Page 74 of The Neverfear

‘Come on, boy. Where’s the baby?’

‘Up there,’ said Christopher, and he pointed upwards. ‘Now, Cacafuego! Now!’

On the balcony the bonnacon gave a roar. His melancholic face was transformed with purpose and concentration. It had been very hard for Christopher to reach him, this creature of extravagant oddity, but Cacafuego had understood enough. He had saved his ammunition for this: the crucial moment.

Karl looked up – and as he did the bonnacon unleashed a triumphant cascade of brown slurry on to his upturned face.

It was the greatest moment of the bonnacon’s life.

The man gave a shriek of disgust which turned into a roar of pain as the burning began. He hurtled out of the house and down the lawn, seeking out the blessed relief of the ocean. The phoenix saw him striking out for the mainland, a faint cloud of brown steam arising around him, and gave a cry.

Jacques alighted on Christopher’s shoulder, and gave a small cough of pleasure. ‘Poor mermaids,’ he said. He smiled a dragon smile. ‘Is that all ten?’

Christopher shook his head. ‘Nine. Where’s the red-haired man – where’s Darius?’

Jacques clicked his tongue and took off. ‘I will check on Teren in the library. I put snapdragons on the doorknob, but—’

And then Jacques gave a terrible cry. Darius stood in the Great Hall, and he was smiling.

‘So it’s the door with snapdragons then? Thank you, I’ll go look for that.’ Darius took in the chaos around him. His eyes went to the gilt mirror over the mantelpiece.

Christopher understood in the same moment. He made to dart towards it, to plunge his sword into the glass, but he was too late.

‘Tiger!’ Darius roared. ‘I summon the Tiger in the Mirror!’

The glass throbbed. Its surface quivered. And from the depths of it erupted the creature.

It leaped from the frame and landed almost noiselessly on the flagstones of the Great Hall. It brought with it a stench of blood. It bared its yellow teeth and roared, and the hairs on Christopher’s neck stood on end.

Darius turned and ran, and Christopher was alone with the Tiger.

Anya’s Fight

Darius strode into the library, poison snapdragons dangling from the end of his sword. Anya stood in the middle of the room, a rapier in each hand. Teren was behind her on the window seat. As Darius came in, the harpy flew down and spread her wings in front of him like a shield.

‘Get back,’ said Anya. Her eyes were hot, and her teeth set. ‘Don’t come any closer.’

‘Don’t be a martyr, little girl,’ said Darius. ‘All I want is the Immortal.’

‘No,’ she said. The two red patches of rage were rising in her cheeks. ‘That can’t happen.’

‘This doesn’t have to be painful,’ said Darius. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Then we have nothing in common,’ said Anya. ‘Because I do want to hurt you.’

Anya Argen touched the tips of her rapiers together, and listened to the flare of burning oxygen as they sparked into flames. She bared her teeth like a wolf. She rolled back her lips. There was fury in every inch of her soul. She screamed, and the sound rocked the palace: a war cry.

Darius ran at her. Her burning blades clashed – one, two – against his sword. She swung with her right blade, holding the left up to protect her face. The air rang with the clang of metal.

‘Your fire won’t help,’ he spat. ‘My sword is centaur-made.’

She said nothing, only fought harder, her hair escaping from its ties, her breath coming hard. The burning tip of a rapier singed his wrist and she hissed in triumph. He bellowed in pain and anger, parried and struck out, and she leaped back just in time.

Darius’s fury seemed to give him strength, and Anya began to falter. She fought with a wild speed but he was a mercenary, trained in killing. He pressed on, forcing her back across the library floor towards Teren. She tried to break away, to lead him to the left into an alcove, but he was too fast. He jabbed, and jabbed again, and this time the cut went home. Anya stumbled backwards and fell with a cry, bleeding from beneath her ribs.

The man turned to Teren. ‘Come on, kid,’ he said. He bent to pick him up, and as he did so the harpy gave a screech and flew at him. He roared in shock, slashing at the bird. The harpy dropped, one wing bleeding, to the library floor.

‘No! You shall not take him!’ Jacques launched himself at Darius, belching great clouds of smoke. He came too close: Darius coughed, snatched the fireless dragon from the air and threw him against the wall, where he fell stunned.