Maze Running and other Magical Missions (2 page)

As she scrambled over to Yann, Helen saw the minotaur smile, then walk away, followed by his goats.

And she saw the arrow Yann had fired. Lying on the ground. Pointing straight at the Master, but broken in half by a fallen rock.

Helen dragged her green first aid kit off her back, though there was nothing inside the rucksack to deal with such a serious injury. She could handle broken wings and cut limbs, but this bloody pumping wound needed more than wipes and bandages.

Helen knew she shouldn’t move the wood sticking out of the wound, so she moved round to Yann’s head.

His eyes were closed. She put her hand on his cheek. He was cold, but she saw his nostrils flare. He was still breathing.

The hoofbeats were now so loud, she could hardly hear Catesby screaming or Lavender and Rona yelling. But she caught enough words to know her friends were asking if Yann was alive and if she could heal him.

She looked at his white face, his limp arms and legs, the blood pooling under his body, the branch stuck deep into his chest, and she wondered whether anyone could heal him.

Then she was surrounded by a crashing which was almost as overwhelming as the rocks falling. The cavalry had arrived.

She ignored the long legs and heavy hooves around her, and concentrated on Yann.

She felt the pulse at his wrist. It was weak.

“Please be quiet!” she called out. “I need to hear his heart.”

But everyone kept thumping and yelling and circling round.

“
Quiet!
” No one paid any attention.

Then Rona shouted, “Silence! Give the healer some space. Give her some respect.”

The circling hooves moved back. The voices quietened.

Helen remembered that the best place to hear a horse’s heart was from behind, so she crawled past Yann’s hooves, then lowered her head to his ribcage, behind his left leg. She heard his heart … beat … slow … and … weak…

She sat up. She was kneeling in blood. Her knees were wet and warm with it.

She fumbled in her pocket for the only piece of equipment which could save Yann. Her phone. She dialled home.

“Hello! Who is that? Hello!”

“Nicola! It’s me. Find Mum and give her the phone.”

“Mummy said I am not to disturb her. Not less it’s urgent, like a crocodile biting my leg. Call back later please. Thank you.”

And her little sister hung up.

Helen dialled again. “Nicola! Don’t hang up! There’s a crocodile biting my leg
right now
and I need to speak to Mum. Please!”

“Okey dokey. Say hi to the crocodile.”

Helen heard footsteps, a squeaky door, then Nicola’s faint voice. “Mummy, Helen is being eaten by a crocodile and wants to talk to you.”

Then she heard her mum’s irritated voice. “Helen! I’m writing a lecture. What is it?”

Helen put the phone on speaker and laid it on the ground, so she could talk and use her hands at the same time. “Mum! Please help me. I have a … a … horse here with a branch driven into his chest and he’s bleeding and unconscious and his skin is pale and cold and his pulse is very weak! What do I do?”

“Is there an adult there? Is the horse’s owner there? And why aren’t you getting ready for school?”

“
Mum!
Help me with the horse! School isn’t as important as the horse!”

“Calm down. Staying calm will help the horse. Who else is there?”

Helen looked up for the first time.

She was surrounded by fabled beasts: by her own friends, including Sapphire, who’d pushed her long neck through the trees, now that she wouldn’t spring the trap; by a herd of centaurs, a dozen silver and gold unicorns and some wild-looking kelpies.

All of them staring at her.

“There’s quite a crowd, Mum, but I’m the only one with a first aid kit.”

“Is the wound still bleeding?”

Helen saw a steady stream of blood dripping down the branch onto the ground. “Yes. He’s lost lots of blood and it’s still bleeding.”

“Where is the wound?”

“It’s on the left side of his chest. I think it’s pierced his heart! And his heartbeat is so slow and quiet, I can hardly hear it. What do I do? Do I take the branch out?”

“No. If it’s penetrated his heart, even more blood will pump out when you remove it. You don’t have the equipment to deal with that. We’ll need intravenous fluids and… I’m coming now, Helen, just hold on. How slow is the heartbeat? Can you count it for me?”

Helen laid her head down again and heard one flicker of a pulse.

Then nothing. She waited.

Silence.

Nothing.

The birds had stopped calling. The trees were still. None of the fabled beasts were making a sound.

And she couldn’t hear Yann’s heart.

“His heart has stopped! Mum! What do I do?”

“You can’t do anything on your own. I’m coming, in case there’s anything I can do. It isn’t easy to hear a horse’s heart if it’s weak. There may still be a very faint pulse. So cover him up, keep him warm, and tell me where you are.”

“I’m at Tra—”

A huge hoof slammed down and crushed her phone.

Helen screamed in frustration.

She leapt up and faced Yann’s father. “How dare you! I’m trying to help him! My mum can help him! She can bring equipment to save him. She’s only a few minutes away, there’s still time!”

Before the white centaur could answer, Helen flung herself back down and listened again for Yann’s heart.

Nothing. She couldn’t hear his heart beat in his horse chest.

She stretched up and put her fingers on his wrist. Through his thin human skin, she felt a slow throbbing beat. “A pulse! He still has a pulse!”

“Of course, you stupid human girl…” Yann’s father grabbed her shoulder.

Helen pushed him away and heard Rona’s soothing voice saying, “Petros, please, let her try. She has healed so many of us.”

Helen wondered why Yann had a pulse when his injured heart had stopped beating. She scrambled round to put her ear on his human chest.

His boy’s heart was still beating. Weak, but regular.

“He’s alive! He has
two
hearts. And his boy’s heart is still working! We can still save him.”

She touched the branch, wondering if it was safe to pull it out of the horse heart now, to treat the wound.

But Petros hauled her away. “Leave my son alone! You’ve done enough damage. We will take him home to our healers, who will not be surprised to discover that he has two hearts. And
you
will stay away from him.”

He dropped Helen to the ground behind the circle of horses. She watched as four adult centaurs picked
Yann up, the branch still sticking out of the wound, blood dripping more slowly off the end.

They laid him across his father’s back, then all five centaurs moved off in formation, one bearing his weight, the others holding him steady.

As they galloped away, Helen watched her friend’s blood streak red down his father’s white flanks.

Helen couldn’t stand up.

Now that the danger of the rescue, the terror of the trap and the horror of Yann’s injury were past, she could feel bruises on her elbow and ribs. The blood on her knees was cold and sticky. She shivered.

Rona sat down beside her. “Centaur healers are used to battle wounds…”

Then the baby unicorn woke up. She’d slept through threats, rockfalls and injuries, but when one of the adult unicorns whickered, she wriggled in Rona’s arms.

A pale golden unicorn approached Helen and Rona on slim legs and pearly hooves. She called again and the baby replied. Rona opened her arms. The baby unicorn stood up, wobbling on her newborn legs, then staggered over to her mum. The baby reached her head up and the mother reached her head down, and they rubbed noses.

Helen burst into tears. Which was a bit embarrassing, because it was usually Rona who cried.

But Helen was scared that by trying to heal Yann herself she had delayed more useful treatment. Also, she was happy the unicorn was safe, she was sore
in at least three places, her mum was going to ask impossible questions about that awful phone call, and she was nearly late for school.

Rona hugged her. “Yann is strong. He’ll be fine.” But she was sniffing too.

The mother unicorn raised her head and whinnied. Rona replied, “Thank you. I’ll tell him when he wakes.”

Then the unicorns left, their glittery outlines vanishing into the shadows of the trees. The kelpies turned and galloped on the trail of the Master. The remaining centaurs collected Yann’s broken arrow and discarded bow, and followed Petros. Suddenly the friends were alone.

Helen looked at the blood on the ground, and her smashed phone. “Let’s go after them. Let’s see if there is anything we can do.”

She stood up, but Rona gripped her wrist. “Don’t be daft, Helen. Petros doesn’t like you near Yann at the best of times. He’s as big and strong as the Master, and he hates humans almost as much. It’s not safe for you in the centaurs’ grounds; that’s why Yann never takes you there. Perhaps once Yann is recovering, you can visit. But not while his blood is still flowing and his father’s blood is still hot. Anyway, you have to get to school.”

“I can’t go to school! I have to find out how Yann is.”

Catesby chattered angrily above her head.

Lavender landed on Helen’s shoulder. “Catesby’s right. You have to act normally, or you’ll give too much away. Go home, tell your mother something she
can believe, then go to school. That might repair any damage you did to the secret existence of Scotland’s fabled beasts when you called her.”

“I’m sorry!” wailed Helen. “I thought she could help. Anyway, how can I act normally at school when Yann might be
dying
?”

“You’ve faced monsters, Helen Strang, you can do anything.”

“This is worse than any monster…”

Catesby chattered again and Lavender translated. “Catesby will fly to the centaurs’ moor, and if Yann gets worse, we will get a message to you.”

So Helen climbed onto the dragon and they all flew, hidden high in the clouds, to Clovenshaws.

They landed behind the trees on the hill at the back of her house, and Helen hugged her friends goodbye.

She didn’t bother cleaning the blood from her hands or the tear-streaks from her face. They were part of her story anyway.

She ran down the hill, clambered over the wooden fence, jogged past the large animal surgery and crashed through the back door.

Her family were sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

“Helen!” her mum yelled. “Where were you? Why did you cut me off?”

Helen took a deep breath. “The horse jerked and smashed my phone with his hoof. No one else had any reception, so I couldn’t call back. Sorry.”

“And how is the horse?”

“He’s … he’s fine. I overreacted. The wood only went in a centimetre or two. It must have hit a
vein, because there was lots of blood, but once I remembered how to take a horse’s pulse properly I realised his heart was beating fine. So we eased the stick out, cleaned and covered the wound, and the horse is being kept warm and calm to deal with the shock.”

Helen’s mum nodded, but she still looked worried.

Helen kept talking. “Sorry I panicked. Lavender loves her ponies and she was crying, which made me overreact. Sorry.”

“That’s a lot of blood though, Helen.”

“It’s not that much.” She glanced down. Her legs were dark red from her knees to her ankles. It looked like she’d been wading in blood. “Ah. Some of that is mud, really. It’s not so bad.” Her mum didn’t look convinced. And her dad and little sister were staring at her jeans.

Helen noticed her ripped scarf and hid it in her fleece. “I’d better get ready for school.” She stepped away from the table, wondering if she had got away with that. She’d been getting away with lots of lies recently, because her parents believed that Helen had a new friend at high school with a passion for ponies, and that Helen went out early most mornings to help exercise them.

The pony story would collapse if her mum ever spoke to anyone at school, and discovered that the Lavender in Helen’s maths set was far happier at a computer than out of doors and only had a goldfish. But Helen was hoping she would think of a way round that before parents’ night.

Her mum stood up. “Not so fast, Helen. Is there a vet attending the pony? Should I go round?”

“No. Yes. No, you don’t need to go round. Really, Mum, it was only a flesh wound, and you’ve shown me how to deal with those, and Lavender’s granny has owned horses her entire life, so she knows what she’s doing.” Helen thought of her real friend Lavender’s real granny, who was so tiny she could boss everyone around from inside a rhododendron flower. “It’s fine. I panicked. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for a new phone.”

“And new jeans, I suspect,” said her dad.

“These will wash out. I only use them for adventures anyway.”

“For what?”

“Oh. For riding, going for walks, messing about in mud … and blood,” she muttered as she left the kitchen.

“You have fifteen minutes before the school bus goes!” her mum yelled after her.

Helen had a quick shower, wincing as the water hit her bruises, then got dressed without bothering to tie her tie. She pinned her dark curly hair back and grabbed her schoolbag.

Then, moving so fast she didn’t have time to worry about Yann, she ran out of the house and down the lane to the main road through Clovenshaws, where she skidded to a halt on the grass verge. Two minutes early.

She had time to get her breath back before the bus drew up. Then she jumped on and sat beside her best human friend, Kirsty.

Helen knotted her tie and pulled out her French homework. “Can we revise this vocabulary, Kirsty? I didn’t have time last night.”

“Why not? I did it all before teatime.”

“I was out on the hills, looking for new birds’ nests.”

Helen had invented several hobbies recently, including birdwatching and horseriding, to explain why she wanted to be outside in the evenings, early mornings and most weekends. She’d also become expert at doing her homework on the bus, at lunchtime and at the tea table. She was still getting good marks, because she was concentrating on getting it right first time, so her parents didn’t have any excuse to keep her in.

“Birds’ nests?” said Kirsty. “Really? That’s a bit pathetic. Who is he, Helen?”

“Who is who?”

“Who is it you’re seeing?”

Helen bit her lip. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Helen. I know this ponyriding thing is a lie too.”

“What ponyriding thing?”

“Last week, when your mum gave us both a lift and you had to run back for your violin, she asked me whether I was exercising Lavender’s ponies too. She said you were awfully keen, out pretty much every morning. And I covered for you, said you were always chatting about horses at school. But I know you and Lavender hardly ever talk and she’s allergic to animal hair, so what are you doing? Is it a boy? Is it
a mystery? Is it your music? What is it?”

Helen, who’d stopped breathing as she heard Kirsty destroy her carefully built castle of lies, grasped at that last suggestion. “Yes it is! It is my music. You know what my mum’s like. If it’s not got four legs and a fascinating wound, she thinks it’s a waste of time. She disapproves of me spending more time on the violin than my other homework, so she’s trying to cut me down to fifteen minutes practice a day. Just quarter of an hour! That’s ridiculous. I’ll never be a professional violinist at that rate. So I’m sneaking out to someone’s barn and practising every morning. Please don’t give me away.
Please!
”

Like most of Helen’s lies, it wasn’t far from the truth. Her mum didn’t want Helen to focus just on her musical talent. She did insist on more maths and less music. And Helen did often take her fiddle with her when she met the fabled beasts, because Rona was a superb singer, and they sometimes composed and performed together.

But it was still a lie. A lie to her best friend. After the lies to her mum and dad.

The only people she didn’t lie to were the people she was lying to protect: Rona, Lavender, Catesby, Sapphire and Yann.

Helen sighed. Yann. She hoped centaur healers could cure spears in the heart.

But Kirsty heard the sigh differently. “Oh, Helen! It must be so hard. To have a dream and not be able to follow it!” She sighed too. “I’m lucky, my mum drives me to Edinburgh three times a week to play football.
She’s so supportive. It must be hard when your mum is so strict…”

Helen smiled. Her mum wasn’t strict. She had rules, like homework done, room tidy and limits on violin time. But so long as those rules were followed, she let Helen roam the countryside, and didn’t ask too many questions when Helen came back. Unless she was drenched in blood.

“My mum’s alright. So are you!” She hugged Kirsty, and they raced through a list of French animals until the bus stopped.

Helen had been at the high school for months now and was used to the timetable, the maze of corridors and the huge sixth years. Today, when her mind kept flitting back to the blood on the leaves and the moment Yann’s heart stopped beating, she was grateful for the regular changes of subject.

The last period was music, her favourite. But she kept glancing at the windows, hoping, for once, that she wouldn’t see a waving fairy on the windowsill. She didn’t want to get a message from her friends today. She didn’t want to hear that Yann had got worse, because the only way for him to get worse was for him to die.

But by the time she’d clambered on the bus, listened to Kirsty’s chatter about what she’d burnt in Home Economics, then run home, she was desperate for news.

She dropped her bags in the hall and stomped upstairs.

She heard the door of the small animal surgery open. There was a muffled woof, then her mum’s voice. “Homework?”

“It’s Friday,” Helen yelled. “I don’t have homework for Saturday or Sunday. Give me a break!”

“Don’t be smart with me, Helen. What homework do you have for Monday?”

Helen shouted back, as she reached her bedroom, “Not much. I have to plan out a story for English and do some maths.” Then she shut her door. “Also, I have to find out if my grumpiest friend is still alive and I have to keep my other friends safe…

“Do you think I can do all that before Monday?” she asked the figures sitting on her bed: Rona on the duvet, Lavender on the pillow and Catesby on the headboard. “Do you think
we
can do all that?”

None of them spoke.

“Of course we can,” Helen answered herself. “That’s why even the Master of the Maze wants us to work for him.”

Then she asked the question she’d been worrying about all day, but now didn’t want to ask. “How is he?”

Rona stood up and put her arms round Helen. Helen felt the selkie’s tears, damp on her shoulder.