Dicing with Death Read Free Page A

scythe into the air.
    It was at this precise moment that inspiration hit Max like an icy wave.
    â€˜Stop! Stop! I’ll play you!’ he shouted.
    For a long moment, nothing moved. Death remained with his arms raised, about to sever Amy’s lifeline; Max lay against the tree where he’d landed, hardly daring to breathe.
    Slowly, Death lowered his scythe.
    â€˜What?’ His deep voice boomed around the glade.
    â€˜That’s the rule, right? I can challenge you to a game. Everybody knows that,’ Max gabbled. ‘I’m allowed to play a game with you, and if I win you can’t take Amy.’
    Death floated slowly across the forest floor towards Max. The way he moved had the uncanny effect of making the forest seem as if it were rushing into the distance, while Death himself stayed perfectly still. Max screwed up his eyes as the world shifted and bent out of focus.
    â€˜Actually,’ said Death, leaning over him, ‘it’s the best of three.’

Chapter Five
    â€˜If you choose to join the queue of candidates, you will have a very long wait,’ grinned Death.
    â€˜W-w-what?’ stuttered Max, before his brain clicked into gear. He could put up with a day or two’s wait. This was for Amy’s life, he’d queue for weeks if need be. ‘What will happen to Amy while I’m waiting?’ he panted. ‘She’ll be alright, won’t she?’
    â€˜What she will be,’ boomed Death ‘is old. The queue is thirty years long, give or take a month or two.’
    Max’s eyes widened. ‘Thirty years!’
    Death swung his scythe so that its sharp blade pointed forward like the beak of a bird of prey. Realising what was about to happen, Max rolled sideways as the huge blade fell, missing him by millimetres and slicing into the stony ground. A crack appeared which rapidly grew deeper andwider. Stones rattled down into the depths of what had suddenly become a chasm, before two podgy grey hands appeared on either side of the crack. These were followed by a face more wrinkled than a British bulldog with hairy warts sprouting on the folds of grey skin. The creature had long pointed ears, a beaky, sharp nose and slanting, luminous eyes. Accompanying his struggle through the gap was a sound like a balloon being deflated. This was immediately followed by the smell of rotten eggs.
    â€˜Whoops,’ the creature smirked. ‘Pardon me.’
    â€˜Mopsus,’ Death sighed.
    The creature called Mopsus was only about three feet tall, but he was able to reach eye level with Death thanks to the madly flapping feathered wings attached to his ankles.
    â€˜Master Reaper.’ His voice grated like two stones being ground together.
    Death dipped his head slightly. ‘This…
boy
has challenged me to a game.’
    Mopsus scratched his head. ‘Another one? I don’t know where you expect me to put him. They’re queueing back as far as the boiler room. Tempers are getting pretty hot down there.’ He coughed, splattering Max with stinking phlegm. ‘Ahem, no pun intended.’

    Death leaned a little closer to Mopsus. ‘Perhaps you might suggest an alternative,’ he intoned. ‘The boy should be given the chance to save his sister, no matter how slight. I believe we have an
understanding
?’ He emphasised the last word so that it echoed around the glade.
    Mopsus glanced in Max’s direction, comprehension flitting across his ugly face. ‘Oh,’ he said haughtily. ‘Yes, of course. I suppose the boy could be
my
assistant. After all, being your personal assistant is an immensely time-consuming job, and I really could use a new minion to clean up after the zombies – perhaps sew back on the occasional limb. And then there are the ghouls – they’re forever haunting places where they have no right to be. I just hope he’s a bit more hardy than the last one you gave me. He was in pieces before