Max looked down at the bowls of unappetising grey sludge. ‘Um, thanks?’
‘Whatever.’ She turned on her heel and disappeared into the darker recesses of the kitchen.
Mopsus looked up when Max kicked open the door. ‘Ah, yet more culinary delights from the lovely Liah,’ he purred mischievously.
Setting down the tray on the table, Max attempted to eat a piece of bread. He gave up when his teeth starting making ominous cracking noises.
Candelabras had been lit and their light played over Death’s polished skull.
‘It is time for your first test.’ Death leaned back in his seat and regarded Max.
‘Test?’ Max echoed in surprise.
‘Task,’ Mopsus smoothly interjected. ‘I’m sure you’ll have no problems completing it. After all, you are Death’s PA now.’
Max narrowed his eyes. He wondered if Mopsus always sounded as if his vocal chords had been liberally coated with sarcasm. ‘So.’ Max tried to speak casually. ‘What is this task?’ He waited to be told that he had to go wrestle a ten-headed dragon or face an army of the undead.
‘You are to go and collect your robes,’ Death told him.
‘That’s it?’
‘You sound disappointed.’ Mopsus waggled his bushy eyebrows. ‘Did you want to do something more… challenging?’
‘No,’ Max said quickly. ‘Picking up clothes is fine by me. Where are they? The laundry?’
Mopsus grinned, revealing his uneven yellow teeth. ‘Not exactly.’
Chapter Seven
‘So where do I go?’ Max asked. He followed Mopsus down a flight of glistening stone steps that led to a small jetty. Bobbing gently on a black ribbon of water, a small rowing boat awaited them.
‘It’s probably better you don’t know.’ Mopsus paused to reach around and scratch under his loincloth.
‘Did you just sniff your fingers?’ Max screwed up his face. Talk about an overload of gross!
Mopsus ignored the question. ‘No one would blame you if you wanted to quit. There are less painful ways to die than working as his assistant. All you have to do is tell him you want out – at least that way you’ll spare yourself the next rather gory hour or so.’
‘Thanks, but I’m planning on staying alive,’ Max snapped. His stomach twisted with nerves. How difficult was the task going to be? Was it some sort of initiation – trial by robe? He recalled what Death had said earlier – that if Max failed in any of his tasks, his life would be forfeit. And Amy’s.
Mopsus shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I was just trying to offer you a nice easy ending rather than a painful, drawn-out – ’
‘Yes, OK, I get the picture.’ Max’s lips tightened into a thin line.
Mopsus turned around and stared, his eyes gleaming in the light of the lantern he was holding. ‘I don’t think you do. No one escapes Death once they’re in his hands.’ He allowed the words to hang in the air before turning and stepping on to the jetty.
Max’s fingers dug in to his palms. He had to believe that Death would keep his word. I’m going to totally smash every task he gives me so Amy and I stay alive, he thought desperately. I will. I have to.
‘This one’s for the catacombs,’ Mopsus announced to the shrouded figure in the middle of the boat. No part of the boatman was visible under the shroud apart from his gnarled hands, which ended in long twisted fingernails that were a colour somewhere between yellow and pea green.
Trying not to show that he was shaken by Mopsus’s threat, Max climbed in and positioned himself at the far end. With a faint splash the boat eased away and the hideous form of Mopsus was soon lost from sight, swallowed up by the gloom.
The only sound in the tunnel was the quiet splash of the oars. Sitting in the dark, it was hard to judge how much time had passed before the surroundings opened out to reveal a vast underground lake. In the centre was a small island. When the boat came to a stop Max looked around for a landing stage, then realised he was expected to jump into the water. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he muttered.
A low moan rose from the depths of the boatman’s shroud.
Hastily, Max kicked off his shoes and leapt out. Freezing water soaked him to the skin as he half-swam, half-waded to the shore. He debated whether or not to strip off the wet material that clung to his flesh, but then pictured himself wandering the catacombs in his pants.
Just. No.
Max began to crunch over what he thought were bleached white sticks and pebbles, until he stepped on what was undeniably a human jaw bone. What is this place? The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he scanned the landscape. Everywhere he looked was pure white. Bone white.
A short distance away stood two upright black stones that supported a smaller slab, marking the entrance to a tunnel. Figuring that this must be the entrance to the catacombs, Max crunched his way over what he now desperately wished were sticks and pebbles, and stepped inside. Ahead of him lay a sloping passage leading underground. Cold damp crept over Max as he made his way along the tunnel that ended in a steep flight of steps.
Down in the bowels of the catacombs was a maze of crumbling walls. Holes had been gouged out of them, creating the appearance of a giant honeycomb. Max placed his hand on one of the chalky walls before curiously peering into a recess. It wasn’t just a hole, it was a tunnel. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and he shouted out with fright.
Shuffling through the gloom, heading straight towards him, was a zombie. Its skin hung loosely as if it didn’t quite fit its skeleton. Milky white eyes stared ahead sightlessly, while mumbling groans escaped its dry, cracked lips.
Max whipped his head out of the recess and flattened himself back against the main tunnel wall, his heart pounding. What kind of place was this? The creature stopped in the entrance to what Max could only assume was its burrow. Turn right, Max prayed, fear pinning him to the spot. Please, please don’t look my way.
The creature turned left.
It drew level with Max and stopped before slowly turning its head. Opening its mouth, it expelled a sigh of foul air. The stench of death and decay was overpowering. Its limbs twitched and convulsed as it slowly raised its hands, ready to attack.
Max slid down the wall until he was crouched at the creature’s rotting feet. Luckily for him, this particular zombie didn’t seem to be particularly quick off the mark. Fighting back the urge to be sick, he crawled as rapidly as he could in the opposite direction, towards the centre of the catacombs.
Realising its prey had escaped, the zombie gave a long drawn-out cry, which was soon answered by similar moans from the hundreds of other burrows within the walls.
Great, thought Max. Outfoxing one zombie was fine, but fighting a whole army of them was another matter. What would they do to him? Would he become one of them, or would they eat his brains and throw his body outside to crumble along with the other bones?
His breath came in long painful gasps as he tore along the corridor, the shuffling of feet growing ever closer as the zombies joined the main passageway.
A faint draught blew against his cheek and instinctively he turned towards the first hint of fresh air he’d felt since descending into this hellhole. He followed the steady stream of air down a narrow twisting tunnel until finally he reached a solid wooden door that barred his way. Fumbling in his pocket for the key he had shown Cerberus, Max suddenly remembered that Death had taken it away. He was trapped!
He scrabbled desperately at the lock, rattling the door handle and pushing with all his might, but it was no use. The door wouldn’t budge. Behind him, the moans of the zombies grew louder.
His very first task and he had failed. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door. ‘I’m sorry, Amy,’ he whispered. Amy would die, and he was going to be torn to pieces. Unless…
Max grabbed the door handle, twisted it, and pulled.
With the slightest of creaks, the door swung open towards him. It wasn’t locked after all. It just opened outwards.
Ignoring the angry thuds and moans from other side of the door, Max turned to check out his new surroundings. He was in a huge oval arena. High walls enclosed the sandy grounds, while towering rows of stone seats rose in tiers all around. It appeared to be the ruins of a once great amphitheatre. Scattered throughout the arena stood a collection of stone pillars, each holding an item of treasure. Max’s gaze raked over elaborate suits of armour, coffers of gold coins, haunting statues and glittering jewels until he found what he was looking for. In the very centre, on a tall stone column, was a neatly folded mustard-coloured robe.
Max looked all around. Satisfied he was alone, he hurried to the middle of the arena and jumped up and down until he managed to grab a corner of the robe. He pulled it down and with it came a baseball cap, a rope belt and a small silver whistle.
Max turned the whistle over in his hands. What’s this for? he wondered. Curiously he blew it, but no sound came out. ‘Great,’ he muttered. ‘I always end up with stuff that’s broken.’
The words were barely out of his mouth when a snort sounded from the shadows of the amphitheatre.
Max stiffened and then relaxed when a huge black horse appeared. Tentatively, he stepped towards the beast. ‘Hello boy,’ he said, before noticing the horse’s angry red eyes. ‘Uh, easy now, there’s a good horsey.’
If its high-pitched whine was anything to go by, ‘horsey’ wasn’t a name the creature appreciated. Huge feathered wings unfurled as it rose on hind legs and pawed the air. This was no horse, it was a pegasus, and it didn’t look happy to see him.
Hooves thudded across the ground, sending up a dust storm. Max grabbed his uniform and ran. An impromptu game of cat and mouse followed, with Max dodging behind pillars while the pegasus pursued him with flattened ears and snapping teeth.
At the far end of the arena was a pillar that was smaller than the rest. Max thought he might be able to pull himself up on to it. He broke cover, and out of the corner of his eye saw the giant horse tear after him. He was only half way there when the pegasus bowled him over. Max flipped on to his back and at the same time the beast reared up into the air. He rolled as the creature thudded down, its hooves landing in the spot that Max’s head had just occupied. Panting, Max sprang to his feet, raced to the pillar and hauled himself up. He crouched on the stone platform, clutching his uniform. What do I do now? What do I do?
As the pegasus thundered past, Max leapt from the pillar on to the animal’s broad back. He grasped a handful of mane and bent low over the horse’s neck as the animal suddenly rose into the air.
This, I was not expecting, thought Max, as he clung on for dear life.
The creature’s wings beat powerfully, taking them higher and higher above the amphitheatre. Suddenly the pegasus winched in its wings and dropped like a stone. ‘I’m too young to die,’ whimpered Max as he left his stomach somewhere far above.
Just as they were about to become nothing but a pair of dark red splats on the arena floor, the pegasus spread its wings and soared up again, this time performing a gravity-defying loop-the-loop. Max dug in his knees and closed his eyes. Why on earth had he thought it would be better to be on the beast rather than being pursued by it?
Unable to dislodge Max, the black horse landed and galloped across the arena. It suddenly halted, throwing itself back on its haunches as a huge shadow fell across the arena. Max recognised it immediately. Cerberus.
‘Don’t look!’ He used his legs to turn the pegasus around, and at the same time leaned forward to place his robes as a blindfold over the pegasus’s eyes.
As he was doing so, he caught sight of a squat figure trying to hide behind one of the pillars. ‘Mopsus!’ Max roared. ‘Did you bring Cerberus here?’
Mopsus peeked around the pillar, his luminous eyes gleaming. In his hand he held the ornate key, the only thing Max was aware of that would pacify the monstrous three-headed guard dog.
The ground trembled as Cerberus stalked them, each footstep shaking the pillars and the arena floor. Treasure clattered on the ground behind them and the pegasus reared in fright.
‘Give me the key!’ Max yelled before realising that he was speaking to nothing but air.
Mopsus had disappeared.
Chapter Eight
Max dug his heels against the pegasus’s sides. ‘Whoa!’ he shouted as the pegasus broke into a gallop from a standstill and headed straight for the opposite wall. The huge horse skidded to a halt, and Max grabbed a handful of mane to stop himself being catapulted over the creature’s head. He felt a surge of temper.
‘Look here, horsey,’ he hissed in the pegasus’s ear. ‘As much as I hate to admit this, you’re the only one that can get us out of here, but that’s only going to happen if you engage your brain. Now why don’t you try again, only this time – ’ He nudged the creature’s sides again. ‘ – go up!’
The pegasus flattened its ears, and for a moment Max thought it was going to refuse. He felt a gust of Cerberus’s stinking hot breath on his neck and screwed his eyes shut. A moment later, a strong draught fanned away the stench. The winged horse rose into the air, and Max resisted the natural urge to look down as a triple howl of rage sounded beneath him.
‘Whoop, whoop,’ he yelled. He threw his arms around the pegasus’s warm neck and clung on while they continued to defy gravity.
Once they had left the arena behind, Max twitched the robes off the great beast’s eyes. He needn’t have bothered, since a moment later they flew into darkness. All Max could do was hold on and hope for the best, until finally a huge shape appeared in the darkness front of them. It was Death’s fortress.
The pegasus clattered onto a stone balcony and nosed open some double doors that led into the main hall.
Mopsus stood with his back to the fire that blazed in the hearth, warming his buttocks. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Max and the pegasus.
Max slid off the animal’s back and collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath.
‘Oh good.’ Death looked up from where he was seated at the table. ‘You’ve got the robes – although I had expected you to be wearing them.’
Max forced himself into a sitting position just in time for the pegasus to whip its tail against his cheek. Giving a low whinny, it trotted up to Mopsus, who fed it some of Liah’s tooth-destroying bread. ‘How are you, Buttercup?’ he said over the sound of crunching.
‘Buttercup?’ Max couldn’t imagine a less appropriate name. ‘Killer, more like. And he’s not the only one. Why did you leave me in the arena with that monster? I could have been turned to stone!’
Death slowly swivelled to face Mopsus. ‘What is the boy talking about?’
‘Erm, nothing really. Just a small test I devised to ensure that he’s up to the task ahead of him.’ Before Max could process the idea of another task, Mopsus turned to him and said sniffily, ‘If you’d put on the robes before summoning Cuppy, you wouldn’t have had a problem. As Death’s… assistant,’ he almost spat the word, ‘any creature of the Underworld is yours to command when you’re wearing them.’
‘I didn’t summon him,’ Max objected, before remembering he had blown the silver whistle. ‘Is there any other vital information you’ve chosen not to share with me?’ He narrowed his eyes at Mopsus and flipped the baseball cap on to his head. ‘What about this, for instance?’
Wordlessly Mopsus sloped across the room, collected a pewter plate from the table and held it up in front of Max.
Staring into the polished metal, Max almost passed out when nothing stared back. ‘I’m invisible?’ He tugged off the cap and was relieved when his
reflection flickered on to the plate.
‘Evidently,’ Mopsus drawled. ‘Do you always go out of your way to state the obvious?’
‘What about the belt?’ Max said faintly. ‘What does that do?’
Death picked it up. ‘Age quod agis.’ The belt wriggled out of his fingers and zigzagged across the floor. It slid up Max’s waist and tied itself into a knot.
‘So this is to save me from my jeans falling down?’
‘Untie the belt and flick it at Mopsus,’ Death instructed, to Mopsus’s obvious annoyance.
Max did as he was told, thinking that if he did have a weapon it would be a pitchfork to skewer the nasty little creature.
‘Interesting choice,’ Mopsus sulked.
The belt had turned cold and heavy in Max’s hands. Staring down, he saw it had turned into a gleaming pitchfork.
‘It will turn into whatever you want, although it hasn’t quite got the hang of anything automated,’ Death continued. ‘You are free to experiment but be warned: it has been known to get messy. Now, get dressed.’
Max yanked on the robes, which were several inches too long.
‘Now you are ready,’ Death told him.
‘Ready for what?’ Max shoved the whistle into his pocket. ‘I’d have to be desperate to use that whistle again. That animal is loopy.’
Cuppy snorted, spraying Max with chunks of bread.
Death waved his bony hand, indicating Max should sit at the table. ‘Mopsus is good at telling tales. He will fill you in on the background of your task.’
Mopsus sat opposite Max and waggled a finger in his ear. With a satisfied grunt he withdrew a plug of thick yellow wax and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
‘Many centuries ago, in the city of Alexandria was a library which was famous the world over,’ he said. ‘Nothing has ever been built to rival it: floors of gold, pillars of silver, archways framed with diamonds and rubies. In its vaults were treasures said to be gifts from the gods, including an elixir.’
Max frowned. ‘You’ve lost me.’
Dicing with Death Page 3