Nothing happened.

The lock did not click.

The barred door did not open, though Rose turned the key again and again.

Flax’s heart sank.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked the pup, nearly treading on Flax in his impatience. ‘Why won’t it open? Huh? Huh?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rose pulled the key out of the lock. ‘Key? Why isn’t it opening?’

‘Magic,’ muttered the key. ‘It smells like mould. Or horse droppings. Or mouldy horse droppings.’

‘No,’ whispered Rose. ‘I don’t believe it.’

She dashed across the cavern to the cell that held her uncle. She thrust the key into the lock.

She turned it.

And turned it.

And turned it.

‘It’s horrible in here,’ said the key in a muffled voice, ‘and it’s not doing any good. You might as well give up.’

Behind the bars, Uncle Edwin sank to the floor with his head in his hands. ‘Go,’ he mumbled. ‘Go, niece, before you too are captured.’

On the other side of the cavern, the pup’s ears drooped. ‘We can’t open the doors? We can’t rescue my parents? NooooOOOOOOooooo—’

‘Be quiet,’ snapped his mother. ‘The—’

Flax knew what she meant to say. ‘The dragon might hear you.’ But the air swallowed her words, just as it had swallowed Uncle Edwin’s.

They can’t even say ‘dragon’, thought Flax. That’s how powerful it is.

The key was right; they should give up.

Except—

‘The thread of magic!’ she squeaked.

She fumbled her satchel open, and seized the thread. She turned to the Spellhounds.

‘It’s only small. But if you called a thunderstorm, you could make it bigger!’

The pup’s father tried to say something, but his words were lost. He shook his head and tried again. ‘We cannot call a storm. Not without permission. Because of the—’

His hind leg came up and scratched helplessly at the band around his neck.

‘Because of the collars?’ asked Flax.

‘Yes,’ said the father. ‘They stop us.’

‘But our son does not wear a collar,’ said the pup’s mother, raising her head. ‘He has never yet called a storm, and he is still very young. But he has seen us do it.’

The pup blinked. ‘Call a storm? Me?’

His father nudged him through the bars. ‘This is what you were born for. I would rather you had learnt in the forest, but we have no choice. Will you do it?’

‘Uh,’ said the pup.

‘Of course he will,’ said Rose. ‘Quickly, before the dragon comes.’

‘Uh,’ said the pup.

‘Wait,’ whispered Flax. She had heard something.

The mountain was full of strange sounds. The clicking of beetles. The snap of scorpions.

But this was different. This was arrival.

Flax’s heart beat much too fast. ‘Someone has come into the labyrinth,’ she whispered. ‘Someone – or something.’

Rose’s uncle Edwin jolted, as if he had been struck. His face reddened. He gripped the bars of his cell with both hands.

‘You must get out of here,’ he hissed. ‘Now!’

He tried to say something else, but the words vanished from his mouth.

‘We’re going,’ whispered Flax.

‘But we’ll be back,’ said the pup.

‘No!’ said his mother. ‘Go far.’

‘Don’t come back,’ said his father, ‘because—’ His words vanished, too.

‘Quick,’ Flax said to Rose. ‘We’ve got to go.’

Rose didn’t move.

‘Hurry!’ hissed Flax.

But Rose was staring at her uncle’s hands, where they gripped the bars.

‘Uncle Edwin,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got scales!’