Jonah and the Last Great Dragon (16 page)

He began to haul himself up the leads. His legs felt shaky and the lead strips burned his hands so that he had to keep snatching them up. His heart thundered in his chest, but he willed himself to crawl towards the demon. Don't look down, he told himself. You can do it. You've got to. You've got to.

The gargoyle was prancing around, squawking with glee. With a mighty heave, Jonah pushed himself to his feet and struggled crabwise up the roof towards it. The creature yelled, its face alight with cruelty, and leaped at him, grabbing his shoulders and clinging to his waist with its hind feet. He staggered under its weight and it laughed into his face, almost nose to nose. Jonah pulled violently away, gagging at its stinking breath, and fell backwards.

He felt himself beginning to slide down the roof with the beast on top of him. Its bony fingers dug into his flesh, and its legs gripped his waist with all its might. Jonah turned his head away from the gargoyle's foul stench and felt its saliva dripping on his cheek. As they bumped downwards, with Jonah's head and back scraping painfully on the edges of the leads, he fought to brace his heels and stop the slide. His fingers scrabbled for a hold and found the edge of a burning-hot tile. Summoning all his strength, Jonah held on with one hand while he felt for the locket. He clung on desperately, wincing at the pain in his hand, while the gargoyle's horny fingers dug into him. The demon leaned away chortling, opened its mouth wide to show yellowing fangs and lunged forward to bite. Jonah rammed the little pendant against its cheekbone, shouting the spell aloud. ‘Abracadabra, abracadabra...'

The demon shrieked and rolled off his body, holding its head. Its eyes blazed with malice as it stared at Jonah. Gripping the locket tightly with his right hand, Jonah intoned, ‘O Lord, grant that this holy charm ABRACADABRA may cure thy servants Erin Morgan and Jonah Drake from all evil spirits and from all their diseases. Amen.'

The demon, holding its face as if it hurt, chattered with anger but it retreated as Jonah inched towards it with the locket held out. He fixed his eyes on the creature as it crouched on the lead strips, glaring at him. Then, with a howl, it sprang at him again. Jonah fell sideways with the demon astride him. He heard a tinkling sound as the chain of Claire's locket snapped. The pendant skidded down towards the gutter. The Night Creature cackled with mirth as its bony fingers tightened round his arm. Jonah felt a rush of fury.

‘What do you want?' he screamed.

The demon opened its mouth. Out of its throat came a dreadful, echoing voice, like something moaning in a hollow cavern. ‘We want our home back. Our beautiful Earth. You must die, puny humans, and leave the land to us.'

‘No! Never! It's not yours to take,' Jonah yelled. ‘Get away. Saint Michael protects us. Saint Michael protects us.'

He brought his elbow up and rammed it into the gargoyle. The shock made the creature loosen its grip for a second and gave Jonah the chance to roll away, but the movement made him lose his hold. He shrieked as he felt himself sliding, hurtling down the hot leads towards the low stone parapet. As he slid, his body gathered momentum. There was nothing he could grab to slow his speed. The back of his head banged on the scorching shingles. Then his feet struck the parapet with a terrible jolt and a searing pain shot through his legs. The impact bounced him up and over the edge. A scream ripped from his throat, as the ground flew towards him.

CHAPTER 25

As Jonah was hurled towards the ground, a screeching cry rang round the Cathedral Green. He felt himself jerked upwards, held by sharp spikes which dug into his sides and made him groan aloud. The air whistled past his ears. He hung upside down from Ffyrnig's claws, looking up at the dragon's massive red belly. Hereford's streets waltzed giddily below them, until Jonah began to feel sick.

The dragon turned and glided back over the cathedral, hardly beating his wings. As they came to the Vicars' cloisters, he flew very low. Jonah could see his head turning from side to side.

‘I am looking for somewhere safe to put you down, Master,' he said, ‘I think this should do. There don't seem to be any Night Creatures left on this side of the precinct.' He landed carefully in the darkened quadrangle and placed Jonah on the grass.

‘Did I hurt you much?' Ffyrnig's forehead was screwed up with concern. ‘I can only pick things up by digging my claws in tight.'

‘No,' Jonah lied, panting, and hoping that a small untruth to save Ffyrnig's feelings wouldn't count as lying to him. ‘Thanks for catching me. That was brill.' He stared up at the dragon's anxious face. ‘What about Erin, though? That ape thing might have killed her! Ffyrnig, see if you can get to her. And please hurry.'

‘I'm going. I can't take off here, though. Not enough space. I'll have to go outside.' He nudged Jonah with his nose. ‘I'm pretty sure the angels emptied this quadrangle of demons but be careful, won't you, Master?'

Jonah patted his leg. ‘Yes. ‘Course. But go on, Ffyrnig, please.'

He lay on the grass for a while, breathing heavily and gingerly stretching his legs and arms. There was just enough moonlight for him to be able to examine his sides. He undid his protective jacket. It had ridden up under his arms as he slid down the roof, so Ffyrnig's claws had ripped his tee-shirt. There were some bleeding scratches and sore red patches on his skin, but it could have been worse. He guessed he would have some huge bruises from falling down the roof, though. He fastened the jacket again and cautiously got to his feet. He felt in his jeans pockets for the paper with the spell. It was still there. Carefully, he put it in one of the zipped jacket pockets, so that it wouldn't easily drop out. He felt sad about Claire's pendant. Maybe someone would find it, though. He would tell Saint Michael and one of the cathedral staff how he had lost it on the roof.

He looked all round the cloisters. A couple of doorways, opening from the cathedral into the arcaded corridors, sent fingers of light across the grass, but it was too dark to see much. Jonah unzipped his pocket again and fingered the charm paper nervously. He prayed that the angels really had cleared the demons from the area. He kept looking over his shoulder. At any moment he expected a triumphant screech, as a gargoyle came racing towards him.

His body ached all over but, even though it hurt, he could walk. He felt exposed in the middle of the quadrangle so, as quietly as he could, he hobbled to an entrance into the cloister and pressed close against a pillar. Here, it would be harder for anyone – or anything – to make him out in the shadows, and he would be able to call to Ffyrnig when the dragon came back.

Oh, please, let Erin be all right. If the demon had killed her, it would all be down to him. Her parents would never have let her come to fight the Night Creatures, if he hadn't begged them. Miserably, Jonah wrapped his arms round his aching body, holding himself together.

As he stood there, desperately hoping for Ffyrnig to return, there was a slight sound at the other end of the corridor. Jonah swung round. He stared at the far end of the cloister and made out a denser patch of wavering shadow in the grey gloom. His heart seemed to leap into his throat. He couldn't swallow. He could hardly breathe.

A hooded monk-like figure was standing there, its hand on the head of an enormous wolf. Behind them, the rest of the demon wolf pack clustered, their glowing eyes fixed on Jonah. He froze to the spot. His legs seemed to have forgotten how to move. Slowly, silently, the wolves and the hooded shape approached.

With horror, Jonah realised that this was the whispering, faceless form of his nightmares, the robed shape he kept seeing. Under the hood, two yellow wolfish eyes gleamed out of blackness. As the shape moved, the folds of its robe flowed as if they covered nothing but shadows. Jonah backed against the pillar.

‘What do you want?' he stammered.

A sound came from the figure, a gust of dirty air tainted with sulphur. Jonah recoiled, coughing. Then he began to make out words that seemed to whisper from an echoing cavern.

‘I am here to claim you. You are to come with me to the Abyss.'

‘No!' Jonah pressed himself against the pillar, his hands feeling for something he could cling onto.

The figure laughed and the sound echoed around the corridor. The wolves panted, locking their greedy eyes on Jonah, daring him to run.

‘I am the Wolfmaster.' The whisper travelled around the cloister. ‘In the Underworld, you will become what your destiny intends – the servant of the Black Lord of Komi. He desires the use of your gifts in his domains.'

‘What gifts—?'

‘The gift you have inherited from the Heart Eater. You will command the dragons at the Black Lord's bidding. Come.'

‘No! I won't!' Jonah's voice rose to a shriek.

The Wolfmaster stepped closer until Jonah could see nothing but the blackness under his hood. This time the echoing voice pierced the gloom like a blade of ice.

‘Do you think I and my wolves have scoured the earth for a thousand years and more to be denied now?' The rasping whisper rose in the sighing wind and reverberated around the stone walls. ‘I have been tireless in my hunt for those with the gift of the dragon tongue. Many are the times that I endured cruel punishment when I failed to bring to my lord the prize of a Dragon Master.' The robe shivered and swirled. ‘Then new word came of a boy whose ancestry might be revealed, if a Welsh dragon emerged from sleep. And, at last, the word was true.'

The figure made a throaty sound that Jonah supposed was laughter. As he turned his head away from the disgusting, rotting-egg smell of the Wolfmaster's breath, Jonah caught sight of a helmeted figure peering across the quadrangle from the cloister opposite. The person suddenly straightened up and abruptly disappeared into the darkness, re-appearing at a door that opened on to the lawn. It was Erin! And she seemed unhurt. Jonah could hardly believe his own eyes. She started to run across the grass.

Jonah was frantic. ‘Erin! Go back. Go back!'

She hesitated. ‘I mean it,' Jonah screamed. ‘You can't help me. Run!'

Her hand flew to her mouth, as she realised that the wolves had found him. Then she turned and darted back into the corridor.

‘Enough. It is time to leave Earth's surface,' said the Wolfmaster.

From somewhere deep inside, Jonah felt a knot of anger growing. He clenched his fists and stood up straight. Let the hooded nightmare cackle! He wouldn't sniffle like a little kid and meekly go to Hell with this stinking shadow and his demon wolves. They wouldn't take him down to the Abyss without a fight.

‘Come,' ordered the Wolfmaster.

‘Make me!' said Jonah.

The Wolfmaster's sulphurous breath made Jonah gag, as the shadowy figure laughed. He caressed the head of the dominant wolf.

‘Give the boy to me,' breathed the Wolfmaster, and the animal demon lunged. Jonah kicked upwards as the wolf sprang, hitting its belly hard with the toe of his boot. It fell sideways, but one of its forefeet scraped Jonah's temple. Blood poured down his cheek. The other wolves fell on him, knocking him to the ground. They trampled over him, biting at his clothing and trying to rip it off. One was trying to get his helmet off by gripping it with its teeth. Above the snarls and yapping, Jonah became aware of a swishing sound and feet running down the corridor. Something landed with a thud near his head, and pandemonium broke out.

The wolves turned from Jonah to snap and growl at a new threat. The Wolfmaster howled in anger. Jonah raised his head and gasped as Erin, brandishing a huge sword in both hands, brought it down on a wolf's neck. The animal leaped away, squealing, and then shuddered and fell lifeless to the ground. A dark shape slid from its mouth and drifted up into the shadows. Erin whirled the sword again and rammed it under the forelegs of a wolf that was about to jump on her. It shrieked and limped away. The Wolfmaster's shadow curled round the walls.

‘Jonah,' she yelled, as the wolves snarled round them. ‘I brought a candle. Quick, light it. Do what Mike did. Hurry up!'

Jonah scrambled to his feet. The massive white altar candle was easy to see in the gloom but he couldn't find any matches.

‘There by the pillar. To your left a bit!'

Erin backed in front of him, swinging the sword to hold off the wolves, while he dropped to his knees, feeling wildly round the pillar. His hand closed on the box she had thrown down. Jonah's fingers shook while he fumbled to take a match out and light it. The first one flared up and then died.

‘Hell!' He tried again but the next one would not light. He could hear Erin grunting with effort as she whirled about, hacking at the snarling animals.

‘Jona-a-ah!' Erin was panicking. She couldn't swing the heavy sword much longer.

The third match stayed alight. He held it to the candle, made sure the flame was burning steadily and then painfully scrabbled to his feet. A wolf jumped out of Erin's reach and leaped at him. He was knocked off his feet but managed to ram the flaming candle at its muzzle and, as it threw itself sideways, he swept the flame along its flanks. Immediately its coat caught fire and it fell heavily on top of Jonah, its hide blazing. With all his strength, Jonah heaved and pushed it off. The wolf, now a screaming fireball, ricocheted around the quadrangle until it fizzled upwards, like a firework, into the night sky.

Erin was flagging from the effort of holding the sword. She leaned against the pillar for a moment, panting for breath, while Jonah edged in front of her, still brandishing the candle at the wolf pack. Two more wolves dissolved into howling balls of flame, as Jonah swung the candle round, desperate to keep the creatures off. Erin raised the sword again.

‘Let's finish them,' she said.

The children forced themselves to pace steadily, side by side, towards the Wolfmaster and the last three demon wolves. Growling horribly, the animals crouched, ready to spring.