Dragonfire (7 page)

Dougal MacLeod, however, didn’t wait to see it leave and didn’t care where it was going. Whilst everyone’s attention had been concentrated on the dragon, his mind pictured an empty cave and unguarded treasure. Indeed, the memory of the wonderful jewels in Arthur’s cave had haunted him ever since he had first seen them. Now that the dragon had left the hill, and most of the MacArthurs with him, it seemed an ideal opportunity to return to the cave to take one more look at the fabulous stones.

Although he told himself that he merely wanted to see them again, Dougal knew in his heart that he really meant to take them. In truth, he was powerless to think otherwise since the fault lay in the stones themselves, for they were magic stones and it was their power that drew Dougal helplessly to them.

He was careful to enter the hill from the entrance that he had discovered on the lower slopes and it didn’t take him long to reach the entrance to Arthur’s cave. He shone a torch round its high walls and then, confident that he was alone, illuminated the treasure itself. Lying as Arthur had left it, it lay strewn untidily across the floor of the cave in scattered heaps that glittered and sparkled in the torchlight.

The fiery amber stones drew Dougal like a magnet. Uncaringly, he scrunched and slipped over gold and priceless jewels to reach the pieces that held the stones. Kneeling on top of a mound of treasure, his eyes shone as he held up a delicate belt of gold filigree studded with stones the size of sovereigns, a fabulous ring and a most beautiful necklace, all of which glowed with the mysterious and irresistible amber fire.

Something made him look into the darkness and conscious that he had been in the cave for some time, he hurriedly tied
the wonderful jewels in his handkerchief and made to leave. He shivered. The darkness that surrounded him had become strangely oppressive and, although it might have been his imagination, he thought that he heard a slight sound.

Flashing his torch for reassurance, the beam instead revealed the terrible sight of Amgarad swooping towards him, eyes blazing, wings wide and talons outstretched. Dougal froze in horror, but only for a second. Instinctively, he threw the heavy torch at Amgarad. It was, as it happened, a lucky throw. The torch hit Amgarad on the side of his head and knocked him to the ground in a swirling heap of feathers. Dougal didn’t wait. Feeling for the handkerchief, he picked up the bundle of jewels, stuffed them into his pocket and took off into the blackness. In his panic, however, he missed the entrance to the tunnel and ran straight into the wall of the cave.

The pain of the collision brought him to his senses and, cowering against the wall, he took stock of a situation that suddenly seemed full of unknown horrors. Where had that dreadful bird come from and were there any others perched in the cave, ready to strike? Looking back, he saw Amgarad’s body lying in the torchlight, but nothing else moved. Still shaking with shock he crept towards the still, monstrous body of the bird and, grabbing his torch, shone it frantically round until its beam revealed the black entrance to the tunnel. All he could think of was escape, and making for the tunnel, he stumbled like a madman up its steep incline until, panting with exhaustion, he saw the starry glimmer of the night sky and knew he was safe.

He stepped out onto the hill, then stopped abruptly and gazed around in amazement. The park resembled a disaster zone. There were policemen everywhere! Helicopters flew overhead and police cars, lights flashing and sirens wailing, sped round the network of roads that lace the park.

“Good grief!” he muttered. “What on earth!” Then it clicked. The dragon! They were looking for Arthur!

Looking like a tramp after his ordeal and conscious of the bundle of jewels in his pocket, Dougal did not think it wise to move into the open. Instead, he hid inside the tunnel, wondering what on earth he was going to do. Two police cars, blue lights flashing, were parked nearby and it was obvious that anyone found loitering on the hill at this hour would be taken to the nearest police station for questioning. Dougal groaned and cursed the dragon.

He remained crouched inside the tunnel for the best part of the night and although the policemen came worryingly close, the entrance to the tunnel was well hidden. It was almost dawn before the two police cars moved off to circle the park.

It was this factor, plus some worrying noises from the inside of the tunnel, that tempted Dougal to move out onto the hill. It certainly saved him from another encounter with Amgarad who, having recovered from the stunning blow, had been creeping stealthily towards him. Although still dazed, Amgarad was determined to fight to get the firestones back.

He was a minute too late, however, as a frightened Dougal, hearing him approach, slipped quietly out onto the hill. Amgarad, seeing his quarry escape, frantically flapped to the entrance but had to watch in helpless fury as Dougal made his way towards the shelter of a rocky outcrop. It was not only Amgarad, however, who saw the creeping figure. A burly policeman, stationed on the slopes above, also saw Dougal moving towards the rocks. Reacting swiftly, he leapt down the incline and threw his arms around the shadowy figure.

“Got you, my lad!” he said. His arms, however, clasped empty air and although the policeman could have sworn that he had actually grabbed someone, his senses told him otherwise. The person had disappeared! He looked round and could see no one.

Dougal, too, could not understand what had happened to him. He had felt the policeman’s arms grip him and had heard his voice … and then nothing! He was standing on his own
by the rock. He looked around but, to his astonishment, the policeman seemed to have disappeared! His relief, however, was short-lived for, as he peered into the darkness, two other policemen ran up.

“What’s up, Ian? Did you get him?”

“I … I could have sworn I saw someone but … it must have been the rocks casting a shadow.” The policeman peered around. “There’s no one here! Sorry, chaps.”

It was at that particular moment that Dougal freaked! The two policemen seemed to be talking to him and he could see them quite plainly but it was also obvious that they could not see him! He walked back up the slope and, to his horror, the legs that moved were not his own! It was then that he remembered that the MacArthurs had merged into the flock of sheep before climbing into the transporter. Had he somehow merged with the policeman? The thought terrified him! But how had it happened? He kept very still and looked out of the policeman’s eyes at the darkness of the hill. He wondered if the policeman could read his thoughts and if he knew that he, Dougal MacLeod, was sharing his body.

“This is awful!” thought Dougal wildly. “What if I can’t get out again!”

The policeman, however, seemed unaware of anything amiss and as he calmly continued to patrol the hillside, Dougal gradually relaxed at the very ordinariness of the occupation.

“I wonder,” he thought, “if I can use him to get me out of this mess. The High Street isn’t far. If only I could get through the cordon!” Dougal concentrated his mind on leaving the hill and, to his relief, the policeman started to make his way down the slope towards the road.

No one but Amgarad seemed to notice that the policeman had left the hill and was walking towards the police cars, fire engines and ambulances that sealed off the park from the public. Still dizzy, Amgarad shook his head, stretched his wings and flew unnoticed to the houses at the foot of the High Street,
determined to follow the firestones to their destination.

Dougal, feeling much more confident, strode through the barrier knowing that no one would stop him. Once through the cordon, however, he guided the policeman’s steps to a narrow passageway at the foot of the High Street.

“Now,” he thought, “now I have to try to escape!”

He gathered himself and his mind together and stepped out of the policeman’s body. He had succeeded! He felt faint with relief as he looked down and saw his own dusty trousers and scuffed shoes. He held his breath and stood very still as the policeman gave himself a slight shake, looked alertly up and down the High Street and then, realizing that he was supposed to be part of the action round the barricade, moved back towards the police cordon.

The relief was enormous! Dougal felt washed out and exhausted but, as he moved out into the High Street and turned his feet for home, he remembered the fabulous jewels that he carried. As he slipped his hand into his pocket to feel their reassuring bulk, a sense of triumph and power surged through him.

He would not, however, have felt quite so happy had he known that Amgarad, watching from the rooftops, was following him home.

As Dougal MacLeod strode the streets of Edinburgh, Neil and Clara climbed down from the cab of the transporter, stretched their cramped legs and looked over the blue waters of Loch Ness.

“Here at last,” laughed Clara delightedly, as she breathed in the wet smell of the loch that gleamed before them in the morning sun. Little ripples splashed on a narrow bank of pebbles where tree branches hung limply over the water.

“What do you think then, MacArthur?” queried Sir James. “The bank here is a bit steep but if we drive much further on we’ll find ourselves too exposed for comfort. And we are on a bend, as you asked.”

“Aye. The place is fine.” The MacArthur scanned the road in both directions and saw that it was clear. “Let’s get the sheep out of the back of the transporter while the going’s good.” They moved to the back of the vehicle where the Ranger was already unfastening the pegs and preparing to let down the ramp.

“I hate to dash your hopes,” said Sir James looking keenly over the loch, “but there isn’t any sign of Nessie.”

“Have patience, Sir James. She’ll be out there somewhere, never fear. Just let’s get things organized here first. We don’t want any passing motorist to see Arthur, do we?”

“No, no, certainly not.”

“I told the Ranger to park on the bend so that I could put the sheep on either side of the transporter. If any motorists do come along then we can easily hold the traffic up while Arthur gets out.”

Sir James laughed. “A brilliant idea!” he announced. “Let’s get started.”

As the ramp was lowered, the sheep streamed out purposefully in both directions and proceeded to mill about aimlessly in the middle of the road. Sir James regarded them with approval. Certainly, with them in place, no car coming from either direction would be able to see what was going on by the side of the loch.

The transporter, now empty of sheep, revealed Arthur in all his glory. He was a magnificent dragon, red scales glistened over his sinuous body, his head was fearsome and horned and his fleshy wings were webbed in glittering gold. Archie was the only MacArthur left inside and was in a dreadful state, clutching an edge of Arthur’s wing in one hand and scrubbing tears out of his eyes with the other.

“Arthur! Arthur! How can I leave you?” He started to cry bitterly and for a moment the dragon lowered his great head and rubbed his cheek on Archie’s tattered sheepskin jacket, to give him comfort.

“Come on then, Arthur. It’s time to go,” Archie sobbed. They left the transporter together and, as Arthur clawed his ungainly way across the grey tarmac road to the edge of the loch, a small, slim woman ran down the hillside towards them.

“Father!” she called. “Father! I’m here!”

“Ellan!”

She slipped gracefully through the bushes and ran to hug her father. It showed in every line of his face that the MacArthur thought the world of his daughter and he proudly introduced her to Sir James and the Ranger. Clara and Neil came up from the shores of the loch and took an instant liking to the beautiful, fair-haired young woman, who seemed to glow with youth and laughter.

“Well,” she said to her father, “I see you’ve brought Arthur to Loch Ness as you promised.”

“I have,” he said, albeit a trifle defensively.

She regarded him steadily and shrugged slightly. “What’s done, is done. Let’s hope that no trouble comes from it.”

“Whatever comes from it will be nothing like the trouble we’ve already had,” snorted the MacArthur.

They moved down to the loch side and Arthur showed his happiness at seeing Lady Ellan by kneeling awkwardly in front of her and bending his head to the ground.

“Arthur!” she chided gently. “What’s this that I’ve been hearing? Setting the hill ablaze with your fire?”

Arthur looked more than upset; he looked a thoroughly mortified dragon. As Clara watched, he covered his head with his wings in shame. Large tears welled from his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. They were no ordinary tears, however, for as they splashed to the ground, the strangest thing happened. The tears solidified into glowing jewels that shone with a piercing amber light that Dougal MacLeod would have recognized immediately.

“How gorgeous!” Clara exclaimed, picking them up and holding them out to Lady Ellan. “Arthur’s tears have turned into beautiful jewels!”

Lady Ellan held them in her hand and looked at Arthur. “They are very rare and very precious,” she said softly. “Dear Arthur, don’t cry. Truly there is no need. My father and I hope you will be very happy here in Loch Ness and if you’re not, you know we will be more than happy to have you back in the hill.” She cast her father a warning glance as she said this and with an effort he bit back the words that had sprung to his lips.

“Now, Arthur, you will really have to stop crying, you know, for I see your Nessie swimming through the loch towards us.”

Arthur removed his wings from his face and reassured by her smiling words, scrambled to his feet and turned to face the loch. Lady Ellan walked with him to the water’s edge where the waves were no longer gentle ripples but surges of brown water that crashed along the shore. Nessie had arrived!

Clara cringed back against Neil as the enormous creature heaved its massive bulk out of the water just feet from where she stood. Arthur held no fear for her but this dragon was
very different and much bigger than Arthur. Her scaly hide, dripping with water and weeds, was dark grey with tinges of livid green, and her face had a speculative, hungry look that gave them all pause for thought. Indeed, Sir James made a quick calculation as to how quickly they could reach the safety of the transporter should things get out of hand.

Arthur, however, seemed to have no reservations and pushed forward waving his wings and hissing loudly with pleasure. The MacArthur and Lady Ellan raised their hands in salute as they moved away from the bank, but Archie ran crying into the waves shouting, “Goodbye, dear Arthur! Don’t forget me!”

Perhaps Arthur didn’t hear his cry for the noise of the wind or the slap of the waves but he didn’t turn round to bid Archie farewell and it was Clara who stepped forward to hug him when he collapsed sobbing on the bank and Neil who helped mop up his tears.

They stood silently at the edge of the loch as the two great beasts swam into deep water and disappeared from view without a backward glance. Archie continued to give great hiccupping sobs and it was Clara who voiced all their thoughts. “I hope we’ve done the right thing bringing Arthur here. I didn’t much like his Nessie!”

Lady Ellan, too, looked dubious but before she could answer, the hooting of a car horn and the frantic baa-ing of sheep brought them sharply back to the present and put all thoughts of Nessie from their minds.

“A car,” snapped Sir James, looking up at the road. Hurriedly they scrambled up the bank to where an irate motorist was making little headway against a flock of sheep that had hemmed him in at the side of the road. Neil and Clara ducked down and ran for the safety of the cab followed by Sir James, the MacArthur and Lady Ellan and it was only when the door of the cab slammed shut that the Ranger moved forward to calm the situation and shepherd the sheep back into the transporter.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Sir James confided to the
Ranger as they left Loch Ness behind. “I hope I never have to live through another week like that. I couldn’t stand the strain.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached Edinburgh. The bulk of the police contingent had long since left the park but when the transporter dropped Sir James at the distillery, his foreman was full of the events of the previous night.

“I knew the police were there,” nodded Sir James, sipping a welcome cup of coffee. “They actually stopped the transporter last night as we left the park and made the Ranger open up the back.”

“Did they no’ see the dragon, then?” gasped Jamie.

Sir James grinned. “It was a bad moment,” he admitted. “At the time I really thought we were all for the chop but I think the MacArthur must have cast a spell or something, because all the policemen saw in the back of the transporter were sheep. No Arthur, nothing; just a load of sheep.”

“And what happened when you reached Loch Ness? Did you get rid of Arthur as planned?” queried Jamie.

“We did indeed! You know, Jamie, I can hardly believe that it all went so well. There were a thousand things that could have gone wrong but in the end it went without a hitch. The MacArthur was as good as his word. His daughter was there, you know, Lady Ellan! Now, she’s my idea of a faery; such a beautiful girl. She had Nessie waiting for us, as arranged! And, do you know, we actually saw Nessie up close! A fearsome beast; not at all like Arthur. Anyway, they’re together now and with any luck all our troubles are over!”

Sir James looked so cheerful that Jamie hardly knew how to break the bad news. “Er … not quite, Sir James, not quite.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Sir James looked startled. “We haven’t lost any more whisky, have we?”

“Och, no! That’s all taken care of! No, I’m talking about Dougal MacLeod! He got out of the hill while you were away.”

“Dougal MacLeod!” echoed Sir James. “Do you know, I’d forgotten all about him! Thank heavens we managed to retrieve
all that whisky, that’s all I can say!” He looked sharply at Jamie. “You don’t think that he’ll be able to pin anything on us, do you?”

“It’s nothing to do with the distillery, Sir James,” reassured Jamie. “It’s just that I had Hamish and Jaikie here this morning.” He paused, shaking his head. “Gave me the fright of my life, it did, when two pigeons started talking to me in the yard! Frantic with worry they were! Seems that some treasure was stolen from the hill last night; those firestones that the MacArthur told us about. Hamish was going on about them something dreadful! He says it’s all his fault!”

“The firestones? But who would take them from the hill?”

Jamie shrugged. “They didn’t say, but MacLeod seems the obvious candidate. Anyway, they want you to help them and,” he looked at his watch, “they’ll be here soon to take you into the hill. There are still some police patrolling the slopes and they don’t want you to be seen.”

Sir James put his coffee cup down on the table, looking appalled.

“You must be joking!” he exclaimed in horror. “My part in all this has finished!
I’ve
got my whisky back and
they’ve
got rid of their dragon! End of story!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jamie said worriedly, “but that’s what they said!”