The Kennel of Cerberus
The kennel wall loomed above them, each brick half as tall as Christopher. A hoarse rumbling came from within.
‘How do we get the key in the lock?’ said Christopher. He had rinsed himself in a water jug, but was still sticky with custard.
‘I’m doing it,’ Anya said. ‘You’re plucking the whiskers, so I get to do this.’
Christopher helped Anya tie the key, as long as a golf umbrella, to a length of rope from the boat. She fastened the other end around her waist.
Anya looked up at the wall. She bit her lips together, and set her palms against the bricks. Then she launched herself upwards. There were plenty of handholds in the rough-cut stone, but the drop was sheer, and she had to stop to gasp for breath.
‘Take care!’ cried Jacques, and then, horrified at himself for such a display of weakness, snapped his mouth shut.
Anya pulled herself up to sit astride the door handle and gave a whoop of delight. It was wide enough that some of the fear left her voice as she fumbled to pull up the key, one hand on the wall for balance. ‘It would be hilarious if I fell off now.’
‘I could do without that particular laugh,’ Christopher said.
There was a click and the door swung open.
‘Excellentings,’ said Ratwin as Anya climbed back down. ‘Bravesly done.’
Christopher stepped over the threshold, and the creature they had come to seek was revealed.
‘Oh,’ he breathed.
The dog was a monster. Its teeth were ice picks, its eyes as large and round as dinner plates. Its fur was thickly matted; it stank of mange. Its feet were chained to the back wall and the chains clanked as it strained at them. But its whiskers were luminous with light.
‘Somebody should tell that dog,’ said Jacques, ‘that it needs three breath mints.’
Three mouths opened. Three sets of teeth flashed yellow.
‘Now!’ said Christopher.
Anya pursed her lips and began to whistle. The whistle had been taught to her by the gaganas: it was the whistle of a dozen birds all at once. It was the whistle of a symphony orchestra.
The dog’s three heads swooped round to eyeball her. They swayed.
‘It’s working!’ she whispered.
‘Don’t talk, Anya! Keep whistling!’
‘The mouse said that the dog likes a dance,’ said Jacques.
Anya glared at Jacques, but her whistle shifted into a waltz and she began to move, spinning with her arms held out. The dog’s six eyelids drooped.
‘Call that dancing?’ said Jacques.
‘Just trying not to die here.’
First one, then two, then three heads began to snore.
‘Quick,’ said Anya. ‘The whiskers!’
‘Keep whistling!’
Christopher approached the dog. Its sides rose and fell rhythmically and its heads lolled forwards on its chest, but its whiskers were too high for him to reach.
‘I’m going to have to climb it.’
Anya’s eyes were wide, but she nodded, still whistling.
He reached out, wincing, and took hold of two handfuls of fur. The dog did not move. Hand over hand, Christopher pulled himself up on to the dog’s back until he was sitting astride the thinnest of the three necks. He reached for one of the dog’s shining whiskers. He held his breath.
‘Do it!’ hissed Jacques. ‘Let’s get out of this place!’
Christopher pulled. The whisker came free with a jerk.
And the dog’s eyes opened.
‘Oh noes,’ said Ratwin. ‘Oh, this isn’t goods!’
She was right. It was not goods.
Anya screamed as all three dog heads whipped upwards.
Christopher grabbed at the collar, one hand on the leather, the other digging deep into the fur.
The dog thrashed under his grip, letting out a high, shrill snarl.
If he let go he knew he would be hurled against the wall and cut apart by its claws.
Anya whistled desperately but the dog’s anger was too great now. It barked, a terrible ear-shredding sound that would surely bring the giants running at any moment.
Christopher pressed himself against the Cerberus’s neck. They were going to die. He had only one chance. But how could he reach something so rabid with anger? How had he summoned the flash before?
He shut his eyes and tried to push through his panic. He yearned towards the still, hidden part of him that could reach out to another living thing.
‘Christopher!’ screamed Anya.
The green-gold flash knocked him backwards.