“Wait!” she warned, increasing her grip as Connie began to step down.
Out of the darkness came a midnight blue pegasus. It stopped by the side of the open van.
Mount, Kullervo said.
Connie tried to clamber onto the back of the beast, hampered by her weakness and tied hands. She slid back, falling between the pegasus and the door so that her foot would have reached ground had Cassandra not hauled her roughly up by her belt.
Help her, Kullervo ordered, angered by this near miss.
Cassandra none too gently pushed Connie up onto his back, making sure that this time Connie’s legs were firmly astride before she retreated back into the van.
Hold on with your knees, Universal, and grip my mane. We are going for a little ride.
Taking advantage of the quiet road, Kullervo galloped down the carriageway and soon he was striding in the air, climbing steeply. Fearfully, Connie looked down at the lights twinkling below and wondered what would happen if she simply slid off. Would such a death be better than the fate that he had in store for her?
You will not do it. Kullervo laughed softly. He now had free access to Connie’s mind and could hear all her thoughts. You love life too much. Connie knew he was right. She gripped tighter with her knees, her muscles already complaining.
You are tired, Companion, said Kullervo, with a hint of tenderness as they dropped through a damp cloud. Since she had become his prisoner, he had come to care for her like a prized possession. Connie could sense how he gloated over her and watched her covetously.
I am not your companion.
Oh, but you are. You have no choice. We were made for each other; our partnership is as inevitable as the sea cleaving to the moon, following with its tides. I am your moon, Connie. You see me as dark and hateful; you do not understand the true potential of our bond. Come, my universal, glimpse what we can be together!
Connie let out a piercing scream. In mid-flight Kullervo was changing form. The beast she had been sitting on melted away like a cloud dispersed by the wind, and she began to tumble to the earth. Kullervo swirled, shapeless, around her, slowing her fall. She struck out with her legs, trying to swim up through this matter as if it were water, but it was taking form once more and she was caught in the beak of a griffin, its lion’s tail beating the air behind its pinions as it continued to fly south toward the sea. She felt sick with fright and swung there helplessly, too shocked to feel anything but terror.
Kullervo laughed. You do not yet like this game? But have no fear, I will not let you fall. Embrace the changes! Join the dance of the air! His shape shifted once more and Connie fell from the beak back into the blue-black mist that mingled with the night sky. She closed her eyes tight, desperate to shut out this nightmare. But she was not plummetingto the ground—she was being spun like a twig borne along on the surface of a stream. Realizing she need no longer be afraid of tumbling to earth, she floated free, allowing Kullervo to support her, twist and turn her in the air as his essence regrouped into another form, that of a dragon with a long whipping tail. He nimbly caught her in his talons, then tossed her to the sky again as he turned into a phoenix with trailing black feathers. Falling to rest on the downy back, Connie sensed the exhilaration that coursed through his being, running into her veins, rekindling her exhausted soul. Kullervo relished his mastery of form, craved to experience all life to the very marrow of each being he became, rejoiced to conquer the secrets of creation by learning to assume its shape.
So why do you not like us? Connie asked, confused by this glimpse into his nature. She had not thought that he had delight in anything but destruction.
The joy of the game burst like a soap bubble, and the phoenix reverted swiftly to its pegasus form, intent once more on its business.
Humans are a mistake, Kullervo said shortly.
The pegasus began to circle around as he descended toward the wood. Connie peered over his neck to see the lights of Hescombe below her.
What are we doing here? she asked, not expecting a reply, but to her surprise he was ready with an answer.
Tomorrow, men will start to rip up this forest, but you are going to stop them, he replied.
How? she asked, fearing what would come next.
You have a choice, Companion. You can aid me by channeling my power so that the work is stopped for good. I had thought that I could shift into a gorgon, and we could turn the concrete spreaders to stone—a most fitting end, do you not think? He gave a rumbling whinny of laughter. No? You will not do that? I did not think so. I know you now, Universal. You will not aid me willingly until all else is lost. I must make you see that that point has come.
If you do not choose to help me today, then you must take the second course of action. The Society will do anything to save you—not only out of concern for you but to stop you from becoming what they fear. You should be sufficient bait to bring them out of hiding.
But why do you want this? Connie gasped as she began to understand his mind.
Open battle between mythical creatures before the eyes of the world—it will destroy the Society. They will be forced to kill other mythical creatures in defense of you and these road builders. Think what that will mean! The Society will be exposed for the human-centered sham that it is—prepared to kill us to protect the fellers of trees. Mythical creatures will leave in droves. They will join me, and then I will be strong enough to take on you humans. After that, the battle will be between us and humanity—we stand a far better chance of survival in open warfare than in this game of hide and seek we have been playing for centuries, thanks to the Society. And when those two sides are lined up facing each other, I know that you will then join us, as you love the world too much to let it be eradicated by your fellow men. You will then be a willing channel for my power and put an end to all this for good.
You’re wrong, said Connie bitterly.
No, Companion, I am right. I know you better than you know yourself. The pegasus descended steeply. The tops of the trees were now only a few feet below. Prepare yourself! He gave her only a moment’s warning then shifted shape into an eagle, Connie still clinging to his neck as mane turned to feathers in the numb fingers of her bound hands. The eagle spiraled and landed at the top of a tall oak tree.
Welcome to Merlin’s oak, he cackled.
15
Michaelmas
As gray light grew on the horizon, the sun muffled behind low clouds, Col and Skylark landed on the moor at the place where the forces of the Society had gathered. Wisps of mist curled around the pegasus’s legs. Everything was wrapped in this veil of uncertainty, hiding the ranks of creatures from view. All Col could glimpse was the occasional bout of flame from the waiting dragons and the movement of shadowy figures passing to and fro across the rough ground.
“Did you spot us from overhead?” Dr. Brock asked as he strode toward them out of the fog.
“No,” Col replied, sliding off Skylark.
“Good, that means Coddrington’s giant is doing a good job. Some mist—but not too much: that’s what we asked for. So, Col, why are you here?”
Dr. Brock gave Col an anxious look. Among his other worries, he had been concerned that Col had not recovered from his ordeal.
“You know you can’t fight, don’t you?”
Col nodded. “I don’t want to fight,” he said quietly.
“Well, you’d better get yourself off home then.”
Col took a deep breath. “I think this is a trap. I’m convinced it is. Kullervo’s trying to lure you out to rescue Connie. It’s the way he thinks. He’s a hunter. He used me as the bait to catch her. I’m sure he’s trying to do the same again.”
Dr. Brock gave his words careful consideration, not wanting Col to think he was dismissing him without due thought. “But there is an important difference this time. You were no use to him other than as bait, but Connie’s another story. He’s got what he wanted—he’s got Connie. He doesn’t need to set any further traps. All he has to do no
w is work on her until she gives in to him.”
“But we both know that she won’t!” Col clenched his fists by his side.
“We don’t know that for certain,” said Dr. Brock. “You said yourself he had a power to make you do his will.”
“I know, but I trust her. I mean I trust in her. I think she won’t allow him to take over her as he was able to take over me. I was taken by ambush; she’ll fight every inch of the way with him. She won’t have given in—not yet.”
“What are you saying, Col?” Something of Col’s determined belief in Connie was being transmitted to Dr. Brock. Looking at the boy, he felt ashamed that he had begun to question his own judgment about Connie in the face of the Trustees’ doubts.
“I’m saying that if she hasn’t given in—which she hasn’t—then Kullervo won’t be able to use her powers today. He’s here for another reason—he’s here to bring all of this out into the open—to force us to fight him.” Col waved his hand at the creatures swathed in the friendly mist.
“Come with me,” Dr. Brock said, clapping a hand on Col’s back and steering him into the heart of the fog. “I have a terrible feeling you may be right.”
The Trustees were gathered around a wizened thorn tree that dripped with dew, listening to Col, Skylark, Dr. Brock, and Argot. Only Gard’s companion, Frederick Coney, was absent; he was now too frail to take active part in Society meetings.
Kira shivered and huddled closer to Windfoal.
“So, Col, you are saying that we are walking into a trap. But what I want to know is what choice do we have? There is no other way. We must use the forces we have to prevent worse harm.”
Col had spent the night thinking about this, too.
“It might come to that,” he said, meeting Kira’s dark brown eyes steadily, “but I think we should try something else first.”
“What?” grunted Gard, swinging his hammer impatiently at the ground.
“The unexpected. I think we should try to rescue Connie without Kullervo realizing what’s happening. If he’s got her in the wood, then we need to get in there, too, find her, and bring her out.”
“Yes, but how?” asked Kinga, leaning against Morjik’s warm shoulder and yawning with fatigue. None of the dragon riders had slept for days, so intensive had been their search for Connie. “How will you get past his spies?”
“I have an idea about that. All I need is Skylark, Argand, and Godiva Lionheart, if she’ll help.”
“Argand? Why do you need the golden dragon?” Kinga asked sharply, her tiredness evaporating as she sprang to defend one of her own companion species.
“She’s Connie’s companion so she’ll be able to sense her; she’s small so she’ll be able to go places Skylark and I can’t; and besides, she wants to come.”
A small golden snout peeped out from behind Argot’s tail, eyes blinking shyly at the company.
“I don’t know about Godiva,” said Dr. Brock frowning. “She wouldn’t say what she thought when I left her at the Mastersons’. Are you sure you need her?”
“Well, it would be useful to have a wood sprite companion if I’m searching in Mallins Wood for Connie. I could do it without her, but…”
“I’ll see if I can persuade her. It would be a big step for her if she agrees.”
All that was needed now was the go-ahead from the Trustees. Col saw them exchange doubtful looks. Only Eagle-Child and Storm-Bird appeared convinced as they nodded guardedly at each other.
“Look, just give me until noon—if Kullervo hasn’t launched his own attack before then. After that, send in your troops if you must.” There was a new tone to Col’s voice this morning. It commanded respect from the adults listening to him. There was a pause and in that moment of quiet, like a shift in the direction of the wind, the balance imperceptibly tipped in his favor.
“You have our permission to try,” said Kinga gravely.
“Not so fast!” Mack Clamworthy strode into the ring. Hearing that his son was in the camp and suspecting he would think of doing something rash to save his friend, Mack had been listening to all that had passed from the far side of the thorn tree. “I’m not letting my son run off into danger on his own!”
“Then you’ll just have to come with me, won’t you, Dad?” Col grinned.
Anneena was interrupted at breakfast by a knock at the back door. Her mother opened it to discover Col and Mack standing on the step. Mack was looking awkwardly into the mid-distance, but Col seemed untroubled by arriving unannounced at such an early hour.
“Are you feeling better now, Col?” Mrs. Nuruddin asked, stepping back to let them in. “I do hope so. Anneena’s been so anxious about you—and now there’s Connie to worry about.”
“I’m okay, thanks,” Col said. “Hi, Anneena.”
“Hi, Col,” she replied, putting down the piece of toast and staring at him in wonder. “What’s up? Not Connie, is it?”
“Sorry, no. It’s just that Dad and I, we’ve changed our minds—at least, I have. We want to be in the pageant this morning, if it’s not too late.”
“Do we?” exclaimed Mack. This was news to him.
Anneena looked delighted. “That’d be great. I’ve got just the costume for you, Col. But I’m not sure about your father.” She looked pensively at the broad-shouldered man towering over Col.
“Well, in that case, perhaps I could just watch—” Mack began.
“No, you won’t,” Col hissed fiercely. “If you want to be there, you’ve got to come in costume.”
Anneena looked at them in puzzlement as they exchanged terse words in an undertone. Finally, Mack nodded and turned back to her.
“Okay, darling, I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
Anneena winced at the “darling” but let it pass. “In that case, you’ll have to make do with the only man’s costume I’ve got left. Even so, it might be a bit small.”
“Lead on, fair damsel,” Mack said with a mocking bow, but Col was too preoccupied even to groan at his father’s behavior.
Ten minutes later, Col clanked back into the kitchen, dressed in a shiny suit of lightweight armor. It had a chinking hauberk that fell to his knees, a gleaming breast-plate and helm, topped by a scarlet plume. Anneena came in from the garden shed carrying a scabbard and a small shield emblazoned with a golden lion, which she handed to him.
“That looks great, Col,” she said, “a perfect fit. But what are you going to do for a horse? Isn’t your friend Rat riding Mags? He’s going as a page—or so I thought.”
“I’ve borrowed another horse. Do you have something I can use as a horse-cloth? In the pictures I’ve seen, these medieval chargers always wore the colors of their knights.”
Anneena was pleased to see Col entering into the spirit of the pageant. “Yes, you’re right. Some of the other riders have them, too. I think we’ve got some material left. Should I put it on your horse for you?”
“No,” Col said quickly, “that won’t be necessary.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
“I’m glad you’ve changed your mind,” Anneena said after a few moments, “but it’s not the same without Connie.”
“No, it’s not. But perhaps she’ll turn up today. I’ve got a feeling she won’t miss the pageant.” He cleared his throat. “What’s keeping Dad, I wonder? Perhaps he can’t get into his armor?”
“It can’t be that,” Anneena said with a smile, “I didn’t give him armor.”
“Dad, hurry up!” Col called out.
There was the sound of a door opening somewhere overhead and the scuff of soft shoes on the stairs. The first thing Col saw was a yellow point of a hat, followed by two red ones, and he could now hear the faint jingling of bells. As Mack turned into the hallway, Col saw that his father was looking both furious and embarrassed. He was wearing the red-and-yellow costume of a medieval court jester.
“I’m not wearing this thing in public,” Mack said angrily as he shuffled into the kitchen.
“I�
�m sorry,” said Anneena, though she could not suppress a grin, “but it’s all I’ve got left.”
“There’s no time to argue, Dad,” said Col. “If you still want to come with me, it’ll have to do. No one will notice when you’re part of the procession.”
“Oh, won’t they?” Mack said with deep skepticism.
“Have you borrowed a horse as well, Mr. Clamworthy?” Anneena asked pleasantly, changing the subject.
“Yeah, an old nag from Mr. Masterson. That was all that was left, too,” Mack said gloomily. “A right pair we’ll make.”
“Come on, Dad, we’ve got to get back to the horses.” Col picked up the sword and shield. “We’ll meet you at the beach, Anneena.”
“We’re gathering at nine-thirty,” she called after him. “You’ve got an hour.”
The motorbike driven by a jester with a knight riding behind him made an interesting spectacle for the morning commuters as it zoomed through Hescombe back to the farm. A number of cars honked, but most drivers just stared open-mouthed, wondering if Mack Clamworthy had finally cracked.
“Utter humiliation,” were Mack’s first words as he dismounted by the stables. “I’ll never be able to live this one down.”
“This isn’t about you,” Col said unsympathetically as he shook out the bundle of cloth Anneena had given him, “this is about saving Connie.”
Col fastened the swathes of scarlet at the pegasus’s withers and stood back to look at the effect. Skylark’s wings were hidden but there were two strange bulges on either side of the horse that even the cloth could not camouflage.
“What are you going to do about a saddle?” Mack asked. Col never used one when riding Skylark.
“Do without, of course,” Col replied. “I s’pose I could always claim that those are saddle bags under the cloth if anyone asks.”
Mack looked doubtful and Skylark whinnied angrily.
What is wrong with my wings? the pegasus asked huffily, nudging Col with his nose.
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