The Chimera's Curse

  Reginald’s introduction, which she had copied down, confirmed Connie’s fears and to her, justified her course of action.

  While his shape is ever-changing, Kullervo remains constant in one thing. He will seek you out, my fellow universal. You must be prepared. He has attacked humanity throughout our history and I believe his next assault will come soon. Mercifully, Kullervo has never found me. I have been too well protected and maybe my powers are too weak to tempt him, but even I in my old age must not be complacent. Perhaps it is safest for humanity if the universal gift does indeed die out as it seems to have done in my lifetime, but it goes against the grain to wish for the extinction of any creature. If anyone does read this account it means that the gift did not end with me. Be careful. Do not commit the same mistakes as I and my friends made. Be wise.

  Wise? Connie put her notebook aside. The only thing she knew was that she knew very little.

  Connie hadn’t seen Col at all during the Christmas holidays, and it was not until the day before they returned to school that she ran into him at Jerrard’s, the bakery on the High Street. She’d been sent out to buy some bread; he was there stocking up on croissants before leaving for his training.

  The bell rang as she entered the shop, but Col didn’t look around as he was busy paying for his purchases.

  “What’ll you have today, love?” asked Mrs. Jerrard, bustling forward to serve Connie.

  “A sliced wholemeal, please,” Connie said. Col turned on hearing her voice, a full paper bag clutched under his arm. “Hi, Col.”

  “Connie! How are you?” He waited for her to finish at the counter and followed her out. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”

  “No, you haven’t. I know you’ve been busy.”

  He looked guiltily pleased with himself. “You could say that. It’s been frantic.”

  “I like the jacket.”

  Col turned a little self-consciously to show off what only a Society member would recognize as his team stripe. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me all about it.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I really should be going.…” But they hadn’t had a chance to speak for so long, he couldn’t just walk away. He quickly filled her in on the details of the rigorous schedule he and Skylark had been given, the weekends on Exmoor, the plans for a trip to the Alpine training at Easter.

  “Sounds brilliant.” Connie felt a little sad that his new role was taking him away from Hescombe, but she wouldn’t allow herself to feel envious. She only wanted what was best for him, and this was clearly it.

  “How about you, Connie?”

  “Same old thing, you know.”

  “Meaning?” Col pulled her over to a bench in the bus shelter.

  “Meaning everyone’s convinced I’m reckless; I’m grounded, not allowed out of Hescombe; and I’ve been banned from my reading room.”

  “What!”

  “Mr. Coddrington’s doing, but the Trustees agreed.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  Col ran through what Connie had said. There was only one explanation for the drastic action by the Trustees. “You haven’t given up your idea of taking on Kullervo, have you?”

  Connie rubbed her hand across her brow wearily. “I’m not exactly seeking a battle, if that’s what you mean. I just want to be prepared.”

  Col hated the idea of her facing Kullervo alone again. “But you should let us look after you—keep you safe.”

  “Yeah, like you did from the chimera?”

  He swallowed. “Yeah, well…”

  “You see: it’s going to come. I’ve got to be able to defend myself.” She kicked a stone into the gutter. “And you’re hardly ever here, so what do you care?”

  As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. Her feeling of being abandoned by almost everyone had slipped out.

  Col exploded. “Don’t you dare say I don’t care!”

  She held up her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  But Col wasn’t letting it go. “You’re getting so wrapped up in being a universal, Connie, you’re not listening to others anymore. Everyone’s saying it. They’re scared stiff you’re going to do something stupid.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  She turned to him. “So you think they’re right to stop me from learning anything?”

  Col sat stiffly, wondering how this conversation could have gone so wrong. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  Connie sprang to her feet and stalked off without even saying good-bye.

  He couldn’t let her go like that. He just wanted to make her see that she had to be safe. “Connie!”

  Her response was to break into a run, disappearing around the corner to the harbor. Col ran to catch up, thinking he would find her and put his arguments properly, but when he reached the quayside, she was gone.

  “Connie?” It was Dr. Brock, not Col, who later found Connie hidden in the weather shelter, clutching a mangled loaf of bread. She had been crying but was attempting to hide this fact from him when he sat next to her.

  “Having a hard time?” he asked gently.

  “Just a bit,” she admitted, sniffing.

  He passed her a large white handkerchief from his pocket. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” she said in a deadened tone of voice.

  Dr. Brock thought he could guess the cause of today’s upset. He had heard rumblings among the senior members of the Society, complaints that the universal was going off the rails again, this time of her own volition. He knew that the Trustees were soon coming to Hescombe to confront Connie about her behavior. Steps had already been taken against her which he knew must be painful.

  “Well, if you ever do need to talk about it, remember I’m here for you,” he said kindly, patting her wrist.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think anyone can do anything.”

  Dr. Brock sat, gazing out at the boats at anchor and the seagulls strutting along the quayside. “I wanted to talk to you about something, Connie.”

  “What?” she asked, suspicious that he would lecture her on her deviations from her training agenda. It’d be just like Gard to arrange for her to be taken to task by those she was closest to, in hopes that they’d get through to her.

  “Have you felt anything odd recently? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  This was not the question she’d been expecting. “Like what?”

  “The dragons have sensed something strange going on up on the moor. The rock dwarves say they can’t tell who’s out there. Parts of it now seem almost always to be swathed in fog. It might, of course, just be thanks to this strange winter we’ve been having, but I’m not sure.” Dr. Brock settled back on the seat beside her.

  “I haven’t been near the moor for ages. You know that. Not allowed.”

  He turned his blue eyes on her. “Indeed I do. But will you try for me now? Tell me what you sense from here?”

  Connie closed her eyes and turned her thoughts to the moor. It was no good: at this distance, it was a confused babble of voices like a badly tuned radio. She opened her eyes again to find his gaze on her still. “Sorry, I can’t make anything out. It’s beyond my range. And I think I’ve a headache coming on.”

  Dr. Brock nodded in understanding. “Oh well, it was worth a try. Don’t break any rules now, but you’ll let me know if you sense anything?”

  “I will.”

  He got up to go. “Don’t stay out long, will you? It’s too cold to sit here all day.”

  She watched him walk away, straight and purposeful. A shadow passed over the pale sun, momentarily dimming his snowy hair. Connie looked up. For an instant, she could have sworn she saw the back of a weather giant pass over, hurrying westward, but now the mass of cloud had resolved itself into drifts of gray vapor. Still, the clouds were moving west even though the breeze was against them.

  12

  Kelpies

  March ar
rived in a series of howling storms, bringing trees down and flooding low-lying meadows. It seemed to Col that every day for the past few weeks he hadn’t been able to go outside without a raincoat and boots and always returned soaked to the skin despite these precautions. His intensive training schedule had passed in a blur of wind, rain, and aching bones, and he was relieved to have a weekend off for a change. Sometimes it was impossible to balance being a member of the Society and having normal friends. He felt torn but knew there was little he could do about it.

  Worst of all, weeks had gone by and he had still not made up with Connie. At school she’d been distant, almost as if she was purposely freezing him out, as if she was afraid he’d hurt her by probing too deeply into what she was thinking and feeling. She avoided Society meetings and stayed indoors as much as possible, a complete change from her usual behavior. Gard was tight-lipped as to what he thought of his pupil’s behavior, but even Col, so rarely in Hescombe these days, could sense that things were coming to a head between the universal and the Society authorities.

  With all that to worry about, Col decided he needed a ride on the moors with Mags. It would help him summon up the courage to corner Connie and sort things out.

  “Glad to see the sun’s out for once,” Col said to his grandmother on his way out the door.

  Mrs. Clamworthy looked out the window despondently. Her water sprites loved the floods as it gave them more scope for their wanderings. “Still, there’s more rain forecast,” she said, brightening up at the thought. “You’ve checked that the chimera’s not about, I hope?”

  “Of course. Simon says it’s gone off further onto the moor.”

  “Just stay near the cottages. I don’t trust that creature to keep away.”

  “Okay. I shouldn’t be back late,” Col called as he splashed down the garden path to fetch Mags.

  “Don’t forget we’re having an early dinner with Liam!” she called.

  “As if I would!” he replied, leaping the ditch.

  Col guided Mags up the farm track leading out to the open countryside. New shoots were pushing through the soil in all directions. A clump of snowdrops, past their prime, had shriveled and turned brown in the shade of a bank of daffodils. Birds sang in every hedge, declaring their territory.

  Feeling both he and Mags would enjoy a good gallop over firm ground, Col headed up the track toward the Devil’s Tooth, now a small incisor on the horizon over the back of Masterson land. Hooves splashed through the deep puddles, spraying Col’s jodhpurs with black speckles. Here and there, where the grass was still in the shade of a boulder or clump of bracken stalks, the frost lingered, dusting the ground like icing sugar, but the rest had melted away in the morning sunshine. Down in the hollows, mist lingered in thick swirls, making the high places of the moor look as though they were floating on clouds.

  “Careful!” Col checked Mags as he veered to the left toward some bright green grasses. That was boggy ground, home to the kelpies, the water horse tricksters. He knew better than to go down there.

  But Mags would not stop fretting. Something was definitely spooking him. The mist swirled and gathered around them with unnatural speed, yet Col could see no other cause for alarm.

  “What’s the matter?” he crooned to the horse, patting his neck in reassurance. Mags side-stepped and tossed his head.

  The air chilled a few degrees. Col could hear a strange clicking from close by. There was definitely something in the mist—lots of somethings. He pulled on the reins, thinking to make a quick retreat, but then an icy touch pinched the back of his neck. Mags reared and Col, already unconscious, tumbled from the saddle. In a panic, the horse bolted, leaving his rider out cold.

  Mrs. Clamworthy knocked on the door of Number Five and came in without waiting for an answer. She’d interrupted the inhabitants as they relaxed in the aftermath of their supper. Mack was sitting with his feet up on the table, yawning, while watching Evelyn fuss around at the sink. His wife seemed to be unable to rest, refusing his pleas to take her considerable weight off her feet, instead insisting that the sink needed cleaning. Connie had her head down over a pile of school books, pretending to do her homework, while really reading her practice notes and running through her new tools in her head. She looked up when Mrs. Clamworthy came in and immediately knew that something was wrong.

  “Mum!” said Mack, leaping to his feet. “Have a seat.”

  “No, no, dear,” said Mrs. Clamworthy in a fluster. “I thought you had Gard with you. I was expecting Col back for dinner—we’ve got Liam and the Khalids staying—but he’s not come in yet. I thought Gard might be able to tell me where he is.”

  Mack steered his mother farther into the room, but she shrugged off his attempts to remove her coat. “Sorry, Gard’s up at the Mastersons’ as the Trustees have just arrived,” said Mack, not looking too concerned to hear his son was out wandering.

  Evelyn put down her dishcloth and crossed the kitchen to put an arm around her mother-in-law.

  “Don’t worry, Lavinia. Connie can summon Gard through that thing they do.” She looked expectantly at her niece. Connie put her pen on her pad.

  “Of course,” Connie said hesitantly. She and Gard hadn’t been speaking since the incident of the portcullis, and she was reluctant to let him into her mind when she knew it was littered with evidence of her disobedience. But if Col was lost, she had to help him.

  “Would you, dear?” said Mrs. Clamworthy gratefully. “It would take a great weight off my mind just to know where he is.”

  “I’ll do it right away,” Connie said, her hesitation vanishing. She went to the back door and planted her feet firmly on the stone path. Gard! she called into the bedrock. Can you hear me? There was no reply. Was he sulking or was he somewhere he really couldn’t hear her? Gard, this is important. Still no answer. It was not like Gard to fail to respond to a summons—whatever his feelings toward her at that moment. She went back into the kitchen.

  “Sorry, he must be inside somewhere.”

  Mack strode over to the phone and rang the Mastersons’. “It’s busy,” he said, putting it back down.

  “I know,” suggested Evelyn, “why doesn’t Mack drive you up to the Mastersons’ and you can talk to Gard yourself? That would be better than sitting here worrying about things.”

  Mack grabbed his jacket from the peg. “Can I take your car, Evie? I don’t think Mum’s quite up for the back of the bike.”

  Evelyn tossed him the keys to her little car. “As long as you remember to treat my car like a lady and take the corners slowly. And be careful of the gears. They’re tricky if you’re not used to them.”

  “Hah!” said Mack. “There’s not much I don’t know about engines.”

  Evelyn was about to protest, but Mrs. Clamworthy had no time for an argument. “I won’t keep him long, Evelyn,” she interjected. “Why don’t you sit down. You look tired out.”

  Evelyn gave a wan smile and patted her tummy. “I will. When junior here stops kicking me to bits.”

  “Ah, yes, Mack was just like that,” Mrs. Clamworthy replied on her way to the door. “Squirmed like a squid until the day he was born.”

  “And why aren’t I surprised?” Evelyn muttered.

  “What was that?” asked Mack sharply.

  “Go on,” scolded Evelyn, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

  The back door closed, and the kitchen fell silent again. Evelyn winced as the sound of grating gears and an over-revved engine resounded in the lane. Connie tried to return to her work but it was no good. She kept turning over in her mind what might have happened to Col. Was he just out late and had forgotten that he was supposed to have dinner with Liam, or did he have an accident? It then occurred to her that there was a way for her to find out without waiting around for Gard.

  “Would it be okay if I went over to Uncle Hugh’s?” she asked abruptly.

  Evelyn gave her a shrewd look. “Why? It’s dark already.”

  “Well, I thought if I got
near enough to the moor, I might be able to sense Col through his gift. If I find out where he is, I can let you all know.”

  Her aunt sighed and slumped into a chair, taking a breath against the discomfort of nine months’ worth of baby thumping her in the ribs. “I suppose it’ll be okay. I’ll send Mack to fetch you when he gets back from the Mastersons’. But they’ll probably find Col first, or he’ll have turned up of his own accord.”

  “Probably. But in that case, I still get to see Uncle Hugh and Simon,” said Connie, pulling on her outdoor clothes. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to check out what’s happening on the moor for Dr. Brock. I could do that while I’m up there.”

  “You’re not to set one foot on the moor, Connie.”

  “Of course not.” Connie dug her bike lights out of a drawer in the dresser. “But I don’t have to go any further than the field near the cottage to sense what’s happening. I won’t go on my own, I promise.”

  When Connie reached Hugh’s cottage she found it dark. This was highly unusual—not quite as strange as Col’s disappearance, but she could usually count on her great-uncle to be home at this time of night. She wondered where he was, until she found a message for Simon tucked in a bottle on the back step. The note told Simon, who was expected back late from seeing Liam, to put himself to bed as “the old man” had gone to a trivia night in Hescombe with Horace Little and Dr. Brock. Connie smiled as she read the name of the team they had formed: the Old Dragons.

  But there was someone else at the cottages always on the watch for her: Wolf, Rat’s Alsatian, threw himself against the fence separating the two properties, making it shake alarmingly as he attempted to break through, barking fit to burst. The noise brought Rat outside.