leaning over her eagerly. He had bright hair and a brightly coloured tunic. A halo of light fell all around him from the lamp above. In her confused eyes he looked like the master she had left – the Shining Boy.
‘Can we keep her, Mum, can we?’ he asked. Then he too tried to take the twig from her mouth.
Very gently, he reached for the mistletoe, looking into her eyes the whole time. The dog tensed all over, but she didn’t growl. She could see herself reflected in each of his eyes, and she could see what he was thinking in the same way as she had always been able to read her master’s thoughts. You won’t bite me, he was thinking, and carefully he prised the twig away from her, and she let it go.
‘Well, look at that!’ said Aunty Dot, as Sam turned the sprig of mistletoe over, examining it. Someone had cut and shaped it. It looked like a dart. ‘She knows it’s your birthday. Maybe she’ll grant you three wishes.’
‘Like a genie,’ said Aunty Joan.
‘Jenny’ said Sam, fondling the little dog’s ears.
‘There’s no point giving her a name,’ said his mother at once. ‘We’re not keeping her.’
But the little dog, who understood little of anything else, understood that she had been named. Naming was powerful magic. Once you were named you were part of the world you had come to, and it was the strongest indication that you would stay. Maybe her mission was here now, she thought suddenly. Maybe she was needed here. She wagged her tail feebly. Jen-ny, she thought. Jen-ny.
‘Look at her,’ Sam said.
They all looked at the small white dog with velvety brown markings, who gazed back at them with soft, doe eyes. She was painfully thin, but her eyes and her coat seemed to glow with a deep, mysterious light.
‘She looks a bit like a Jack Russell,’ Aunty Dot said, and indeed she did look almost, but not quite, like a Jack Russell terrier.
‘I wonder where she came from,’ said Sam’s mum.
Sam reached out for her again. ‘She’s my birthday present!’ he said.
‘Don’t be silly, Sam,’ said his mum automatically. ‘We can’t keep her – she must belong to someone.’
But Aunty Dot said she was clearly a stray as she had no collar.
Sam felt that he deserved one good present. And the little dog gazed up at him with dark eyes that seemed to speak of distance and mystery. He could see his face in each of them. It was almost as though she was trying to tell him something.
‘Can I hold her?’ said Sam, and he picked her up.
‘Careful!’ said Aunty Dot and Sam’s mum together, but the little dog offered no resistance at all. She nestled into the crook of Sam’s arm. Safe, she thought.
‘Put her down, Sam,’ said his mother. ‘You don’t know where she’s been.’
‘I mean it,’ she said when Sam didn’t move. ‘There’s no way I want another pet.’
‘Well – I was hoping she could stay here, just for tonight,’ said Aunt
y Dot.
‘Oh, yes!’ said Sam, as his mother started to protest.
Aunty Dot looked at the little dog with eyes made huge and luminous by the extremely powerful lenses in her glasses.
‘She’s a nice little thing,’ she said. ‘I wish I could keep her myself – I do miss having a dog. Life’s not been the same without – ever since -’
She stopped and blew her nose. Aunty Dot had never recovered from losing her own dog. She said she didn’t really want another one, not since her darling Berry had gone away. This had happened years ago, but it still brought tears to her eyes. Since then she had become a kind of unofficial dog walker, regularly taking out several dogs whose owners were too busy to walk their own pets, but she couldn’t face getting so attached to another one of her own. Besides, the aunts all lived together, and Aunty Lilith had her own dog, a tiny and rather bad-tempered Chihuahua called Pico.
‘We can’t just throw her out,’ Sam said. ‘Look at her.’
‘Sam,’ said his mum, ‘we can’t keep a dog. I’m at work all day and you’ll be at school. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘It’s my birthday,’ Sam said.
‘But we don’t have a garden,’ his mother said.
‘I’ll take her out,’ Sam said. ‘Every day.’
‘You said you’d clean the rabbit’s hutch,’ his mother said. ‘And who ended up with that job?’
Sam shuffled uncomfortably. ‘I’m older now,’ he said.
It was true that Sam’s record with pets had not been great. He had forgotten all about the rabbit. His mother had fed it and cleaned out the hutch, but Sam had forgotten to take it out and play with it, and eventually the rabbit just got more and more snappy and unmanageable, and one day it had learned to open the hutch all by itself. The first they had known about it was when the rabbit had chased the postman up a tree. Then for three days Sam and his mother had been trapped inside the house while the savage rabbit prowled outside, snarling and making other un-rabbit-like noises so that no one could come near. Eventually, to everyone’s relief, it had bounded over the garden gate and left, leaving a trail of mangled well-wishers in its wake.
