by Lari Don
Molly still hadn’t forced any creatures into the sea. But she was keeping one at bay with her torch. By thrusting the flames at the nuckelavee’s skinless chest and single eye, she’d pushed it two more steps towards the gently fizzing surf.
Suddenly another nuckelavee, behind her, started flinging its fists at her.
She ducked down.
The nuckelavee she’d been attacking took a step forward. She stood up and jabbed at its face again. It screamed hoarsely and stepped back.
Then a fist slammed into her shoulder from behind and she stumbled forward. Another fist hit her in the ribcage and she fell to the side.
Molly whirled round with the flames, trying to drive both nuckelavee away from her. She jabbed at the one nearest the sea again, yelling, “Get back!”
“Move up the beach,” yelled their leader. “The one in the cloak is the most dangerous. Knock him down first, then mop up the rest.”
Molly thrust her torch at the nuckelavee near the sea, but it didn’t move. It just lifted both arms and brought both fists hurtling down towards her head.
She fell to the ground and rolled out of the way. She banged against the flippered legs of the other nuckelavee and slashed her burning torch against its bare flesh. It roared and stepped out of the way.
Another fist swung down and crunched against her thigh. Her leg went numb and she knew she wouldn’t be able to put weight on it yet. She held tightly to the torch and kept stabbing upwards with the fiery end.
She could see another nuckelavee dangling from a pale silver hook, so Theo was continuing to use his magic. But there were still a larger number of nuckelavee on the sand than in the water. Molly’s thigh started to hurt, the numbness fading, so she tried to stand up.
Suddenly she was rising through the air, even though she hadn’t found her feet yet.
She was being lifted off the sand by the large damp fingers of a nuckelavee, one hand clamped round her left ankle, one hand clamped round her left shoulder. She waved her torch around, but the other nuckelavee grabbed her right arm and twisted. She dropped the torch.
Molly was lifted towards the first nuckelavee’s mouth.
She jerked and wriggled, but the nuckelavee tightened its fists.
She twisted round to look at the wide-open mouth: dark and stinking, with two long sharp guillotine-like blades embedded in the fleshy gums.
“Don’t eat her whole,” a voice yelled from the sea. “She has the rainbow-maker. Just bite a bit off!”
“Which bit will I bite?”
“The hands,” said the other monster beside her. “The hands that waved the fire.”
Molly bunched her fists and struggled to hide both hands behind her back.
“Or the head. They can’t do much once you remove their heads. And the skulls are nice and crunchy.”
Molly screamed as the nuckelavee adjusted its grip and brought her face closer to its skinless jaws.
She swung her right fist up and whacked the nuckelavee in its single eye. It yelled, a gust of salty breath blowing over her face.
She punched again and jerked her whole body violently at the same time.
The nuckelavee loosened its grip.
And her shoulder slid out of its fingers. Now she was dangling by one leg from its other huge hand.
She couldn’t punch its face again, but as she hung upside down, she could stretch her arm to reach her dropped torch. It was burning feebly on the damp sand, spluttering and dying. Which was just as well, because Molly couldn’t reach the handle of the torch, she could only reach the burning end.
Molly lunged at the torch, grabbed the glowing end, gasped at the pain in her fingers, swept it off the sand, threw it up and caught the cool end as it fell.
She waved the torch gently in the air, to get oxygen to the fire and encourage it to burn brightly again.
Then she raised the torch and burnt her own leg. She aimed the flame at her own ankle, where the nuckelavee was gripping her tight.
It howled and dropped her.
She leapt to her feet and whipped the torch hard at the nuckelavee’s injured eye. She ignored the fists pummelling her back and struck again and again, until the nuckelavee lifted its hands to protect its face and toppled into the sea.
Molly turned to see the other nuckelavee swinging its fists at her.
She didn’t have the energy to do all that again, so she backed away.
Glancing over her bruised shoulder, she saw Theo leaning against Beth, with Atacama and Innes using their fast feet to keep three attacking nuckelavee off him.
Molly ran towards them, aware that she was bringing another attacker to the party, but unable to defend herself much longer. She saw rips in Theo’s cloak, blood running down his face and a small silver hook dangling at an unconvincing angle beside him.
“Stop now, Theo,” said Beth. “Let us do the rest.”
His head dropped down and the hook vanished.
Molly stabbed her torch at a nuckelavee’s hand as it swung towards Theo’s neck.
The nuckelavee jerked back, then laughed. “Your fire won’t last for ever.”
Molly knew it was right. The flames were smaller, the wood was shorter, and her burnt hand and leg were stinging.
Theo whispered, “I can’t hook any more of them, but they don’t know that. If they still think I’m the main threat, perhaps I can get them into the sea another way…”
He pulled himself up, waved his hand to create a pale shadow of a hook above his head and shouted, “Come and get me.”
Then Theo walked between Innes’s hooves and Atacama’s claws, and staggered down the beach. Right into the sea.
The nearest nuckelavee stepped after him, following him into the waves.
“NO!” yelled their leader. “No! You idiot!”
But another nuckelavee had already reached out to try to grab Theo, and stumbled into the sea.
Which left only two monsters on the beach, looking confused, being yelled at by the nuckelavee in the water, being kicked and slashed and burnt in a sudden burst of energy from the kelpie and sphinx and torch-bearers on the beach.
In a flurry of hooves, claws and sparks, they drove the remaining nuckelavee into the sea.
Now, all fifteen of their attackers were trapped in the salt water.
But so was Theo.
Chapter Sixteen
Theo stood, bruised and thin-faced, in the water. Fifteen meat-coloured nuckelavee gathered round him.
Molly saw their arm muscles tense and dark blood rush through their veins, as they crashed their fists together.
The leader said, “Don’t eat him yet, he could be useful.” Then it turned to the group on the beach. “Now we have a hostage. Give us the snake’s fang and we’ll give you the boy. Otherwise we’ll each take a bite out of him, and let the fish have what’s left.”
Innes, who’d changed back to his human form as soon as all the nuckelavee were in the water, answered, “Do what you want with him. We don’t like him anyway.”
“I’m not bluffing,” said the nuckelavee. “We will devour him, unless you give me the rainbow-maker.”
Innes folded his arms. “I’m not bluffing either. That boy is dangerous, irritating and a threat to my position. I’ll happily watch you eat him.”
Beth said, “But Innes, you can’t—”
“If you’re feeling squeamish, you flimsy little dryad, close your eyes or turn your back.”
“Innes, I won’t—”
Molly grabbed Beth’s elbow and whispered, “Shut up! If you stop and think for even a second, you know Innes doesn’t mean it. You know he has a plan. Stop distracting him.”
Innes nodded at the nuckelavee. “Go on. What are you waiting for?”
The leader scowled. “This is your last chance. Give me the rainbow-maker and I’ll spare the boy.”
“But I want the rainbow-maker and I don’t want the boy.”
The nuckelavee shrugged, its muscles squirming on its shoulders.
“This will disappoint our employer, who was very keen to get that fang. But the boy does look tasty, so who’s hungry?”
Fourteen nuckelavee raised their knobbly fists.
Theo, who was standing straight with his hands flat on the surface of the gently moving water, murmured, “No. Wait. Please.”
He lifted one of his wet hands and splashed sea water on his face. Then he sighed. “Oh Innes, how can you be so cruel? After all we’ve meant to each other? After all that teamwork, all those kind words, all those oaths of lifelong friendship? How can you treat me this way?”
His voice was soft and trembling. His eyes were wide and pleading. And both his hands were flat on the surface of the sea again.
Innes laughed. “Oh Theo, you know I never liked you and your fancy magic tricks, and you know I’m never going to swap this old toy for your life.”
At a signal from their leader, the nuckelavee reached towards Theo.
Molly unzipped her pocket, wondering if she’d misjudged Innes, wondering if she could save Theo herself.
Then she saw Theo grin.
She glanced at Innes.
He was grinning back. “We’re not going to save you, Theo. You’ll have to do it yourself.”
“Myself? Like this, you mean?”
Theo lifted both hands and slapped them down on the surface of the water.
The water shivered. Then the water slid back. Like the sea had breathed in suddenly, the water surged backwards, leaving a wide strip of seabed free of water. Including the seabed under Theo’s feet and the nuckelavee’s flippers.
The nuckelavee screamed and collapsed to the damp sand, oozing pink slime from their skinless flesh.
“What happens if they come out of the sea twice in one day?” asked Molly.
Innes shrugged. “They dry out rather fast.”
Theo stepped over the groaning bodies and walked up the beach.
Innes said, “Did I blether long enough for you to have a refreshing dip in the sea? Have you got more energy now?”
Theo nodded. “How did you know what I needed?”
“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to walk in there unless you had a way out. But I thought a bit of misdirection, and a few extra minutes in the water before you did your elemental thing, might help.”
“So did you not mean it, when you said you wanted to watch Theo get eaten?” Beth asked as they walked away from the distant sea.
“Of course not. He’s annoying, but he’s handy in a fight. How many did you fling into the sea with your skyhook, Theo?”
“Six. Slightly fewer than I’d hoped. How did you do with your hooves?”
“Three. Not including the couple we sent in as a team when you had your wee moment of drama at the end.”
“Three’s a pretty good score.”
“Thanks, Theo.”
“Thanks to you too, Innes.”
They reached the rubble at the bottom of the cliff and sat down to watch the moaning nuckelavee drag themselves towards the far-off edge of the sea, leaving glistening trails of slime behind them.
Beth said, “Is everyone ok? Any injuries?”
Molly looked at her singed jeans. “Bumps, bruises and burns, but nothing serious.”
“Me too. Though of course my wood didn’t burn me. Sorry, I should have asked it not to burn you either.”
“I’ve broken a claw,” said Atacama. “But otherwise I’m fine.”
Innes shrugged. “I’m ok.”
Theo slid down the rocks to lie on the sand.
“Are you alright?” asked Beth.
“I’m not a toad, I’m not being eaten by sea monsters and we still have the rainbow-maker. So, yes, I’m fine.”
Molly patted her pocket. “Who’s their ‘employer’? Who sent them here to steal the toy?”
“Were they waiting for us specifically?” wondered Beth. “Or for anybody who left that cave with the rainbow-maker?”
But before anyone could answer, Molly saw the wyrm heading up the sand, slaloming elegantly around the retreating nuckelavee.
Theo pulled himself up and limped forward to greet the wyrm.
He spoke briefly to her, then turned back to the group by the cliff. “She’s offered to take us to any location we choose in Speyside. Where should we go?”
“Somewhere we can rest and eat, before completing our quest,” said Atacama.
“Not somewhere the crows might be watching,” said Beth.
“Go back to Cut Rigg,” said Innes. “I’ll buy food in one of the towns we bypassed, and meet you there. Anyone got money?” Molly gave him her one pound coin and Beth found a fiver in the sequin-covered purse in her back pocket.
Innes clambered up the gully and shifted to a horse at the top. He reared on the cliff edge, the pink light of the sunset shining on his white neck and flanks, then galloped off.
Theo laughed, but Beth said, “He’s not getting out of that difficult conversation about curse-casting, however much he shows off.”
***
The wyrm halted in a perfect circle around the farm buildings, exactly where she’d been trapped for years.
Molly, Beth and Theo slid off. Atacama leapt down. The wyrm spoke briefly to Theo, and nodded to Molly, who nodded back. Then the wyrm sped off into the night.
“She doesn’t like being reminded of her imprisonment,” said Theo. “Perhaps we should have chosen a more diplomatic destination. Anyway, her debt to us is paid.”
Beth lit a fire in the farmhouse fireplace, then they settled down to wait for Innes to bring their supper and an explanation.
Beth sat in a corner, a torch spinning between her hands. They all watched the flame carve a constantly vanishing circle in the air.
“I can’t believe Innes has cursed someone.” She sighed. “We’ve been friends since we were babies. I thought I knew him.”
“You do know him,” said Atacama. “He’s ruthless, decisive and very protective of his rivers and his family. You know that. If he’s cursed someone, perhaps he had good reason.”
“But how did he manage to curse someone?” asked Molly. “He’s not a witch.”
“You don’t have to be a witch to cast a curse,” said Beth. “Lots of the curse-casters in the Hall – the fairies, the mermaid, the giant – won’t have been magically trained.”
“Can anyone cast a curse?” Molly asked.
“Not anyone,” said Beth. “You need magic to make a curse stick. So only those who were born with magical abilities, or those who have learnt magic, can cast curses that work.”
Molly frowned. “So everyone here except me could cast a curse.”
“Yes,” said Beth. “But we wouldn’t want to. It’s not a nice thing to do.”
“Actually, Molly, you could cast a curse,” said Theo. “The magic which transforms you into a hare is embedded in your bones, and you can already manipulate that magic by shifting when you want. You’re more powerful than you think.”
“But I’ve no idea how to use that power,” said Molly. She noticed Beth’s disapproving face. “And I wouldn’t want to use it. That would be wrong, obviously.”
They heard hoofbeats outside, then footsteps.
Innes walked in, holding up a bag. “Bread, cheese, fruit. Can we please eat before Beth tortures the truth out of me?”
So they ate in uncomfortable silence, with Beth and Innes sitting in opposite corners.
The money they’d found in their pockets hadn’t bought much food, so the silent meal didn’t last long. When there was nothing left except spirals of orange peel and crumbs on the floor, Innes said, “Ok. Can I tell you what happened, without lots of shouting and shoving?”
Beth nodded. “I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
Innes spoke slowly. “I didn’t plan to do it. And I regret it, because I feel guilty about it and I’m scared of what will happen to me now I’m a curse-caster. But I also don’t regret it, because I couldn’t see any alternative.
“I don’t th
ink all curse-casters are evil, Beth. You’ve just shared a meal with Theo and you’ve been on Mrs Sharpe’s workshop, so you obviously don’t think they’re evil.”
“Theo is an ally on a quest, Mrs Sharpe is a teacher,” said Beth. “You’re my friend. I expect more of you.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Stop pussyfooting around,” said Atacama. “Tell us who you cursed.”
Innes looked down. He used his index finger to tidy the scattered breadcrumbs nearest him, piling them up neatly.
Then he said, “I cursed my dad. I cursed my own father.”
Chapter Seventeen
Molly could hear rain outside and everyone’s jittery breathing inside. No one spoke a word. Theo was staring at the wall, not wanting to get involved in a disagreement between friends. Atacama was doing his best impression of a statue, staring straight ahead. Beth was staring at Innes, open-mouthed. And Innes had his eyes closed, like he could block out what he’d just said.
Molly knew there was one vital question, and it didn’t look like anyone else was going to ask it.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why did you curse your own dad?”
Innes opened his eyes and looked straight at her. “I’ll tell you the whole story. It won’t make sense any other way.
“Last week, when I told him we’d lifted the curse, Dad was delighted. He suggested the two of us take a trip up one of our tributaries, dive off our favourite high rock and swim together, to celebrate. We hadn’t spoken properly since he ate those fairies and got our whole family cursed. But he was so relieved, he became really chatty. We were sitting on the rock, drying off after a race – which I won, by the way – and he told me that he only regretted eating those fairies because he’d been caught, and that over the years he’d got away with eating lots of other magical beings.
“I reminded him of the rule that kelpies don’t eat magical beings or humans near our home rivers. He just laughed and said that by hunting on moonless nights or eating all witnesses, a kelpie can kill anywhere.
“At first, I thought he was joking, but then he boasted about eating a handful of solitary fairies and at least three brownies. And remember the fuss when that hiker went missing? That was my dad too.