Dragon Seeker (17 page)

Clara, peeping at her watch for the hundredth time that day, hurriedly stuck her hand back underneath the blankets and, with a shiver, drew them up under her chin once more. How, she thought, could five minutes last so long? A feeling of despair enveloped her. If she was going to have to stay in this dreadful place for any length of time, she was going to die of boredom. Tears filled her eyes. Only five minutes! They seemed to have taken five hours to pass! Huddling miserably in the little cocoon of warmth under the furs piled on the bed, she gazed unseeingly at the curve of slit windows that circled the room. Where, she thought, was Lord Rothlan? And what about Prince Kalman? She was quite sure they hadn’t forgotten her but she couldn’t understand what was keeping them. She’d been a prisoner for such a long time and yet no one had tried to rescue her! She looked across at Maria, bundled under a similar pile of blankets. She hadn’t left her for a second even although she wasn’t a prisoner. Then there was Count Vassili! He had escaped days ago. How many days ago was it? She couldn’t be sure. Time meant nothing in this cold, grim room where the wind whistled and roared all day.

Maria heard it first and lifted her head slightly at the sound; the distant cry of an eagle. She thought nothing of it but when it sounded again, closer this time, Clara, too, heard it and
stiffened
, hope rising in her heart. Amgarad! Could it be Amgarad, she wondered? About to throw back the furs, she hesitated, for getting out of bed and rushing to look through one of the
slit windows would make her a thousand times colder than if she stayed in bed and did nothing. And the cold was terrible. Should she risk it? But then, knowing her luck, she thought despairingly, it might well turn out to be just another eagle.

A frantic scrabbling at one of the slits, however, sent her dashing across the room, tears streaming down her eager face. It
was
Amgarad! He had come to rescue her!

Maria followed her, dragging some furs off the bed as she passed. “Here, Clara,” she muttered, draping them over her shoulders, “put some of these round you, for goodness sake!”

“Amgarad,” Clara cried, peering excitedly through the long, narrow slit of the window, “I thought you were never coming! What’s going on? What’s been happening?” she asked as the bird scrabbled to get a foothold on the lip of the windowsill. It was impossible, however, and as his claws slid off, he flapped his wings frantically to stay in the air.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered. “First of all, tell me … are you wearing your firestone?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Lord Jezail took my magic ring but he didn’t take the firestone. I don’t think he knew I was wearing one.”

“Right! That’s fine. Now, listen! I want you to try and merge with me, Clara.” Amgarad sounded a lot more confident than he felt for the windows were much deeper than he’d thought. “Stretch your arm through and try to touch me!”

Clara tried and it was as he’d feared. Quite impossible! She just couldn’t stretch her arm far enough. His heart sank. She couldn’t reach him.

“I can’t reach you, Amgarad!” she cried hopelessly. “I can’t reach you. The opening’s too deep!”

“Wait a minute,” Maria said, “I’ll lift you up.” She cupped her hands so that Clara could put her foot in them and heaved her
up. Again Clara reached through the gap, her cheek pressed hard against the wall as her arm stretched as far as it could go.

Still she couldn’t touch him! Tears welled in her eyes.

Reluctantly, she withdrew her arm and, peering through the opening, could see Amgarad’s eyes looking at her in sheer frustration. She bit her lip. “It’s no good, Amgarad,” she said hopelessly. “My arm’s not long enough! You’ll have to think of something else.”

“Don’t worry, Clara,” the eagle said, hiding his doubts and trying to sound reassuring. “Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman are both here. We won’t let you down!”

“I know you won’t,” Clara said. “But, Amgarad, tell me what’s been going on. I thought you were never coming! How did you get to Ashgar?”

“We came on magic carpets,” Amgarad replied. “Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman are at Trollsberg with Count Vassili. Neil’s there as well. And the MacArthur’s army has taken the citadel.”

“Really?” Clara said excitedly. “That’s great news! I hope they captured Lord Jezail!”

“No such luck,” Amgarad admitted. “He’s on his way to the Valley of the Dragons!”

Clara’s face suddenly became serious as she thought of Arthur facing up to Dragonslayer again. “Amgarad,” she said urgently, “you’ve really got to get me out of here. Please, tell Lord Rothlan it’s most important!”

“Don’t worry, Clara,” Amgarad said. “We know just how important it is. We’ll make new plans and I’ll be back soon.”

“Please tell Count Vassili that the major is looking after us,” Maria called. “Tell him we’re being well fed!”

Amgarad nodded his head and with a screeching cry, dropped away from the tower and flew off.

They watched him go, moving from one slit window to another to keep him in sight.

“He’s going to Trollsberg,” Maria said positively, watching as he faded to little more than a speck over the mountains.

Clara drew the furs more closely round her. Not that the cold really mattered any more. She didn’t mind putting up with it now that she knew help was at hand. Amgarad’s visit had raised her spirits and she felt like dancing with joy. She hugged Maria, her eyes alight with excitement, quite sure that Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman would think up another plan and come to rescue them soon. Indeed, such was her relief that the minute she curled up in bed, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Maria, however, lay awake and worried. Count Vassili, she knew, would do his best to rescue them but if Clara couldn’t merge with the eagle then he’d have to take the castle by force. And that wouldn’t be easy. Not easy at all …

“Where’s Clara, Amgarad?” Neil asked, his face falling in
disappointment
when it became obvious that Clara hadn’t merged with the eagle. “What happened? Didn’t you find her?”

He’d been so looking forward to seeing Clara again, jumping to his feet when Amgarad had flown in through the open
window
and rushing forward to hug her the minute she’d emerged.

“Didn’t she merge with you?” he persisted. “She’s alright, isn’t she?”

Lord Rothlan raised a hand for silence. “Now, Amgarad,” he said calmly. “Tell us what happened.”

Amgarad shifted restlessly and settled his feathers before replying. He wasn’t at all happy at what he’d seen. The size of the castle and its rock-strewn valley had taken his breath away. He looked at his master through bright, black eyes and sighed
heavily. “The slit windows round the tower,” he explained, “are a lot deeper and narrower than they look from the outside.”

“And?” queried Prince Kalman.

“Clara was able to get her arm through the slit but,” and here he paused worriedly, “she couldn’t reach me. Her arm just wasn’t long enough.” He saw Neil’s face fall and continued
hurriedly
. “I told her you were here and that we’d think of
something
. It gave her hope. She knows we’ll rescue her, but … well, merging is out of the question.”

Neil bit his lip and Count Vassili, turning to rest his arm along the mantelpiece, stared into the fire, his mind working swiftly. This, he thought worriedly, was bad news, indeed, for their whole plan had rested on Clara being able to merge with the eagle. He straightened abruptly and, turning his back to the fire, looked across the room at Major Sallis. They both knew that without a sizeable army it would be virtually impossible to rescue Clara from Dragonsgard.

It was then that Lord Onegin rose to his feet. “I told you when we first met,” he said quietly, “that my reason for sending Vassili to the citadel was to keep an eye on Lord Jezail and do what he could to … er … curb his visions of grandeur. It wasn’t, however, the only reason.”

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“You see, over the years we, the Onegin, have been … ‘regressing’, I suppose, is the word I should use. We are
gradually
finding it more and more difficult to keep our human form. Slowly but surely, we are becoming wolves again. Many of my people,” and here he gestured to the forests that covered the surrounding hills, “many are now reduced to living in the forests as animals. We’ve tried to keep it a secret, for if Lord Jezail ever finds out how weak we are … well, he’d march on Trollsberg immediately. That’s why I sent Vassili …”

Seeing the distress on his father’s face, Count Vassili
interrupted
. “Lord Jezail has a massive library full of books on magic. A fantastic collection,” he admitted.

“Go on,” Prince Kalman urged, puzzled to see where the conversation was leading. Years ago, he’d been in Jezail’s library and knew that Vassili was telling the truth.

The count shrugged his shoulders. “Father sent me there to look for a book; an old book about wolf magic. We couldn’t ask Lord Jezail for it, you understand. He would have been
suspicious
and asked questions …”

“Wolf Lore and Legends,”
Prince Kalman interrupted. “That’s the one you mean, isn’t it?”

Vassili looked at him in amazement. “How … how do you know that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I saw it there,” Prince Kalman said simply. “Lord Jezail had it in his study. He showed it to my father and me. He told us it was valuable …” his voice drifted to a halt, “and I remember now. I wondered what he meant at the time. He said that he kept it hidden, for it was more valuable to others than it was to him …”

At his words, Lord Onegin bent his head, shielding his eyes with a thin hand. Vassili’s face, however, darkened furiously. “
So he knew all along!”
he said bitterly, striding up and down in front of the fire.
“He knew that I was looking for it!
And all the time he had it in his study and was laughing at me!” He almost ground his teeth in rage.

Prince Kalman looked upset. “But … do you think he
knew
that you were changing back into wolves?”

“I’m sure he did,” Vassili almost spat the words out. “Time was on his side. All he had to do was wait — wait until we were too few to defend our lands!”

There was a dreadful silence.

Lord Onegin stood up. He looked frail and upset. “I hope you understand why we can’t help you,” he said with a sad smile. “We have very few troops … barely enough to defend Trollsberg, far less take Dragonsgard …”

Count Vassili and Major Sallis moved forward to grasp Lord Onegin’s arm as he turned towards the door and together they helped him from the room.

“Well,” Lord Rothlan said grimly as the door closed behind them, “I’m not a vindictive man but I rather think Lord Jezail deserves everything that’s coming to him!”

There was a murmur of agreement. No one had any
sympathy
for him. Not after what they’d just heard.

“I know it’s a tragic state of affairs,” Prince Kalman said slowly, “but it’s going to make it very difficult to rescue Clara. I was relying on Lord Onegin’s help. I know we can use the MacArthur’s troops but that will take time to arrange.”

It was then that Neil cleared his throat nervously. “Er … about rescuing Clara,” he said hesitantly. “I think I’ve got an idea. I mean, I don’t know if you can do it but …” he looked round with anxious eyes.

“Any ideas are welcome, Neil,” Lord Rothlan said with an encouraging smile.

“You see, I was thinking of
Alice in Wonderland,”
Neil announced. And, with growing confidence, he told them his idea.

“What does it say?” Maria asked, trying to peer over Clara’s shoulder.

“I don’t believe it!” Clara said thrusting the sheet of paper into Maria’s hands. “I’ve never heard such rubbish!”

Maria scanned the letter and then looked at Clara
doubtfully
. “It might work,” she offered. “They
are
magicians, after all. They wouldn’t ask you to drink anything that would harm you …”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m not going to drink it. A magic potion!” she snapped scornfully. “I bet it would taste foul!” With that, she stomped over to the bed and, pulling a blanket over her head, started to cry.

Maria looked at the paper, looked at Clara and heaved a sigh as she turned once more to the window where Amgarad did his balancing act against the window sill.

“She’s not happy about it, Amgarad,” she said, pressing her face to the opening.

Clara then threw the blanket to one side, rushed over and, ignoring the icy wind, pushed Maria to one side. “I just don’t like the idea, Amgarad,” she shouted. “It’s … it’s like something out of
Alice in Wonderland!
I don’t want to be a couple of inches high! Whose idea was it?”

“Clara! It’s the only way,” Amgarad said firmly. “Once you become small, Maria will lift you up to the window so that you’ll be able to merge with me.” His claws scraped and
scrabbled
on the sill. “Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan are working
on it now.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted tearfully.

“Clara, please do as the letter says,” Amgarad pleaded. “It’s the only way to get you out of this dreadful place.”

Clara didn’t reply.

“I’ll come with the bottle tomorrow morning,” he added, his black eyes looking at her sharply. Her face looked thin and strained. Being shut up in the tower was telling on her, he thought grimly.

Clara shook her head despairingly and turned away from the window.

“I’ll try to persuade her,” Maria said, taking her place. “Please come tomorrow, Amgarad. The cold in here is terrible. We can’t stand it for much longer.”

The wind blew the little bottle through the slit and Amgarad, watching it anxiously, sighed with relief as Maria stretched out her hand and picked it up.

She stepped back, turning it over in her hand. The bottle was dark green, made from funny, swirly glass and had a little cork stopper. The white label had writing on it.

“What does the label say?” Clara asked sulkily. “I bet it says ‘Drink Me!’”

Maria looked at her nervously. Now that she held the magic potion, she felt quite nervous. “Actually, it says, ‘Clara, please drink this.’ and it’s signed ‘Lord Rothlan.’”

Clara sniffed and held her hand out for the bottle.

Maria gave it to her nervously. “Be careful,” she warned. “Don’t drop it, for goodness sake!”

“I’m not going to drop it!” Clara answered stiffly.

“Please drink it, Clara,” Maria urged. “Just think, in a few minutes you’ll have left this place behind and Amgarad will take you to your friends.”

Tears clouded Clara’s eyes. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “Scared of being … just a few inches high.”

“Don’t think about it!” Maria advised. “Just be sensible. The magicians are your friends. They wouldn’t harm you … you know that!”

Clara nodded.

“I’ll be very careful when I … when I pick you up,” Maria promised.

Clara shuddered at the thought.

“Why don’t you smell the stuff inside,” Maria suggested. “It mightn’t taste all that bad.”

Clara pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She knew Amgarad was waiting outside. Well, she thought, here goes! With trembling fingers she carefully prised the little cork from the neck of the bottle and sniffed the magic potion. It smelt of oranges.

“Here,” she held out the bottle to Maria. “Smell it! Orange flavour,” her voice trembled as she tried to make a feeble joke. “Whoever heard of magic potions smelling of oranges!”

“It smells okay,” Maria smiled in relief. “Not bad at all!”

Clara hesitated. “Where are the clothes I was wearing when we first arrived, Maria?” she asked. “I want to put them on.”

Maria frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, surely,” she protested.

“Yes, it does,” Clara said stubbornly, thinking of the four spells that still nestled in the pocket of her black jacket. So much had happened that she’d almost forgotten them! She took a deep breath and, stoppering the bottle, laid it carefully on the bed, knowing she was going to
have
to drink the magic brew — for if Arthur was going to face Lord Jezail, then she
had
to be there to help him. She only hoped that she’d get a chance to use the spells; otherwise Arthur might well die. And that,
she thought, didn’t bear thinking about.

Maria sighed and walking swiftly over to one of the cases, drew out Clara’s jeans and top.

“And the black jacket you bought me,” Clara added, struggling out of the red dress and reaching for her top.

“There, now,” Maria said when she’d finished dressing. “Just fasten the buttons of the jacket and you’ll be ready to go.”

Clara picked the little bottle up and looked at it again, her heart sinking. She had to drink it, she supposed. There was no other way. It was the sound of Amgarad’s claws on the windowsill that made her decide and before she could think of changing her mind, she took the cork out, threw her head back and tipped the entire contents of the bottle down her throat.

Maria gasped and watched in amazement as Clara started to shrink … and shrink … and shrink. A terrible fear gripped her as she wondered what would happen if Clara just shrank away to nothing …

Clara shut her eyes as she felt herself growing smaller. It was a strange sensation but not unpleasant. Thankfully, it didn’t last long. The frightening bit was when she opened her eyes and saw Maria’s shoes looming large on her horizon! Very large! She gulped. How tall was she? Two inches high? Three?

Maria looked down and saw the tiny figure at her feet. Very carefully, she knelt down and held out her hand so that Clara could jump on it. She didn’t dare pick her up with her fingers in case she pressed too hard and squashed her!

Reaching the windowsill, she stopped in horror. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The wind, whistling through the narrow opening had been of no account when Clara was her normal size but to a child of three inches and a bit, it was a veritable hurricane! She wouldn’t be able to keep her feet.

Amgarad, however, saw the problem and, jamming his body against the slit window, blocked the wind. Maria stretched her hand through the opening as far as it would go and watched as Clara’s tiny figure ran towards the eagle. Then she stopped abruptly, spreading her arms out as though a pane of glass was stopping her from going any further.

Amgarad’s heart sank. He knew immediately what had
happened
. Lord Jezail hadn’t taken any chances. He’d put a
protective
shield round the tower! She still couldn’t reach him.

Clara sank to her knees, sobbing bitterly in disappointment. She, too, realized what had happened and barely felt Maria’s fingers as they lifted her gently back into the tower room. What was she going to do now?

Maria, however, had her own ideas. She stuck her head into the slit window and spoke rapidly to Amgarad. “Don’t go away,” she said briefly. “I’ll see if I can take her outside.” And with that, she put Clara carefully into one of the pockets of her cloak and moving towards the door, rapped on it sharply.

The sentry opened it immediately. “I’d like to talk to Major Strelitz,” she said.

He stepped aside at once and let her through. The girl, he thought, must be asleep under the pile of blankets heaped on the bed. He shut and locked the door again as Maria set off down the winding spiral stair to the great hall of the castle.

Clara, crouched in the warm pocket of her cloak, heard what Maria had said and hoped frantically that her plan would work. She was also more than a bit nervous that she might grow back to her normal size. How long, she wondered, would the magic potion last?

The hall was more or less empty when Maria reached it. The few soldiers there paid little attention to her. They all knew that she wasn’t a prisoner and many of them had wondered how
long she would stay in the tower with the girl before giving herself a break.

Maria nodded to them and strolled as casually as she could, out of the main door, feeling the warmth of the thin
morning
sunlight on her face. After a few minutes, she crossed the courtyard to the drawbridge and waved smilingly to the guard who nodded and waved back.

“I’m crossing the moat now,” she said aloud so that Clara could hear. “There’s no one near me and … and Clara, there doesn’t seem to be a protective shield here at all.”

Looking round, as though undecided which direction to take, she sauntered round to the right and stopping every now and then to admire the view, was soon out of sight of the guard.

It was then that Amgarad flew down. Maria gathered Clara out of her pocket and watched as, arms outstretched, Clara reached into Amgarad’s feathers and merged into the bird.

Amgarad’s bright eyes thanked Maria. He bowed his head very low and then, with a flap of his wings, rose into the air and headed straight for Trollsberg, his heart as light as the sparkling morning air.