Dragon Seeker (15 page)

Colonel Braganz, entering Lord Jezail’s study, saluted smartly. “The troops are ready to depart, Milord,” he announced.

His voice was even enough, but inwardly the colonel was a very worried man. He’d discussed the matter with his master the previous day and still couldn’t believe that Lord Jezail had ignored his advice. The magician, he decided, must have gone mad for, as far as he was concerned, it was the height of folly to make the journey to the Valley of the Dragons while an enemy army lay virtually on their doorstep. And to leave the citadel so lightly guarded … it was just asking for trouble!

He was not to know, of course, that it was the sword that had filled Jezail’s mind with the urgency of making a journey to the Valley of the Dragons. It only cared about killing dragons and the fate of the citadel meant nothing to it. Indeed, such was its power that it didn’t enter Lord Jezail’s head for a second that he was actually being controlled. That being the case, he’d shrugged off Colonel Braganz’s arguments quite casually; for even the troubling thought of the MacArthur’s army had
somehow
become quite unimportant.

Now, crouched over his magic crystal, Lord Jezail looked up at this announcement with an expression on his face that made the colonel stiffen. What, he wondered, had happened to put his master into such a fearful temper?

Gathering his robes round him in a swirl of velvet, Lord Jezail rose to his feet and started to pace up and down the room, muttering to himself furiously. He was beside himself
with rage for Major Strelitz had just told him of Count Vassili’s escape from Dragonsgard. It was the last thing he’d wanted to hear — and on today of all days, when he was about to set out with Dragonslayer on their Great Quest!

It was all arranged! They would leave the Citadel in grand style, flags flying and weapons gleaming; just like the knights of old! Now this had to happen! His frown deepened. Setting off with his men for the Valley of the Dragons should have been a glorious moment of triumph for him and now it was
totally
ruined! It was utterly
typical
of Vassili to have spoiled it! He wished now that he’d hexed him instead of sending him to Dragonsgard!

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes, Braganz,” he snarled
furiously
. “Keep the men waiting!”

Colonel Braganz saluted again and left the room without a word. The honour of stepping into the count’s shoes as aide to Lord Jezail had, at first, filled him with a pleasing sense of importance. Now, however, he was beginning to appreciate the difficulties of serving such an eccentric and demanding
master
. No wonder the count had spent his spare moments in the relative peace and quiet of the library: his master’s temper was enough to fray anyone’s nerves!

The minute the door shut, Lord Jezail started to pace the room once more. So Vassili had escaped from Dragonsgard, had he! And probably gone straight to his father at Trollsberg! He relaxed slightly as, mind working swiftly, he realized that there was little that Lord Onegin could do. He had his own problems to attend to and he didn’t see him launching an attack on Dragonsgard any time soon. The castle, anyway, was
virtually
impregnable and, despite what Colonel Braganz said, the MacArthur certainly wasn’t going to prove a problem! He and his army were stuck miles away and, given the hex he’d thrown,
his precious magic carpets ought to be as sick as parrots by this time. He smiled at the thought. They wouldn’t be taking anyone anywhere in a hurry. His mind skated swiftly over the strangely clad boy that his crows had found. Probably just a poor village child, he decided, certainly not worth bothering about.

He walked over to the glass cabinet by the window where Dragonslayer hung by its hilt. The sword had wanted to see the sky, the sunlight and the forests and he had quite happily agreed to its request. Now, he unlocked the cabinet carefully and reverently removing the sword from its hook, reached for its scabbard. “It’s time for us to leave,” he told it briefly. “The troops are ready and waiting to start. It’ll only take a few days to reach the Valley of the Dragons and then … then you will be able to kill as many dragons as you like!”

The sword glowed with delight and breathed a delicious sigh. It was just like old times, it thought happily, when it had bumped along contentedly at Sir Pendar’s side as he travelled throughout the country seeking their next dragon.

There was a great stir in the little town of Stara Zargana when the sound of trumpets suddenly blared out from the battlements of the citadel and the great doors opened slowly to reveal armed horsemen carrying tall spears. Flags and
colourful
pennants fluttered in the morning breeze as the horses stamped and shifted impatiently.

At a given signal, the black-clad riders urged their horses forward and, walking at a steady, majestic pace, crossed the high, curved bridge that separated the citadel from the town. Word spread quickly. The townspeople left their work and tumbled hastily into the street to watch this latest spectacle, gasping in amazement at the seemingly never-ending stream of horsemen that poured from the arched gateway.

Lord Jezail rode, straight as a ramrod, on a jet-black horse and looked neither to right nor left as the cavalcade made its way through the winding streets. Everyone knew who he was, although few people had actually seen him. They knew, too, that he was ancient, but the sight of his proud, triumphant face caused unease and a creeping sensation of trouble to come.

The initial, excited muttering of the crowd when the first
soldiers
had ridden over the bridge now died away and the people watched in fearful silence as they moved in a black snake-like procession through the town towards the road that led to the northern border. A few in the crowd remembered the coach and horses that had galloped through the streets the previous week but this … this was something else! Where on earth was he going with so many men and what were the strange flat carts that some of the horses pulled? They were huge affairs and so broad that many of the townspeople had to press themselves against the sides of the houses to let them through.

The soldiers swore silently under their breaths for the carts were long, unwieldy and seemed to have minds of their own. They hadn’t a clue as to how they were going to get them over the steep mountain passes, but knew it wasn’t going to be easy! None of the soldiers were supposed to know where they were going nor what the flat carts were for, but the citadel held few secrets and word had quickly got round that their master had a magic sword and was going to the Valley of the Dragons to kill a great dragon; more than one if he could.

It was also whispered that the flat carts were going to be used to bring back the bodies of dead dragons.

The Blue Room was warm and comfortable. Neil headed immediately for the log fire that burned in a huge white marble fireplace and warmed his hands gratefully while Count Vassili and Major Sallis settled themselves in armchairs as footmen, carrying trays laden with food, proceeded to lay the table.

On the way there, Neil had, rather nervously, asked the count about Clara.

The count, however, had been brief. “I saw her yesterday morning,” he’d said quietly. “She’s still a prisoner but she’s well. No one has harmed her.”

Neil felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. Clara was okay. He’d known all along that she’d be alright but
sometimes
, he thought ruefully, things didn’t always work out as planned. He loved Clara dearly, but there was no getting away from it; she had a mind of her own and it often got her into trouble.

It was only after they’d eaten that Neil told the count what had happened to him. He felt relaxed and relieved for, during the course of the meal, the count had mentioned that he no longer worked for Lord Jezail, and Neil believed him.

“Well, Sallis,” the count said thoughtfully when they had
finished
listening to Neil’s tale, “it seems we have more than one problem to attend to!”

The major nodded as Neil looked enquiringly from one to the other.

“We must, of course, help the McArthur and his men,” the
count said.

“But we don’t know where he is,” Neil interrupted, “the
carpets
could be hundreds of miles away for all we know.”

The major smiled. “We have eyes and ears everywhere and it won’t be long before my spies find them.”

Just as they picked up on me, Neil thought, eyeing him shrewdly.

“Then there’s Lord Jezail,” the count continued. “We heard this morning that he’s left Stara Zargana — with Dragonslayer, of course! He and his men took the road north so they are
obviously
heading for the Valley of the Dragons!”

“Arthur’s there already,” Neil said, “at least I hope he is! He went to warn them that Lord Jezail had Dragonslayer.”

“Did he, indeed!” the count sounded surprised.

Neil then told them the story of the tournament and when they’d finished laughing, the count’s face again became serious. “Nevertheless, Dragonslayer is still a threat to the dragons. They’ll need help from us if they’re going to survive Jezail’s attack.”

“If Jezail and his men have left the citadel,” Neil interrupted, “then we could quite easily rescue Clara.” He stretched out his hand so that the count could see the magic ring on his finger. “If I became invisible, I could walk in, free her and more or less walk out with her. She has a magic ring, too, you know!”

“I
do
know,” the count said with a wry smile, “but Lord Jezail has it now. It was the first thing he took from her when she was captured. Besides which,’ he paused, “Clara isn’t in the citadel any longer.”

“Not in the citadel!” Neil exclaimed, looking alarmed. “Then where is she?” he demanded, sitting forward in his chair.

The count then told them everything that had happened from the time that Clara had been hexed into the crystal ball at
the circus to their arrival at Dragonsgard.

“Dragonsgard,” Neil repeated. “It sounds …
exciting
,” he said.

The count’s face hardened. “As far as I’m concerned,” he said with a frown, “Dragonsgard is among the most terrible places in the world. Lord Jezail’s own soldiers dread being posted there. It’s high in the mountains and even in summer the
temperature
is close to freezing. Now, with winter on the way, the castle will be like an icebox.”

There was a silence as Major Sallis looked at the count apprehensively.

“What’s more,” the count added heavily, remembering the fateful letter, “Lord Jezail has instructed that she’s to be kept in the topmost tower of the castle.”

He stopped abruptly, not wanting to worry the boy more than necessary and shot a warning glance at the major, who had stiffened at his words. Like everyone else, Major Sallis had heard tell of the dreadful room in the topmost tower of the castle and cringed inwardly at the thought of the circle of deep slit windows that gave no protection whatsoever from the
biting
, icy winds that swirled round the mountain tops. It was no place to keep a grown man far less a child.

“Would it be difficult to rescue her?” Neil asked, doubtfully.

A mental picture of the grim, grey fortress flashed through the major’s mind. “Virtually impossible,” he said quietly, “but we’ll have to try.”

“It’s time to go upstairs,” Major Strelitz said.

Maria looked at him but his face showed no expression whatsoever. “Can’t she sleep a little longer,” she asked.

The major’s eyes flickered over to the couch by the fire where Clara lay, fast asleep.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I only brought you in here so that you could rest while my men got your … your room ready for you.” He hesitated, “You, yourself, are not a prisoner, you understand,” he added. “Lord Jezail made that quite plain. You can come and go as you please but given the circumstances, I think it’s better that you spend most of your time with the girl. If you need anything, you only have to ask. I’ll have a sentry outside your door all the time.”

His voice woke Clara, who sat up sleepily and glanced round the unfamiliar room. Then she remembered where she was and smiled at the major. Really, she thought, he had been very kind. Rather than have them wait in the cold hall of the castle, he’d taken them to his own quarters and given them an excellent lunch.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

The major didn’t answer and Maria broke in hurriedly. “Our room is finished now, Clara,” she said, hurrying over to help the girl to her feet. “The major’s men have been getting it ready for us. They’re … they’re not used to having ladies, you see.”

“I’ve had your cases taken up,” the major said briefly, “and I’ve added a few things that you might be able to make use of. Furs and
the like …”

“Furs?” Maria shot him a shrewd glance.

“I’ve done the best I could for you,” he said abruptly, “and you mustn’t worry about meals. I’ll make sure you’re well fed.”

It was then that Maria realized that the major, for all he tried not to show it, was extremely upset. Her heart sank. What on earth was their new prison going to be like?

He took them up to the tower room himself. It was years since he’d ventured to the top but he wanted to make sure that the beds and bedding were sufficient. His soldiers had been toiling up and down the spiral staircase for the best part of the day and the language that had floated down to him when the thin single beds had stuck in the steep curves of the stairwell had been colourful to say the least.

Clara was exhausted by the time she was only half way to the top. “I’ve got a stitch in my side,” she complained as she leant against the wall, panting for breath. “Is it far to go?”

“Not much further, I hope,” the major muttered. He, too, was breathing heavily. Glancing casually out of one of the slit
windows
, he blenched at the sheer drop to the valley below and, for the first time that day, appreciated the effort his men had made to lug all of the cases and bits of furniture up the stairs. He only hoped it had been enough to make the tower room habitable.

With effort they continued up the winding stone spiral. It seemed to go on and on forever and, when they reached the shabby wooden door at the top, it actually came as a surprise that they had, at last, arrived.

The major turned the huge key in the ancient lock and pushed the door open. The wind, however, almost slammed it in his face again. Once more he pushed it open and standing with his back against it, ushered them inside.

The wind whirled round them, blowing their cloaks and
tangling Clara’s long hair.

White with shock, Maria rounded on the major, who,
himself
, seemed horrified. “You can’t keep us here,” she pleaded desperately, “you can’t! It’s not a room … why, we may as well be out on the battlements!” Her eyes darted round the deep slit windows that curved all the way round the room. “There’s no shelter,” she whispered, “no shelter at all! And what if it rains?”

“We’ll get soaked!” Clara said, answering her question. Her brown eyes turned to the major. “How can you leave us in a place like this?” she demanded scornfully.

A shadow of shame crossed the major’s face. “These were my master’s orders,” he answered in a flat voice. “You … you must understand that I daren’t disobey them. He will use his crystal to see that I have done as he commanded.”

Tears sprang to Clara’s eyes as she realized what her days were going to be like in this awful room.

Maria, however, noted the thick carpet on the floor, the fur covers on the bed and two screens that lay folded on the floor. They would give them a little shelter. And he had promised them food. The major, she reckoned, had, indeed, done his best for them.

She put her arms round Clara, whose face was wet with tears, and hugged her close. “I appreciate all the extra things you’ve put in the room,” she said, looking at Major Strelitz gratefully. “You’ve done your best for us and we … well, we’ll just have to do the best we can.”

The major saluted and eased himself out of the room so that the door didn’t slam in the wind. They heard the key turn in the lock and, seconds later, the sound of his footsteps clattering down the stairs.

They were alone. It was then that they turned and looked at one another. How were they going to survive in this nightmare
of a room?

“Just you help me with these screens, Clara,” Maria said in a business-like tone of voice as the wind blew her hair in all directions. “If we open them up,” she said, shoving one against a couple of windows, “then at least we’ll have a bit of shelter.” The screen, however, only remained standing for the space of a couple of seconds before the wind sent it crashing to the floor.

“If we prop the beds against the screens then maybe the wind won’t be able to knock them over,” Clara said, hauling a bed over the carpet.

It took some time to adjust the beds and the screens but by the time they’d finished, there was a small area of the room where the wind didn’t blow with such force. Maria unpacked the winter clothes she’d bought in Stara Zargana. Rough,
country
clothes made from heavy wool; much warmer than the cotton jeans and tops that Clara had insisted on wearing for the journey.

“They’re not fashionable,” she apologized, holding up a
knitted
hat, a pair of black woollen tights and a bright scarlet dress that was so thick and heavy that it almost stood up on its own. “The winters here are really cold.”

Clara grabbed at the clothes and shivering in the cold air, swopped her jeans for the black tights and hurriedly pulled the red dress over her head. It had long sleeves and reached well past her knees. She probably looked an absolute fright, she thought, but she didn’t care. She was deliciously warm and that was all that mattered.

“The hat,” Maria said, handing it to her. “You must keep it on all the time, even when you’re sleeping. Yes, I know it sounds crazy,” she added, seeing Clara’s face, “but body heat escapes through the head, surely you know that?”

“I do, actually,” Clara nodded. “It’s why people in olden days
wore nightcaps. There was no central heating to keep the
bedrooms
warm.”

“Anyway,” Maria said comfortingly as she sorted out some of the clothes for herself, “there’s only me to see you!”

Clara nodded and, propping up the pillows, turned back the furs that covered the bed and slipped between the sheets. Looking round the curve of slit windows she could see dark
billowing
clouds. She’d been worried about rain but these clouds looked as though they might hold snow.

She sighed. What were they going to do all day? They were alone in this dreadful tower with only the wind and the weather for company.