by Anne Forbes
Prince Kalman, Lord Rothlan and the MacArthur then said their goodbyes and waved as their carpets lifted higher and higher until they soared over the high wall of the courtyard.
As they flew over Stara Zargana, Clara turned to look at the citadel one last time. Neil wasn’t terribly bothered about it but now that it was free of Lord Jezail’s menacing presence, she found that she was really going to miss it. I’ll try and paint a picture of it when I get home, she thought, trying to memorize the shape of the slender turrets, the delicately crenellated battlements and the massive height of the great door. She kept her eyes on it for as long as she could and it was only when it faded to tiny, white speck that she sighed and turned her face towards Scotland and home.
43. Homecoming
It was a long journey and by the time they reached the border, night was falling. The waters of the North Sea gleamed in the moonlight as they passed over Holy Island, crossed the River Tweed and slipped over the dark slopes of the Lammermuir Hills. After that it was just a matter of following the coastline as, one after another, the lights of the many little fishing villages blinked peacefully beneath them as their carpets headed north.
“There’s Edinburgh!” Clara called to Neil as the lights of the city glowed on the horizon. Soon, the outline of Arthur’s Seat appeared, crouched like a protective dragon over the housetops; its massive bulk growing ever larger as they approached, rising darkly from the sprawl of glittering lights that marked the city. Although stiff and cold, they forgot their discomfort in the excitement of coming home as, one by one, the exhausted carpets swooped thankfully into the old familiar tunnel that led into the depths of the hill.
Lady Ellen gave a cry of pleasure as she saw the carpets soaring towards her across the dim vastness of the Great Hall. She’d been expecting them for the last half hour and had begun to get fidgety. “Look, they’re here at last!” she said, leaping to her feet.
John and Janet MacLean joined her, eyes shining at the thought of seeing their children again. Really, Janet thought, the MacArthur had been as good as his word when he’d said he’d have Clara back in no time at all. Here they were, back already; only a few days later!
“Neil, Clara, it’s lovely to have you back,” Mrs MacLean cried, hugging Neil and clasping her daughter tightly as Clara stumbled tiredly off her carpet. “I hope that horrible Lord Jezail treated you well!”
“Of course he did,” Clara reassured her with a smile, feeling that it was best not to go into too much detail.
“He won’t be troubling us anymore,” the MacArthur said reassuringly, greeting the MacLeans with a broad smile. “He died in the Valley of the Dragons!”
“The Valley of the Dragons?” John MacLean looked round, realizing for the first time that Arthur was nowhere to be seen. “Arthur’s alright, isn’t he?”
“He’s flying back with Archie,” Neil said, easing his aching bones. “You know, MacArthur, now that Count Vassili is Governor of the Citadel, I think it would be a marvellous idea if you were to give him a magic mirror as a present.”
“I was thinking that myself,” Prince Kalman smiled, looking at Lord Rothlan. “It’ll make it much easier to get to Ashgar in future … and we never did get to that old hunting lodge in the forest, did we?”
Amgarad spread his wings and gave an approving squawk. Although he was, perhaps, the only member of the party who wasn’t tired — for he’d travelled back snuggled in the warmth of his master’s cloak and had slept most of the way — he nevertheless agreed wholeheartedly. Magic mirrors were by far and away the easiest, and most comfortable, way to travel.
“I’d set one up right away then, Father,” Lady Ellen advised, “for the Lords of the North will be inviting Count Vassili to Morven in a couple of days’ time. They’re planning to have a banquet to celebrate your safe return!”
Neil dug his elbow into Clara’s ribs as she hid a yawn. Lady Ellen noticed, however, and smiled understandingly. “You must be exhausted,” she said, putting an arm round them both. Although she’d said nothing to the MacLeans, she’d kept in touch with her husband through the crystal and Lord Rothlan had told her much of what had gone on. “Your parents have been keeping me company while you were away and I’ve given you rooms beside theirs.”
Clara’s eyes brightened. It wasn’t often that they slept in the hill but she loved the huge rooms and the long, stone corridors with their suits of armour, ancient pictures and the displays of old-fashioned spears and claymores that decorated the walls. It was as if, at one time, an old castle had somehow been built into Arthur’s Seat.
That night, curled up snuggly in the huge four-poster bed that dominated the bedroom, she sighed happily. The adventure was over, Lord Jezail was no more and the talisman was, once more, curled round her wrist where it belonged. It would never again leave her. She felt its content and relaxed, knowing that it, too, was happy to be safe and well in the heart of the hill.
In the bedroom next door, Neil blew out the flickering candles that lit the room and slipped between the sheets. Usually, he lay for a while, enjoying the richness of the room; the tapestried walls, the huge carved pieces of furniture and the silk carpets that felt so smooth under his bare feet. Not tonight, he thought, he was just so tired. A wave of comfort swept over him as he shut his eyes and let his mind drift as sleep overtook him. But his last thought was of the medallion and its magic and what it would be like to be a great magician …
44. Celebrations
The blue and silver halls of the Lords of the North were ablaze with light as Neil and Clara stepped through the magic mirror into Morven, the great mountain in the Grampians that housed the Lords of the North. Clara smoothed her dress. Magic, she thought, was just so handy. Given that none of them had any clothes at all, far less anything suitable for such a grand occasion as a banquet in the halls of the Lords of the North, Lady Ellen had hexed up a whole new wardrobe for each of them and even her mother, who still wasn’t at all sure if she approved of magic or not, was delighted with her beautiful new evening dress.
The Lords of the North were just as richly attired. Sitting proudly on their silver thrones in long robes of embroidered velvet they welcomed them graciously to Morven.
It was only after they’d paid their respects and Lord Rothlan was busily introducing Count Vassili to the lords that the hobgoblins moved tentatively forward on tiny hooves and clustered round the two children.
“We’re so pleased that you got back safely, Neil,” Rumblegudgeon said, his goat-like little face shining excitedly. “And you, too, Clara! We were really worried about you!”
Lady Ellan eyed the hobgoblins with an amused smile and then looked up as the magic mirrors shimmered suddenly to reveal two gorgeously robed magicians.
“The Sultan and Prince Casimir!” Neil gasped in surprise.
Prince Kalman strode forward, bowing low to both the Turkish Sultan and his father, Prince Casimir. “Father!” he said, delightedly. “How wonderful to see you!”
The Turkish Sultan smiled as the two embraced warmly and then bowed as Lord Alarid hastened forward to greet him. “Thank you for informing us of Jezail’s death, Alarid,” the Sultan said once he’d greeted all the lords in turn.” We are well rid of him!”
“I still can’t believe that he was so evil.” Prince Casimir said, shaking his head. “He seemed so … so kindly. And he always treated us with great respect.”
Prince Kalman reached forward in his chair and laid his hand over his father’s. “He was laughing at us all the time, Father,” he said gently. “It made him feel powerful to hex us the way he did and he enjoyed our suffering.” He paused and then added thoughtfully. “What he didn’t, and couldn’t realize, was that to do such a thing in the first place meant that his mind was diseased. I saw his true face,” he grimaced distastefully at the thought, “and it wasn’t pleasant, I assure you. The poor man was mad and he didn’t know it. Don’t you think so, Alasdair?” he queried, looking up at Lord Rothlan, who, with Am
garad on his shoulder, was standing beside the Sultan’s throne.
Lord Rothlan nodded.” His medallion knew it, too,” he observed. “That’s why it latched onto Neil.”
The Sultan looked at him sharply. “The boy has his medallion?”
“Actually, Lord Alban has it at the moment, Milord,” Prince Kalman said seriously. “In fact, he’ll probably be asking you for advice.”
“Indeed?” the Sultan sounded curious.
The prince sighed. “The medallion’s changed into a twisted, evil thing,” he said, a frown crossing his face. “You’ll be shocked when you hold it.”
“There’s very little goodness left in it,” Lord Rothlan added, “and making it safe again will take some time. Years perhaps, depending on how deeply Jezail’s magic penetrated.”
“Anyway, there’s no way the boy can wear the medallion as it is,” the prince stated firmly. “Besides which, he’s very young to wield such power.”
“Quite,” the Sultan said frowningly.” This is a serious matter. Why, he will be one of us eventually!”
“We know that, Milord. And so does he.”
“Is he suitable? I mean … I know Neil as well as you do. He’s a brave lad. But will he be able to cope? The responsibility …”
“I saw his behaviour when Jezail died,” Prince Kalman said briefly. “Jezail had just finished throwing him off his magic carpet — in mid-air, I might add — and,” he paused as they gasped in horror, “… and the boy saw him rushing towards him with a serpent on his tail, one of the Ugleira, I think …”
“The Ugleira?” Lord Alarid looked amazed. “They still exist?”
The prince nodded. “A huge specimen,” he agreed. “It must have been feeding off the young of the dragons for centuries.”
“Go on,” the Sultan said with an impatient wave of his hand, “never mind the Ugleira! What happened next?”
“It was a split-second decision for Neil,” Kalman said slowly, “and he quite unhesitatingly hexed the serpent.”
“Ah!” The Sultan relaxed. “That certainly bodes well for the future.”
“Nobody, and no magic, killed Jezail,” Prince Kalman pointed out. “He tripped and hit his head on one of the many rocks that litter the valley. He’d no protection, you see — for by then, Neil had his medallion — although, of course, I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“The boy will have a lot to learn …” the Sultan said slowly.
Lord Rothlan and the prince looked at one another in relief. The Sultan had agreed!” He knows that,” the prince said. “And we’ll all teach him …” he looked at the MacArthur, who nodded approvingly. If the medallion was going to go to anyone, then Neil was a good choice.
Catching her husband’s eye, Lady Ellan brought Neil and Clara forward to greet the Sultan and Prince Casimir. She squeezed Neil’s shoulder warningly as they approached for she’d guessed what the huddled conversation had been about.
The Sultan, however, was gracious and Neil looked at Clara in relief. He knew there and then that he was going to work very hard to gain the approval of the magicians.
The banquet was followed by speeches from just about everyone for it wasn’t only Lord Alarid who spoke. All of the Lords of the North had their say, thanking Prince Kalman, Lord Rothlan, Count Vassili, the MacArthur and the children for the success of their mission.
“We are, of course, sorry that Lord Jezail didn’t see the error of his ways,” Lord Alarid finished, “but we must be grateful for an accident that prevented further suffering. We are delighted, too, at the news that his medallion has found a new master.” He looked at Neil and bowed. “A magician, approved by us all, who will one day join our ranks.”
John MacLean raised his eyebrows at this while Janet turned and looked at Clara suspiciously. “Lord Alarid doesn’t mean Neil, does he?” she whispered as her son rose somewhat guiltily to his feet and bowed to Lord Alarid.
Clara looked at her parents apprehensively. She’d urged Neil to tell them about the medallion but he’d been strangely reluctant to mention it. “Just leave it,” he’d said. “You know what Mum’s like about magic at the best of times. All she’ll do is worry herself silly and, let’s face it, they’ll never know unless you tell them!” Well, she thought to herself, now the beans have been seriously spilled! She sat back and waited, wishing herself anywhere else but Morven! She hated rows and was afraid that one might be brewing.
She had, however, reckoned without Lady Ellan, who smiled quietly. “How wonderful, Neil,” she whispered, with a warning flicker of her eyelashes, “it’s such an amazing coincidence! You see, I’d already asked your mother if I could give you a magic token and now … well,” she said ruefully, “… it seems that you have a much nicer one than anything I could have given you!”
“That was really kind of you, Lady Ellan,” Clara said warmly, one eye on her mother’s face. “Lady Ellan is so thoughtful, isn’t she, Mum!”
“Yes … yes, of course she is,” Mrs MacLean answered, looking doubtfully at her husband. “It was a very kind thought …”
Clara hid a smile. Lady Ellan had obviously been busy!
Which was, more or less, the truth for, having heard the story of the medallion from her husband, Lady Ellan had quietly prepared the MacLeans’ minds for just such an event. It hadn’t been hard — she’d just mentioned in the course of conversation that she didn’t think it was good that Clara had the magic of the talisman at her fingertips while Neil had nothing but his firestone. It was, she pointed out, the kind of thing that encouraged jealousy and it worried her. Would they mind, she’d asked shyly, if she gave Neil a magic token of some sort? Something small, perhaps, just to make them equal? For it wasn’t fair that Clara should have all the magic, was it?
By the time she’d finished, Mrs MacLean had agreed with her wholeheartedly. When all was said and done, she wanted both her children to be happy.
So the evening ended on a high note and Neil, it must be said, walked back through the magic mirror with a more assured step. While Lady Ellan and Clara were saying goodnight to the little hobgoblins, the magicians had taken him to one side and talked to him seriously about the responsibilities of magicians. And, although they’d spoken to him kindly, they hadn’t talked to him as a boy, but as one magician to another. He couldn’t help but feel honoured.
45. And so to Bed …
When they arrived back in the hill, they found that Archie and Arthur had arrived in their absence. The air was almost too warm as Hamish and Jaikie had lit braziers round the cavern, knowing that Archie would be cold after his flight. And he was! Hugging a fur round him, he was warming his hands while Arthur blew bursts of flame everywhere.
They sat round the fire for a long time that evening, clutching hot drinks and revelling in the warmth. Nobody said very much. Arthur was tired after his long flight, but happy to be home; Hamish and Jaikie, who had just finished the monumental task of stacking armaments away in the store cupboards, relaxed gratefully and the magicians sat back in their chairs, pleased at the way things had gone and glad that Lord Jezail would never cause them any trouble, ever again. It was all very satisfying!
“We start school next week,” Clara said suddenly into the comfortable silence. “It seems a bit tame after being kidnapped by an evil magician, doesn’t it?”
Neil almost added that it seemed a bit tame after being thrown off a magic carpet by the same evil magician, but as he didn’t want his mother to freak out, he said nothing.
“You’ll have to call a meeting of the witches sometime soon, Clara,” Lord Rothlan reminded her. “You have the talisman and you’ll have to lay down some pretty firm rules to keep that little lot in order!”
“Where do they usually meet?” Mrs MacLean asked enquiringly.
The MacArthur paused and eyed Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan with a twinkle in his eye. “In your house, I believe,” he answered.
“Oh, that’s alright then,” Mrs MacLean said, “but …” she a
dded, turning to her husband, “I’ll have to buy a lot more cups and saucers, John.”
As everyone knew her opinion of witches — never high at the best of times — there was a somewhat stunned silence at this, only broken when Lady Ellan let out a sudden snort of laughter, which set them all off.
The party broke up after that, principally because Arthur had succeeded in filling the cavern with sparkling smoke that danced in swirling wreaths over the braziers. Goodnights were said as they made their way to their rooms but the MacArthur remained in his chair with Arthur and Archie at his feet.
“Well,” he said, looking round the misty heights of the cavern, “that’s a job well done, Archie! Who would have thought the old man had so much evil in him!”
“We didn’t suspect him at all …” Archie nodded, “that was what was so scary.”
“Let’s hope that life will be a lot quieter now that he’s gone,” the MacArthur said, rising to his feet. “Goodnight, Archie! Goodnight, Arthur!”
Archie climbed on Arthur’s back. They were both tired after their long flight and Archie clung on grimly as the great dragon set off eagerly for his beautiful, treasure-filled den.
Arthur had already visited it, of course; it was the first thing he’d done when he got back. And it had all been there, his treasure; just as he’d left it. He sighed happily as he reached it and clambered contentedly to the top of the sparkling pile. The Valley of the Dragons had been wonderful and he’d made lots of good friends but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to compare with a shiny, gleaming, glittering bed of precious treasure. How he had missed it.
Clara was just getting into bed when there was a quiet tap on her door. “Come in,” she called. “Oh, it’s you, Neil. I thought you’d be asleep by now …”
Neil plonked himself on Clara’s bed. “D’you know,” he said, bouncing on it slightly, “I think your bed’s bigger than mine and more comfortable, too.”
