The Chimera's Curse

  A police car zipped past, heading away from the refinery, blue lights flashing.

  “We need to reach help,” panted Col, “but it’s going to take too long on foot.”

  Rat pulled out Connie’s phone but it was still dead.

  “Remember, she said everyone would be up on the moor,” said Col.

  “Not everyone—what about your dad? You can’t get the Kraken up onto the moor.”

  “You’re right. And Evelyn will be home, even if he’s not.”

  “And what about the Khalids? Aren’t they staying at your house? I doubt the Society will have sent them up there—at least, not the boys.”

  Col nodded. “Let’s split up: you go to my house; I’ll fetch Dad. He’ll know what to do.” Col felt a sudden powerful desire to see his father, to hand over responsibility for tonight’s mess to someone he could trust to have Connie’s best interests at heart. Mack had fought to save Connie last year—he would do the same now.

  “But we’re still miles from Hescombe,” said Rat. “We need transport—the police’ll pick us up in an instant if they find us running down the road.”

  Col gazed around him for inspiration. The answer was obvious. “I wouldn’t normally suggest this but…”

  Rat was quick to catch on. “We’ll need to get the keys.” Without pausing for further thought, he picked up the metal lid of an old milk churn lying in the passage and chucked it through the window behind them. An alarm bell began to sound inside the dairy, but all the workers had been evacuated and there was no one, not even a night guard, to stop the two boys from climbing in and ransacking the garage until they found the keys. “Here, put these on, too,” said Rat, throwing an overall and cap to Col. “You’re a mess.”

  Col gave a grunt of laughter for they both knew that, if anything, Rat looked worse.

  The boys dashed over to one of the electric milk trucks standing idle in the yard. The evacuation had come as the dairy workers were halfway through loading up for the morning’s deliveries. The truck was stacked with crates of milk and orange juice. Rat grabbed a couple of cartons from the back before slipping onto the seat beside Col. “Let’s go,” he commanded, ripping open a juice and downing it thirstily.

  Col checked the controls, relieved to see the truck was simple to drive and with a top speed not much faster than a bumper car. The engine whined into life and purred out onto the roadway. Slowly but steadily, they made their way along the road. Col had to pull over a couple of times as more fire engines and six ambulances passed.

  “They must’ve found the workers in the warehouse,” Col noted grimly. They looked at each other, both wondering what had happened to Connie by now. Was she still alive?

  A police car slowed beside them, the driver peering curiously at the milk truck making its way as fast as it could away from the refinery. Col pulled his cap low over his eyes. Rat put his feet up on the dashboard and began to whistle cheerfully. The policewoman lowered her window.

  “You do know you were supposed to have evacuated an hour ago?” she called to them.

  “Yes, officer,” called Rat politely. “We’re just on our way now. My brother here said we couldn’t let our customers down, you see.”

  “Well,” said the policewoman tersely, “if you’re making deliveries anywhere downwind of the refinery, you’ll find all your customers have gone.”

  “No, no, we’re on our way to Hescombe.”

  The policewoman gave a curt nod. “Then hurry on out of here. But I’ll be complaining to your bosses at…”—she glanced at the side of the van—“at the Sunnyside Dairy that you didn’t get out quicker.”

  “Er…yeah, sorry.”

  “On your way, then,” she said finally, deciding that, what with the fire and the evacuation, there were too many other things to worry about to waste her time on them.

  Col breathed a sigh of relief and put his foot down on the accelerator. The police car sped past, leaving them following slowly in its wake.

  Once Col and Rat had left, Connie felt a huge weight of responsibility lift from her shoulders. She thought she could bear to face anything that might happen to her, but she couldn’t have watched Kullervo torture her friends before her eyes. There was silence between Connie and the shape-shifter as they listened to the boys’ footsteps clattering away on the stairs.

  Satisfied, Companion? grunted the bear, ambling over to her on four paws and nuzzling her again with his velvety black snout. Connie shuddered in revulsion and dodged away. The creature did not seem deterred by her rejection of his touch. I am certain you will not be like the others, Universal. None of them understood me like you do. They all fought to the end—their end—but not you. You will be different.

  Connie said nothing, still standing against the railing.

  Those men from the Society were proud creatures, all of them. They only thought of me as a monster to be destroyed. They did not realize, as I know you do, that humanity is the monster that must be wiped out.

  Bitterly Connie said, So you killed them all—Guy de Chauliac, George Brewer, and I don’t know how many others.

  The bear settled down at her feet, throwing out an arm to hook her away from the edge; so she came to rest between his forepaws like a tiny cub. His warm breath, scented of honey, stirred her hair as he growled softly above her. Yes, there were many. But that is nature’s way. The weak perish; the strong survive. You should not blame me for being what I am. Connie sat tensely in his embrace, trying to control her terror. And you will find that even I can be merciful. I did not kill them all.

  Surprised, Connie turned her head and gazed up at him to see if he was telling the truth. His blazing eyes were shadowed by no lie that she could detect. Are you telling me that you did not kill Guy de Chauliac?

  The bear grunted. Oh no, I killed the universal. He was a feast that could not be resisted. No, I kept alive one who offered only a mouthful, who had no powers for me to consume. He raised his snout and growled a low rumbling summons into the shadows. “Come forward, Companion to Great Bears.”

  Connie heard the tap of a walking stick and the wheeze of halting breath. Out of the darkness stepped an old man, bent under the weight of long years of suffering. He limped forward, trailing a dirty fur cloak on the ground. Several of the fingers that grasped his staff had lost their tips, as if he had once been severely frostbitten. He came to a halt by the bear and bowed.

  “Master,” he said hoarsely. He then raised his gray-skinned face, deeply scored with lines, to peer at Connie. “I am honored to meet you, great-niece.”

  16

  Human Companion

  Col dropped Rat at the top of the High Street, leaving him to dash to the Clamworthys’ house while he puttered on to Shaker Row. The milk truck seemed to be going infuriatingly slowly—only twenty miles an hour downhill—and he was on several occasions tempted to abandon it to continue on foot. But Col knew that in his exhausted state it was quicker to remain where he was.

  The milk bottles rattled and clanked as he turned into the Row. He saw that Evelyn’s car was not parked outside. His heart sank. It looked as if his father was not there. But he had come all this way: he had to check. Leaving the truck outside the gate, he clattered around to the back door.

  “Dad! Dad!” he yelled, bursting into the kitchen.

  “Col! Thank God!” It was not his father who answered but Evelyn.

  Col couldn’t see her anywhere. “Evelyn? Where are you?”

  Evelyn gave a long agonized groan. Col now spotted her doubled up on the floor by the empty fireplace. “It’s the baby. It’s coming. I’ve tried the hospital…” She stopped, another wave of pain hitting her. Col ran over to kneel at her side. “But all the ambulances are at some fire. They’ve called the midwife, but she’s been evacuated from her home. They said they’d try to send a doctor…aargh!” She swore again, waiting for the agony to fade.

  Col did not know what to do first. “Where’s Dad?” he asked quickly.

  “I d
on’t know,” she said, panting hard. “He hasn’t come back. But there’s no time for that. I think it’s almost here. You’ve got to help.”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute,” Col said frantically. He called his home. There was no answer. He called the Mastersons’ and Shirley picked up the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Is my dad there?” he asked without even giving his name. But Shirley knew who it was.

  “Get off the line, Col,” she said angrily. “Don’t you realize there’s an emergency on the moor? I’m running headquarters as everyone else is out there.”

  “Even my dad?”

  “No, not your dad. He left with your gran before the alarm. Now hang up the phone.”

  “Forget the moor, Shirley,” Col hissed so Evelyn wouldn’t hear. “Kullervo’s got Connie at the refinery—that’s the real emergency. Get a message to the others.”

  Col slammed down the phone as Evelyn gave a groan. Glancing between the door and his stepmother, Col struggled with what to do next. Really, there was only one thing he could do. He couldn’t abandon Evelyn, not now.

  Just as Col turned to Evelyn with shaking hands, the back door flew open and the doctor rushed into the kitchen carrying a heavy black bag.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Evelyn,” she said, rushing to her patient’s side. “The hospital switchboard was in chaos—they only just got through to me.”

  Col sighed in relief.

  Many anxious minutes later, Col was the first one to pick up the baby from the cocoon of towels, feeling its warm wetness and the beating of the tiny heart in its chest.

  Assuming that Col would know where everything was, the doctor dispatched him to fetch fresh clothes for Evelyn and those that had been set aside for the infant. After a few false starts, Col dug out one of his father’s nightshirts for Evelyn and then went through to the nursery. Turning on the light, he stood for a moment in silent admiration. Winged horses revolved with dragons in a mobile over the baby’s cradle. The Kraken writhed darkly in the center of the wall. Banshees and wood sprites circled in endless dances across a green field. The room reminded him of Connie’s wall of encounters.

  Connie.

  Grabbing a pile of clothes, he leapt down the stairs two at a time and back into the kitchen.

  “You’ll be okay now, won’t you?” said Col, dumping the clothes beside the startled doctor and dashing to the door. “I’m off to find Dad.”

  Evelyn smiled up contentedly over the black hair of her baby. “Yes, your brother and I will be fine. Thanks, Col.”

  When Col ran out of Number Five, he thought he would have no choice but to drive the milk truck back to Chartmouth, though the chances of getting there in time to be of any help were remote.

  But fortunately, there was a much swifter means of transport waiting for him. He felt a prickle at the back of his neck before he heard the clatter of hooves landing on the tarmac behind him.

  Skylark! he cried, never having felt so relieved to see the pegasus in his life. You’re just in time!

  Skylark trotted forward a few paces so his companion could mount. Where’ve you been, Col? the pegasus asked. I’ve been looking for you all over the moor! It’s a nightmare out there—casualties being ferried back to the Mastersons’, reinforcements arriving from all over the country—I couldn’t get a word of sense out of anyone. Finally, I found Mags, and all he would tell me was that you’d been attacked.

  We were, but there’s no time to explain. Let’s get going.

  Where to? asked Skylark as he began to gallop down Shaker Row to reach take-off speed.

  To the refinery. The bumpy ride was replaced with smooth strokes of wings as Skylark’s hooves left the ground. Kullervo’s got Connie there—or he did a couple of hours ago. Col could not bring himself to imagine what might have happened since. I think Rat, Dad, and the others set off earlier. I hope Shirley passed the message on to the rest of the Society members. The attack on the moor’s a diversion.

  Skylark neighed, shaking damp droplets from his white mane. He had been flying all night scouring each valley and hilltop for his friend and was exhausted, but he found new determination hearing of the threat to the universal. Perhaps Shirley did. I saw Dr. Brock and Argot heading toward Chartmouth some time ago. I wondered what they were up to. But the Trustees and our volunteers were still trying to hold back Kullervo’s army. I feared that he might have you with his forces.

  How are we doing?

  We’re paying a high price—the dragon twins were both injured by that renegade weather giant, Hoo; at least one of the dragons is dead. Six of the rock dwarfs were attacked by stone sprites and have been reduced to rubble—it’s terrible. I couldn’t see any more, but I know that scores are being treated by Kira and Windfoal at the farm. They could do with the universal’s help right now.

  Connie can’t help—she might not even be alive. Oh, Skylark! Col stopped speaking, his thoughts choked off by the grip of fear.

  They were now flying over Mallins Wood. Before them, Col could see great plumes of black smoke rising into the gray dawn sky. The blue and red lights of the emergency vehicles flashed below: there were at least twenty vehicles parked haphazardly in front of the fire. A fringe of gold flame blazed on the tops of the two drum containers like twin volcanoes on the verge of erupting.

  Where can we land? wondered Skylark, looking down at all the humans scurrying like ants around a burning nest.

  In no-man’s land, said Col, steering him around the curtain of cloud. There’s another way in. I bet that’s where Rat would’ve taken everyone.

  Col was right. When they landed not far from the hole in the fence, they found a small knot of people and creatures gathered outside the perimeter. All looked grim. Mack was talking earnestly to Rat, Col’s grandmother, Mrs. Khalid, and Liam; Dr. Brock was huddled in the middle of a group of four that included Simon, a Nemean lion, an Amalthean goat, and a great snake. Omar Khalid was standing just inside the fence, arms raised like a conductor, directing the activities of six sylphs who were busy keeping the smoke wall intact to hide their presence, as well as blowing the poisonous fumes away. Argot stood guard in front of Omar, his emerald eyes fixed on the prowling presence of the chimera, which was striding in the middle of the empty parking lot, jaws open in a mad grin, ready to pounce on anyone who tried to reach the door. Not that any human could have survived in there now: smoke, accompanied by the occasional belch of flame, issued from the building. Col felt sick. He could see at a glance that there was no sign of Connie among the little band of Society members.

  Mack strode over and gave his son a clumsy embrace as Col dismounted. “Are you all right? What kept you?”

  Mrs. Clamworthy swooped on her grandson and gave him a trembling hug.

  “I’ll tell you later,” said Col quickly to Mack. This did not seem the moment to break the news of the new arrival. “What’s the plan?”

  Mack sighed. He looked wrung out with anxiety. “There’s been no sign of Connie or Kullervo. The stone sprites scuttled away about ten minutes ago—they were blocking our path, too, and we hadn’t worked out a way past them. Now we’ve got just the chimera to deal with and the fire. And Kullervo,” he added as an afterthought.

  Col was on the verge of asking if Mack thought there was any hope, but he bit his tongue, knowing it was pointless. They had to continue as if there was still a chance Connie could be saved. Instead he asked, “So, what first?”

  “The chimera,” replied Mack. He turned to Dr. Brock. “Ready?”

  The doctor nodded and, steering Simon by the arm, ducked through the wire mesh. The three companions followed: the lion, a magnificent tawny giant with a mane of black fur; the goat, who was of a size to match the lion, with a white, silky fleece and great curling horns; the snake, as thick as a tree trunk and at least sixty feet long by the time it had unfurled to wriggle through the fence. Dr. Brock said some final words to Simon, who nodded and took five paces forward. The three companions clos
ed ranks around him, the snake coiling protectively around his feet, the lion at his right shoulder, the goat at his left.

  The chimera stopped prowling and gathered itself for a roar of challenge. Who were these who dared to invade its territory? No one in the little group of four companions flinched, though Col put his hands over his ears at the deafening, hated sound of that creature’s voice. Simon closed his eyes—the last thing Col would’ve done standing within an easy bound of the chimera—and raised his arms to touch the silky fleece of the goat and the rough pelt of the lion. The snake’s tongue flickered across his shoes.

  Then, slowly, Simon raised his right hand and pointed it directly at the chimera.

  The chimera leapt backward as though it had been struck and gave an angry bellow. The attempt to bond with it, to command its obedience, seemed to send it further into madness. Horrified, fearful for Simon’s safety, Col watched the chimera shake its lion-head in agony, the snake tail lashing, hooves sparking on the tarmac like flashes from flint. Desperate to end the voices now speaking in its head, the creature leapt toward Simon, attempting to silence the source of this suffering. With reflexes of lightning, the Nemean lion pounced to intercept, knocked the chimera sideways, and came to rest with his two great paws on the chimera’s chest. At the same instant, the great snake slid forward and swiftly curled itself around the chimera’s tail before it could sink its fangs into the lion. Joining the melee, the Amalthean goat galloped forward and stamped on the kicking, struggling hooves. The creature now pinioned, Simon walked calmly to the head of the beast.

  “Don’t forget its fire!” Col breathed, while he watched amazed at Simon’s courage.

  But Simon wasn’t concerned that he would receive a blast of flames for his trouble: he sensed, as no one else could, the change within his companion creature. It had recognized the superior strength of the king of lions; the tail was curled in fraternal embrace with a far greater snake; even the goat stopped struggling hysterically as it realized that neither flight nor fight would save it.