Behind her, Connie heard the thump of Morjik leaping over the shaft, closely followed by the muffled clip-clop of Windfoal and Skylark. Morjik’s ruff of scales scraped on the uneven ceiling: he had to slither along on his belly to get through the passageways.
“I hope it’s not much further,” Col whispered to Connie on her other side. “If your bodyguard carries on like this, I’m not sure there’ll be much left of the dragons by the time we’ve squeezed our way in.”
“Almost there, Companion to Pegasi,” boomed Sentinel.
Col could have kicked himself for forgetting about the acute hearing of the minotaur.
Sentinel turned a final corner and put his shoulder against a pair of wooden doors with rusted hinges. They creaked slowly open, grating on the floor, revealing the minotaur’s sparkling chamber lit with a roaring fire. Smoke curled up to the ceiling and out through a hidden channel to the surface, where the wind turbines were slowly revolving in the light breeze. All of the mine-dwellers were gathered, waiting for their guests.
Connie, Col, the Trustees, and the members of the Chartmouth Chapter of the Society filed in. For many it was the first time in the mine, and they stared around at the maimed creatures, uncertain of what they should do, looking to someone to lead them. Mrs. Clamworthy, bringing up the rear on Gard’s arm, clucked her tongue irritably.
“Well, sit down in your places, all of you,” she said, ushering Jessica Moss and Shirley Masterson forward. Gard helped her over to the water sprites positioned at the northerly point of the chamber and she placed herself among them, greeting them with the low murmuring song of her companion species. The other members rapidly got the right idea and split off into their respective companies, leaving Connie, Col, Rat, Sentinel, and the Trustees standing in the center of the room.
“Okay, Connie?” said Col.
“Yes, this time,” she smiled back. “You go and sit down.”
“Okey-dokey,” said Rat, and he pulled Col after him to take their places.
Kinga put her arm around Connie’s shoulders and held up her hand for silence.
“Friends,” she began, looking up at the minotaur, “welcome all, especially to those who have been estranged from the Society for too long. We are here this evening to set the record straight. We have an apology to make to our universal. The Society has not treated her well over the last few months, failing to nurture her gift and help her in her need. However, the Trustees also recognize that not all of us were guilty in this respect—Connie is blessed with many loyal friends—and you risked much to go against the Society’s rules. Thank you.”
A murmur went around the chamber. Captain Graves shook his head doubtfully.
“Firstly, I wish you all to know that the investigation by the Trustee responsible for the Company of the Elementals has revealed the truth of what happened in the two most recent storms. My colleague will take up the story for me from here.”
Kinga nodded to Mr. Coddrington. He stepped forward, his shoulders hunched, head down, and pulled out a file from his briefcase. Connie wondered what was coming: she could not imagine Mr. Coddrington ever saying anything to her advantage.
“My investigation—” Mr. Coddrington was barely audible.
“Speak up!” bellowed Erik Ulvsen from among the Elementals.
Mr. Coddrington cleared his throat awkwardly. “My investigation has shown that the snowstorm in early January was caused by a weather giant. The same weather giant was responsible for a serious breach of the universal’s defenses last Friday night with the grave consequences we all witnessed. The universal is cleared of any blame for either incident. The weather giant has been suspended from the Society until such time as it can be established whether he was acting alone or on the orders of Kullervo. Unfortunately, he has not been available for questioning.”
“Come on, man,” shouted Mack from the Sea Snakes’ group. “It’s clear the creature’s a traitor. Why else would he create the snowstorm? Someone must’ve put him up to it.”
Mr. Coddrington was silent, shuffling his papers and pretending he had not heard the intervention. Col glanced over at Connie: she was gazing at the Trustee, biting her bottom lip. He could tell that she knew something, and he thought he could guess what it was.
“Perhaps Mr. Coddrington might like to tell us what he was doing on the night of the snowstorm?” Col called out. Connie flicked her gaze over to him. He knew from her expression that he had guessed correctly. “I think Connie’s already said that Kullervo was not present at the time. Someone else who knew that the other Trustees were arriving may’ve wanted her to look bad before her appeal.”
An angry muttering broke out in the chamber.
“Shame on you, Coddrington!” Mr. Masterson said loudly from the back rows of the Two-Fours.
Mr. Coddrington still did not look up, but his fingers were now frozen on the page he was holding. He coughed.
“In view of the suspension of my former companion, Hoo, I will naturally be relinquishing my post as Trustee. New elections will be held in due course.” He looked to Kinga. “Is that all?”
Kinga nodded. “You can go.”
Dismissed, Mr. Coddrington slunk away to the back rows of the Elementals. The greeting he received there was far from ecstatic, and he was left sitting on his own with a large gap between him and his nearest neighbor. Icefen sneezed in his direction, coating his jacket in frosty droplets.
“Would the universal like to say anything?” Kinga asked.
Connie nodded. “I’d just like to thank everyone for risking so much to help me on Friday night. I know not all of you even liked me—”
“It’s not a question of liking!” broke in Captain Graves. “We like you well enough. We were just damned scared of you!” Many heads nodded. “You were always so mysterious.”
Connie looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously together. Col feared for a moment that she had lost the courage to speak out, but then she raised her head and looked directly at Captain Graves.
“If you want the truth, Captain, I’m more afraid of myself than any of you can possibly be. But what do you expect me to do about it? I am what I am, and I have to live with that—good and bad. I s’pose you’d better learn to live with it, too.”
Erik startled everyone by suddenly letting out a howl of delight as his pack leader asserted her position as top dog. Rat, Icefen, and the great wolves joined in so that the cave resounded with their cries. Captain Graves’s chin was up, his eyes glittering, but Col could tell from the amused curve of his lips that his mentor was impressed by the universal’s spirit.
Connie held up her hand for silence. The howls faded.
“And as for being mysterious, I think I’ve been the most open of us recently. After all, you’ve been trampling across my mind—you can hardly say you don’t know me now.”
“I think,” said Dr. Brock rising to his feet, “that it’s about time the Chartmouth Chapter—and the Society at large, of course—accepts that we are not just here for Elementals and Sea Snakes, High Flyers and Two-Fours, we are also here for the Company of the Universals. It’s a small, select company admittedly,”—his eyes twinkled at Connie—“but one with as much right to be here as any of us.” He directed a significant look at Ivor Coddrington. “This may involve a few painful changes to our way of doing things—we might, for example, have to think of a new way to mentor our trainee universal, as clearly there is no one-to-one option here—but we must embrace these changes and not blame the universal for challenging our old habits.”
“The Trustees entirely agree with you, Francis,” said Kinga. “As a practical expression of this, Gard has volunteered to be Connie’s chief mentor responsible for her progress. Are you happy with this, Connie?”
Connie nodded. She looked over to where Gard was sitting beside the rock dwarf with the cracked head. He raised his mallet in salute.
“And our friend Sentinel has volunteered to organize full-time protection for the universal t
o prevent any farther attacks by Kullervo from inside or out. Are you content with this, Connie?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling up at the minotaur.
“Then that is all we have to say for now,” said Kinga, moving to signal the conclusion of the meeting.
“No, it’s not all,” said Connie quickly, gesturing around the room. “What about our friends here who need healing?”
Kinga paused, her face in doubt. “We want to help, but what can we do for them?”
The minotaur grunted. “I have told you, Trustee. It is she who can help us, not you.”
“No, you’re wrong, Sentinel,” said Connie. “I now finally understand what I must do. It was Friday night that taught me this. The universal has no power of her own. I can only channel or borrow yours. With my help, you can heal one another. You just have to work as one—as a pack, dare I say.” She smiled at the wolves.
“But can you do this?” asked Kinga cautiously. “Can you sustain so many bonds at one time? You did something similar once, I know, for Morjik, but there were only four creatures in that bond.”
“I did it on Friday night to save myself; surely I can do it today to save others?” Connie sat down at Sentinel’s feet. She felt a new confidence, a right to tell them what to do as she knew instinctively it would work. “Join with me, please. We are going to use the sword.”
There was a brief flurry of activity as creatures and people settled themselves for concentration, then the room fell silent. In Connie’s mind, however, there was a rush of wings and a stampede of feet as beasts and beings approached from all sides. Throwing out silvery ribbon-like links to all, Connie stood at the center of a wheel, its glistening spokes revolving slowly around her. With a sweeping gesture of her hand, the ribbons began to twist around one another, like the strips of metal forged together by a blacksmith into a steel sword. Each took strength from the other. The sword set to work. Water sprites filtered through the rocky layers of the dwarves, emerging pristine and sparkling. Wood sprites received the nurturing touch of water, sprouting new limbs and healing wounds in their bark. The power of roots crumbled the edges of cracks in the stone and carved new beautiful faces for the rock dwarves. Winged beasts found forgetfulness for past hurts in the frost wolf’s breath. Each creature found another with the gift to meet its need; all were able to help in the healing.
The task complete, with a deft twist of her arm the sword unraveled, each connection unfurling back to single ribbons, stretching to Connie like strings on a maypole. Casting these into the air, Connie ended the encounter, allowing the links to flutter gently to the ground.
There was complete silence in the chamber. Connie sat slumped forward, head bowed in exhaustion.
“You did it!” exclaimed Sentinel. “You healed us!”
Connie sat up, shaking her hair back. “No, we did it. You all healed each other.”
This distinction was lost on the jubilant creatures who now poured out of their places at the edge of the circle and crowded around Connie, touching her hand, stroking her hair, showing off their restored bodies to her. The minotaur had to lift her onto his shoulder to prevent her from being swamped by an over-enthusiastic group of water sprites.
Connie looked down into his face and saw that his eye was still clouded.
“But your eye,” she said, disappointed, “that’s not healed?”
The minotaur shook his head. “No, but I am. I was healed the moment you gave me back my name. What is one blind eye? I am whole and proud to be your Sentinel.”
Over among the Two-Fours, Col sensed that the bond had brought healing, too, to Skylark’s bruised feelings about the wind farm. It was time to move on. So Col was delighted to see his companion spontaneously trot over to Icefen and stand at his shoulder in a gesture of friendship. Rat fondled the pegasus’s nose and made the introduction. Col was about to join them when Captain Graves tapped him on the back. He turned reluctantly from the scenes of celebration to his mentor.
“That’s one fine girl over there, my boy,” Captain Graves said, nodding at Connie. “I hope you didn’t listen to me and go and jilt her?”
“I didn’t,” Col said with a grin at Rat. “I’m not that stupid.”
JULIA GOLDING grew up on the edge of Epping Forest near London. After studying English at Cambridge University, she joined the Foreign Office and served in Poland. Her work as a diplomat took her from the Tatra Mountains to the bottom of a Silesian coal mine. She later joined Oxfam as a lobbyist on conflict issues, campaigning at the United Nations and with governments to lessen the impact of war on civilians living in war zones.
Married with three children, Julia Golding now lives in Oxford, England, and works as a freelance writer. Mines of the Minotaur is the third book in her eco-fantasy series, The Companions Quartet. The first two books are Secret of the Sirens and The Gorgon’s Gaze. Her first novel, The Diamond of Drury Lane, received the Nestlé Children’s Book Prize and the Ottakar’s Children’s Book Prize in the U.K.
Julia Golding, Mines of the Minotaur
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