CHAPTER TWO

The next day, Connie was relieved to see Col back to his old self as he joked around on the bus. He even kept up a lively debate in their English lesson. Nonetheless, whenever Connie brought up the subject of his grandmother, Col would mutter an excuse and run off. It was getting difficult to pin him down, but Connie knew she had to convince him to visit his guardian.

"Col, we should visit your grandmother today," she said during lunch, grabbing his arm so he couldn't escape.

"Er, maybe," Col said, struggling to put down his tray with one arm constrained. Connie frowned, half-tempted to zap him with a tiny dart of stored charge from Storm-Bird. "What's the rush?"

"Because Issoon visited me in the ladies' room before French and demands that you go and see her," Connie said, not missing a beat as Col's eyebrows shot up. She'd nearly had kittens when the water sprite bubbled out of the sink alongside hers, begging her to bring Col to the hospital. And Connie knew that if the water sprite had willingly used those filthy sewage pipes to reach her, his companion must have been desperate. "I think you owe her at least one visit."

"Okay, okay," Col said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You'll have to wait up for me though, it's football practice today."

"Fine. I'll see you at the gates."

The afternoon droned on and on. Connie's eyes were fixed on the clock, counting down the hour, then half hour, quarter of an hour, and finally the last five minutes of History. Though it was a subject she enjoyed, today the bell could not ring soon enough. Once her books were packed, she walked into town, deciding to bide her hour alone in the florist. There were many bundles to choose from, and she ended up picking out a bouquet of roses for Mrs. Clamworthy.

When she arrived back at the school gates, Col was waiting for her, dressed in his football shorts and Liverpool shirt. His muddy boots were strapped alongside his kit bag.

"Aww, you shouldn't have," he said, reaching out to accept the flowers. Connie held them back.

"They're for your Gran, not you," she chided as they made towards the hospital. "Why are you so afraid of seeing her?"

Col's face clouded over.

"I told you, she's doing fine," Connie tried again, wishing she hadn't said anything. "You're not still blaming yourself, are you?" Col snorted, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Course not," he mumbled, stepping up his pace. "Hurry up, or we'll miss the last bus back to Hescombe." Connie just nodded, wary to say any more.

Their journey continued in uneasy silence, until it was replaced by the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Connie led the way down the corridors, following the signs for Ward 24. As they approached the side room, Connie felt a familiar mythical presence. It seemed Mrs. Clamworthy already had a visitor. Col stiffened, listening to his grandmother's soft singing.

Fearing someone would think it suspicious that a patient's visitors wouldn't enter their room, Connie knocked on the door. At once the singing stopped. After a brief silence, Mrs. Clamworthy called out.

"Come in."

Connie opened the door, and heard a loud gurgle from the bedside sink. Issoon must've popped in for a visit of his own.

"Oh, it's you Connie," Mrs. Clamworth said. "You needn't have knock—" She stopped short when she saw who shuffled in after her. "Col!"

"Hi Gran," Col said quietly.

Connie's eyes fell onto the cards and presents that had taken over Mrs. Clamworthy's room. Even the bedside chair was overflowing with bouquets and boxes of chocolate. Remembering the bundle in her arms, she stacked the roses against the chair leg, before perching on the window sill. Col took a shy step towards the bed, unable to take his eyes off the floor.

"I've had a lot of visitors," Mrs. Clamworthy said, gesturing to the assortment of gifts. "Gard and Dr. Brock came a few hours ago, gave me that wonderful model." She pointed to a rock sculpture of a dragon on her bedside. "But never mind me. Why didn't you come sooner, Col?"

Col's gaze remained locked on his trainers.

"I suppose you didn't want to see me like this," Mrs. Clamworthy said. Col turned his back to his grandmother, and Connie saw the beginning of tears trickle down his face. "Oh Col, you can't blame yourself for my clumsiness."

"You were there for two hours," Col said, his voice hoarse. "I could've left my mobile at home, you could've rung for help."

"Col, it was not your fault," Mrs. Clamworthy consoled. "I'm not as steady as I was."

"I should have been there…"

"Colin Clamworthy, you come here this instant!"

Col flinched. He reluctantly strode to the bed, his head still low, before he sat beside her. Mrs. Clamworthy put her arm around him, and he started to sob.

Connie felt out of place intruding on such an intimate moment and began to creep towards the door, but Mrs. Clamworthy stopped her with a shake of her head.

"I'll bet Connie's had all sorts to do to get you here," she said, stroking her grandson's shoulder as his body shook. "There's nothing to worry about, Col. Issoon can reach me when he needs to, and they'll take the cast off and stitches out in a few weeks. We'll be back to normal in no time. Now enough of this silliness. You've got your Society exams coming up, you need to be concentrating on that."

Once Col calmed down, he stood up. He gave Mrs. Clamworthy a final parting embrace, and then headed for the door. Connie made to follow, but Mrs. Clamworthy held her back.

"Thank you for bringing him," she said. "Col has always been protective over me, it was only natural for him to feel guilty about my fall. I've looked after him since he was very small, he's not quite used to the idea that my age is catching up with me. So please, look after him while I'm healing."

"I promise I will," Connie said, squeezing her hand. "Take care."

"You too, dear."

Connie joined Col outside the ward, and then together they walked through the bleak hospital corridors.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Connie said, as they stepped through the automatic doors and passed the rows of ambulances.

"Yeah," Col nodded.

"She's more worried about you, you know," Connie said. Col looked away.

"She's all I have," he whispered. "If anything happened to her…" He stopped as Connie took his hand, and held it tight.

They caught the last bus back to Hescombe, and then ambled up to Shaker Row. Col sighed; he was going to have to get used to this route for the next few weeks until his grandmother was discharged from the hospital. Though he should have liked the idea that he'd be near Connie and his brother, he was going to have to sleep on the couch in the parlour, which he wasn't quite so keen on.

Connie led him into the hall, and Col dumped his kit bag on the floor. She shrugged off her jacket, and as she was about to hang it on the stand she spotted an unfamiliar coat already there.

"Ah, hello Connie," Dr. Brock greeted her from the kitchen, where he was sipping a cup of tea. Beside him was the etched figure of Gard, his hood lowered. "And Col. How are you?"

"Fine," Col said, padding to the kitchen and taking a seat. He was not in a mood to talk.

"I'm sorry to hear about Lavinia's fall," Dr. Brock said. "We saw her this morning, she seems to be recovering well. She spoke highly of you, you know, contacting the ambulance so quickly."

"Yeah." Col was growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

Connie turned to Gard, sending a mental plea to change the subject.

"So, the Society Grade 6 exams are coming up," the rock dwarf said, nodding at the universal. "In fact now would be a good time for me to inform you of the arrangements, Connie."

Col gave her a sidelong glance.

"Oh, I don't get out of exams just because I'm a universal," Connie explained.

"Yeah, but who's going to assess you? And what on?"

"I suppose 'examinations' are not the right word," Gard answered. "They are more like progress checks, to make sure our universal is alright. We must watch out for creatures like the Leviathan who managed to infiltrate her powers, and ensure her safety."

Col nodded, momentarily distracted from his darker mood.

"The Trustees have decided to implement your check at the same time as the other Company exams," Gard went on, "since there will be measures in place to prevent unnecessary exposure."

"Does that mean it's a practical?" Connie asked.

"Yes," Gard confirmed. "You are to select three skills you have learned during the course of the last six months, and demonstrate them. Before the exam, you are to inform me of your chosen abilities and to provide a brief written account of what each one does. Then you will display them to us."

"Sounds simple," Connie said.

"Each skill must come from a different subset of your powers," Gard went on. "One weapon, one defence and one non-combat skill."

"Okay," Connie nodded, already having an idea of which of her powers to show. "When should I write the descriptions out?"

"The sooner, the better," Gard said. "I will be around Hescombe, so you will be able to deliver them to me. The exam will be in a secret location near the Society Headquarters in London. I will meet you there next Saturday to escort you to the Trustees, who will be assessing."

As he finished, there was a creak from the stairs, and Evelyn came down.

"George's asleep," she whispered. "Sorry to have left you to yourselves."

"No problem, Evelyn," Dr. Brock said, keeping his voice low. He put down his empty mug and stood up. "Well, we'd better be going. Thank you for the hospitality, Evelyn." He turned to Connie and Col. "And best of luck to the both of you." The two nodded, and then the doctor and the rock dwarf left.

"So, did Gard tell you about your exam?" Evelyn asked.

"Yes. I've got some preparation to do for it," Connie replied.

"Well, you've got the weekend to sort it out," Evelyn said. "Come and help me with dinner." She fished in her pocket, and then handed Col a silver key. "Col, your grandmother gave me this. Mack can drive you home to pick up what you need. He's in the garage."

Col took the key and walked into the hall. When he passed the cold parlour, he pulled a face, before exiting the house. This was going to be home, for now at least.

Col whistled to himself as he walked onto the moor in his flight gear, calling out to Skylark. He was going to get in some practice before his exam the following Saturday. Connie was in her room, scribbling away at the descriptions of the three skills she was going to show. She said she was going to try out something called the gauntlets, though Col had gotten lost on the detail. Universal powers weren't his thing. Athenian rolls and Thessalian dives, however, that was something he could relate to.

Skylark was flying at the edge of the moor, gliding happily in the air thermals. On sensing his companion he spiralled downward, landing with a gentle thud.

"Are you better, Col?" he asked, as Col hugged his great neck. Col twirled his fingers in the beast's mane, at peace in his presence.

"Much better, thanks," Col said. He then mounted the pegasus with practiced ease. Once Col was comfortable, Skylark trotted out a short way, before launching into a gallop and rising into the air.

"So, what are we doing today?"

"Nothing too strenuous," Col smirked. "Let's practice our routine."

And so rider and pegasus swirled through the clouds, twisting, diving, and rolling in an elegant pattern. Col's skill had already impressed the national pegasus team, but he knew that his old combination would lack its impact a second time around. He needed a new secret to impress his examiners.

"Spartan somersault!" Col commanded, and Skylark rolled forwards, his head between his forehooves as his wings and tail spun after him. Then he was upright again, and his front hooves kicked the air—the attacking move for a battle with a flying creature at close quarters. "Awesome!"

They went through the other moves in their repertoire, making sure they weren't rusty. The routine was so practiced, Col soon became distracted. He glanced below, studying the landscape. They were above the Devil's Tooth. A small patch of ground had been roped off behind it, though it wasn't clear why. As Col attempted to peer closer, Skylark suddenly banked.

"Hey!" Col shifted, stopping himself from falling.

"Companion, concentrate!" the pegasus snorted.

Col sighed. Still his eyes were drawn to the Devil's Tooth, and he played with Skylark's mane.

"You know, I think we need a break," he said. "Let's take a look at that place behind the Devil's Tooth."

Skylark neighed in agreement, before he dived towards the protruding rock. He landed a few metres beyond at a canter, but the rope barrier was closer than he'd anticipated. The pegasus veered sideways, narrowing avoiding the grassy mound, and Col had to brace himself. Once they'd stopped, he checked behind. Skylark's hooves had left score marks in the dirt.

"Whew, that was close," Col breathed. "Don't go so fast next time!"

"Were you trying to test me?" Skylark asked.

Col shook his head, dismounting.

"No. I thought it'd be fun to check this place out."

He stepped over the rope and onto the mound. Just before its summit, an iron sword lay buried in the soil, its hilt facing the sky. Col murmured to himself. Last year, the local college had discovered Celtic remains here, and a full excavation had been organised. The dig had ended last month, the archaeologists having taken away the valuable burial items. The only artefact left was the sword, as for some reason it had been impossible to remove. Some speculated that it was cursed, enchanted to protect this tomb of a forgotten warrior, though most believed it had been purposefully embedded in the underlying stone. Either way, since nobody could steal it, it had been left in the open, and for some reason Col felt drawn to it.

Slowly he approached the sword, which glistened in the mid-morning sun. The weapon beckoned, begging to be touched.

"Companion, I don't like this," Skylark said, shuffling on his hooves.

"Oh come on, it's just a lump of iron," Col scoffed, running his finger on the nicked blade. "See? Harmless."

"Col, do not go near that sword," Skylark fretted, backing away from the mound. "It is evil."

"What?" Col snorted back a laugh. "Skylark, it's dead metal. It' no more evil than the grass behind it. I'll show you." He gave the sword a flick, and it resonated a little.

"Companion, stop this," Skylark whinnied, his wings trembling. "Please."

"Skylark, what's gotten into you?" Col asked. "It's just a sword!" Unafraid of what he was doing, he gripped the blade and tugged, expecting it to remain stuck.

The sword came free, and Col gasped. He stared at the weapon, shocked that he'd been able to dislodge it when a whole team of excavators had failed. Skylark reared, neighing in distress, and then raced into the sky

Col broke free of his daze, and raised his head to the heavens.

"Skylark!" he yelled. "Skylark! Where are you going?"

Something buzzed in his hand, and he turned to the sword again. It was vibrating, and a dark glow emanated from its hilt. Eyes wide, Col shoved the sword back into the stony earth. The blade continued to tremble, when a black vapour escaped its surface. Col backed away from the mist, wishing he had listened to his companion.

Then, almost as soon as it had appeared, it vanished. Col ran a hand through his hair, his heart doing overtime. Whoa, what had that been about? Taking a deep breath, he took one last look at the sword, then ran towards the Devil's Tooth.

"Skylark, come back!" he bellowed, waiting by the tor. "The world hasn't ended, stop being such a wet blanket and pick me up!" Though he managed to sound confident, his words were more to convince himself than the pegasus.

It took several minutes before Skylark calmed enough to return to his side. Col went to touch him in reassurance, but the creature shied.

"Promise me you will not touch that vile thing again!" he exclaimed. Col was taken aback. He'd never seen Skylark so frightened.

"Alright, alright, I promise," Col sighed. "You don't have to get worked up about it. I was only having a laugh. Sheesh, what's flown up your nose? Come on, let's go home. We'll call it quits for today."

As they left the Devil's Tooth, winging back towards the Masterson's, the black sword gleamed in the sunlight, tilted at a slightly different angle to usual.