Gregory Grey and the Fugitive in Helika

by Stanzin

CHAPTER 5

  Garden Varieties

  Gregory heard Zach leave.

  The Cavern was eerie and quiet; there was no magic here, at the world’s most famous magical academy.

  Find a stick.

  Gregory wrenched a torch-holder out of the wall; the silver gleamed.

  Shafts of sunlight led his feet onward. A massive mural glowed faintly on a high wall to his right; it was a map of the Caverns, its glow was not magic, rather, the stones themselves shone with captured light. He memorised it as best as he could, and went on. There were archways in the walls to his left and right: the columns and sculptures named them: Sorcery, Runecraft, Enchantment…

  Two sculptures rose from stone pedestals, their hands outstretched to hold an copper cauldron; the metal has a word inscribed into it:

  ALCHEMY

  He heard the snuffling as soon as he stepped into the corridor. It was soft and muted, as if from behind a door. He crept past rooms and shelves on the walls till he came upon a shoe shelf.

  The sniffling was coming from inside. It sounded like a girl.

  ‘Uh… hello?’ Gregory said.

  The violent shriek sent him stumbling back, the silver rod in his clanging on the floor; he saw the shelf shuddering – something inside was trying to come out.

  ‘Who's there? Please! Don't go! Help me!’ a terrified voice called out over the shrieking, also from inside the shelf.

  ‘Who are you? And what’s making that bloody noise?’ Gregory asked, getting up quickly and hoisting the stick, ready to strike.

  ‘It’s not me, it’s that…thing,’ wailed the voice. ‘It’s stuck… in the bottom shelf… I’m on the top! It can’t get to me – but I can’t open the door either, or it’ll come out.’

  Gregory blinked. ‘You’re holding the door closed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The shrieking continued.

  ‘That is… how did you manage to do that exactly? Never mind. So, you can’t let yourself out. Listen, How big is this thing?’ Gregory asked.

  ‘Bigger than me!’

  ‘How big are you?’

  ‘I… I’m fourteen.’

  Gregory stepped back and looked over the shelf. The wooden top protruded about two inches over the sides. He peered at the joints; the two parts were interlocked together, not nailed.

  ‘I can get you out if I take the top off,’ Gregory said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to get you out, and leave the creature in there. If we just take off the top,’ he rapped the top of the shelf for emphasis, ‘then the creature can stay there but you’ll be free.’

  ‘Take… the top off?’

  ‘Can you move your hands?’

  ‘No! I’m holding the door closed!’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Gregory.

  He walked over to the next shelf and heaved, pushed and grunted till it entirely blocked the door of the shelf with the girl and the monster inside.

  ‘What did you do?’ the voice asked.

  ‘You can let go now, I’ve blocked the door with a shoeshelf,’ Gregory said, panting hard.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. Now listen. I want you to push at the top of the shelf with everything you have, when I tell you to, alright?’

  ‘What if the shelf I’m on breaks?’

  ‘Then you’ll have squished that thing. I can’t imagine you’ll feel sorry. Ready?’

  He crouched beside the shelf.

  ‘Now, push!’

  When he heard her heaving, he rammed the underside of the protrusion with the silver torch-holder, putting his whole weight into the blow. He heard something creak and crack.

  ‘Again.’

  Another two blows and the top flew off.

  ‘Yeah, all right!’ Gregory cheered, standing up.

  The first things he noticed of her were her pale legs, wiry and slender, drawn back and ready to kick. He could barely make out her face in the darkness, but thought she looked wary. Before he could say another word though, she had scrambled out of the shelf, smelling like used socks, and without so much as a word of thanks, sprinted to a door further down.

  ‘Hey, wait! Where are you going?’ Gregory called, running after her.

  She ignored him and hammered on an ornate wooden door.

  ‘Jenny,’ she yelled.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Gregory asked, catching up with her.

  ‘My sister’s inside. Jenny! Open up, it’s me. It’s safe. Let me in,’ she shouted.

  The door opened to reveal a small girl, who was scooped up by the girl Gregory had rescued.

  ‘Quick, get in. Lock the door. There may be more of them,’ she said.

  Gregory latched the door, and then dragged a table across it for good measure.

  ‘Jenny, Jenny, Jenny,’ the older girl crooned.

  It was a classroom. There was a lot of blood, but he couldn’t see where it had come from. Children stood at the far end, no older than seven or eight, a couple of dozen of them.

  ‘See,’ said a round and pink-faced boy, pointing at Gregory and his torch-holder. ‘Told you silver would kill them. You are here to kill them, right?’

  Gregory didn’t answer. The corridor outside was suddenly noisy – it sounded as if a battle was being fought. He had closed the door just in time.

  ‘Do any of you know a Miss Flanders?’ Gregory asked.

  Wordlessly, the boy pointed to the front of the room.

  A young woman sprawled there, her hands clasped over her stomach. It was her blood all over the classroom. She was breathing, but only just.

  ‘What happened?’ Gregory asked. He wondered if his face looked as sick as he felt. He knew at once what he had to do, and he desperately wished that he didn’t.

  ‘It was that thing… the creep,’ the older girl said. She was pale. ‘She tried to cast something – smoke came out and became that! It had a spear.’

  ‘She needs a healer. Now!’

  ‘The Matron’s in the Sanatorium,’ said the girl he had rescued from the shelves.

  ‘We can’t move her in her state,’ Gregory said. ‘Got any clean linen around here?’

  ‘There are some aprons in the cupboard,’ Jenny said.

  ‘That’ll do. Get them, will you?’ Gregory said. He turned to Jenny’s sister. ‘Gotta stop the bleeding. Take the linen, fold it flat and hold it where she’s cut. If the cloth soaks through, don’t take it off or move it, just put another folded apron on top of it, and keep pressing down.’

  Gregory was glad that some of the Director’s first aid lessons had stuck. He hoped the girl wasn’t squeamish about blood. He didn’t think he was, but he’d never seen so much of someone’s blood either. But he nursed some hope: if this Matron could help, he wouldn’t have to.

  ‘Take those curtains off the windows and pile them over her. Keep her warm. What’s your name?’

  ‘Mango,’ Jenny’s sister said.

  Jenny got the linen and began folding them.

  ‘I’m Gregory. Grab a stick, anything you can swing and wallop with. These creatures aren't very strong; good knocks on the head should bring them down. Now can you tell me exactly where the Sanatorium is? I don’t know this place.’

  ‘I can do better,’ Mango said.

  She picked up an empty scroll of parchment and a piece of charcoal. In long, bold stokes she drew him a map of the school grounds and marked the Sanatorium. The task steadied her; her hand trembled less, and she breathed more easily.

  ‘Brilliant. I need you to do something. These creeps – they can’t take the sun. It burns them up – I saw it happen right outside. If the creeps break down the door somehow, I want you to get the kids out of the window, and into somewhere sunny. Can you do that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, in the voice of someone determined to be stubbornly brave no matter the danger she was in.

  ‘See you in a tic. Keep the kids safe and don't let them open the door,’

  He jumped out of th
e window, and onto green grass.

  Gurukul Caverns, with the long outcropping tunnel of rock that was its entrance, was laid out in the shape of a key. He stood in a sunny field encircled by the key’s inner ring, a closed circle of high cliffs. Ornate windows were scattered irregularly across the walls of these cliffs; the Caverns were carved into them. The long outcrop led to a great dome, from which rose a high tower.

  Mango had marked the Sanatorium on the other side of the encircling field. He jogged east along the perimeter, keeping away from the cliffs.

  It was quiet again.

  The Sanatorium was a small round bunker. He moved silently up to entrance, and looked in.

  Two spectres were hunched over something in the middle of the room. One was small, and the other was large. They hadn't heard him. He prayed that the Matron was hidden perhaps and safe. Picking up a heavy brick from a flowerbed, he lobbed it hard at the larger spectre. The brick sailed through the door and glanced off the creature’s shoulder.

  Gregory cursed.

  The creatures whirled around. Gregory had never heard such a cry, not even from a dying animal. The hair on his neck and arm rose. He stood ready to turn and run… he had to get them out into the sun.

  The pygmy raced at Gregory, it’s wickedly curved knife thrust forward. Gregory gripped his silver torch-holder tightly, ready to swing… but as soon as it ran out from under the roofed pathway, it screamed in pain… in seconds it had dissolved away.

  Grinning, Gregory waited for its partner to do the same.

  It didn’t. The spectre stayed in the shade, wielding a slender but deadly spear. Its limbs were long, its skin just as mottled as the pygmy’s. The difference was in its eyes, which stared from Gregory to where its companion had died, its intelligence unmistakable.

  It understood the rules - don’t step into the sun.

  Gregory fought his dread.

  ‘Hyah!’ he taunted the creature, swinging his stick.

  It didn’t move, but bared its teeth and swung it’s spear in wide arcs, as if daring Gregory to fight on its ground, its terms. Gregory forced a grin; the spectre was trapped and it knew that, but even then his blood chilled; he would have preferred to fight something mindless.

  He picked up another brick, letting the spectre see him. Then he lobbed it; the creature dodged. Greg threw another, again the creature evaded, screaming its fury. Gregory taunted it, shouting insults and laughing as it narrowly dodged his next missile. It tried to throw Gregory’s bricks back at him but it was too weak; they barely covered half the distance. It threw them anyway in a show of ferocity.

  Gregory jeered and continued his assault. One thrown brick finally hit the creature on the head; it fell, dazed and disoriented. Gregory dashed forward, his torch-holder ready.

  The creature struck when he was three feet away, picking up the fallen spear and thrusting. Gregory’s years of dirty fighting at the orphanage saved him: he twisted his body to the left in mid-dash; the spear passed through the spot where his belly had been a second ago: he slashed down at the spear with the torch-holder: it shattered: he swung back into spectre’s head.

  It dissolved into smoke.

  ‘Yes!’

  Gregory did a quick victory jig, remembered why he was there, and dashed into the Sanatorium.

  A slender woman stood motionless against the wall, held up by the spear that had impaled her. Gregory averted his eyes from her as he rummaged through the cupboards. He found a satchel, and stuffed it with every bottle he thought he could use: a Blood Replenishing Potion, a Quick Knit salve that he had seen the Director use before, iodine, cotton bandages, and a Dissolving Solution. In a cold larder, he found chocolate, cake, sandwiches, and water.

  As an afterthought, he looked around for keys and found them on the Matron. He grit his teeth, unhooked them from her belt and quickly left, locking the door behind him.

  Miss Flanders was where he had left her; Mango and Jenny pressing down together on the now thick pile of linen on her wound. Gregory listened for Miss Flanders breath; it was there, weaker than a whisper, and her skin was cool.

  ‘She’s alive, but just.’ Gregory said.

  He took out bottles, vials and salves from the satchel.

  ‘Where’s the Matron,’ Mango asked.

  ‘She’s dead. We’re gonna have to take care of her.’

  ‘Us? Right… right! Fine. You know what to do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His hands shook. He took a moment to control them, breathing deeply, going over dim memories of the Director’s classes on First Aid. He remembered the old man’s voice, drilling the procedure into the children through repetition.

  She was cold, he thought. That meant she was in shock and had lost a lot of blood. She was breathing for now, so her airway was clear. All the same…

  ‘Mango, did you see Miss Flanders fall?’ Gregory asked.

  ‘What? Oh, yeah, I saw her. That thing jumped at her before chasing me out into the hallway.’

  ‘Did she look like she hurt her neck or back when she fell. Did you hear any bones break?’

  ‘Uh, no. She just hit her head a little hard on the ground when she fell.’

  She might have a… a watchamacallit… a concussion, he thought. Spine should be okay.

  ‘Mango, bunch some aprons and put them under her neck. Make sure she can breathe freely. Put your ear close to her mouth - listen for her breath,’ Gregory said.

  Mango did as she was told, for which Gregory was silently grateful.

  ‘Now give her this,’ Gregory said, handing her the Blood Replenishing Potion. ‘It’s charmed to go find its way into her stomach. Pour it into her mouth and make sure it’s all gone.’

  Mango emptied the potion into Miss Flanders’s mouth. She gave Gregory a thumb up.

  Good, she can breathe. Now, look at the wound. Part her robes. Can’t see anything for the blood. Use the clean water and wash it away. There, that's better. She’s been stabbed in the left side of her belly. It’s a long, filthy looking cut. Spine probably not injured. I can move her. Slow the bleeding; put the wound at a level higher than the heart; it’ll slow the bleeding.

  ‘Mango, I’m going to lift her. Bunch up a lot of curtains and put them under her hips when I do.’ Gregory waited as Mango frantically ripped more curtains off the windows. She returned with an armful.

  ‘Ready? One, two, three!’ He lifted Miss Flanders; Mango hurriedly stuffed the blankets under her. When Gregory put Miss Flanders down, the wound was a good few inches higher off the ground than the heart.

  ‘Make sure she can still breathe,’ Gregory said.

  Now, clean the wound, sterilize it. Pour the iodine over it. That’ll do.

  Mango started when Miss Flanders whimpered. ‘That hurts?’

  ‘More than you ever want to know.’ Gregory had had the Bobbin pour iodine on a great many cuts.

  Seal the wound as best as you can. Use the Quick-Knit salve. Rub it gently into the wound; work your way in form the end. Get a thick layer of it into the gash, till you can’t see her flesh inside. Don’t bother with wiping the blood now: the salve will absorb it. Get more clean linen and hold it to the cut. Cover it. Wait for a minute.

  Gregory counted the seconds in his head. When he lifted the cloth, heart in his mouth, the skin over the wound was knitting itself back, forming a rough scar. He looked at Miss Flanders’s face; her gray pallor had vanished.

  He sat back.

  Mango had seen the change in Miss Flanders’s skin too. ‘That’s it? That’s all? She’s gonna be okay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve done everything I know how. Do you know where the dustbin is?’

  Jenny pointed it out to him: Gregory rushed over and retched for a second time that day, though his stomach was still empty.

  Never, ever, ever again, he thought.

  ‘Miss Flanders is gonna be okay,’ yelled Jenny to the other children.

  Mango covered Miss Flanders with the curtains. She bunch
ed up the remaining clean aprons and put them under her head as a pillow.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ Mango asked admiringly.

  ‘This really old man taught me,’ said Gregory, his voice echoing from inside the metal bucket. ‘So tell me, what happened here, and how many people are there in the school right now?’

  ‘Uh, the Faculty Picnic was today, after the details for the coming term were hammered out. Jenny is my cousin and her mother, my aunt, teaches here, and she invited me to see the grounds before I joined the school in September.’

  ‘How many adults in the school?’

  ‘Including Miss Flanders and the Matron? About fifteen.’

  ‘And all these kids belong to them? No other kids in school apart from them?’

  ‘That’s right. Miss Flanders was babysitting us.’

  ‘And the other adults, where are they?’

  ‘In the Faculty Tower.’

  Gregory frowned.

  ‘Let’s do the math. Thirteen adults. Assuming they all tried to cast spells, they must have spawned at least one of the creatures. Surprised, they cast spells a second time, not realizing where the creatures came from. Now, these things may be weak, but they had surprise on their side. With their added numbers, they may have easily overwhelmed the grownups.’

  ‘You’re just guessing,’ scoffed Mango nervously.

  ‘Maybe, but I think that's how it played out for the Matron.’

  Mango didn’t ask what happened to the Matron. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘We should get outside.’ Gregory emerged and wiped his mouth clean.

  ‘What? What about those things?’ Mango asked.

  ‘They don’t like sunlight,’ said Gregory, quickly narrating his fight with the spectres outside the sanatorium. ‘I think they’ve infested the building, but I’m betting that not a one of them will be roaming around outside.’

  ‘Even if that’s true, what about the night?’ Mango asked.

  ‘We can hole up in the Sanatorium. I thought about it. It’s got a single door and the windows can be blocked. It’s not connected to the main building, so we could lock ourselves in.’

  ‘We’re going to get hungry,’ said Mango.

  ‘No, we won’t. There’s a whole larder packed with cakes and sandwiches there. I got some – take a look in my bag if you want some now. Give the kids some.’

  Mango went through the bag. The sight of food galvanized everyone except Gregory. The children quickly bit into the bread and chocolate, as did Mango.

  ‘Oi, hafe shome,’ said Mango through a thick mouthful. ‘Youf hearnt it.’

  Gregory shook his head; he was still shaking.

  ‘I’m never eating again.’

  After the food was gone, the atmosphere in the room was actually cheerful.

  ‘Where’d you come from?’ Mango asked.

  ‘I… I was in an airship,’ Gregory said.

  He didn’t feel like telling his strange story again, so instead, he quietly told her how the carpets had fallen, how the zeppelins had crashed and burned, how the spectres had been everywhere, how he’d jumped into the pond, and how he’d become trapped in the Caverns.

  ‘It’s like magic just died,’ Gregory said. ‘But then the salves and potions I used on Miss Flanders shouldn't have worked either.’

  ‘So there’s something wrong with the caster?’ Mango said. ‘That, or the connection between instruments and user. Useless to think about it. We can’t know and it doesn't change anything. What do we do now?’

  ‘Well, we could try and find the grown-ups?’ said Gregory. ‘They might know how to fight these things.’

  ‘Yeah, let’s take on a horde of monsters all alone. Good plan! I thought it was gonna be something dangerous!’

  ‘You come up with something then!’

  ‘Let’s just get out of here. Run for the entrance. If we make it through the archway alive, that’s it. Those things can’t get at us in the sunlight, you said.’

  ‘Great idea. Why didn't I think of that? By the way, do you know how to move to move a few tonnes of rock?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The landslide!’

  ‘Oh… we’re trapped until someone figures out a way to clear the rocks… without magic?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘This couldn’t get better.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Mango, frightened.

  Gregory held his head in his hands.

  ‘We should get to the Sanatorium… it’s separate from the main building, and there’s more food and medicine there.’

  ‘And when the sun goes down?’ Mango asked tensely. ‘Those creeps are going to be everywhere!’

  ‘It’s still morning. Let's check around the cliffs… we might find a way to climb out of from here. If not… we’ll see. Anything’s better than waiting for a door to be knocked in.’

  Mango nodded.

  They fashioned a makeshift stretcher out of curtain rods and curtains for Miss Flanders. Somehow they managed to hoist her out of the window, and the whole party, including the children, set off.

  Gregory stopped them some distance short of the Sanatorium. ‘Tell the kids to wait here.’

  He led Mango into the Sanatorium; she saw the Matron and turned away, pressing her face to the wall.

  ‘We can’t let the kids see her,’ Gregory said in a tight voice. He took a deep breath and jerked the spear out of the lifeless woman; she crumpled to the ground. ‘We have to put her behind the building.’

  After that was done, Mango threw up into the grass. They cleaned up the Sanatorium as best as they could, washing away the blood.

  ‘Call the kids in,’ Gregory said, sweeping the fallen vials and bottles into a bag.

  Mango found some board games under the bed; the kids were quickly distracted, except for a few who just looked grey and were quiet.

  ‘Let’s see if the grown-ups are still around,’ Mango said, her face hard.

  The high tower was called the Faculty Tower.

  ‘Hey, is anybody still alive in there?’ Gregory called.

  ‘Hello,’ Mango followed up.

  A window on the third level opened, and somebody looked down at them.

  ‘Mango, is that you?’ it called.

  ‘Auntie! Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘Where’s Jenny? Where are the other kids? Where’s Miss Flanders?’ The woman was nearly hysterical.

  ‘They’re in the Sanatorium. They’re safe!’

  Mango’s aunt turned back into the room; Gregory heard a loud cheer from above. A number of other windows popped open and more heads looked down.

  ‘Well, thank heavens,’ Mango’s aunt yelled down. ‘We all went looking for you and almost died of fright when we found no one in the classroom. Why didn't you stay there? And who’s with you?’

  ‘This is Gregory. He helped us. He saved Miss Flanders’s life. He took us all to the Sanatorium.’

  ‘Mango, I want you to go back into the San and stay there. Do it now. There are some strange creatures running about. Lock yourself in!’

  ‘It’s safe out here for now. Those things can’t go out in the sun. I’ve seen them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Listen to her, ma’am,’ Gregory shouted up. ‘The sunlight burns those things up. Stay out of the shadows, and you’re safe.’

  Mango’s aunt said something to the others up there with her. She turned back to Gregory.

  ‘Look, we can’t come down anymore. An army of those things followed us up here after we didn’t find you! The second level is crawling with those things!’

  ‘Ma’am, I don't know if you’re aware, but the main entrance out of here is blocked. There was a landslide.’

  ‘Yes, I know. We saw it.’

  ‘Well, you must know that you can’t use spells anymore. That means the stones outside have to be removed without magic, and that could take to well over a day.’

  ‘W
hat are you getting at?’

  ‘I’m saying that we’ll have to spend at least a night in here. And if night falls, then those creatures could go anywhere. They might figure out a way to get to you… to us.’

  ‘That won’t happen if we stay put and lock ourselves down. Now you listen to me. I want you to board up the Sanatorium windows as best you can. Lock yourself in and sit tight till help arrives.’

  ‘Ma’am, the whole country could be facing the same situation that we are. Help might not arrive as soon as you think.’

  ‘You want to fight these creatures, boy? Listen here, there are nine grown adults up here who tried to fight those things and failed. There were thirteen of us – now three of us are dead, three are unconscious, and three are so badly injured I don’t know if they’ll survive the night. There are more than twenty of these things running about inside the school and there are too few of us to take them on. Don't be a fool!’

  ‘As you say ma’am. I hope you’re right,’ Gregory shouted up. ‘Do you need any medicine? I used some on Miss Flanders and they still work. The San is full of them.’

  ‘Yes! Gods, yes! We’ll let down some string. Send up a bit of everything!’

  Five minute later, a bag bulging with bottles, vials, cotton and food taken from the Sanatorium’s cupboard swung its way up the Faculty Tower.

  ‘Thank you, boy – Gregory. Now get yourself to safety quickly,’ Mango’s aunt said.

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’

  Mango’s aunt withdrew into the building.

  ‘We’re not going to sit tight like she said, are we?’ Mango said to Gregory.

  ‘And wait for those things to come and howl outside my doorstep? I don't think so,’ snorted Gregory.

  ‘We’re going to kill them, right?’ Mango asked, grinning.

  He was starting to like her.

  ‘Yes, we are.’