Dragon Seeker (22 page)

Clara gasped and clutched at Maria as their magic carpet approached Stara Zargana. “Look!” she gasped, “look at the citadel. It isn’t black anymore!” They looked at one another in amazement and Clara gestured to Neil and Colonel Strelitz who were travelling alongside them.

“Look at the citadel!” she called. “It’s changed colour!”

“It must be because Lord Jezail is dead,” Colonel Strelitz called back, looking in wonder at the shining white towers that rose, clean and shining, against the green backdrop of
forest-clad
mountains. His heart filled with hope. Life was going to be very different now that Lord Jezail had gone. He was going to marry Maria and, now a colonel and the newly appointed Commander of the Citadel Guard, he would never have to return to Dragonsgard and its lonely, rocky valley.

Soon they were flying over the red-roofed houses of the
little
town and in no time at all had landed in the deep courtyard of the citadel. Clara smiled at Maria, her eyes shining as she looked round. How different it all was from that dreadful night when they’d left for Dragonsgard!

Carpets landed all round them and it was Prince Kalman who led the way towards the rounded curve of shallow steps where Count Vassili, the new Governor of the Citadel, waited to receive them. The Citadel Guard, in smart, white uniforms, snapped to attention as they approached and it was a happy, chattering group that entered its halls.

“You should have seen it when
I
was here,” Clara said to
Neil. “It was awful; really dark and creepy.” She looked up at the shining, vaulted ceiling and marvelled at the difference.

Count Vassili ushered them into the Great Hall of the citadel and it was then that they saw Dragonslayer. Hung against the glass of a tall window, it glowed golden with happiness.

“I asked it to choose where it would like to rest and it chose the window,” Count Vassili explained. “After hundreds of years shut up in Sir Pendar’s tomb, it wanted the light and the view. That’s why it’s so high up,” he admitted. “The window
overlooks
the citadel garden but from that height it can see over the walls to the town and the mountains and forests beyond.”

“Does it remember its past,” Clara asked curiously.

“Only vaguely, I think,” the count answered. “The hex you used from the
Book of Spells
blotted out all of its evil desires. It’s now a very definite force for good.”

Prince Kalman looked at him, knowing there was more.

“It was only after I had it placed in the window that the
citadel
started to change colour!”

“A good omen,” Lord Rothlan smiled.

“And a powerful one,” Prince Kalman added, looking at the sword speculatively.

The sword heard their words, for its hearing was sharp, and smiled to itself. It had no intention of revealing just how powerful its magic was or how, from its vantage point high in the windows of the citadel, it could use it to its best advantage. For the sword, as always, had its own agenda and cleansing the citadel of Jezail’s warped personality was just the start …

Lunch was a pleasant meal as they talked lazily over the
happenings
of the past days. It was as they rose from the table that Clara asked the count if she could show Neil her old rooms in the tower.

“Why, of course, Clara,” he answered readily. “You can go
where you like. Your room will be just as you left it.”

Clara nodded, secretly glad that nothing had been changed and, beckoning to Neil, headed for the spiral staircase that wound its way up the tower, stopping every now and then to peer through the slit windows. “I was so miserable and unhappy here,” she murmured, as she opened the door to her bedroom and looked round, “but there’s no feeling of it left.”

Neil walked over to the window and peered down at the red roofed houses and narrow, winding streets of Stara Zargana.

“I used to stand there,” Clara said, sadly, “and look at the houses, wondering who lived in them and what their lives were like. I thought about Mum and Dad, too.” She paused. “I can’t believe we’ll be seeing them tomorrow. They must be worried sick about us. I mean … we’ve been here for ages when you think about it.”

Neil shook his head. “Don’t forget that magic time and our time are completely different,” he pointed out. “When we do get back, we won’t have been gone any time at all, as far as Mum and Dad are concerned. Anyway, Lady Ellen’s there and even before we set off, she’d more or less convinced them that
everything
would be fine.”

“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?”

Neil looked at her ironically. “I’d say so,” he grinned. “Didn’t you hear Prince Kalman talking to Count Vassili about
hunting
wild boar? Not that I want to hunt wild boar,” he added hurriedly, “but, well, I always liked Count Vassili, even when he taught us German at Netherfield …” he tailed off as a
sudden
thought struck him. “Do you know, I’d forgotten all about school!”

“So had I!” Clara looked at him in horror. “I guess our
holidays
must be almost over!”

“I haven’t looked at my holiday homework either,” Neil
groaned as they left the room and clattered down the dizzying spiral stairs.

“Hey! Neil! Clara!”

Clara beamed with delight as she saw Hamish and Jackie walking towards them. Both looked absolutely exhausted.

“Clara!” Jackie said in relief. “They told us you were here! Thank goodness you’re safe!”

“We heard that Amgarad rescued you from some dragon’s castle or other!” Hamish added. “Are you alright?”

Clara laughed. “I’m fine,” she smiled, “but where’s Archie?”

“He stayed in the Valley of the Dragons,” Jaikie answered. “Arthur wanted to see that everything was sorted out before he left. I think the dragons are throwing a party for him.”

“We wondered why you didn’t turn up at Trollsberg.” Neil looked at him enquiringly.” All the MacArthur would tell us was that you were busy. Did you see any fighting?”

Jaikie shook his head, smothering a yawn. “Jezail’s men were glad to surrender,” he said, tiredly. “We stayed behind to round up the last of them.”

“He’d sent scouts in to suss the place out,” Hamish explained, “and we had to scour every nook and cranny to find them. By the time we’d rounded them all up, the carpets were pretty
shattered
, I can tell you!”

Clara looked concerned. “You
do
know we’re leaving
tomorrow
morning, don’t you?” she asked.

“We heard,” Jaikie nodded, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “We could have done with another rest day, but what to do? The carpets are asleep already and we’re heading for bed as soon as we’ve eaten. I can hardly believe that by this time tomorrow, we’ll be home!”

“I can hardly believe it, either,” Neil sighed. “
We’ve
got
school
next week!”

“I’m not going to say goodbye to you, Neil … nor to you, Clara,” Count Vassili smiled, taking their hands in his, “because I know you’ll be back. We, the Onegin, are deeply in your debt and you will always be welcome here, you know that!”

Neil and Clara murmured their thanks, genuinely sorry to be leaving.

“And don’t forget to work hard at your German grammar when you’re back at Netherfield,” the count urged with a
twinkle
in his eye. “It’s spoken here and if you’re going to go out exploring on your next visit, then it might help if you speak the language!”

As they thanked him again, a chill wind swirled round the shallow steps of the citadel blowing a scatter of brown leaves round their ankles. Autumn was setting in and despite the blankets they’d piled on their carpets, they knew it was going to be a cold journey home.

“I hope you put on that extra sweater I laid out for you,” Maria fussed as she hugged Clara before seeing her safely onto her carpet. “I hadn’t realized how bitterly cold it was up there until I flew back with you the other day!”

Clara smiled and waved as her carpet followed Neil’s into the air and drifted towards those of Hamish and Jaikie. They’d fly home together, side by side, for company.

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.

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 …

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 Amgarad 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.