The Gorgon's Gaze

by Julia Golding

  Rat looked at Anneena doubtfully.

  “Do you think your mom would help?” Anneena asked him.

  “Help with what?” He did not seem too sure about a suggestion involving his mother and had begun to edge away from them.

  “Tell the reporters about Merlin’s oak, of course!” Anneena seemed genuinely surprised that he was not following her train of thought.

  “Dunno. You ask her yourself. Look, I’ve gotta go.” Rat slipped off and started running toward the wood. “Gotta finish that fence.”

  Anneena continued to spin her plans as the girls returned to Chartmouth on their bikes, shouting snatches of them to Jane and Connie as they all enjoyed the smooth ride downhill, a reward for the hard climb earlier.

  “But what about Col?” Connie asked her when they got back to Lionheart Lodge.

  Anneena’s face fell. “Sorry, I was getting carried away. I’d almost forgotten. But what can we do?”

  “Someone needs to go and look for him,” Connie said firmly.

  “But we can’t do that! How would we even get to Wales?” Anneena protested.

  “I want to do something, too,” Jane said as she leaned her bike against Connie’s, “but I really don’t know what we can do other than tell his grandmother everything, as we’ve been doing.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Connie replied, “but I know I can’t sit back, just hoping that he’ll turn up. What if something really bad has happened?”

  “But it can’t have—” Jane said, shocked, “he’s with his mother.”

  Connie had difficulty sleeping that night, worried by the images Argand had shown her. She wanted more than anything to speak to someone in the Society, someone in whom she could confide her fears, but her great-aunt had cut off all channels of communication. What exactly Connie was afraid of, she couldn’t say. As Jane had said, Col was with his mother; he should be fine. But even though Argand’s mind was still unformed and could not hold complex thoughts, she had given Connie a sense of something snake-like—Cassandra’s gorgon, perhaps?—and also a dark creature with hooves. Then there had been a flash of a picture of Col distressed, ensnared, screaming.

  Connie couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t enough to send Argand with a message to Argot in the hopes that the dragon, and Dr. Brock, would understand how serious this was. She had to do something. But what? She had no way of getting to Wales to see for herself.

  Tossing on her bed, it took Connie a moment to realize that the hair on the back of her neck was tingling as she felt the presence of another creature.

  She threw the covers back, and stumbled over to the window. There on the lawn was a white stallion with folded wings: Skylark. She threw the sash window open. Here it was, her way out! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She put her fingers to her lips to silence Skylark’s joyful greeting.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she called softly.

  Laughing inside, Connie scribbled a note for Godiva and left it on her pillow. Then, pulling her flying suit out from the bottom of the chest, Connie prepared herself with layers of warm clothing for the long flight she hoped to be undertaking, if she could persuade Skylark. They could go and look for Col together!

  There was no sound from her great-aunt’s room as Connie ran past. Then she was out the front door and had her head buried in Skylark’s mane. A flood of communication passed between them as her touch made the familiar connection. She could read everything the pegasus was thinking and feeling. Skylark was desperately worried about Col and eager to do something. He had heard from Mrs. Clamworthy that Connie had found out where Col’s mother lived. Frustrated that no one had set out to look for Col immediately, Skylark had resolved to come to fetch her. It took no time for them to agree to set off.

  “I’m going to be in so much trouble,” Connie muttered as she climbed on his back. But just then she didn’t care.

  Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Skylark and Connie reached the Brecon Beacons. Frail strings of lights marked the small villages and isolated farms that fringed the mountain mass, but its interior yawned black to the sky, like a great hole ready to suck in the stars that twinkled overhead.

  What do you think, Skylark? Connie asked her mount, who had far more experience of aerial reconnaissance than she did. They had been circling around for some time and knew they were near their goal. That might be Bwlch. Mr. Coddrington said he’d put the pin to the left of it on his map.

  Skylark dove lower.

  See over there, he said, that’s a bonfire. Let’s go a little nearer.

  Like a barn owl swooping down on its prey, Skylark silently glided toward the flickering light. Connie strained her eyes to see what was going on, but she could only make out indistinct figures in a farmyard passing to and fro in front of the flames.

  The van! Skylark exclaimed. His keener eyes had made out the dusky shape of the van parked by the barn. This is it. He began to descend for landing.

  Pull up! Connie ordered, stung by a sudden intuition like a slap in the face. Skylark responded immediately and propelled them higher, out of sight of the farm.

  What is wrong, Universal? he asked her.

  I’m not sure, but I felt something. There’s a mythical creature down there—or maybe many—I can’t be sure. I think it might be safer to arrive in daylight.

  They hid in a copse not far from the farm, waiting for dawn. Connie huddled on a pile of leaves, wishing she had thought to bring a blanket, and tried to catch a few winks of sleep. Skylark moved restlessly, keeping watch. The sun crept slowly above the horizon, illuminating everything in a cold, cruel light. Connie got to her feet and stretched her cramped limbs.

  You’d better stay here, she said to Skylark, in case there are any people other than Col and his mother around. I’ll come and get you when I can give you the all-clear.

  Skylark snorted with frustration but accepted this advice; he could not go trotting into a farm and risk meeting the farmer.

  The light grew stronger as Connie walked down the track, pushed the gate open, and entered the yard. All was quiet. In front of her sat the light green van parked by a wooden barn, to her right was a ramshackle stone cottage, and to her left a number of outhouses. The yard seemed empty. The embers of the bonfire still glowed hot in its center, but all traces of the people she had seen dancing around it were gone. Her skin still tingled—there were creatures close-by, but she could feel nothing for certain, no distinct natures. It was as if they were purposely trying to disguise their presence from her. She rubbed her arms thoughtfully, wondering if she should risk proceeding without knowing what she was facing. But what about Col? Decision made, she approached the cottage door and knocked. After a few moments, a woman with straggling blonde hair opened it.

  “So you did come, after all,” the woman said, looking disdainfully at her visitor.

  “Mrs. Lang?” Connie asked.

  “Miss Lang,” Cassandra corrected her.

  “Can I see Col?”

  “I suppose so,” she said coldly. “Wait here a moment.” She went back into the house, leaving Connie on the doorstep. Connie wiped a hand across her tired eyes, feeling confused. It seemed too easy, but also odd. Cassandra Lang was clearly not surprised to see her—how could that be? No one knew she was here. She did not have time to solve this puzzle as she could now hear footsteps approaching. Cassandra Lang returned, followed by a boy dressed in black leather riding clothes.

  “Col!” Connie exclaimed, rushing to hug him. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

  The boy received her hug unresponsively. He looked over to his mother.

  “Col, what’s the matter with you?” Connie asked, stepping back. Inspecting him close-up, she saw that his eyes were dead; there was none of Col’s usual animation in his face: no grin, no laugh. “What have you done to him?” she asked his mother.

  Cassandra frowned. “I’ve done nothing. Kullervo has taken him for training.”

  “Kullervo?” Connie’s
mind whirled as she tried to understand what was happening. “How could you let this happen? Don’t you know what being taken by Kullervo means? He’s destroying Col!”

  “That’s not true,” Cassandra sneered. She was angry; she didn’t want to hear her own doubts voiced by this child.

  “But look at him! Kullervo’s done something terrible to him. This isn’t Col!” Connie made a grab for Col’s arm, intending to shake him, to wake him out of his stupor, but the boy pulled away.

  “Kullervo’s told me that he’ll be all right once he is used to it.”

  “You’ve betrayed your son!” Connie said desperately.

  “And you betrayed all mythical creatures when you refused to join us!” Cassandra spat back.

  Connie turned away from Col’s mother in disgust. If Kullervo was around, she had to get Col out quickly. “I’m not staying here. Come on, Col, we’re going.” She made another grab for his arm and began to pull him toward the gate, thinking that if she could get him to Skylark then maybe he would snap out of this strange daze.

  “Stop her!” Cassandra shrieked.

  Out of the building closest to the gate glided a bronze figure, wings unfurling like a cobra’s hood around her hissing, spitting head as she reared up before the two friends. Connie felt Col being wrenched from her grasp.

  “Fool, don’t let him see her eyes!” Cassandra hissed, ripping her son away from Connie, so that Col was no longer in direct sight of the creature. “She’s all yours!” she shouted to her companion, giving a triumphant laugh.

  Standing alone in the middle of the yard, Connie turned to face the gorgon.

  12

  Helm

  The dark eyes of the gorgon blazed at Connie, beating down upon her with awesome power. Connie felt it as a burning coldness scorching her skin, entering her flesh, and freezing her to the spot. Connected to the creature through its gaze, she felt her hair began to rise from her scalp, writhing with the angry, tormented dance of the snake-locks. The gorgon snarled, baring her teeth in a vicious grimace, confident that she had caught her victim. She could now begin the slow process of the kill as her power to turn to stone worked inwards to still Connie’s pounding heart.

  The universal’s shield! thought Connie frantically.

  The constricting grip of stone had reached her chest. Her breath became labored and her throat choked. The attack had penetrated too far. She couldn’t conjure the shield—but she had to! Slowly, inch by inch, trying to forget her pain and fear, she raised in her mind the silver shield, a barrier between her and death. She could feel the power of the gorgon’s gaze now beating against it, trying to turn it into stone so it would be too heavy to hold.

  The balance of the fight wavered. Who would prove the stronger?

  Then the creeping paralysis stopped and began to recede. The gorgon redoubled her attack, hissing with anger as she felt her power leach away into the ground at Connie’s feet, petrifying the weeds that grew through the cracks in the concrete.

  Now! thought Connie.

  With an immense effort she thrust her mind-shield forward to throw back the gorgon’s gaze. The creature screamed as the cold fire singed her skin, freezing her hair in mid-air, so that the snakes stood out from her head like curling icicles. With a sob and a strangled cry she fell back to the floor, her sight temporarily blinded. Wounded, she slithered away to take refuge in an outhouse.

  “What have you done to her?” shrieked Cassandra, pouncing on Connie and grabbing a fistful of hair to pull her head back. Connie’s eyes watered with the pain.

  “Let go! I just did what she was trying to do to me,” Connie said, attempting to free herself.

  Cassandra gave a whimper, released her hold on Connie and ran after her companion.

  Connie turned to Col. “Right, let’s go while we’ve a chance.”

  But he was not looking at her, nor at the building into which his mother had disappeared; he was staring past Connie’s shoulder with a nasty, greedy expression shining in his eyes. Hearing the steady beat of hooves behind her, Connie spun around, hoping that perhaps Skylark had ignored her advice and come to her aid. It was a pegasus she saw, but not Skylark: a great blue-black creature with mismatched fiery eyes and furled wings like those of a huge eagle. Connie was not fooled by outward appearances. She knew the beast for what he was the moment she felt his dark presence this close: it was Kullervo.

  “Quick, Col, run!” she yelled, sprinting to the gate, but Col remained stock-still, smiling in a strange, lop-sided manner. “Come on!” she called.

  He will not run, whinnied Kullervo softly. He does not want to. Come here, boy. Col turned and walked with the jerky steps of a marionette to stand beside the pegasus. Do you want to go with this girl? Kullervo asked him.

  No, said Colin.

  Do you want to stay with me and fight as a warrior by my side?

  Yes.

  Do you want to taste blood again, to kill to save the creatures of this world from humanity?

  Yes.

  Kullervo relished leading Colin through this vile litany in front of Connie, knowing that every word would be a torment to the universal that had so injured him on their last encounter.

  “That’s not Col speaking,” Connie said fiercely as she hesitated by the gate, unwilling to leave without her friend. But what else could she do?

  Oh, it is the new Colin speaking, Kullervo said, shaking his mane carelessly. Don’t you think I improved him? His eyes sparkled with malevolence. She could feel their mesmerizing power pulling her in. She closed her eyes.

  “No, I want the old one back,” she said. She couldn’t run for it and leave Col to Kullervo—she just couldn’t. But she also couldn’t make Col come with her unless this bond with Kullervo was broken.

  And then she realized how to do it. Her reading over the summer had taught her this, though she had not had an opportunity to try the exercises out for real. Well, now seemed like a good moment to make the attempt. Keeping her eyes closed to concentrate, she looked inside herself for the tool in the universal’s armory that she needed. She found it, shining with a dull golden gleam just within reach. Buckling on the helm, Connie reached out to Col’s occupied mind. Given entry by Kullervo’s counterfeit pegasus bond, she found the way open and slid in, using the wave of dark energy connecting creature and Col to mask her intrusion. She then cast off her disguise and called her friend’s name as she wandered through the echoing chambers of his being. His mind stretched in a bewildering labyrinth in all directions; she felt lost in a nightmarish crypt where all presence of Col had been nearly extinguished.

  It did not take long for Kullervo to sense her trespassing on his shared thoughts with his prey. He immediately tried to evict her. She resisted. His malice beat harmlessly against her helm like water off a windowpane.

  Col—I’m coming for you! she called.

  Kullervo attempted to drown out her voice, howling like a tempest in the empty places he had made for himself in Col’s mind. Driven by her love and concern for her friend, Connie faced into the storm and staggered on. Darkness whipped around her. She gritted her teeth, determined to find him, but Kullervo’s power was so strong, she began to fear she would not survive it. Finally, with the last of her strength, she stumbled upon a small child lying curled up in a corner, shaking and sobbing, an image of a younger Col.

  Col, it’s me, she said, stooping over him.

  Connie? The boy turned his head, his eyes igniting with his old self again.

  She knelt beside him and raised him up. Yes, it’s me. Let me put this on you.

  He submitted as she buckled her helm on his head. His connection with Kullervo was instantly severed, but Connie, her mind no longer protected, was now caught in the link. She could hold Kullervo off with the shield, but she could no longer break the bond. All her force had been spent in saving Col. The storm consumed her.

  Col came to and found that he was standing in a strange farmyard with a black pegasus by his side and Connie, cru
mpled to her knees in the mud, holding her hands over her head as if warding off blows. He staggered back in disgust from the creature. This was no pegasus; this was a counterfeit. He could feel its evil nature oozing from every pore as it concentrated its hatred on his friend.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Col yelled. He dashed to Connie, trying to protect her with his body from the presence of the creature. But it was futile. She was twisting in agony, shaking her head this way and that. The attack on Connie was happening in a realm far from the physical world, and he could do nothing to help.

  His cry disturbed Kullervo from his assault. The shape-shifter relented a little, taking a moment to dispatch the boy he no longer needed.

  “You can go. I have got what I wanted,” he said. Col watched with horrified fascination as a change swept over the pegasus, and he melted into a dark pool of matter. But before Col had time to pull Connie away, the blue-black substance began to coil and writhe into a new shape. A great hydra with nine serpent-heads rose out of the pool, nine black tongues hissing at Col, forcing him to back away from Connie with their foul breath. The hydra coiled itself around the girl, binding her in its loops.

  “I’m not leaving without her!” Col shouted.

  “It is what she would want.” Kullervo laughed, each of his nine snakes’ jaws split wide open, displaying white fangs and a cavernous mouth. The horrid bubbling noise of his laugh burst like poisoned gas from his gut. “She would beg you to take your chance. You will find a pegasus, a real one,”—one head darted forward and smiled at Col, tongue flickering lazily in the slack line of its closed mouth—“waiting for you in the trees up the track. You had better go—that is, unless you want to join us. You made a very good warrior, Colin.”

  Col shuddered. The events of the recent days came back to him as if he was watching flashes of a movie with an actor playing his role: the kestrel, the training, the gorgon.

  A door banged behind him.

  “You!” Col spat at his mother, who had just emerged from the nearest building. “You let him do this to me! You’ve betrayed both Connie and me!” He advanced on her, his fists balled by his side, longing to hurt someone for all the pain he had been through. Cassandra fell back, feeling the heat of his anger bearing down on her.