Page 72 of The Neverfear

‘Two down,’ whispered Christopher. He darted away, out of the Great Hall and along the corridor to the drawing room.

It was empty, except for the unicorn, who stood there with her foal. She whickered at the sight of him. He ducked behind the largest of the sofas, waiting. Every inch of his focus he gave to the unicorn.

‘Steady,’ he whispered.

Outside, Darius threw his jacket over the door handle and pushed open the oak door. The eight bandits stood in the Great Hall, looking from left to right. The floor was tiled in marble and garnet, but the bandits did not spare it a glance.

‘Stick together,’ said Darius. ‘This place is unnatural. You’re looking for a tiny kid – a toddler. And we take him alive, you understand? Alive, or Morax will kill us all.’

The bandits surged down the corridor. The first door was the drawing room: a dark-haired bandit flung open the door and strode in.

‘Anything?’ Darius asked.

‘No,’ he grunted. ‘There’s a unicorn, but no kid. What if the kid’s not on the island? There don’t seem to be any people.’

‘He’s here. Search the room.’

The rest of the attackers surged in, throwing open cupboard doors. Pressed against the wall, Christopher held his breath. The unicorn and her foal moved to stand in the doorway.

‘Nothing here. Come on.’

‘Out of the way,’ said the dark-haired man to the unicorn.

‘Kill it,’ said Darius. ‘Move on.’

Christopher closed his eyes in a long, hard blink. Now! he thought.

The unicorn gave a neigh of glad fury and the tip of her horn went straight through the dark-haired man’s shoulder. She whinnied and rose up on her hind legs, pawing at the air, and he was lifted off his feet, legs flailing.

There was a cawing from inside the chimney. From the fireplace poured dozens of firebirds. Their feathers were aflame, and they hurled themselves into the faces of the bandits. A masked woman screamed as her hair caught fire, and she rolled on the carpet, trying to extinguish herself.

‘Retreat!’ said Darius. Six ran from the room as the phoenix circled above them, its cry ringing out twice.

But they didn’t run far. Christopher called out, a long low whoop, and there was a clattering of wings in the wide, tapestried passageway. It was the longma, but the longma with teeth bared. Longmas are never truly tamed, and this one hadn’t even tried.

It swooped down and seized a man in its teeth, knocking him off his feet.

Another bandit twisted, aiming his crossbow bolt. As the longma beat its uneven wings down the passage towards the outdoors, Christopher looked in horror at the iron bolt pointed at its heart.

But nobody had seen the kankos. The kankos were lucky, and they would gladly die for Christopher Forrester. This was the luck they brought: that of joyful fealty.

They came in a great cascade of orange fur down the corridor, fast as lightning, fifty of them squeaking in happy rage. They coursed up the bandit’s legs, swarmed up his arms, over the crossbow, up his back, to his face, clawing at his eyes and mouth.

The shot went wide and wedged in the ceiling. The crossbow archer bellowed, thrashing, shedding the tiny foxes as he went, hauling them from his arms and face. He stumbled through an open door and ran blindly down the lawn, collapsing into the sea with a splash. A silvery blue-white hand emerged from the water, its fingers long and strong, and seized hold of his shoulders. The phoenix’s cry rang out in two long notes.

The naiad laughed, as they are wont to do. ‘We’ll take care of you,’ they said.

Sculptures That Bite

Christopher darted out of one window and in at another, into the banqueting hall, crouching behind the immense upright clock. Exhaustion was threatening to overtake him and sweat poured down his face as he tried to keep steady the golden threads, but the thought shone: they were winning.

He counted: roc, snapdragon, unicorn, firebirds, longma, kankos. Four left.

He heard doors being flung open: the card room, the silver room. Then the music room.

The chimaera had had a debate with itself about what would be the most attractive way to be discovered, and in the end it had posed on top of the piano, paws together, its three chins cocked winsomely at different angles.

A woman wearing black leather armour and a sneer burst in. She levelled her sword at its torso and edged closer, her eyes searching the corners of the room.