The Chimera's Curse

  She closed the book and slipped the unfinished letter into her pocket, hoping the snake had not seen. She felt she might get away with taking the letter and the notes, but not the book. If ever there was a volume that she would like to smuggle out of the reading room, this was it, but she knew from past experience that was out of the question as far as the door-ward was concerned. Picking up the remains of her picnic supper, she followed the snake down the winding stair, her mind still up in the lantern dome with Reginald and Guy.

  “So, now we know how Kullervo is controlling the chimera,” said Kinga, handing the notes back to Connie. “Not a method we can use, I fear. None of us can change into a chimera.”

  “Not so,” growled Morjik, his sulfury breath blooming around his nostrils in vibrant yellow flowers of smoke. “There is a way.”

  Connie had thought of it, too, but had hoped no one else would.

  “What do you mean?” asked Kira, her dark eyes bright with interest.

  “He means,” said Connie wearily, “that if we gather together a Nemean lion, a great snake, and an Amalthean goat, then through the shared bond they can communicate with the chimera. I can mediate.”

  “Not only you,” said Jade softly.

  This was the bit Connie had really hoped they would not think of, but she should have realized that the ageless rock dwarf and ancient dragon would have had many years in which to learn such secrets.

  “Simon, too,” she admitted reluctantly. “But he’s not even begun his training. You can’t seriously expect him to help?” Her weariness was becoming almost unbearable; she was finding it increasingly difficult to control her emotions. The Trustees exchanged looks over Connie’s head as she sat once more hugging her knees in their midst. “Please, tell me you’re not serious. He’s only just turned twelve!”

  “But you were only eleven the first time you faced Kullervo, Connie,” said Eagle-Child. “Do not treat your brother as an infant. He is fast approaching manhood. In my tribe, he would soon be initiated as an adult.”

  The unicorn companion was looking at her with a worried frown, sensing that the universal was exhausted.

  “And as far as we know, the chimera is not instructed to kill him on sight. It would surely be safer to use his skills and train him for this task than risk putting you in the creature’s path again?” said Kira calmly, moving toward her.

  “No!” Connie leapt to her feet, swaying with tiredness. “I can’t let you do this. You don’t understand what it’s like!”

  “No, we don’t,” said Eagle-Child, “but Simon will. It is his gift. You should not deny him this.”

  “I’m not denying him anything. I’m just trying to stop you from killing him in some stupid attempt to save me. I’m not exchanging my life for his!”

  The room fell into stunned silence as Connie’s last words echoed around the chamber. She had not meant to be so outspoken, but she stood by every word she had said.

  Windfoal neighed and rippled her mane.

  “Connie, you’re tired and upset,” said Kira coming forward to lay a hand on her elbow. “We’ve overtaxed you today. It is our fault. You should rest now.”

  Connie was shaking slightly with a mixture of anger and fatigue. It would be unwise to say any more in her current condition, she knew that, but she had to make them understand! When would she have another chance to speak to the Trustees?

  “You don’t see it, do you? That letter isn’t really about the chimera—that’s just a sideshow. It’s about Kullervo—this whole situation is about Kullervo. That’s what Guy de Chauliac and Reginald Cony both realized. We should be talking about challenging him at the mark—about me challenging him at the mark—not about the chimera!”

  The silence that followed turned icy. Connie could sense the Trustees thought she had gone too far. Kinga and Morjik were angry with her; Windfoal and Kira were afraid.

  “What are you all looking at?” Connie asked with a defiant tilt to her head when no one spoke. “Are you afraid to hear the truth?” Anger was making her feel like quite a different person—not a shy teenager, but a universal, proud of her inheritance and ready to defend it.

  Windfoal stamped her foot. “We’re not afraid of the truth, Universal,” said Kira sternly. “We are afraid for you—and of you. It is you who does not know what she is talking about if you think the way to defeat Kullervo is to challenge him.”

  “Connie, listen,” said Eagle-Child. “You do not even sound like yourself. You are talking about traveling a lonely path, repeating the same mistakes of the universals of the past.”

  “But it wasn’t a mistake,” said Connie beseechingly, turning to Eagle-Child. She could usually count on him to be on her side. It was very serious if even he did not agree. “Look at what Guy de Chauliac did: it ended the Black Death, for God’s sake!”

  Eagle-Child shook his head. “You have read only one account—a biased one by a friend of his. By another universal. The histories of the Society around the world tell how Guy de Chauliac failed in his challenge. He was taken by Kullervo before he could complete the ordeal. It is a horrible death you are talking about—a torture beyond your imagining.”

  Connie was taken aback. They had already known about Guy? What else did they know that she didn’t?

  “But Edward Alleyne said he succeeded,” she said miserably.

  “He did. In part,” said Eagle-Child. “He satisfied Kullervo’s lust for destruction for that time. But Guy did not achieve his aim, which was to vanquish Kullervo once and for all. Do you want to pay that price? Your suffering as the sacrifice that will make Kullervo cease his attack for a brief time? And when he has exhausted you, thrown you aside, he’ll come back for more—new victims, new forms of devastation.”

  Connie sat down again, no longer wanting to be in the middle of the room, at the center of everyone’s attention, yet she didn’t know where else to sit.

  “But he knew there was a way to defeat him, didn’t he?” she said, still stubbornly defending the memory of her predecessor like the sole fighter left after a hopeless siege. “He was on to something.”

  “He failed,” concluded Eagle-Child. He rose gracefully to his feet and came to sit cross-legged in front of her, his open, bronzed face smooth and calm. Only the flicker of fire in the depths of his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Connie’s head was bowed so that he could not see her expression. He gently slid his hand under her chin to raise her face. Tears trickled down Connie’s cheeks as she met his gaze. “We forbid you to go any further down this path, Universal. Do you understand?”

  Connie could feel the minds of all the mythical creatures snaking toward her, seeking to strengthen the prohibition of the Trustee for the Winged Beasts. She did not want them in her head; too much else was going on there at the moment. In one swift move, she raised her shield against them, blocking entry, and jumped to her feet, knocking away Eagle-Child’s hand.

  “I understand,” she said bitterly. “But I don’t agree.” And, turning on her heels, she fled from the chamber.

  8

  Alone

  Connie kept silent on the train journey home the following day. Col watched her out of the corner of his eye as she leafed through a book she had borrowed from the main section of the library—The Early History of the Society, 1000–1500. It looked like a boring read to him: cramped, close-printed text with no illustrations. If she wanted to wade through tedious textbooks she only had to wait until school next week. She was probably just covering up her bad mood by pretending to be interested in it, he decided. It was what he would’ve done. He knew that she had fallen out with the Trustees, which he had to admit was pretty serious, but he didn’t know the details. Maybe he should try to cheer her up and see if she wanted to talk about it?

  “Hey, Connie, do you want a mint?” he asked, holding out a packet he kept in his pocket for Mags.

  She shook her head mutely.

  “Yeah, I’ll have one!” said Simon, making a grab for the sweets. In complete c
ontrast to his sister, Simon could not have been in better spirits.

  “Hands off.” Col laughed, chucking him a single mint, which Simon caught.

  “You show more promise as a fielder than your sister,” teased Mack, ruffling Connie’s hair. She flinched away and Mack quickly withdrew his hand, which as usual had been stung by static upon touching the universal. “Why do I always forget about her defenses?” Mack said ruefully, waving his fingers in the air to shake away the pain. He turned back to Simon, to whom he’d been talking before Col offered around the mints. “And what did they tell you then?”

  “They said I’m to be put on a fast-track training program,” said Simon proudly. “They’ve a special task for me.”

  The Early History of the Society slid to the floor with a clunk.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “They want me to help capture the chimera so Connie can get out and about again.”

  “That’s cool,” said Col, glancing over at Connie, who was bent forward, hair in a curtain around her face, as she picked up the book. Was this the problem? he wondered. Did she not like being ordered to stay in Hescombe? Another thought struck him. Or was she jealous of Simon being given this special treatment? But you couldn’t get more special than being a universal. Simon’s gift, though unique, was not in the same league as hers.

  “That’s what I said when they told me.” Simon bubbled with enthusiasm. “They’re to make special arrangements with my school so I can carry on the training on the weekends. Apparently, one of the teachers is a member of the Society—Mr. Hawthorn, the science teacher—I’d never’ve guessed. He seems so normal. They’re going to bring in a Nemean lion especially for me.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it, Connie?” said Col, turning to her.

  She paused, then said: “I’m glad they’re going to train Simon properly.”

  Col sensed there was an unspoken reservation. “But?”

  She shut her book with a snap. “But they shouldn’t be using Simon to catch the chimera: it’s too dangerous.”

  “Oh, come on!” protested Simon. “You’re always trying to spoil my fun.”

  Connie looked as though she felt like strangling her brother. “Don’t be so stupid.”

  “Stupid!” Simon was riled now. “You don’t understand. You never understand.”

  “Ha!” said Connie, getting up to push past Col, who was blocking her path to the aisle. “I think you’ll find I’m the only one who understands. I’m going to get a coffee.” Grabbing her book from her seat, she disappeared in the direction of the dining car.

  Mack, Simon, and Col exchanged looks.

  “Girls!” said Mack with a shrug. “Hormones, mood-swings; Evie’s the same.”

  Simon nodded and returned to his update of what the Trustees had told him that morning. Col did not join in the conversation. Neither did he agree with Mack’s diagnosis that Connie was merely being moody. She was normally one of the calmest people he knew. Something was up, and he very much wanted to know what was going on. So, slipping out of his seat, he quietly followed her.

  He found Connie standing with an untouched cup of coffee, leaning against the grubby ledge that served inadequately as a table in the dining car. Outside, the rows of houses and industrial buildings had given way to rolling green hills. They had escaped the coils of London and were heading home.

  “Want anything else?” he asked, gesturing to her drink.

  “No, thanks. I don’t recommend the coffee.”

  Col bought himself an orange juice and came to lean beside her. They stood together in companionable silence watching the world pass by. He had the sudden strange sensation that the train was standing still and it was the trees and the cows that were being whisked away at great speed.

  “So, what’s the matter, Connie?”

  She did not speak for a moment, biting her lip as she looked down at the plastic spoon she was fingering. It snapped in two.

  “And don’t say ‘nothing.’ You and I both know each other better than that.”

  She could not resist his sympathy. Yes, she could tell him. He would stand by her. She threw the splinters of the spoon into the trash and took the plunge.

  “You know I had a…a disagreement with the Trustees yesterday?”

  Col nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant hills in the hopes that it would be easier for her to speak if she did not feel under interrogation.

  “Well, I think I’ve discovered a way, or an idea about a way, of finally defeating Kullervo.”

  Forgetting his resolution, Col turned to stare at her. “That’s great! Amazing! What is it?” He thought for a second longer. “So, what’s the problem with the Trustees?”

  Connie tapped the spine of the book she had tucked under her arm. “I’m not the first to find out about it. There’ve been other universals who’ve tried, but they’ve failed, or at least, only partially succeeded. That’s what we argued about. The Trustees think it’s too dangerous and won’t work.”

  Col’s enthusiasm was dampened. “So what is it?”

  “I’m not sure exactly, but it involves challenging Kullervo at the mark—the place where he enters our world. I think in the past this was a real place, but in my case, it’s…well, you know where it is.”

  He did indeed. He vividly remembered visiting Connie’s mental wall of encounters and seeing the breach made by Kullervo: the dark void that whispered like waves on a distant sea.

  “And what do you have to do in this challenge?”

  “I don’t know, yet. But I think the Trustees do since they told me those who failed were…” She stopped and took a sip of her coffee, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste.

  “Were what?”

  “Were tortured to death.”

  Col choked on his mouthful of orange juice. “Connie! No wonder they don’t want you to have anything to do with this! And you were just telling off Simon for getting into danger! You must be crazy even to think of it.”

  “Of course, I don’t want to get hurt!” she replied angrily, crumpling up an empty sugar packet. “I’m not stupid. But think what it would mean if I succeeded.”

  “Yeah, right. And if you don’t, as all the others have found out, you die a gruesome death. Good thinking, Connie.”

  “I thought you’d understand,” she said in a small voice, turning her shoulder from him slightly.

  “What? Understand your mad death-wish? Sure, I understand,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He couldn’t believe she was really suggesting putting herself at such grave risk.

  “It’s not mad,” Connie said defiantly. “Or if it is, it’s only because I’m being driven mad by his voice in my head every night. I can’t stand it. And if I can get rid of him forever: think how many lives that would save!”

  Col sighed. “I’m sorry, Connie. I didn’t know he was still bothering you.” He placed a hand on her arm. “Look, it’s just that none of us want to see you get hurt. We couldn’t bear that—I couldn’t bear that. Listen to the people you trust. You know they’re only trying to do what’s best for you. Don’t go it alone on this one.”

  “I don’t want to ‘go it alone’—I want everyone’s support for what I’ve got to do. I want to do this properly—avoid the mistakes made in the past.”

  “Stop right there. You know I’m on your side, Connie, but I can’t support you in such a suicidal plan. Don’t even think about it. Anyway, the Trustees won’t let you do it.” He could sense she was raw with pain, so he put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “You know it’s not because we don’t believe in you, don’t you? You’re an amazing person, Connie.” He had to get through to her. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

  Her voice, coming from the muffling center of the hug, was close to a sob. “I can’t…promise.” She pushed him away and stood back to look into his eyes, her voice now firm. She would not allow even Col to stop her from doing what she knew was right, even when it was so tempting to take the
easy path of falling in line with his wishes. “But thanks, Col. I know you’re my friend—my best friend. And I promise I’ll think over what you’ve said. Okay?”

  It would have to do. “Okay,” said Col, still looking at her warily. “Hadn’t you’d better drink up? We’re almost there.”

  “Can’t swallow the stuff,” she said, throwing her cup into the trash. “Let’s get back to the others.”

  Connie’s disagreement with the Trustees, which normally would have greatly concerned Evelyn, was overshadowed by two other arguments. The first, Connie realized later, she should have foreseen. It arrived in the form of a telephone call that evening from her parents in Manila. If the phone could have given Connie warning of what was to come, it should have glowed throbbing red as she picked it up.

  “WHAT IS ALL THIS!” bellowed her father. She held the receiver away from her ear. Her father was clearly attempting to get his voice heard from the other side of the world without the use of modern technology. “Simon has just called full of nonsense about joining that Society of yours!”

  “Ah.”

  “I can’t stop him, of course,” he continued, “not with you being a member.”

  That was a shame, thought Connie. It would at least take away one problem if Simon wasn’t allowed to train.

  “But I blame you for this!”

  “Me?” Connie was stung at the injustice of the accusation. “What’ve I got to do with it?”

  “What’ve you got to do with it! You only took him up there and enrolled him without our permission. I thought your aunt was bad enough, but I didn’t think my own daughter would go against what you must have known would’ve been my express wishes. Why on Earth have you involved your younger brother in that crazy society of yours? I expect your aunt’s to blame, too, but I can’t tell her what I really think, not in her current condition. I expected you to act more responsibly. Your mother agrees.”

  “Yes, dear,” said Connie’s mother, who appeared to have been listening in.