by Anne Forbes
Arthur took the situation in at a glance but before he joined in, knew he had to pass the message on to the MacArthur and Lord Rothlan. This was totally unexpected …
Hurrying back down the tunnel to his cave, he hastily passed his hand over the crystal and breathlessly spoke the magic words. The crystal glowed and it was Prince Kalman’s face that looked at him.
Seeing the fear and worry on Arthur’s face, the prince knew that this was going to be no casual conversation. “What is it, Arthur?” he asked sharply. “What’s happened?”
Arthur took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. “Lord Jezail spoke to me a few minutes ago,” he answered. “He threatened me with Dragonslayer. He … he must be close to the Valley of the Dragons for the sentries have just called a warning.”
Prince Kalman moved out of the way as Lord Rothlan appeared. “Don’t worry, Arthur,” he said reassuringly. “We’re expecting the MacArthur’s army any minute and the Onegin are almost ready to march. We’ll be with you soon!”
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Help was at hand! He rushed up the tunnel once more, his heart beating hopefully. He had to tell Gladrin at once!
Gladrin was down in the valley, calling the grey dragons to him. As they swooped out of the sky to cluster round him, Arthur flew down to see what they had to say; although he could already guess.
They must have spotted Lord Jezail and his men.
The grey dragons were all talking at once but grew quiet as Arthur landed among them. Gladrin looked grave and his words weren’t at all what Arthur had expected. “Lord Jezail has come,” he said. “He is already in the valley and very close …”
The grey dragons hissed and glanced round fearfully as though expecting him to appear there and then.
Arthur blinked his wonderful eyes and regarded the sentries accusingly. “Why didn’t you raise the alarm when you saw him approach?” he asked. “How could you miss an army that size!”
Nestor, the commander of the grey dragons, stepped forward and bowed low. “Milord,” he said respectfully, “there is no army; only the magician and a few soldiers.”
Arthur felt a pang of anxiety at this, for the MacArthur had quite definitely told him that Jezail had left Stara Zargana with most of the soldiers in the citadel.
“They must have slipped in under cover of darkness,” one dragon snarled angrily.
“Either that or they made themselves invisible so that we wouldn’t see them,” Nestor added grimly, “for we patrolled the outer ring of the mountains all night.”
Gladrin looked enquiringly at Arthur, as did all the others and his heart sank as he realized that they were relying on him to defend the valley. Well, he thought, at least he had some good news to give them. “Help is at hand,” he said reassuringly, looking round their anxious faces. “Even now, Lord Onegin is sending an army from Trollsberg and the MacArthur will soon be here, too. His army is travelling by magic carpet. Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman are powerful magicians. They will protect us all.”
A sigh of relief shivered through the assembled dragons as their eyes rose automatically to search the surrounding skies.
“I don’t know exactly when they’ll arrive,” Arthur admitted, “but it will be soon.”
“In the meantime,” Gladrin took command once more, “we must defend ourselves as best we can. You, Nestor, will lead a …”
“No!” Arthur interrupted. “No,” he repeated in a softer tone. “That’s not a good idea, Lord Gladrin. Lord Jezail will hex them out of the sky as soon as he sees them. He has come to the valley to kill dragons but it is Dragonslayer who rules his thoughts. You see, I have, in the past, felt Dragonslayer’s magic and I know its power. Lord Jezail was once a great Dragon Seeker and although he wants to kill dragons, his sword has but one idea in its mind,” he said gravely, looking round the circle of fierce horned faces. “Yes, I know it wants to kill you all — but before all else, it wants to kill me. Twice it has failed and this time — well, this time it has to succeed. It must kill me!”
The dragons eyed one another sideways and said nothing.
“Nevertheless,” Gladrin said, speaking for them all, “you are our friend and we will be by your side in this venture. Don’t forget that Lord Jezail is our enemy as well as yours.”
There was a hiss of agreement as the silver-grey dragons flapped their wings and blew streams of fire from their nostrils. It was time to go into battle.
Arthur smiled sadly. He appreciated their support but he knew he had to face Lord Jezail and Dragonslayer alone.
39. Valley of the Dragons
Clara clung to Lord Rothlan’s cloak as the magic carpets flew at breakneck speed towards the Valley of the Dragons. Hurry, hurry, she thought frantically as she saw the dragons circling the jagged peaks. They just had to be in time! Glad that Prince Kalman had taken the invisibility spell off the magic carpets, she glanced across at Neil, who was crouched beside the prince.
They had all been worried but it was Clara who had insisted that they set off for the Valley of the Dragons without waiting for the MacArthur and his army to arrive. Lord Onegin had listened to her arguments and in the end they’d all agreed with her on the need for speed. Lord Onegin and his army of wolf-men had left Trollsberg at much the same time as they’d taken to their magic carpets. They would travel swiftly, she knew, but not as quickly as the magic carpets.
Her fingers strayed anxiously to the pocket of her black jacket where the remaining spells nestled. Lord Jezail, she reasoned, must be really close to the valley to show himself through the crystal. Close and confident! Her heart sank as she thought of the problems that loomed ahead. She shuddered, knowing that she’d have to get pretty close to Lord Jezail to carry out her plan. Prince Kalman hadn’t liked the idea but, as Clara pointed out, she didn’t have much choice.
Neil’s eyes scanned the peaks of the Valley of the Dragons as the carpets drew closer. White and creamy in colour, their sharp fangs rose straight from the plain. Clouds of black smoke, however, drifted among the jagged peaks where huge silver-grey dragons circled, emitting great bursts of fire.
It was as they neared the first peaks that Lord Rothlan saw a straggle of horsemen galloping towards the mountains. He looked across at Count Vassili, jabbing a finger downwards at the soldiers. Vassili peered over the edge of his carpet and seeing the black uniforms, cupped his hands against the wind and shouted across. “They’re Jezail’s men,” he called, “but he’s not leading them!”
The magic carpets were now very near the mountains and, as they soared between the first of the outlying peaks, Neil became aware of the noise of battle drifting towards him on the breeze. Peering ahead anxiously, he hoped that Clara’s plan was going to work. He trusted Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan to look after her, but knew perfectly well that if she made a mistake, Lord Jezail wouldn’t spare her.
Lord Rothlan headed for the centre of the action, his eyes scanning the ground for the rest of Jezail’s troops. He could see no sign of them and frowned anxiously.
Then Clara gripped his arm and pointed to where the silver dragons circled. “There’s Arthur,” she almost screamed. “Look! Down there! On that flat bit of ground!”
Prince Kalman looked down and frowned. That “flat bit of ground” as Clara had put it, ended in a sheer drop into one of the valleys. What Arthur was doing prancing around on the edge of a cliff, he’d no idea.
Then he saw Lord Jezail and understood.
As Arthur had expected, it wasn’t long before he felt the magic of the sword calling him and as he felt its strength, his mind winged its way back to that dreadful day when, young, alone and friendless, he’d faced Sir Pendar. Now, he reminded himself, things were different but the call of the sword was, nevertheless, just as powerful as it had been those many years ago and he had no choice but to obey its dreadful command.
The grey dragons looked at one another in alarm as, without warning, his great body stiffened suddenly, his wings flapped, his head rea
red and his eyes glazed as the magic of the sword filled his mind. He had already forgotten that the grey dragons existed. All that mattered was the sound of that sweet, enticing voice … calling him …
As Arthur rose into the air, Nestor, too, flapped his wings and with one accord, all the grey dragons soared skywards. Whatever happened, they couldn’t leave Arthur to his fate.
So it was that Arthur, followed by a host of grey dragons, obeyed the siren call of the sword. Wings beating strongly, he flew between the cream-coloured peaks and dropped sharply towards a flat ledge of ground that protruded from the side of the mountain.
Lord Jezail, Nestor thought in horror, had chosen the spot well for while there was room enough for him to fight the dragon, there was little space for unwelcome onlookers. The grey dragons circled wildly but couldn’t land — for the broad ledge of rock ended in a sheer drop to the valley below.
Lord Jezail smiled triumphantly as, holding Dragonslayer aloft, he watched Arthur fly towards him, wings flapping strongly as he landed on the ledge. This time, he thought, things were going to turn out very differently and his face darkened with rage as he thought of the trick Prince Kalman had played on him at the tournament! Well, he thought nastily, this time there was no prince; this time there would be no dragon balloon; this time Arthur would die!
Arthur’s brain was working swiftly as he saw the anger on the magician’s face. Strangely enough, he felt quite calm and collected. He wasn’t the least bit afraid and although he hoped the MacArthur’s army would arrive soon, he was quite determined to do his best. Prince Kalman had put a protective shield round him before he’d left Arthur’s Seat and hopefully the magic spells he’d taught him would stop the sword from doing him any real harm.
Lord Jezail smiled evilly as he moved towards the dragon, his heart swelling with pride with every step he took. The sword’s magic had given him the strength and power of a young man. He was, once more, a Dragon Seeker! He could feel the sword’s excitement and knew exactly what he had to do. He brandished the sword and, eyes narrowed, prepared for battle.
Eyeing him shrewdly, Arthur knew that the magician would have a protective shield round him and wouldn’t be hurt by fire but, nevertheless, he put all his strength into throwing the biggest burst of flames that he’d ever given.
The result was quite spectacular. Enveloped in a cloud of fire and smoke, Lord Jezail staggered backwards, knocked off his feet by the force of the blast. The sword, with a scream of rage, fell from his hand as Arthur lunged forward, using his body weight to trample the magician.
It nearly worked.
Lord Jezail saw the dragon heading for him and, grabbing the sword, rolled over sideways. Springing to his feet, he rushed at the dragon. Arthur kicked out at him and once more the magician rolled in the dust. His face as he scrambled to his feet was a mixture of hatred and sheer frustration.
The sword, however, was absolutely livid and using its magic, forced the magician to attack again. “Get in close,” it screamed, “and then thrust! Straight for the heart!”
Arthur threw one of the hexes that Prince Kalman had taught him and once more the magician stopped, doubled up in sudden agony. Again Arthur took advantage of his helplessness and with a flap of his wings, tried to herd the magician to the edge of the cliff.
It didn’t work. Gathering his dust-covered robes round him, Jezail got to his feet, evaded the dragon and held Dragonslayer at the ready. This time there was going to be no mistake!
It was then that Arthur, who had been just about to breathe an enormous burst of fire at Lord Jezail, saw the magic carpets flying in behind the magician’s back. Coughing and spluttering, he managed to choke it back, but his spirits rose. They had come! And just in time, too.
Taking advantage of Arthur’s sudden fit of coughing, and totally unaware of the carpets landing behind him, Lord Jezail’s lips twisted in a triumphant smile. Swinging Dragonslayer wildly, he darted forward to plunge the sword deep into Arthur’s heart.
Dragonslayer almost burst with pleasure. This … this was the moment it had been waiting for all these years. This time there was going to be no mistake. The magician knew his stuff! He was going to strike! Now! Now! Now!
Clara leapt off her carpet. It was the ideal moment. Lord Jezail’s sleeve had fallen back over his arm as he held the sword up, ready to strike. The talisman was there! She could see it clasped round his wrist. Running forward, she spoke in the language of old magic and called the talisman to her. It obeyed immediately and as Lord Jezail felt it leave his wrist he stopped in mid-thrust and swung round.
The sword screamed its disappointment! What was the fool of a magician doing? It was the dragon that mattered, not some stupid talisman!
Lord Jezail paled, his face a picture of baffled fury as he saw the magicians. Then his eyes fell on the children — Clara in particular. The girl! Of course, he should have known it would be her! Who else would call the talisman, after all? His eyes burned as he saw it clasp itself onto her wrist. Leaping forward, he slashed out wildly with a sword that was now in such a blind rage that it would kill anybody or anything.
Lord Rothlan ducked swiftly as the sword all but beheaded him while Clara, full of joy at wearing the talisman once more, leapt nimbly to one side and watched Jezail carefully. As far as she was concerned, the worst was over. She had the talisman and, with rising excitement, felt its power. Now she just needed to catch Lord Jezail on his own. She didn’t want anyone else getting in the way of her hexes.
Prince Kalman and Count Vassili hurriedly pushed Neil behind them and, hexes at the ready, faced up to the furious magician who stood before them, his sword still raised to strike.
With a dragon behind him and three powerful magicians in front of him, any reasonable man would have very quickly worked out that he didn’t stand much of a chance. The sword, however, was beyond reason. It swung Jezail round on his heels and once more forced him to attack Arthur.
It was so unexpected that Arthur, totally taken aback, made no attempt to defend himself. Even the magicians were taken by surprise. Clara wasn’t, however, for even as Jezail swung round, sword at the ready, she lifted her arm and, as she spoke the words of a hex, a brilliant flash of light flamed between her arm and the sword.
The sword, quivering in Lord Jezail’s upraised hand, gave a deathly scream that echoed and re-echoed through the jagged peaks and pinnacles of the mountains. Everyone who heard it shivered. Even the magicians stiffened at its breath-taking cry of agony.
Taken aback, Lord Jezail crumpled to the ground, the sword slipping from his nerveless fingers.
All eyes then turned to Clara. Even the magicians had no idea what hex she had used but they knew it was from the Book of Spells for she had spoken in the language of ancient magic. “Wait,” she said in a voice that was more than a bit shaky. Her eyes didn’t leave the sword. Lord Jezail, however, rose to his knees and crawling over the ground, grasped its hilt and stroking the blade gently, crooned over the sword as though to ease its pain.
Clara raised her hand and shook her head, warning everyone to stand back. The spell had yet to work and as they watched in increasing amazement, the beautiful sword turned black in Lord Jezail’s hands. There was a moment of silence as Jezail looked confusedly from the blackened sword to the stern faces of the magicians. Then, as his eyes dropped and he instinctively understood that Dragonslayer would kill no more dragons, his face convulsed suddenly. Madness shone in his eyes as, mouthing meaningless words, he struggled to his feet in a fearsome rage.
Prince Kalman, his eyes full of sudden pity, moved towards him. “It’s all right, Lord Jezail,” he said gently. “It’s over now. Come, we will take you back to the citadel where you can rest.”
“Rest?” Jezail snarled.
Vassili tried this time. “Milord …”
But as Vassili moved forward, arm outstretched, Lord Jezail backed away. “Here,” he snarled, “take the sword! What use is it to me now?” Raising his arm, he plunge
d it into the ground at the count’s feet and then, with a cackle of what might have been laughter, strode off.
There was a moment’s silence as, totally taken aback, they looked from Vassili to the black sword and back again.
“Wait!” Clara said, as the count made to grasp it.
Prince Kalman looked at Lord Rothlan with raised eyebrows and watched as Clara stepped forward and, holding both hands over the sword, recited the words of another hex in a clear, ringing voice. Nothing happened for a few moments and even Clara, glancing worriedly at Lord Rothlan, felt a sudden tinge of alarm. Why had nothing happened? Had she got the wording of the spell wrong?
“It’s all right, Clara!” Prince Kalman said suddenly. “Whatever the spell is, it’s working! Look! It’s changing colour!” And they stared in astonishment as the sword suddenly shed its blackness and glowed gold.
Count Vassili laid his hand hesitantly on the hilt and then relaxed. “There’s no evil in it,” he said as they all crowded round. “Here, touch it yourselves,” he said, pulling it from the ground and offering the hilt to Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan in turn.
Clara sighed with relief. For a dreadful moment she thought she’d got the spell all wrong and, for a second, her mind winged back to the round room in the tower of the citadel where she’d copied the hexes with trembling fingers. It had been well worth it. The sword was still a magic sword but she had taken away its desire to kill dragons. Arthur and all of the dragons in the valley were safe.
Lord Jezail didn’t see the sword’s transformation. Eyes staring unseeingly, he shambled along, muttering to himself. Neil watched him go; a strange, pathetic figure whose scarlet robes trailed loosely in the dust behind him.
