by Anne Forbes
“You and Clara will have to travel back to Edinburgh with Archie. Arthur will be able to carry the three of you quite easily,” he said rapidly, “but we’ve got to get the prince to Morven as quickly as we can. It’s only the Lords of the North who can save him now.”
Neil nodded. He was, of course, concerned for the prince but at the mention of the dragon, his insides had started to churn with excitement. To travel on Arthur’s back all the way to Edinburgh …! His eyes shone at the thought.
Hugging Lady Ellan’s cloak round her, Clara watched in relief as the magic carpet sailed up and, at the MacArthur’s command, hovered beside them. Jaikie and Hamish helped lift the prince’s frail body onto the carpet, while Lord Rothlan slipped his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it carefully round the still figure.
“I’m going with him, Jaikie,” he said. “The carpet can carry us both.”
Jaikie and Hamish nodded. “Safe journey,” the MacArthur said briefly. “We’ll keep in touch with you through the crystal once we’ve sorted out this little lot!”
“What about Herr von Grozny?” Clara asked suddenly, looking puzzled. “Is he still here?”
“Von Grozny?” Lord Rothlan asked, his head jerking in surprise. “You mean, von Grozny was here, too?”
Clara nodded. “He came with Prince Kalman. They saved me from the snow worms.”
“Snow worms!” Lord Rothlan repeated in a terrible voice, turning to look disbelievingly at the queen.
Samantha, who had hoped that the snow worms would never be mentioned, turned as white as a sheet and cowered in her chair. She shot a wild glance at Clara. “What did you expect me to do with her?” she cried defensively, her voice shrill with fear. “She called up daemons against my witches …”
The MacArthur looked grim but it was Lady Ellan who moved determinedly forward. “I’ll deal with this, father,” she said quickly. “You see the prince on his way and I’ll settle with dear Samantha.”
The MacArthur nodded briefly and after exchanging a few hurried words with Lord Rothlan, watched as his carpet rose into the air and, floating through one of the delicately carved, arched windows that lined one wall of the Great Hall, disappeared from view.
Lady Ellan, in the meantime, narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the snow queen who, huddling apprehensively on her throne, wondered what dreadful fate lay in store for her.
Given Lady Ellan’s fury, she soon found out.
“You may not know it, Samantha,” Lady Ellan began in a deceptively honeyed voice that held distinct undertones of steel, “but I possess some … quite remarkable powers.”
“You do?” the queen quavered.
“Yes,” Lady Ellan continued, “I … er, have the ability to see into the future.”
“You … you have?”
“Shall I tell you what I see in the future, Samantha?” she asked gently.
The queen nodded, looking at Lady Ellan with awful fascination.
“I see that the winter in Scotland this year is going to be very mild,” she said blandly, “very mild, Samantha!”
Samantha looked devastated as the implication hit home.
“M … mild?” she whispered, appalled.
“Remarkably so,” Lady Ellan repeated in a voice of iron. “In fact,” she observed, “it will be so mild that not one single flake of snow will fall. Not one, Samantha! Do you understand?”
Samantha nodded, looking as though she were going to burst into tears at any minute.
“Not one, anywhere, over the whole of Scotland!” Lady Ellan made her message quite clear.
“Not … one?”
Lady Ellan shook her head.
The queen’s shrill cry of anguish rose high above the keening wails of her witches. Such a dreadful punishment was unheard of. Pressing her hands to her face in horror, she watched disbelievingly as the MacArthur, nodding in approval, put an arm round his daughter.
“And,” he added, for good measure, “if anything were to happen to either Clara or Neil in the future because of you — well, let’s just say that your Snow Witches would be looking for a new queen very shortly afterwards! We would all make sure of that!”
Samantha, now totally demoralized, nodded dumbly and hid her face in her hands.
The MacArthur met his daughter’s eyes approvingly. “I think we can go now,” he said. “Where’s Archie? I’ve told Neil that he and Clara can join him on Arthur’s back.”
Seeing that everyone was preparing to leave, Clara started forward anxiously, catching at the MacArthur’s cloak. “But what about Herr von Grozny?” she asked anxiously. “I mean, where is he?” She looked questioningly at Matilda. “You were there,” she said accusingly. “What happened to him?”
Matilda, who had moved towards the throne to console her devastated mistress, looked round at her words and came towards them. She curtseyed briefly. “I was on my way to the battlements, Miss, when the wolf man appeared and,” she looked apologetically at her mistress, “forced me to help him. I think he wanted to make sure that the prince was still alive before he left, for when he pulled him up out of the cell, he told me to … to look after him well.” She paused and shrugged slightly at her liberal translation of the threats the count had made should anything nasty happen to the prince before help arrived. “Then he cast a hex and disappeared,” she said softly. “He is long gone.”
“With the talisman?” Clara asked, although she already knew the answer to the question.
Matilda nodded. “Yes, Miss,” she said slowly, “with the talisman.”
“I see,” Clara said, lowering her eyes so that no one would guess the sense of loss that enveloped her. The talisman had gone. It was no longer hers! And she missed it! Aware that Matilda was looking at her strangely, she smiled somewhat ruefully. “Well, anyway,” she said, “thanks for pulling me out of the dungeon.”
“The wolf man commanded me,” Matilda answered, giving the queen a sidelong glance to make sure she was listening. “I could not refuse.”
With that, she curtseyed again and as the little group bowed to the queen and left the hall, she turned to her shivering mistress with a sigh, murmuring soothing words. It was going to be a long, hard winter for them all, she mused.
Not one, single, solitary flake of snow!
Not one!
A severe punishment, indeed.
30. Homeward Bound
“There’s Edinburgh,” Neil said suddenly, pointing eastwards as the dragon lost height and altered course slightly.
“It won’t be long now,” Archie said, turning his head so that they could hear him against the rush of the wind. “I can see Arthur’s Seat already!”
Clara’s heart sank at Archie’s words. She was enjoying the flight so much that she didn’t want it to end. Hugging Lady Ellan’s cloak about her, she looked beyond the dragon’s horned head to the sprawling carpet of lights that pierced the total blackness of the night. Edinburgh! The wonderful journey would soon be over. She patted Arthur absent-mindedly. There was nothing quite as wonderful, she thought, as flying through the air on the back of a dragon. She’d flown on Arthur before, of course, but this had been a really long flight and she’d enjoyed every single minute of it, fascinated by the movement of the dragon’s steadily beating wings as he powered them through the air at tremendous speed.
Part of her mind, however, was still with Prince Kalman; although she still found it difficult to think of him as the tottering, frail old man who had rescued her from the snow worms. She wondered, too, if Lady Ellan had reached Morven; for once she’d dealt with the Queen of the Snow Witches, she had summoned her carpet and after a hurried word with the MacArthur, had left to follow her husband to the magic mountain that housed the blue and silver halls of the Lords of the North, the powerful magicians who ruled the world of magic.
She knew that they would do everything they could to save Prince Kalman’s life, but could they, she wondered. He’d looked so frail when Lord Rothlan had helped him onto the m
agic carpet. Thank goodness she’d given him her firestone, she thought. It had made a difference and at least given him the strength to climb out of the ice cell. And as she idly wondered why Herr von Grozny had passed the rope to Matilda and hadn’t waited to see her safe, a cloud of unhappiness settled over her. The talisman had been left to her and although she missed it, her feelings were mingled with a growing sense of unease at the trouble it had caused. Maybe, she thought finally, it was just as well that Herr von Grozny had taken it back to his master in Ashgar.
She was suddenly jerked back to the present as Arthur’s wings tilted sideways as he again changed course and lost some more height. Neil looked down as the lights beneath brightened and became clearer. It was almost over, he thought, trying to save the wonder of the flight in his memory. It had been so exciting and just a pity that they hadn’t been able to fly closer to the ground as only tiny pin-points of light had marked the presence of the many towns and villages that they’d flown over on their way back.
What was even more fascinating was the fact that he knew they weren’t alone in the sky. Although he couldn’t see them, he was well aware that a horde of magic carpets flew in serried ranks behind the dragon; for the MacArthur and his army, too, were heading for home and would be glad to see the lights of Edinburgh looming on the horizon.
“Hang on, Clara,” Neil cautioned, clutching Archie tightly, “I think Arthur’s going to do his disappearing act into the hill again!”
In this, he was quite correct, for although Arthur was losing height, he was also picking up speed and as the rush of wind increased, Clara buried her head in the rough wool of her brother’s cloak and shut her eyes. This was the bit she hated. It had happened before when they’d been on Arthur’s back, escaping from the giants in the Highlands. Arthur had flown straight into the side of the mountain and although they’d passed through it without feeling a thing, it was dead scary nevertheless.
“You can open your eyes now,” Archie announced. “We’re through!”
Clara gave a sigh of relief and straightened as the familiar, tapestry hung halls of the MacArthur loomed before her eyes. Arthur’s great wings had stopped beating and now stretched silently as he glided down to the raised dais where the MacArthur’s carved, wooden throne stood in all its grandeur.
Archie slipped off Arthur’s back with the ease of long practice and turned to give Neil and Clara a helping hand as the dragon held out one of his wings so that they could clamber easily to the ground. Turning his great head to see that they were okay, he looked at them fondly, his wonderful eyes glowing. Neil ran up and threw his arms round the dragon’s neck. “Arthur,” he said, “that was totally fab! Wasn’t it, Clara?”
“Absolutely brilliant!” she agreed.
Arthur took a deep breath and although Archie, Clara and Neil knew what was going to happen, they didn’t have the heart to say anything as he roared out a stream of blazing fire that curled upwards in a breathtaking shower of dancing sparks. It was great to be back, he thought. He’d had a wonderful adventure and although he would have enjoyed melting the Snow Witches’ palace round their ears, well … you couldn’t have everything, he supposed. His eyes shone with happiness. Everything had gone well, no one had been hurt, they’d saved Prince Kalman and he’d had Archie, Neil and Clara for company on the flight home.
The inside of the hill was warm and welcoming and as Neil and Clara looked round, they could see the magic carpets emerging from the tunnels that opened onto the cavern. It was a fantastic sight as wave after wave of carpets soared in, landed their occupants here and there all over the cavern floor before drifting off to sheltered alcoves where they rolled themselves up tiredly and settled to a well-deserved rest.
Jaikie and Hamish waved as their carpets landed but immediately turned to the task of sorting out armour and weapons from the returning troops. The MacArthur, however, seeing Clara’s pale face, muttered the words of a hex. She needed to eat before she returned to school. They both did.
“Food,” thought Clara, as the smell of roast chicken drifted round her heart. Now that she had time to think about it, she realized that she was really starving. The MacArthur gestured them both forward and, pulling out the chairs that were drawn up round a little table, gestured to them to be seated. Clara sat down gratefully and tucked her chair in, delighted to be once again in safe, familiar surroundings. Thoughts of the snow worms, the witches and the talisman started to fade from her mind as the MacArthur heaped slices of roast chicken on her plate and served her with vegetables. It had been some adventure, she thought, but it was over now. She smiled across at Neil who, eating hungrily, still had no idea of what she’d gone through. There would be plenty of time to talk over what had happened, she thought. There was no hurry. It would all come out later.
31. Talking Things Over
When they’d finished eating, the MacArthur looked at them thoughtfully. “You’ll have to double up on Clara’s magic carpet,” he said, remembering that Neil’s had been used to take Prince Kalman to Morven. “It ought to be able to carry the pair of you quite easily.”
“Do you think anyone at school will have noticed that we’re not around?” Neil asked. It was a thought that had been worrying him as he knew perfectly well that if they were missed, the school would have phoned their parents. And that spelled major trouble!
The MacArthur shook his head. “When you arrived here and told me what happened at the end of the concert — when Samantha took Clara — I put a memory spell on the school. No one will have missed you and, from what you’ve told me, the carpet will be able to take you straight into your bedrooms without anyone noticing.”
Arthur, still excited from his adventure, was blowing fire everywhere, but, seeing that Neil and Clara had finished their meal and that Archie, Hamish and Jaikie had joined the MacArthur, he calmed down and made his way to the dais, where he curled up comfortably beside them. Kitor and Cassia also flew over, settled their feathers and prepared to listen to Neil and Clara’s latest adventure.
“Before you go back to school, Clara, we’d like you to tell us what happened when Samantha took you back to her palace,” the MacArthur said. “Start at the beginning and take your time. Don’t miss anything out.”
Clara drew her cloak around her and began. “Well,” she said, “when the Queen of the Snow Witches hexed us all off the stage and we arrived at her palace, the witches were really nasty to me. And I can understand why,” she added. “They were still suffering from the shock of the daemons’ attack — and so was I,” she admitted, “although I tried to hide it. The queen had taken the talisman, of course, and was wearing it. She was using it to cure her witches. Anyway, she was busy and had no time for me so she told Matilda to put me in a cell in the ice … and the snow worms found me.”
The MacArthur’s face darkened and Arthur, who hadn’t heard that part of her story before, hissed in anger. He wished now that he had melted her palace to the ground!
“I kept them off as best I could but I only had my shoes to bash them with. If I’d had the talisman,” she said reflectively, “I might have been able to use a hex from The Book of Spells but when I thought about it, it didn’t really make much difference, for daemons would’ve been every bit as bad as the snow worms, if not worse.”
Neil glanced at her, feeling more than slighty ashamed of the thoughts that had crossed his mind for he’d been secretly rather glad that Herr von Grozny had taken the talisman. He hadn’t been jealous, exactly, but had felt a bit left out of things when Auntie Muriel had left it to her. Not that he’d grudged her it but still … he was glad that it had gone.
“Anyway,” Clara continued, “it was when one of the snow worms managed to get into the cell that Prince Kalman arrived. Actually, he landed right on top of it. Totally flattened it,” she said, with a half smile. “The rest of the snow worms disappeared and … well, we sort of got talking. I said I was sorry for casting the daemon spell and he asked where I’d got it from. So I to
ld him. And, do you know, Neil, he was there when we escaped from Witches’ Wood? He said we’d left a line of footprints across the field that would have put the witches on our trail.”
Neil looked horrified. “I never thought of that,” he admitted.
“He told me he rubbed them out because he didn’t want the witches to find the talisman. He wanted it for himself so that he could use it to cure himself of Malfior’s spell. And then I said that as Malfior and Cri’achan Mor were both dead, how could it be their spell?”
The MacArthur’s head jerked sharply as she said this and his eyes narrowed shrewdly. So where had the hex come from? His mind started to race.
“Bravo, Clara,” Archie said softly.
“Anyway, we worked out that the spell must have been cast by a magician that had merged with Cri’achan Mor and the only one I could think of that would do such a thing was Lord Jezail. Prince Kalman wouldn’t believe me at first, but you see,” she looked at the MacArthur, “I’d overheard you and Lord Rothlan talking about Lord Jezail when we were in Morven and when I told him that he’d been in Scotland at the time, he got a real shock and … and, well, that was when he sort of fainted.”
The MacArthur nodded. “You’re quite right, Clara,” he admitted. “Lord Jezail was responsible for Malfior.”
Neil frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve just remembered something that might be important,” he said hesitantly.
“Go ahead, Neil,” the MacArthur said, looking at the boy’s serious face.
“It was after Clara disappeared with the witches,” Neil began. “Do you remember me telling you that I went backstage to see if I could find out who the old man was?”
“And it was Prince Kalman,” the MacArthur nodded.
“Well, Herr von Grozny was trying to help him. He was asking him how he had become so ill and old and … and Prince Kalman muttered something about Malfior’s curse. Von Grozny turned as white as a sheet at the mention of Malfior. The prince had his eyes shut and didn’t notice a thing but von Grozny’s face — I can’t describe it. He looked … absolutely devastated.”
