First Aid for Fairies and Other Fabled Beasts (10 page)

Helen had found the flight up to Orkney
exhilarating
but the flight back was exhausting and cold, and she was relieved when Sapphire’s wing-beats slowed and the dragon floated to the ground.

They landed just beside the wood where they had left Yann. Helen jumped down and watched the others go into the dark trees, where no
moonlight
reached.

She lifted Lavender gently out of her fleece, partly to see how she was, and partly to persuade her to make a bit of fairy light, to lift the spooky blackness.

Lavender sneezed and smiled at Helen. “Hello!”

“How do you feel?” Helen asked.

“Fine. Fabulous. A bit damp. This dress is ruined. Oh well. I have plenty of others at home. All … guess what? … purple!”

“Don’t you like purple?”

“I hate it! Purple dresses, purple slippers, purple ribbons, purple buttons. We all get given flower names, but some fairies get called Tulip or Rose and can wear any colour at all. But I’m
Lavender
, so I can
only
wear purple. My mum is a Bluebell and moans about hating blue, so you’d think she’d have given me a name with more colour variety!
But no! She chose Lavender and I’m stuck with purple! It’s just not done to go against your name. It’s unlucky. And luck is very important to fairies.

“You were my luck tonight though. You saved my life. I will repay you somehow.”

Lavender’s little balls of light danced round them as they walked into the wood, to join the others under a tall birch tree. Yann was letting Catesby pick small twigs from his hair, while Rona used a handful of dried leaves to wipe white sweat stains from his flank.

“No,” he was answering, “I had a really boring night. I just had to gallop to get here to meet you. That’s all.” He grinned. “So tell me about your adventures.”

Rona threw the leaves down and told the tale of the night. Helen listened, slightly embarrassed, as Rona described how the healer’s child had saved Lavender’s life with magic breath and then pulled the clue from her pocket.

Rona ended her story. “Then we heard the Master bellow as we flew away. He was angry to lose us, but will be even angrier when he fails to find the clue.”

Yann walked on soft hooves up to Helen and Lavender. First he held his hand out to Lavender, and she hopped nimbly from Helen to Yann.

“How are you, my smallest fabled friend?”

“I am stiff, and my dress and hair are a mess, but I breathe and I fly.” She did a quick somersault on his hand. “I will weave magic for my friends again, because the healer’s child saved me.”

“How did you save her, healer’s child?” Yann
turned to Helen. “Is it true you have magic too? Why did you not tell us?”

“It wasn’t magic, Yann, I just pressed her chest to restart her heart and blew into her mouth to fill her lungs.”

“You did not have time to get that from a book.”

“No. My Mum insisted we took a course together on first aid for babies when my wee sister Nicola was born, and I practised artificial resuscitation on a doll. The doll was a bit bigger than Lavender but the principle was the same.”

“So you have learnt some healing from your elders after all.”

Helen shrugged. “I suppose I have. Mum would be delighted if I could ever tell her. But in fact, she’s just going to be massively annoyed when I get home so late. What time is it?”

“It is long past the mid point of night. But it is winter and there are still many hours before dawn. So we have time to puzzle out the next clue.”

Helen knew she would be in serious trouble at home for staying out so late, but perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make the consequences any worse. So she sat on a mossy branch, brought the driftwood from her pocket, and handed it to Yann. Yann read, in his clear hard voice:

“We will hold what in our hands at last? The Book? Is this the last clue?” Yann spoke quietly and thoughtfully. “But where is there great change and fear? You don’t get bears on this island any more, nor many blacksmiths with bars of hot iron.”

“There were big steelworks many miles west of here until a few years ago,” said Helen, “but they’ve all closed down now. That was a big change, but I think the ground there is too polluted to have snakes or newts, let alone bears.”

Yann looked around. “Can anyone puzzle this out for us?”

There was a ripple of shrugs from tired shoulders covered in feathers, scales, damp fur and torn purple fabric.

Helen said, “The bar of iron and the bear do ring a bell with me, perhaps from an old song or story I once heard, but I’m too tired to find it in my head tonight. The Master doesn’t have the clue, so we don’t have to race him to the next answer. Can’t we just sleep on it?”

She stood up and stretched. “I have to go now anyway, because my parents will be worried about me.”

She finally looked at her watch. It was 1.30 am. She closed her eyes, then looked again. It was definitely 1.30 am. Her Mum and Dad would be imagining all sorts of terrible things that might have happened to her, though they probably wouldn’t get anywhere near the truth.

But she didn’t like lying to them. What would she say about her long disappearance? The fabled beasts were all watching her.

“Will you get into trouble, human girl?” asked Yann.

She looked up at him. “Probably. Yes.”

“I could help,” offered Lavender. “I am in your debt. I could conjure up a forgetting spell, and make your parents forget you have been absent all evening.”

“You could brainwash them?” Helen considered the idea. It would be convenient, but she didn’t like the idea of anyone messing with her parents’ minds. “I don’t think so. I think I’ll just have to say I’m sorry and nod lots while they shout at me.” She sighed.

“Will you tell them where you have been?” asked Yann.

“No. They wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t want to get you lot into trouble too.”

“Will they punish you?” asked Rona.

“Probably. I’ve never broken this many rules in one go before, so I don’t know what will happen. Will your parents be angry with you for staying out so late?”

“Not really. Our parents will not think it is odd. Our peoples are often safer moving around at night. So long as we are ready for the Gathering in two nights’ time …” Rona’s voice faltered.

“Which we won’t be without the Book,” Lavender added, “and then we will be lucky to escape their anger with any of our powers and privileges intact.” The fairy sounded all wobbly again, more upset about not getting the Book back than about being attacked by dozens of seagulls.

Then Yann turned suddenly, his head cocked to
a sound that Helen hadn’t heard, and Rona said, “Shhhh!” to Lavender.

Then they all heard it.

“Hallo! Halloooooo! Helen! Helen Strang!”

A man’s voice. Several voices. Coming down the hill towards the clump of trees.

Helen rushed to the edge of the trees and looked out. There was a line of torches, and dark shadows behind the lights. Not just her parents looking for her, but a whole search party looking for a lost child. Well, they could find her, but not her friends.

She ran back into the trees. The shouts were getting louder.

“They’re searching for me. I must let them find me before they get any nearer to you. I’ll try to work out the clue before tomorrow night. Good luck.”

Yann said, “I could get you out of here, before they reach us.”

“Thanks, but no. I will sort this out on my own. Don’t leave here until all the searchers are gone.”

Helen crept back out of the wood, and lay down in a heap in the corner of the nearest field. The line of searchers was still a few minutes away as they were walking very slowly, so she picked up a rock, gritted her teeth and before she could have second thoughts, gave herself a quick dunt on the forehead.

Then she lay still. Waiting to be found.

The shouts got louder and someone scrambled over the fence and stood on Helen’s leg. She moaned and he yelled, and suddenly there were
people all around, shining torches in her face, and offering her water.

Then the circle of concerned faces cleared and her Mum was there.

“Helen! Darling! Are you alright? Can you talk? What day is it? What’s your sister’s name? And why aren’t you in the garage?”

“Oh, Mum. It’s Wednesday night. My sister’s called Nicola and I hope she isn’t out in the dark too. I just went out for some fresh air. Why are there so many people here?”

“You’ve been missing for hours! We called out the local hill-walking club to help look for you. Are you hurt?”

Her Mum examined her, finding the bashed head, and lots of other minor injuries that Helen must have got during her night’s travels and not even noticed.

Helen felt like a complete fraud. She had been expecting a major row, which she thoroughly deserved, but instead she was carried down the hill by Mr Brydon’s eldest son, and given hot chocolate and caramel wafers in the kitchen. Her Mum put plasters and creams on her grazes and bruises, and her Dad poured hot toddies for all the hill-walking club.

Finally everyone left, and Helen was allowed to climb slowly up the stairs with her Mum.

“A few days in bed, and then we’ll see if you’re fit to be up and about again, my dear.”

“I’ll be fine tomorrow, really.”

The bashed head had seemed like a good way of explaining her disappearance, but she had to get to
school tomorrow to look through Mr Crombie’s old books of ballads and traditional tales, where she was sure she would find an iron bar and a growling bear.

“I feel much better already. Just give me lots more chocolate for breakfast and I’ll be raring to go.”

Her Mum helped Helen out of her clothes and into her pyjamas then sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her to fall asleep.

“I know I’m grumpy at you sometimes,” she whispered when Helen’s breathing slowed, “but I love you very much.”

“I know,” Helen replied under her breath.

As soon as her Mum left, she sat up with a start. Where was the first aid kit? Thank goodness she hadn’t still been wearing it when the searchers found her, but had she left it in the trees or on the rocky beach?

She just hoped she wouldn’t need it again.

The voice boomed,
“Get me that clue!
”

“The centaur colt has it. He is safe in the midst of the centaur tribe. None of your creatures, not even I, Master, can get past their sight and strength and great sharp hooves. While he stays with his father, he is safe and the clue is out of our reach. But, while he stays there, he cannot find the Book.”

“You are failing me, Frass. You are letting me down. You do
not
want to disappoint me.”

“No, Master. Never. But we can rest today and then follow each of them tonight. We know their lairs and can follow them as they search.”

“I am not a follower! I am a leader!
I do not wish to get all these clues second hand. I wish to be there first. To let
them
walk into
my
trap. Find out where they are going. Find out before the sun goes down, Frass, or I will make a flywhisk with your stinking hairy little tail.”

“Winter days are very short, Master. Perhaps a little more time …?”

“No more time!”

Helen woke up feeling like she really did need a day off school. Her head hurt where she’d hit it,
she had bruises on both knees from tripping over the clue at the stone circle, her hands were grazed from the struggle with the rough fishing net, and her back was stiff from sitting on Sapphire for so long.

She pulled the duvet over her head and tried to go back to sleep. But she couldn’t. She had a
perfect
excuse for a couple of days off school, but she wasn’t able to take advantage of it.

She knew the answer to the riddle was in the school. The more she thought about the song she half-remembered, the more she was sure she’d heard an older girl sing it, years ago, at one of Mr Crombie’s traditional Scottish ceilidh nights.

Then, she remembered that her excuse for
leaving
the house yesterday had been to think about a solo. If she didn’t have one by tonight’s rehearsal, then Mr Crombie might phone the summer school director and tell her not to bother coming.

But she had nothing to play. No one would be impressed if she just trudged her way through a hornpipe or a waltz. Suddenly, Helen grinned, and rolled out from under the warm duvet. She grabbed her violin off her desk and tightened her bow.

She warmed up with a few Christmas carols and scales. Then, once her fingers had woken up, Helen played the tune she had realized was going to be her solo. At first, she played it slowly, carefully, hoping it would sound the same on the violin as it did in her head. Then she played it faster, louder, more confidently, over and over again, until she was sure it was perfect.

She bounced down the stairs to breakfast and marched into the kitchen all smiles, ready to show everyone how fit and well she was.

“Goodness me, Helen, you look
dreadful
,” said her Dad.

“I feel fine. Just a bit bruised.” Helen pulled up her pyjama trouser legs and showed her bashed knees. “Really, I’m fine. I can go to school.”

Her Mum looked in her eyes with a professional frown. “Not after a bang on the head and
prolonged
unconsciousness, Helen. I want to keep you with me today.”

“The school is only down the road, Mum, and they have your mobile number.”

“Why on earth are you so keen to go to school?”

“The school concert’s next week, and there’s a rehearsal tonight,” Helen explained. “I have to play my solo for Mr Crombie tonight, or he’ll tell the director of the summer school not to bother coming to hear me.”

“Oh yes … the summer school.” Her Mum sat down beside Helen, still looking concerned. “I know music is your favourite hobby, but it does seem to be taking up an awful lot of your time. Especially if a whole evening’s rehearsing means you need fresh air so much that you wander up a hill in the dark. Perhaps you should give yourself a break from music for a while?”

Dad put his hand on Helen’s shoulder, to stop her answering too forcefully.

“Music is good for her brain as well as her soul, Tricia.”

“I suppose so, but this summer school is for very serious musicians, and even Mr Crombie isn’t sure you’re preparing seriously enough, is he? And he’s usually your biggest fan.”

“Nonsense,” said Dad, ruffling Helen’s hair, “I’m Helen’s biggest fan,” and he gave her a big hug and a bowl of chocolate cereal.

But Helen was determined not to be diverted from her campaign to get to the library. She sat down beside her Mum. “I really must go to school, play my solo to Mr Crombie and do some research in the library. If I feel sick, or get stars in front of my eyes, or anything, I’ll let the school office know and they can call you … or they can even call a real
people
doctor.”

That got a smile from her Mum. “Don’t be cheeky! Alright, you can go to school and your precious rehearsal, but then you will have a very early night. Agreed?”

Helen thought that was extremely unlikely, but she smiled at her Mum anyway. She hadn’t managed more than a mouthful of her cereal when there was a high pitched squeal from upstairs and a series of panicked giggles.

Helen’s Mum yelled from her place at the table, “Come down for your breakfast, Nicola, and stop making such a racket.”

But Nicola kept calling, “Mummy, Mummy come.”

Her Mum sighed, got up from the table and headed out of the door, just as Nicola shouted in her clear little voice, “Mummy, look. A fairy. A burple fairy. In Hen’s room.”

Helen dropped her spoon and ran for the door. She sprinted up the stairs after her Mum. Nicola was almost singing now, from the doorway to Helen’s room.

“Fairy! Fairy! Fairy fairy fairy!”

Helen tried to overtake on the landing but her Mum lengthened her stride and put her hand on Nicola’s head.

“Fairies? Really? That’s nice. Come and have some toast.” Helen squeezed past them into her room and looked round frantically. She couldn’t see any fairies.

“Come and see!” insisted Nicola. “Come and see! A fairy, Mummy!”

“There’s no such thing as fairies, darling, except in books and pantomimes. Come and have some toast.”

Nicola burst into tears, and threw her bright pink teddy at her Mum.

“Is so a fairy! Is so a fairy!”

Mum was about to get very annoyed about the bear knocking her glasses squint, when Helen knelt down by her sister and looked into Nicola’s little wet face. “Would you like to show
me
the fairy? Seeing as this is my room.”

“You don’t have to interrupt your breakfast, Helen, love. She was seeing mermaids in the bath last night.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll make her happy, then we can all have breakfast.” So Helen’s Mum stomped off back down the stairs and Helen picked her sister up.

“Where was the fairy?”

Nicola pointed up to the ceiling and whirled her hand round. “Whizzing.”

“Whizzing up there? And what did she look like?”

“Burple and pretty.”

“I think she’s gone now but thank you for telling me. You can tell me any time you see fairies, and I’ll always believe you.”

With a happy little girl in her arms, she went back downstairs, and heard her Mum in the kitchen, saying: “Where do they get it from, all this nonsense? I thought I was bringing up children with a rational scientific attitude to the world, and what do we get? Fairies and fiddle music.”

Helen searched her room for Lavender after breakfast, calling her name softly, but found no sign of the fairy. She hoped Nicola had just imagined a ‘burple fairy,’ and that there was no ominous message or sudden emergency awaiting her.

So she left for school, looking as healthy and cheerful as possible, and trying hard not to limp. About quarter of a mile from the school she met up with Kirsty, who was desperate to talk about the night’s excitement.

“My Dad was out hunting for you. He says you could have died of hypothermia if you’d stayed out all night. I don’t think he’ll even let me take the rubbish out after dark now. What on earth
happened
?”

So Helen had to tell more lies. She really wanted to tell her best friend that selkies could sing and that fairies had very limited wardrobes, but instead
she had to tell her the same nonsense about falling and banging her head. She had to repeat the story several times in the playground too. It was a relief when the school bell went.

The morning dragged, as they drew diagrams of the earth tilting round the sun to show why the days were shortest and the nights longest at the winter solstice. When the lunch bell rang, Helen grabbed her schoolbag and ran to the old school building.

As soon as she reached the library, she delved in her bag for the copy of the clue she’d scribbled down in her notebook. Her hand touched
something
warm and wriggling!

She dropped the school bag and fell backwards, imagining which of the Master’s creatures could be in her bag, waiting to sink its fangs into her. As she crashed into a set of shelves and sat down hard on the floor, a little voice said, “Please get me out of here, I’ve got my wings tangled in a mitten.”

Helen picked up her bag gently and looked inside. It was Lavender!

“What on earth are you doing in there?” Helen scooped Lavender out of the bottom of her
schoolbag
.

“I hid in here from your very sweet little baby human and then I fell asleep. I woke up when you were in a room with a woman who sounded like my Aunt Poppy explaining the ancient laws of magical combat, so I stayed quiet until you were alone.”

“I was about to search for books that might help us with the clue. Do you want to help?”

Lavender was staring at the ceiling-high shelves
of books. “What is this place? Is it a book
graveyard
?”

“It’s the school library. We keep books here that all the classes need, like atlases and dictionaries, as well as lots of old books that no one reads but no one wants to throw out. I probably need to look through those.”

“I’ve only ever seen the Book itself and the book you have in your green bag. I didn’t know there were so many books in the world. Do these have all the answers too?

“Not really. Most books only deal with very small bits of the world. If you want answers to everything, you need to use a computer. But with computers you need to know exactly the right question, and you can’t always trust the answer.”

“You can always trust our Book.” Lavender flew up to the top shelf and gently touched the spines of the dusty books. “Are there other places like this?”

“Oh yes. Universities have libraries hundreds of times this size, and there are bookshops so big they have cafés in them. Let’s start looking for Mr Crombie’s books of ballads.”

“No!” said Lavender, floating back down, “I must do something first.

“I must repay my debt to you. My aunts say you must always repay debts quickly, before they fester. I like being your friend, so I don’t want this to stay between us.

“You didn’t want my forgetting spell yesterday, and Yann says you don’t want a vision of your future husband, so I have another idea.”

Lavender perched on top of a bin for recycling paper, reached her left hand over her right shoulder, and, scrunching up her face, pulled out a shiny purple feather from her wing.

“Here.” She held it out to Helen.

“Don’t you need it?”

“I will grow another one eventually, but I want you to have it and keep it with you always. The feather is still part of me, so I will always be able to find it. If you are ever lost, or in danger, I will be able to find you, as long as you keep the feather with you. This is a promise that I will save your life if I can. And that promise repays my debt.”

Lavender held the feather out again.

Helen took it solemnly between her thumb and finger. “I will keep it and treasure it. And now that I have it, you don’t owe me anything at all. We’re friends because we like each other.”

She threaded the feather into the strap of her watch and smiled at Lavender.

“Right. Let’s look for change and fear and bears and bars of iron.”

While Helen knelt down to check the lower shelves, Lavender flew back up to the top ones.

“Having a fairy in the library certainly saves shifting the wheelie ladder around.” Helen tilted her head sideways to read the spines of the books on the bottom shelf.

“What are all these stone heads?” Lavender asked as she skipped along the highest shelf.

“Those are busts, statues of famous people’s heads and shoulders. They’re the former headmasters of the school, local poets and people
like that. Don’t bump into them. I don’t want one to fall on my head.”

“They’re all men!” exclaimed Lavender.

“Yes. By the time women started running schools and writing poetry, people had stopped carving heads and had started taking photos.”

It was fun having Lavender with her, but the fairy did keep asking questions.

“What are the carvings on the ceiling?”

“Coats of arms, stuff about battles. No bears or bars of iron. Keep looking for books of ballads or old Scottish stories, Lavender.”

“Can you smell something? Something a bit pongy?”

“No, Lavender, I can’t. People bring the weirdest things for packed lunches. Keep going along the shelves, please.”

“Helen, it is common to have fairies on people’s …” but Helen interrupted her before she could finish the question.

“I’ve found it! Lavender! Listen to this … A boy called Tam Linn was stolen by the fairies … bigger fairies than you, I think … and became the favourite knight of the fairy queen. He was the guardian of a wood for the fairy queen, and there he met a girl called Janet and they fell in love … ho hum … and she rescued him from his enchantment by holding fast to him when the fairy queen turned him into all sorts of scary things like … bars of hot iron and serpents! Then the queen went off in a huff and Tam Linn became mortal again. And Tam Linn married Janet and they lived happily ever et cetera et cetera.

“That sounds right doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely! You are so clever with these books! And the holding fast, that’s what we have to do when we find the Book or a clue!”