Page 65 of The Neverfear

The karkadann met the tripwire at full tilt. It went head over heels, its horn impaled in the soft turf. Christopher saw it; he saw too the telltale faintest glow of the thread – and at the last moment, he pulled the reins back and cried out, ‘Jump! Cervusia, jump!’

The hind cleared the unseen tripwire, stumbled, righted herself, and ran.

Now the road was clear, and the sky was bright, and Christopher and Cervusia charged towards the bridge. His vision blurred, and an animal clarity drenched him. They were together: they were miraculous, a melding of human and creature, a stroke of living magic.

The karkadann had thrashed to its feet and it was gaining, whinnying in rage, but he kept low to Cervusia’s back, and now they were flashing towards the finish line. The crowd was raucous. As the two of them charged past, they threw things – roses, stones – but none touched them, and they galloped across the finish line inches ahead of the karkadann.

There was a fanfare, and screaming in joy and fury and crowds running towards him, a committee bearing a sack of gold and the apple on a velvet pillow. He saw Anya take the apple and hold it aloft, and Cervusia’s owners snatch at the gold.

He ignored them all. He leaped down from the hind, and pressed his head against her long, exquisite face. He unhooked the reins. She was burned and bitten, but her eyes were radiant.

‘Go,’ Christopher told her. He thought of the Cerberus, which had so longed to be free. He had failed there. He would not fail again.

He turned the hind so that her face pointed back the way they had come, back over the bridge at the open spaces beyond. ‘While they’re all too busy to stop you. Run!’

The hind pressed her wild face to his. She breathed on him. For one moment, his mind blazed with pure golden light. And then she was gone. The connection snapped, and the dizziness rose up in him again. Anya, watching like a hawk, was suddenly at his side. She slung her arm around him and caught him as his legs gave way.

‘Sit,’ she ordered.

‘That,’ said Jacques, ‘was superb. I had bet three dragon scales with the man over there on whether you would die. I have to pay him, but then I’ll be ready to go.’

They reached the boat triumphant, the apple in Christopher’s hand. There was a note already waiting for them, in the distinctive folded parchment.

‘How did they get here so quickly?’ Christopher turned to the boy by the boats. ‘Did you see who left this? Was it a bird – a stymphalian?’

The boy shook his head. ‘Not my job, is it? I’m not your secretary.’

‘We paid you to watch the boat!’ said Anya, but the boy only shrugged.

‘I don’t remember you paying me.’

Christopher unfolded the note.

You won the apple. Put it in the prow, and it will be collected in the night.

Irian Guinne will be released. But not to you.

She waits on the Island of Paraspara, in the northern cove.

Fidens Nighthand must come for her.

If he does not come, alone and unarmed, Irian Guinne’s body will be thrown into the sea.

The Snake Bracelet

Carla Venasque had brought water and two bread rolls. She passed them through the bars of Irian’s cage.

‘Say thank you,’ she said.

Irian put her hand inside her jacket, to calm Koo. ‘Thank you.’ She said it loudly, to cover the angry peeping sound coming from her clothes.

Carla barked an order at the stymphalian bird and it crouched at her feet. She sat down on its back, legs elegantly crossed at the ankle.

‘I hate these birds,’ she said to Irian. ‘I find their eyes uncanny.’

‘Then why have anything to do with them? Why not leave all this behind? Why not unlock the door and release me?’

But Carla laughed. ‘For a scholar, you’re very overconfident in your own knowledge. There is so much that you don’t know. It’s too late, Irian Guinne. I am bound, and it is the fault of Fidens Nighthand.’