by Anne Forbes
Kenny stiffened as the stag stood quietly in front of them but when it spoke, he eyed Larry sideways and then peered around to see if anyone else was there.
“What was that you said, Kenny?” Larry asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Kenny whispered, his voice trembling as he glanced anxiously at the stag.
“Give over, mate,” Larry looked at him strangely, “it must have been you! There’s … there’s only us here.”
“It wasn’t me, I tell you! And if it wasn’t you … then … it must have been the stag!”
“I said, I want to go to Ballater,” Kalman tried not to sound too impatient.
Kenny gulped and grabbed at Larry’s arm. “Did you hear that? It is the stag that’s talking!” He looked at the animal in utter disbelief, for the words didn’t seem to come from the stag’s mouth at all; like Larry, he just heard the voice in his head. “You – want – to – go – to – Ballater,” he repeated.
The stag nodded its head forcefully. “The giants are chasing me. I must reach Ballater as soon as I can. It’s very important.”
“Ah dinni believe this,” Larry moaned, his face going suddenly grey.
Kalman sighed and using a little more of the magic left to him, kindled their spirit of adventure. It worked. Kenny suddenly grinned at Larry, his eyes shining. “Come on, Larry,” he said. “I’ve no idea what’s going on but we’ve got to save the stag! As far as I’m concerned, we’re going to Ballater!”
“Well, I know but …” Kenny’s excitement was infectious and looking at the stag with a new light in his eyes, Larry felt the full force of Kalman’s personality. Avoiding the attention of giants and taking a stag to Ballater suddenly seemed the most sensible thing in the world and forgetting everything in the excitement of the moment, Larry ran behind the gaudily-painted van and held its back door open with something of a flourish. “Ballater it is then,” he said, the bells in his cap jingling wildly, “if you can fit yourself in here, that is!”
11. Confrontation
Despite the bad weather that continued to plague Scotland, Glenmorven was bathed in sunshine when the children woke the next morning and by the time they made their way lazily downstairs for breakfast, Shona’s father had already left for work in Aberdeen.
“It’s a lovely day,” Helen Ferguson said as they sat round the breakfast table by the big window in the kitchen. She picked up a huge jug and poured glasses of orange juice for them as they tucked into scrambled eggs on toast. “Why don’t you make the most of it and have a picnic on Morven?”
“Sounds great,” Lewis said. Neil and Clara nodded enthusiastically. They were wearing their firestones under their T-shirts and couldn’t wait to see what the mountain had to offer.
“Right, that’s settled then. I’ll make you some sandwiches and you can take apples and bananas from the fruit bowl.” She smiled. “I was going to say that it’s a bit of a stiff climb but Lewis tells us that you grew up climbing Arthur’s Seat so I won’t have to give you any advice!”
They left the house and made their way across the road to the rough grassland and the plank bridge that spanned the rushing stream that threaded the foot of the glen.
“The burn’s really full, isn’t it?” Lewis remarked as they stopped to watch the powerful swirl of brown water as it passed beneath them. “You must have had lots of rain?”
“Heaps,” answered Shona, “which is strange, really, for we usually miss out on storms and stuff. My friend Jennifer lives in the next glen and she’s always complaining that we seem to have the best of the weather.” She looked up at the steep slopes that swept before them. “Mind you, Morven does seem to attract electrical storms from time to time. There was a terrific one a couple of weeks back. It’s a pity you missed it for it really was spectacular. There were flashes of lightning on top of the mountain and the thunder was deafening. Hughie says that it’s the Gods of the Mountain having a firework display!”
“The Gods of the Mountain?” Neil turned his head sharply to look at her.
“That’s what he says,” she answered, slightly surprised at his reaction. “There aren’t any really, of course.”
They had their picnic on a grassy bank on the slopes of Morven. It had been a tough climb as Shona’s mother had said and slipping off their backpacks, they relaxed gratefully. The view in front of them was certainly spectacular. Shona pointed out the mountains that lay round them. “Over there,” she ended, “just beyond that ridge, is Glen Garchory and Peter’s Hill.”
“Glen Garchory? That’s where Jenni lives, isn’t it?” remarked Lewis, shading his eyes with his hand as he peered across the glen. “We visited her the last time I was here,” he said, turning to Neil and Clara. “She goes to the same school as we do but she’s a year below us.”
“We could go and visit her tomorrow if the weather’s good,” Shona offered, looking round enquiringly. “What do you think?”
“Sounds great,” nodded Neil.
“It’s a bit of a walk but I told her you were coming and she’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Hungry after the long climb, they unpacked the food and had spread it out on the grass when Neil noticed movement on the slopes below.
“Don’t look round,” he said suddenly, “but I think we’re going to have visitors.”
“Where?” Shona asked, startled. “Who?”
“I can see some men down there climbing up towards us. They look as though they might be the Americans your mum is so anxious to meet!”
“Let’s pretend we haven’t seen them,” Shona said swiftly. “I hope they’re not going to bother us.”
By the time the Americans arrived, the four children were sprawled out on the grass, drinking orange juice and munching on sandwiches. They looked up, however, as the men sauntered over and although their manner was casual and they were smiling pleasantly, they towered over them somewhat menacingly.
“Hi, there!” said one, who seemed to be their leader.
“Hullo,” Shona answered, getting to her feet.
“May I ask who you are, li’l lady?” he drawled. The accent was distinctly American.
Shona’s hackles went up. “I might ask you the same thing,” she said brusquely. After all, she thought, it was really none of his business who they were.
“Sure,” the American said. “My name’s Shane and these are some of my buddies.” He gestured towards them and they held their hands up in greeting. They seemed friendly enough but Lewis noticed that their smiles didn’t reach their eyes.
“Actually,” Shona confessed, “I know who you are.”
“You do, do you?” The man spoke with a definite drawl.
“Mmmm,” nodded Shona, “you must be some of the Americans that have rented Lord Robertson’s castle.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Shona Ferguson and these are my friends; Neil, Clara and Lewis. I live down there in the glen. We’ve seen you passing it in your 4x4.”
Although Shane shook her hand, his expression changed to a frown. “You’re right, Miss Ferguson,” he said, “we do live at the castle. But we haven’t only rented the castle, you know, we’ve rented the entire estate. This mountain,” he gestured vaguely, “is part of it. I’m afraid you’re trespassing and I must ask you to leave.”
“Leave?” Shona looked taken aback. “I most certainly will not. I’ve spent my life climbing this mountain.”
Shane’s expression didn’t change and neither did his tone of voice. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but the mountain is private property, Miss. I don’t particularly want to spoil your picnic but once you’ve finished eating, you’ll have to go.”
Neil had vaguely heard that in Scotland there was no law of trespass. “You can’t make us leave, I’m afraid,” he said, moving to stand beside Shona, his voice sounding a lot more confident than he felt, “there’s no such thing as trespass under Scottish Law.”
Good for you, thought Lewis, hiding a grin at the sudden look of indecision tha
t crossed the American’s face.
“Besides which,” Shona said, her face pink with annoyance, “Lord Robertson is my godfather and I don’t think he’d like me to be chucked off Morven. He knows how much I love it.” She glared at Shane mutinously.
“We’re only having a picnic,” Neil said reasonably, turning round and gesturing towards the juice and fruit on the grass. “We’re,” he choked suddenly and cleared his throat, “… we’re not doing any damage or anything.” He tried to make his voice casual and, with an effort, kept his eyes firmly fixed on Shane’s face, for while they’d been talking, two goat-like little creatures in baggy trousers and short waistcoats had wandered casually onto the grassy slope and were standing nearby, watching them interestedly. Lewis saw them, too, and nudged Clara gently. She looked up and such was her surprise that she gasped audibly.
The men standing beside Shane, however, were not as idle as their casual pose suggested. They saw her face change and immediately followed her gaze. Apart from a few stunted bushes, there was nothing there that they could see but they instinctively moved forward. The hobgoblins, for their part, froze in horror as they realized that all eyes seemed to be trained on them. Then, as their tendrils flared in a sudden frenzy of movement, they grabbed at one another with tiny hands, took two steps backwards, turned and fled on little hooves.
“What were you looking at?” Shane asked, his voice harsh.
Pretending to be frightened, Clara shook her head in alarm. “I … I thought I saw a snake,” she whispered fearfully. Shane looked totally unimpressed, as well he might, so Clara did the only thing she could think off.
Everyone but Neil watched in consternation as she gave a quivering, heart-wrenching sob. Her blue eyes filled with huge tears and, as she fished in her pocket for a tissue, they spilled, unchecked, down her cheeks.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Lewis said angrily to the Americans as Shona, full of genuine concern, put her arm protectively round Clara. “You’ve spoiled our day and anyway … we’ve almost finished our picnic. We’ll be going home soon.” Besides which, he thought, an ugly, sharp wind with a cutting edge to it had blown up and black clouds were gathering over the distant peaks. It looked as though they’d be lucky to get back home without being soaked to the skin.
Clara’s tears, however, did not deflect the Americans from their purpose. As though responding to a signal, they fanned out casually and made an unobtrusive, but thorough, search of the grassy slope — especially the part that had attracted Clara’s attention. In fact, they wandered round for some time until Lewis muttered that he thought they’d better make themselves scarce.
“What on earth are they up to?” Shona said, stuffing uneaten apples into her backpack. “Honestly, how dare they! Wait until I tell my dad! He’ll be furious!”
“Are you all right, Clara?” Lewis looked worried as Clara scrubbed at her eyes with a tissue and continued to sob intermittently. “They’ve moved off now but I think they’re still keeping an eye on us.”
“She’s fine,” Neil grinned. “Clara’s the only person I know that can cry to order — and, I must say, it has its uses!”
Clara winked at Lewis as she slipped her backpack over her shoulders and, much to his amusement, sniffed miserably as they started down the slope.
“You can give over now, Clara,” Neil said when they were finally out of earshot, “they can’t hear you any more!”
Lewis looked grim. “That was what you might call a strange encounter,” he said meaningfully.
“Very strange,” agreed Neil, careful not to say more although his mind was full of what he’d just seen. What on earth were those strange little creatures and where had they come from?
“I can’t believe that just happened,” Shona muttered. “It was really strange the way they searched everywhere as though they were looking for something.” She looked at Clara. “Did you really see a snake, Clara?”
Clara sniffed and dabbed at her nose with a tissue to give herself time to think. She couldn’t tell Shona she’d seen some kind of faery but she knew she had to say something. “I saw something move,” she admitted, “and I thought it might be a snake but there wasn’t anything there — it was probably just the wind in the grass.”
12. Trouble Spots
Prince Casimir pressed his lips together and hung on grimly to his temper. He’d never felt more like shaking Lord Alarid in his life. What, in heaven’s name, was wrong with him? He’d readily agreed to go to Morven when the MacArthur had passed on the gist of Sir James’s worries, thinking that Alarid would take immediate action against the Cri’achan. The attack on Firestar, however, seemed to have done little more than paralyze his thought processes for try as he might, he was getting nowhere fast.
“The Cri’achan, Lord Alarid,” he said again, emphasizing the importance of his words, “must be stopped while they’re still weak.”
Lord Alarid shook his head. “Let’s wait and see what happens, Casimir,” he replied, somewhat irritably. “If the giants are as weak as you say then nothing will come of them. They are far from Morven and this strange attack has upset everything.”
“The MacArthur is seriously worried about them, milord …”
Lord Alarid waved his hand. “The MacArthur might be worried, Casimir, but he is far away in Edinburgh. You are here in Morven and can surely feel that Firestar itself isn’t the slightest bit concerned.” He looked at him shrewdly. “You must feel within yourself that Firestar is aware of what happened and is ready to fight back should there be another attack?” Prince Casimir nodded. The overall sense of well-being that emanated from Firestar gave him confidence, but a niggling doubt persisted that the unknown force might also have upgraded the weapons in its armoury. As far as he was concerned, there was still a chance that Firestar could be seriously damaged.
“If there is another attack then Firestar will, I’m sure, be able to counter it,” Alarid looked at him confidently. “Forget about the giants,” he said. “I assure you, they pose no danger to us at all.”
Feeling totally frustrated, Prince Casimir bowed low and was about to withdraw when Lord Alarid remembered the hobgoblins.
“By the way, you’d better see Rumbletop,” he continued. “Some of the hobgoblins were spotted on the hill by those Americans. They’re quite upset about it.”
“Seen?” repeated Casimir, startled. “How …”
But by then, Lord Alarid had closed his eyes and with a snort of exasperation, Casimir went downstairs to the machine and found Rumbletop.
“What’s been going on, Rumbletop?” he demanded. “Lord Alarid said that some of you were seen on the hill?”
Rumbletop tutted as his tendrils started to grow. “They didn’t mean any harm, Prince Casimir,” he apologized. “Rumbletumble says they were on their way down to the glen.”
“Down to the glen?” queried Casimir. “What on earth for?”
“To see Hughie, milord. He gives them biscuits and honey cakes.”
Rumbletop looked relieved as Casimir hid a smile. “Does he now? Hmmm, always was a nice chap, Hughie.” He looked at the little hobgoblin through eyes that were unexpectedly kind. “But that doesn’t explain how they were seen.”
“Shona has friends staying with her. Two boys and a girl. Rumbletumble said it was quite obvious that they could see them.”
“Did he hear their names, by any chance?”
“Yes, he did. They’re called Neil, Clara and …” He stopped as Casimir held up his hand.
“Neil, Clara … and Lewis,” finished Prince Casimir with an exasperated sigh. “I might have known!”
Rumbletop looked amazed. “You know them, milord?” he asked.
“You could say that,” Casimir agreed, a smile hovering about his lips. “So Neil, Clara and Lewis are here in the glen, are they? How interesting! You don’t need to worry about them, Rumbletop. They are known to us. They’d be wearing their firestones. That’s how they would be able to see Rumbletumble and hi
s friend.”
Rumbletop looked gobsmacked. “Firestones,” he repeated, startled, “but they’re human children, surely?”
Casimir nodded. “May I ask what happened between them and the Americans? Just as a matter of interest.”
“They were telling them to get off the mountain, milord. Shona was cross.”
“I’m sure she was,” Casimir said, smiling at the thought. All the Lords of the North took an interest in the families in the glen and over the years had watched Shona grow up from a toddler to a leggy teenager whose favourite pastime was climbing and scrambling over the slopes of Morven. “And the other three?”
“The girl cried.”
At this, Casimir raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Cried?” he queried. “That doesn’t sound like the Clara I know.”
“The Americans knew she’d seen something. They searched everywhere. She didn’t mention us, though. She told them she’d seen a snake, but … well, I don’t think they believed her.”
Mr Ferguson, when he heard Shona’s story of how they’d been more or less ordered off the mountain, didn’t believe Clara’s story either. Not that it worried him but somehow she didn’t seem the kind of girl who would make up stories about snakes. He turned to Shona. “I hope you weren’t rude to them, Shona?”
Shona blushed. “I wasn’t rude exactly,” she confessed, “but I was really mad. You know how I love Morven.”
Her father sighed. “I think I’d better phone the castle and make an appointment to see these Americans,” he said, “and you four can come along and apologize at the same time.”
“Apologize!” Shona looked startled. “What for? We didn’t know we were doing anything wrong!”
“They’re our neighbours, Shona,” her father said in a voice that brooked no defiance, “and I don’t want there to be any bad feeling between us.”
“But there’s no law against trespassing … Neil said …”
