Dragonfire (15 page)

In the meantime, Clara's carpet zoomed happily across the loch. Although the waves still flashed white with foam, she could see that the storm had abated and would soon die out completely. Her carpet was flying fairly swiftly and she bent forward eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of the MacArthur's army.

The sudden departure of the storm carriers had come as a relief to the MacArthur's men as they struggled through the blizzards and now able to use their carpets they had quickly made up for lost time. The summit of the mountain peaks now lay well behind them and it was only when the loch and castle of Jarishan appeared in front of them that the MacArthur called a halt and they gathered to make final plans.

Clara, still clutching Lord Rothlan's letter, was somewhat puzzled as her carpet dipped towards the ground so quickly. She'd barely left the castle and could see nothing on the ground but snow and trees and it was only as the carpet prepared to land that she saw them clearly. There was no sign of Neil but Sir James, Dougal and her father were there, standing on a slight rise talking to the MacArthur. As she materialized in front of them, there was a sudden stir and her father ran forward.

“Clara!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been? We've all been looking for you!”

“I've been with Lady Ellan, Dad,” she said. “I'm fine and so is she.” She then turned to the MacArthur and held out the letter. “Lord Rothlan gave me this letter for you.”

They all looked at one another in amazement as the MacArthur broke the seal and glanced quickly over the
contents. “Hmmmph!” he said. “He wants to talk, does he?”

Clara smiled. “I think Lady Ellan has been busy!”

So intent was everyone on Clara's sudden appearance that no one noticed the eagles swooping down from the skies. It was Dougal MacLeod who gave the warning.

“The eagles!” he shouted, “Look out!”

Amgarad, wings pulled back and talons outstretched, was a fearsome sight. Well in front of the rest of the eagles, he was heading straight for the MacArthur and, seeing that he had been spotted, let out a dreadful cry that froze the blood.

The MacArthur looked up and saw him dropping like a stone towards him. He dropped Rothlan's letter and his hand instinctively straightened to cast a spell. The soldiers cheered as a streak of light flew from his fingers to hex the evil bird.

Amgarad didn't stand a chance. The ray of light caught and held him in its beam for a brief instant before exploding with a vicious crack and, caught in mid-flight, the dreadful bird blew up in a shower of dirty, ragged feathers.

Clara was appalled. “MacArthur!” she cried as the other eagles screamed wildly out of harm's way and scattered across the sky. “MacArthur! What have you done?”

“It's for the best,” growled the MacArthur grumpily as Amgarad's body hit the snow-covered ground with a thump.

Clara turned to see if he were really dead. Perhaps, she thought, he might only be injured. Let him just be injured, she prayed, for Ellan had told her that Rothlan adored the bird. Fearfully, she moved forward to where he lay on the ground, frighteningly still amid the drift of fluff and feathers that still dropped gently from the sky.

As she approached, however, Amgarad moved jerkily and sat up. As he staggered to his feet, Clara stopped and stared at him in disbelief. Amgarad was not dead; he was very much alive. But her eyes rounded in horror at the enormity of his plight.

For Amgarad had no feathers! He stood there in the snow, a
pathetic sight with a body like a plucked chicken. As he realized what had happened to him, he looked up and met her eyes with an expression of such abject shame and misery that she felt like bursting into tears. Shivering violently and trying to cover his nakedness with stubbly wings, he cringed before her in complete humiliation.

Clara ran to him, snatching one of the furs from her carpet as she went. Quickly she wrapped it round him before anyone else saw his disgrace. She was furious with the MacArthur! How could he? How could he? Carrying Amgarad, she jumped on her carpet. “Take me to Lady Ellan!” she snapped.

Ellan had watched the eagles swooping out of the sky with some anxiety and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw them abort their attack. Thank goodness, she thought, as she watched them scatter across the sky, Rothlan must have managed to get through to them in the nick of time. But where was Amgarad? Her eyes searched the sky frantically.

Rothlan came in and stood beside her. It was his first question. “Where is Amgarad?” he asked, watching the eagles as they winged their way back to the castle.

“Didn't you speak to him?”

“No, the crystal remained dull. Excuse me, I must go upstairs to find out what has happened.”

Rothlan almost ran out of the room and Ellan, after a final glance over the waters of the loch, followed him apprehensively. By the time she reached the battlements, the birds were already perched round him and, pausing at the top of the stairs, she saw from his stance that the news had not been good.

Grimly she moved towards him over the old stone flags of the upper reaches of the castle. Although the dreadful birds flopped and hopped out of her way as she approached, they crowded in behind her, croaking and hissing venomously. She touched Rothlan lightly on the arm and he struggled for composure as he turned to face her.

“Amgarad is dead,” he said dully, his face set. “Your father
hexed him.”

The cluster of foul-looking birds closed in threateningly; screaming and hissing with anger, many had their cruel heads poised to strike. She stood her ground and looked at him uncertainly. Did he plan to feed her to his birds? He must have read her thoughts, however, for he waved them back and once more turned to the battlements to gaze across the loch.

Ellan followed his gaze and saw her father's army at the edge of the water.

“I will fight,” he said stonily, “to avenge Amgarad's death, if nothing else.”

“Lord Rothlan,” she said nervously, pleating the folds of her dress with anxious fingers, “I know things look black but I also know my father. He would never kill Amgarad.”

“The eagles say that he did and they were there.”

“I still don't believe it!” she asserted defiantly.

It was at this moment that Clara materialized from her carpet, clutching a fur-clad bundle that rested, strangely still, in her arms. The eagles flapped their wings warningly and Rothlan and Ellan swung round to see what had so disturbed them.

“Clara!” Ellan gasped. For Clara's eyes were streaming with tears.

“Can … can we go downstairs?” Clara choked. “It's all right, Lord Rothlan,” she said, seeing his face, “Amgarad is alive!”

“Alive!” Rothlan's face lit up as he shed a weight that had been almost too much to bear. “Is he injured?” Rothlan strode forward to take him from Clara's hands. “Let me see what happened to him!”

“No, no, not here!” Clara cried desperately as the other birds surged eagerly forward.

Her words came too late, however. Rothlan grasped him from her arms and the fur fell to the ground. Amgarad perched on Rothlan's arm for all the world to see.

Clara stared at him in amazement, Rothlan nearly dropped
him and Lady Ellan looked at him with dawning understanding. For Amgarad was not the naked, pimpled bird that Clara had gathered in her arms a mere ten minutes before, nor was he the foul, evil-looking monster that had attacked her at the well in Holyrood Park.

Amgarad was an eagle — a fabulous, glorious eagle.

Amgarad, it seemed, couldn't quite believe his good fortune either. He stretched one talon and then the other, examining his sleek, feathered legs. He then looked down at his chest, stretched his great wings and finally realized just what had happened. His black eyes glistened with happiness and the call that rang out from the battlements was not the dreadful cry of the bird he had been, but the pure call of the eagle.

Clara went to pieces, she was so happy. Shaking with emotion, she sobbed her heart out in Lady Ellan's arms and didn't see Rothlan's delight as Amgarad flew from his arm and circled the battlements triumphantly.

“Father!” Lady Ellan blinked as the MacArthur materialized from his carpet, followed by some of his men.

Clara turned away, rubbing her eyes, as Lady Ellan moved forward to greet her father. The MacArthur then strode towards Rothlan, hand outstretched. Rothlan stepped forward and took it.

“Well, Alasdair!” said the MacArthur, “nice to see you again. How's the fishing these days?”

Lord Rothlan's eyes gleamed in amusement. “Pretty good,” was his reply, “the rivers are full of trout.”

“And do ye still have that rascal of a ghillie? Whit was his name?”

“Ye'll be meaning auld Duncan!” interrupted Hector Mackenzie, who had just arrived on the battlements.

“Hector Mackenzie!” the MacArthur shook his hand vigorously. “Ye havena changed a bit! There's something I was aye minded to ask you …”

Amgarad, resplendent in his new feathers, swooped to perch
on his master's shoulder as, deep in conversation Rothlan, the MacArthur and the rest of the men made their way through the narrow door that took them down to the main reception rooms of the castle.

Clara and Lady Ellan looked at one another and burst out laughing. “Isn't that just typical!” Ellan remarked. “Get them started on the fishing and you can't get a word in edgeways!”

Lady Ellan and Clara were just about to follow the men downstairs when Jaikie and Hamish materialized on the battlements.

“Lady Ellan!” Jaikie called, running over to her.

“Jaikie!” she smiled delightedly. “And Hamish! How nice it is to see you both. But tell me, how is Archie? I hope he wasn’t badly hurt?”

“Archie! Hurt?” Hamish said in a horrified voice. “I didn’t know that! When did it happen?”

“Why, when Arthur attacked the castle! Archie was hit by an arrow.”

“Hit by an arrow?”

“Didn’t Arthur fly back to you? It was just before Rothlan called up the storm carriers.”

“Jaikie,” questioned Clara, suddenly afraid. “Neil
is
with you, isn’t he? I haven’t seen him since we left Arthur’s Seat.”

Jaikie and Hamish looked at one another and Hamish shook his head.

“We haven’t seen him since we left Edinburgh either,” he confessed. “I thought he was with you!”

“Where on earth can he be?” whispered Clara.

“Do you think he might have been injured when we hit the shield,” hazarded Jaikie. “He … he might have fallen off his carpet and be lying injured somewhere.”

“No, no, he wasn’t injured,” Clara was quite sure of that. “He was fine; he shouted to me to see if I was all right but his voice sounded far away. He wanted my carpet to fly closer to him.”

“He might have broken through the shield with Arthur,” ventured Hamish.

“If they’re all missing then they’re probably still together,” said Ellan. “Remember, I was only able to see Arthur and Archie. Neil would be invisible on his carpet.”

“We’ll get a search party together. What do you think, Jaikie?”

Jaikie nodded. “You tell the MacArthur and I’ll get the men organized.”

A far off shout from the shore sent them to the battlements. At the edge of the loch, soldiers were swarming round a dilapidated boathouse.

“Carpet!” snapped Jaikie, clapping his hands. “Something’s happening over there! Let’s go!”

As if sensing their urgency, the carpets took them over the loch at a tearing speed that brought tears to Clara’s eyes. Jumping off, they ran towards the boathouse where an officer greeted them with relief.

“It’s Archie and the boy, Neil! They were in the boathouse when we went to check it over. The thing is, sir, we can’t wake them up!”

“They’re not … not …?” Clara couldn’t utter the words.

“No, Miss Clara,” the soldier assured her, “just asleep!”

The soldiers guarding the boathouse parted to let them through and in its damp recesses they saw Archie and Neil lying fast asleep. Clara gasped and put her hand over her mouth at the sight of the arrow that pierced Archie’s arm.

Hamish and Jaikie looked at one another grimly as Ellan bent over them and put a hand on their foreheads. “Dragonsleep!” she pronounced.

Hamish gestured to the officer. “Have them taken to the castle!” he ordered.

“Dragonsleep!” echoed Clara, as some soldiers entered and lifted the still bodies onto stretchers. “What does that mean? Will they be all right?”

“Arthur has the power to send people to sleep. It depends on how long he’s put them out for!” Ellan looked at them
considering. “Personally I’d say it’ll be some time yet before they wake up.”

“They’ll be all right. Don’t worry about that,” Jaikie assured her, seeing that Clara still looked alarmed. “It’s Arthur that won’t be all right, for when I get my hands on that dragon I’ll … I’ll …!” He waved his hands in the air, unable to decide on a suitable fate for Arthur.

“Give over, Jaikie!” snapped Hamish, “We’re wasting time! Let’s try and work out what must have happened!”

“Well, Arthur was here for a start,” said Clara, sniffing the air. “I can smell his smell.”

“Yes, yes, he must have been here. But where has he gone? And why would he put them to sleep and leave them?”

“Especially as Archie was wounded,” agreed Clara.

“They probably came here to shelter from the storm. I doubt if they’d take on the storm carriers,” decided Ellan.

“But why would Arthur leave them? Archie was wounded. Arthur would rather die than leave him.”

“It must have been something very important then,” said Clara seriously. “And something he didn’t want to tell them about. Something he wanted to do on his own. I bet he put them to sleep because he didn’t want them to know where he was going.”

“But where did he go?” Jaikie persisted.

“Did you see him again, milady, after Archie was hit?”

Lady Ellan shook her head. “The storm carriers were all over the place. He couldn’t have flown anywhere. Even dragons don’t argue with storm carriers.”

“Clara,” said Hamish in a strange voice. “What did you say when we first came in here?”

“I asked if they’d be all right.”

“After that! Think! About Arthur. You said you knew he’d been here.”

“Well, yes,” said Clara. “I can smell him, can’t you?”

“There
is
a musty smell in here,” said Lady Ellan, sniffing the
air. “But surely it’s just the dampness of the boathouse?”

“It’s not Arthur,” Jaikie said positively. “Dragons don’t have a smell.”

Clara looked mutinous. “Yes, they do,” she asserted. “Maybe you’ve just grown used to it but when he came back from Loch Ness, I noticed it.” She wrinkled her nose. “A funny, musty smell.”

“Water goblins!” whispered Hamish, appalled.

Lady Ellan paled. “Water goblins!” she repeated. “Hamish, are you sure?”

“Water goblins!” Jaikie was astounded. “But what would they be doing here?”

“I don’t know, but maybe Lord Rothlan can tell us!” Hamish ground out. “One thing’s for sure! Arthur didn’t take to the skies, milady. He took to the loch!”

They ran back to their carpets and in minutes were back on the island where they found Lord Rothlan and the MacArthur in one of the bedrooms reassuring the Ranger that Neil would wake up naturally in a few hours. Hector Mackenzie was bending over a second bed, tying a bandage round Archie’s arm.

“Clean wound!” he said cheerfully, “but just as well to take the arrow out while he’s still asleep. He’ll be as right as rain in … no … time!” His voice tailed off as he saw the expression on Hamish’s face.

“What’s happened now?” Lord Rothlan asked sharply.

“It’s something that I think we should discuss together, if it please you, milord.”

“Certainly,” Rothlan looked puzzled. “We can leave Neil and Archie to sleep, now that they have been made comfortable. Shall we go downstairs?”

He led them into a large room furnished with comfortable armchairs. Servants were carrying in heavy trays of food and he motioned them to be seated.

“This won’t wait!” said Hamish as the servants left the room.
“Sorry, Lord Rothlan, but we’ve just discovered that Arthur was in the boathouse with Neil and Archie and it stank of water goblins! We believe that he’s gone into the loch after them!”

“
Water goblins
!” came the astounded reply. “In
my
loch!” Lord Rothlan’s voice was incredulous. “You
must
be joking! Are you
sure?
”

“Pretty sure!” confirmed Jaikie.

Lord Rothlan flung out his hands helplessly and looked at Lady Ellan. “Water goblins!” he said. “You mentioned Kalman and the water goblins! But why? It’s beyond me! Why on earth would water goblins come to Jarishan?”

“If there are water goblins in the loch,” stated the MacArthur, “then they’ll have come for a reason! But what could it be? What is there in your loch, Alasdair, that they would want?”

“Apart from the fish, I’ve truly no idea!”

“Well, they’ve either been there for ages or they’ve just arrived,” Dougal MacLeod stated, “for the shield around Jarishan couldn’t be broken, could it!”

Lord Rothlan nodded in agreement and then stiffened. “What a fool I’ve been,” he muttered. “What – a – fool!”

“Calm yourself, Alasdair,” said the MacArthur, “one thing you never were, was a fool!”

Rothlan rose to his feet and started to pace the room. “I got it all the wrong way round from the beginning,” he said bitterly. He stopped and throwing out his hands, turned to face them. “I thought that by giving me the power to break the shield, the crystal was giving me a way to free Jarishan. But that wasn’t actually the point of the exercise at all! Fool that I was! Ellan told me that Kalman’s been searching all the lochs around here — it must have been when he broke the shield to get into Jarishan that he brought my crystal to life!”

“But what do you have in your loch that is so vital?” Sir James asked.

“No stories of Spanish gold and buried treasure?” queried MacLeod.

Rothlan’s eyes flew to those of the MacArthur. “I don’t know what he could be looking for, unless …” he paused, “there is …” he said hesitantly, “… it’s an old story, but you must have heard it, MacArthur.”

“The Sultan’s Crown?”

Rothlan nodded. “Legend has always had it that it was lost in this area although I never quite believed it.” He shook his head doubtfully. “It couldn’t be, could it?”

“Arthur told Neil and me that the water goblins were searching at the bottom of Loch Ness for buried treasure,” said Clara hesitantly. “Nessie told him that Prince Kalman had asked the chief of the water goblins to search all the lochs.”

“Kalman, eh? That would explain a lot!” muttered the MacArthur grimly.

“Loch Ness! But it’s miles away!” Hamish said.

“Still within the general area though,” Lady Ellan said thoughtfully. “Perhaps Kalman has a list of likely places to search … and, believe me, it is only someone as ruthless as him who would be so thorough in his search! Even if it weren’t in Loch Jarishan, he’d want to score it off his list!”

“What’s the story behind the Sultan’s Crown?” asked the Ranger.

“You tell the tale, Alasdair,” nodded the MacArthur. “It’s so old that I’ve forgotten the half of it!”

“The Sultan’s Crown” he began, “is a magic, faery crown that belonged, in years gone by, to Sulaiman the Red, the Sultan of Turkey. Many magicians including Kalman and his father, Prince Casimir, used to visit Turkey because in those days it was there that the finest magic carpets were made. Prince Casimir was, of course, a powerful magician but his power was nothing compared to that of the Sultan. I don’t know what happened but, well,” he gave a puzzled frown, “he seemed to become obsessed with the thought of owning the crown. He couldn’t buy it, for it wasn’t for sale and he couldn’t steal it as it was too well protected so he challenged the Turkish Sultan to
a contest. Whoever’s magic proved the stronger would win the crown. No one expected the Sultan to lose, but lose he did and he had to hand over the crown of his own free will. It was only when Prince Casimir was on his way back to Scotland on his carpet that the Sultan discovered that he’d cheated.”

The MacArthur shook his head. “Nobody could believe it at first,” he admitted. “Prince Casimir, of all people!”

Neil and Clara looked at one another as a horrified murmur ran round the little group.

“The Sultan,” Rothlan continued, “was furious and sent the storm carriers to bring the crown back. However, they conjured up such a dreadful storm that, at some stage, the crown fell off Casimir’s magic carpet and landed, it is said, somewhere on the west coast of Scotland.”

“And although everyone’s searched for it for centuries,” the MacArthur finished, “it’s never been found but in Turkey its loss was felt almost at once. No more magic carpets were ever made and over the years, the great Turkish Empire waned. The Sultan never forgave us and there has been bad blood between the Lords of the North and the Turks ever since.”

“And Prince Casimir?” asked Sir James.

Rothlan looked at him and smiled wryly. “No one knows what happened to him. Perhaps the storm carriers finished him off. His carpet was found in shreds somewhere in Sutherland but his body was never found.”

“Of course! The carpet! That must be it!” Lady Ellan said suddenly, sitting up straight in her chair. “It must be! Old Agnes!”

They looked at her blankly.

“Agnes,” she said, turning to her father. “I told you, she disappeared for months on end and turned up muttering weird stories of goblins and a magic forest. Nobody really paid much attention to her ramblings but if I remember rightly, the black tower of Ardray is surrounded by a magic forest and I’ve heard tell of goblins in its woods.”

“Agnes? Who’s she?” asked Sir James.

“Agnes is a carpet mender. She’s as old as the hills and spends her time going round all the castles and estates, mending their magic carpets. In fact, she’s been around so long that she knows them all by name!” She looked at her father grimly and said in an altered tone. “Father — what if she
was
in Ardray and what if the carpet she was asked to mend was Prince Casimir’s carpet?”

Rothlan sprang to his feet. “If Agnes managed to put
that
carpet together again, it would tell Kalman everything!” he said, appalled. “What happened when the storm carriers attacked his father! Where the crown fell! It would tell him everything he wanted to know!”

“And if Kalman finds the Sultan’s Crown?” asked Sir James.

There was a bleak silence.

“Its magic is such that he would rule us all.”

“And not,” said the MacArthur getting to his feet, “for the better! Now Alasdair! If we are all going to be digging around in the mud at the bottom of your loch for a crown that may or may not be there, to say nothing of fending off water goblins at the same time, then I, for one, want a decent meal inside me before we begin!”