The Gorgon's Gaze

by Julia Golding

  “She has not betrayed Connie. You did that,” Kullervo hissed wickedly, enjoying the scene of pain and treachery that he had concocted.

  “No!” Col turned back to the serpent in disbelief.

  “Oh, yes. It’s her love for you that brought her here. With that, and a few pieces of choice information that I allowed to be passed to the Society, I have been expecting her for days.”

  “You used me as bait,” Col said in a hollow voice.

  “Exactly. Though there was always the chance that you might really join us. Your mother certainly hoped so. You could not truly be my companion, of course, only the universal can be that,”—the hydra’s coils tightened around Connie’s chest causing her to gasp for breath—“but the simulation I devised for your training worked almost as well as the reality. A good soldier doesn’t need a soul.”

  Cassandra strode to her son’s side and took a tight grip of his forearm. “Join with us, Colin. Don’t disappoint me. The gorgon will die if we don’t stop humans bulldozing her nest. The Society is useless as usual, and those eco-warriors won’t stop the road with their protest. We need to fight for what we want. If you really care about mythical creatures, about their fate, then you’ll stay with us willingly. If you don’t, then go—we have no further use for you.”

  Shaking her off, he said savagely, “I’m Col now. It’s about time you learned to call me by my name.” Mother and son glared at each other.

  A weak voice interrupted them, barely rising above a whisper:

  “Go, Col. There’s nothing you can do for me.”

  “Connie!” Regardless of the hydra’s fangs, Col scrambled to her side. Her eyes were closed, her face pale and skin clammy. She seemed to gleam with a silver light, but it was fading fast.

  “I’m caught in darkness,” she moaned, wandering off into incoherence. Her mind was bending like a tree before the onslaught of a hurricane—any moment it might crack and leave her helpless, roots splayed in the air.

  “Connie!” Col tried to pull her from her living prison, his touch returning her to the present.

  She opened her eyes briefly. “Please, go!” she begged. She had little energy for speech. She only knew that Col should escape from this mess.

  Col had never been good at knowing when to give up, rarely recognizing that a battle was lost, but for once in his life, he realized that he could do no good here. He needed help if he was to save Connie. He jumped to his feet and began to sprint up the track; every step that took him away from his friend was like a stab in his stomach, but he did not look back.

  Col stumbled up to Skylark who had been waiting anxiously in the trees. The pegasus whinnied with pleasure but broke off when he saw the state of his companion.

  Where’s Connie? Skylark asked as Col fell against him. He looked down the track but could see no sign of her. Where’s the universal?

  It was a trap, said Col. We must get help!

  He pulled himself clumsily onto Skylark’s broad back and slumped over his mane, allowing his mount to read all that had happened, glimpse all the pain he felt, in the sparking connection that ran between them. The horse neighed with anger and began to canter back to the farm, set on revenge and rescue.

  No, no! Col shouted. We can’t save her that way! We can’t take on Kullervo alone!

  Brought to his senses, Skylark whirled around and galloped to take off.

  It’s broad daylight, Col, Skylark said as they strode into the air. What if we are seen?

  Col swore. Who cares? We’ll fly in the cloud as much as possible, but so what if every person between here and Hescombe sees us? We’ve got to get help. Connie’s in pain.

  Skylark whinnied his agreement and kicked hard against the wind, determined to fly the fastest he ever had in his life.

  Four hours later, Col left Skylark imperfectly hidden with Mags at the allotments and ran, half-staggering, back to his home. He tore into the kitchen to find his grandmother sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes wet with tears. Dr. Brock and his father stood on either side of her. They looked up in astonishment when Col burst in.

  “Col!” shrieked Mrs. Clamworthy, jumping up to hug him.

  “Is Connie with you?” Dr. Brock asked, relieved to see him. “We thought she must have gone to look for you when we heard she’d run away.”

  “Where’s your mother? I want a word with her,” growled Mack, thumping Col on the back.

  “Shut up! Shut up, all of you!” Col gasped, struggling to free himself from the tangle of his grandmother’s scarves. “It’s Kullervo—he’s got her. He had me and now he’s got her. It was all a trap.”

  Dr. Brock’s face drained of color, and Mrs. Clamworthy collapsed into a chair. Mack was the first to move.

  “Where’s he got her?” he asked, guiding Col to a seat. “Tell us everything.”

  “Kullervo was trying to get her in Mallins Wood but caught me instead. He…he took over me. Connie must’ve known something was wrong—she came to rescue me from Mom’s cottage in Wales. She seemed to be able to break the link he had bound me with, but ended up caught herself. It was…”—he choked on his words—“…terrible. It was like she was being drowned, and I couldn’t do anything to pull her out.”

  Dr. Brock pulled on his motorbike gloves. “We need a search party. We must find out if he still has her there. Are you coming, Mack?”

  Mack squeezed his son’s arm. “Yeah. Let’s go. I’ll go by road. I suppose you’ll fly?”

  Dr. Brock nodded. “We’ll bring Argot’s youngster, Argand. As Connie’s companion, she should be able to sense her if we get near enough. Lavinia, you raise the alarm—send the others.”

  “I’m coming, too!” Col leapt to his feet.

  Mack pushed him back down. “Not this time. You’ve done what you can—leave it to us now.”

  After the noise of their departure had died down and the alarm call had been made, Mrs. Clamworthy turned to her grandson. “I’m sure she’ll be all right,” she said in an unconvinced tone. “They’ll find her.” She patted Col on the back and bustled around to make him some tea. “You look exhausted.”

  Col stared down at the plate she put before him, not feeling the slightest bit hungry, though he did have an unquenchable thirst. He drained his first mug of tea and accepted a refill, drinking it greedily. He was tormented with regrets. Images of the past few days were still swirling around in his head: the Colin who had been inside him for that period had been proud to be chosen as Kullervo’s boy; the Col who sat at the table now was ashamed to find he had been only a pawn and the means to lure his friend to possible destruction. What was worse, he knew that Kullervo had fed “Colin” these illusions because they were already part of Col. Kullervo had known his weak spots and exploited them mercilessly, driving Colin to become the fighter that Col had idly dreamed of being. But as a warrior he had caused death, and he was now sickened by the memory. He hoped he would never have to fight again and knew that if he did, it would only be as a desperate last resort.

  “And what about Cassandra?” Mrs. Clamworthy asked him gently. “Is your mother all right?”

  Col shook his head. He realized he had forgotten to make plain to Mack and Dr. Brock the role his mother had played in all this, how she had handed him over to be Kullervo’s instrument. The thought of this was like the twist of a knife in his guts. “No, she’s been taken by Kullervo, too. But she went willingly.”

  “Then there’s no saving her. She’s lost to us.”

  “Good. I never want to see her again,” Col replied angrily. But even now, his heart whispered another story.

  13

  Battering Ram

  The rescue party returned late on Sunday evening, empty-handed. They had found the farm deserted, only tire tracks by the barn to show that the camper-van had ever stood there and not a sign of Kullervo’s army. Col, sitting wrapped in a blanket in an armchair by the Aga, felt his last flicker of hope go out.

  “There’s nothing else to do. We’ll have
to send out the general call and gather everyone at the Mastersons,” Dr. Brock said heavily, taking Argand from his jacket pocket and placing her on the stove to warm up. She flickered her tongue at Col, sniffing his scent curiously. “If Kullervo is planning to use Connie for some purpose of his own, then we must be ready for him. There may be more than her life at stake if he is able to wield his power through her.”

  Mack grunted. “I don’t understand. What is all this about her being used against us? She’s a tiny thing—not much power in her, I’d’ve thought, even though she is a universal.”

  Col said nothing, but was once again struck by how stupid his father could be.

  “It’s not about size, Mack,” Dr. Brock said, wearily unlacing his jacket sleeves to remove his gauntlets. “And in any case, I have a suspicion that Connie is far more powerful than any universal we have ever known. Her first encounters were remarkable. The Trustees haven’t told her, but they said they’d never met a mind like hers—and some of them, like Gard and Morjik, have known many universals in the past. Her potential is huge—but perilously untrained. If Kullervo can turn that potential to his own purposes, we don’t stand a chance. That would certainly explain Kullervo’s persistence in pursuing her—he must sense this, too. But it makes her dangerous to us, more dangerous than you can imagine.”

  Argand let out a sorrowful croon. Dr. Brock scratched her gently on her neck.

  “So far, Connie has been strong enough to resist Kullervo, but I am worried by this most recent attack. He clearly took her at her weakest and who knows how long she can hold out? If she co-operates with him, even if it is against her will, she can channel his power into our world. She has told us that she feels his presence in her as a tide of darkness, sweeping over everything to drown her in his malice. If she lets him use her, then this tide becomes a very real deluge that will crash down on the rest of us. Noah’s flood is nothing compared to what Kullervo has in store for humanity. There will be no ark to carry any of us through, I fear, except perhaps for a few chosen companions, but even they would not survive long—that is not Kullervo’s way.”

  There was a knock at the door. Dr. Brock and Mack looked uneasily at Mrs. Clamworthy.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Dr. Brock asked. She shook her head.

  Mack moved to the door and flung it open, ready to challenge any stranger. There, on the doorstep, hand raised to knock again, was Anneena, behind her a worried-looking Jane. Anneena was about to say something to Mack, but she caught sight of Col.

  “You’re back! Thank goodness!” She pushed past Mack, quite forgetting that she was intimidated by him, and dashed over to Col. Mrs. Clamworthy quickly threw the tea cozy over Argand.

  “Yeah, I got back today,” Col said, forcing a smile. Jane darted to Anneena’s side and stood staring down at him, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

  “But have you heard about Connie?” Jane asked.

  “What?” Col asked eagerly, for one fleeting moment thinking that by some miracle she had turned up.

  “She’s gone missing,” Anneena said. “Her great-aunt stormed over to my place this morning with the police. They’ll probably be ’round soon as they’re asking all her friends if they’ve heard from her. She thinks your Society people are hiding her. She’s trying to get them to arrest Evelyn. She says Evelyn’s been trying to get in to see Connie ever since she took her away to Lionheart Lodge. She’s even saying that Evelyn must’ve snatched Connie.”

  “What!” exploded Mack, halfway to the door.

  “But they won’t arrest her—not without proof anyway,” Anneena added.

  “I did think,” said Jane nervously, “that Connie might’ve gone looking for you. She was really worried. You don’t think she has, do you?”

  Col avoided their eyes. “She might’ve, I suppose.”

  “She found out about your mother’s place in Wales, but she wouldn’t have gone there, would she?” Anneena pressed him. “How could she get there anyway? It’s in the middle of nowhere from what she said.” Anneena was talking in a continual stream, as much to work off her worry for her friend as to wait for an answer from Col.

  “We’ve checked the farm,” Dr. Brock interrupted her. “Evelyn thought that, too, and some of us went to have a look. She’s not there.”

  “Oh,” Anneena said in a flat tone, deprived of her one hope.

  “She’ll be all right,” Col said firmly, though he did not quite believe it himself. “She’ll turn up.”

  “Yes,” said Dr. Brock, “she’s more resourceful than many give her credit for.”

  The kitchen door burst open again. This time it was Evelyn Lionheart who entered, not waiting to knock.

  “I’ve just got your message that Col’s back,” she panted, having run all the way from her house. “He’s seen Connie?”

  Dr. Brock shot a quick look at Mack from under his brows. Mack took the hint.

  “Col’s fine, Evie. Come with me and I’ll tell you all about it.” He put his arm around Evelyn and steered her out of the room before she could say anything further in front of Jane and Anneena.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, girls?” Mrs. Clamworthy asked hospitably to cover this abrupt exit. She went to pick up the tea cozy but thought twice. “Or perhaps you’d like coffee?” She gave a worried glance over her shoulder in the direction of the sitting room, where they could hear the murmur of Mack’s voice.

  “Er…no thanks, got to get back,” said Anneena. There was a muffled scream from the front room—Mack must have just mentioned Kullervo. Anneena and Jane looked suspiciously at each other but Mrs. Clamworthy pretended not to hear the interruption.

  “If you’re sure. Come back and see Col when he’s rested, won’t you?”

  “Will you be at school tomorrow, Col?” Anneena asked on her way out.

  Col was astounded that she could be thinking of that—then again, she didn’t know the truth. “Um…maybe not. I haven’t been feeling so great lately. Not myself.”

  “Right,” she said, hovering by the door. “Well, get better soon. Don’t forget, the festival kicks off on Friday. School’s given us the day off to help with the procession. I hope you’ll be well enough to come and see that. And maybe Connie’ll be here, too, by then. She really wanted to do something for the wood.” She gave him a shaky smile, trying to remain optimistic. “After all, with the local TV and papers reporting Connie’s disappearance, it can’t be long before someone finds her, right?”

  Connie was lying on the top bunk of the camper-van, gazing up at the plastic ceiling that glimmered gray in the darkness. The engine was quiet now. They must have parked for the night, but still she did not move. She felt exhausted, as if all the reserves of her energy had been drawn from her and she was now like a dried-up well. She was too tired to be as terrified as she knew she should be. Even if her hands had not been tied, she did not think she could muster the strength to make an attempt at escape. All she could manage was to keep hold of the frail fragment of shield that remained to her, knowing that Kullervo’s presence was still out there, beating down upon her, waiting for her surrender.

  As she lay there, she listened to the sounds around her. Cassandra’s breath rose and fell evenly somewhere in the darkness below. Outside, she could hear the distant whine of passing cars, but sensed that the road was some way away. She guessed that the van was in a wooded spot because the rustle of leaves and hooting of an owl also traveled to her ears through the stillness of the night. But there were not only trees out there; she knew that many other creatures besides Kullervo were close-by. She could feel their wild energy pulsing on the air in a feverish throb. They were excited, celebrating something—celebrating her capture. That was the worst. She had never felt so rejected and alone.

  You feel it, do you not, Universal? A voice insinuated itself into her thoughts like a maggot eating its way into the core of an apple.

  Kullervo had begun to inhabit her mind.

  “Feel what?” she asked we
arily.

  You feel how your stubbornness has taken you out of your true path. It cannot be right that the universal should be so closed to others. Listen to them.

  “I don’t want to listen to them,” she said. But it was hopeless. The weight of the shield was too much for her tired mind, and she let it fall. She had no choice but to hear. Creatures crowded in upon her.

  They have destroyed my home; crushed my children! howled a great bear, rending apart the remaining fragments of shield.

  I choke. The air is thick with their vomit, cried a weather giant, searing her mind with a bolt of his anger.

  Help us! wailed a banshee, tearing her hair in despair. We are hunted, driven out.

  Connie felt anguish as if the banshee had plucked out a handful of her own hair.

  The universal reeled. She fumbled for her armory of defenses—sword, shield, and helm—but they had all crumbled away. She was standing unprotected in the dark surrounded by their misery. Voices fell upon her like repeated blows and kicks. But still, Connie would not give in to the shape-shifter.

  You must help them, Kullervo urged. It is the only way. Only then will you be free of their suffering.

  “I will not do your work for you. I will not become the monster you want me to be,” Connie said through gritted teeth.

  That is what Colin thought at first, but you will—you will.

  The voices left her and for a long time Connie knew no more.

  At the Society’s temporary command post at the Mastersons’ farm, Col was on duty, manning the telephone in the office they had established in the dining room. Keeping Col company, Argand lay curled up asleep in the center of the polished table, her golden scales gleaming in the reflective surface, small curls of smoke issuing from her nostrils with every breath. Col had just thrown the newspapers aside. He could not bear to read the pleading of Connie’s parents, who had flown back from the Philippines, urging their daughter to get in touch. It made it sound as if she was callously not phoning just to punish them all.