Dragon Seeker (5 page)

John MacLean shook his head and smiled somewhat wryly at the MacArthur. “I knew something had happened the minute I arrived home. My front door, for a start — solid oak, mind you — was almost scratched to pieces, the front hall was full of broomsticks and Janet was entertaining a houseful of witches!”

Neil and Clara looked at one another and smiled for their father’s face had been a picture of horror and disbelief when he’d walked in, demanding to know what was going on — and then, mouth open, had stopped dead in his tracks as he realized that his living room was full of witches!

They were everywhere, crowding the settees, perched on the arms of chairs and crouched on the cushions. Not only was the room full of witches, but they were being served tea in what he recognized as his wife’s best china; china that was never used except on very special occasions. He couldn’t believe it! Janet, who loathed witches, was fussing over them busily like a mother hen over a brood of chicks!

“I think you’d better have some tea, Dad,” Neil said swiftly, shoving a cup into his hands. “We’re … we’re all a bit shaken up, actually …”

It was only when Maritza, the Queen of the Earth Witches, rose to her feet and bowed rather shakily, that their father
realized
that the witches were more than a bit upset; which was no more than the truth, for they, more than the children,
understood
the very narrow escape they’d just had and still couldn’t believe that it had happened at all. A Gra’el! It was unheard of!

Clara, still looking white, was hugging Katy, the thin little witch who had been last in the line, and very lucky to have made it through the front door at all. She was sobbing her heart out and trembling like a leaf while the other witches talked in low tones, shaking their heads and gulping down hot, sweet tea greedily as his wife made the rounds with a fresh pot, topping up empty cups and spooning sugar in vast amounts.

“What happened?” he asked abruptly.

Everyone immediately flooded into speech, his wife and children included!

“Here, Dad, have a seat,” Neil said, carrying in one of the chairs from the hall, “and I’ll tell you what happened.”

There was a silence broken only by the hiccupping sobs of the littlest witch as he told his father how they had been attacked by a huge black bird, how the witches had taken them on their broomsticks and how Kitor and Cassia had saved them by ringing the front door bell.

“It’s true, John,” Mrs MacLean nodded. “The bell kept
ringing
and ringing and when I opened the door, the witches flew in with that fearful, monstrous bird behind them.”

“It almost caught me,” the littlest witch whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Clara pulled more tissues from the box on a side table and helped her mop up. She’d never, ever, have thought she’d feel sorry for the witches but this was certainly a different side to them. Their bold, strong faces were worried and their
confidence
seemed to have vanished. Even Maritza looked
undecided
about what to do next.

“More tea, Maritza?” Mrs MacLean asked.

“Thank you, Janet,” Maritza nodded, holding out her cup almost absent-mindedly. Ever since they’d arrived, her mind had been racing frantically. Was the Gra’el still outside,
waiting
for them to leave? She didn’t know and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that this was
something
she couldn’t cope with on her own. Her witches relied on her to keep them safe and as she sipped the sweet brew, she came to a decision. Carefully laying her cup and saucer on a side table, she called her witches to order. “I think that Wanda and Samantha,” she said, speaking in the language of the witches, “must be told about this.”

There was a murmur of agreement at her words and her face was grave as she looked at them all in turn. “I propose that we summon them immediately. Gra’els can only be called up by magic and very strong magic at that! I don’t need to tell you how lucky we were to escape! Next time,” she paused, “we might not be so fortunate!”

Her black eyes swept the room as the witches looked at one another in something like awe. To summon the Witch Queens so abruptly was not a decision to be taken lightly. Indeed, there was a subdued mutter of apprehension at the very thought. They all, however, knew that there was nothing else to be done and as Maritza stood up, slowly raising her arms in front of her, the witches, too, rose to their feet in a rustle of black silk.

The MacLeans, who of course, hadn’t understood a word of what she’d said, looked at one another somewhat anxiously as a deadly silence fell. Suddenly, the homely atmosphere of the old house was replaced by a feeling, the like of which they had never felt before; for the witches’ magic was powerful and as old as time itself. Clara gasped and felt her blood run cold as Maritza invoked a spell in a torrent of weird, harsh sounds.

“Wow!” Neil said softly as Maritza lowered her arms and bowed to the witches. “How cool was that!”

Much to Clara’s relief, the atmosphere immediately returned to normal, the witches sat down again and, reaching once more
for their teacups, chattered excitedly. No longer upset at the thought of their encounter with the Gra’el, they were
bright-eyed
and excited, their glances drifting expectantly towards the door that led into the hall.

Maritza swept across to the MacLeans, frowning worriedly as she saw their somewhat nervous expressions. “I’m really sorry about the spell,” she apologized, “but we’re not powerful enough to deal with the Gra’el on our own. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve had to call for help!” She ran a hand dramatically through her hair. “Please bear with me, Janet! My nerves,” she confessed, “are in absolute shreds!”

Two minutes later, Kitor fluttered from his perch on top of one of the bookcases and, flapping down onto Neil’s shoulder, whispered into his ear. Neil looked towards the windows. “Kitor says it’s snowing,” he announced.

“So it is,” Janet MacLean looked up in surprise, “and the wind seems to be picking up, too!”

“Wanda and Samantha,” Maritza said with satisfaction. Everyone knew who she meant — even the MacLeans!

“Shall I let them in, Dad?” Neil asked, looking at his father doubtfully. Samantha, he knew, was Queen of the Snow Witches and Wanda, Queen of the Wind Witches. He’d had dealings with them both in the past and hadn’t been at all impressed. And now they were outside, circling the house …

“Of course,” he mother interrupted, “at once, Neil!”

Neil looked warily at his mother. He knew how she hated the witches and hadn’t really understood her change of heart.

Still he hesitated. “Go on,” she urged, more or less pushing him towards the door. “Don’t keep them waiting! They saved your life, didn’t they?”

Knowing that the witches would be on broomsticks, Neil opened the door wide and, sure enough, in they swooped. The
Queen of the Wind Witches entered first, sweeping into the hall on the heels of a howling gale, followed closely by the Queen of the Snow Witches, who arrived in a flurry of snowflakes.

Neil closed the door hurriedly, wondering if he should put the central heating on, for the temperature in the house had, quite suddenly, gone down like a lift!

Wanda and Samantha parked their broomsticks by the hall table and raised their eyebrows as they looked at the mess of shivering broomsticks that lay, any old how, across the hall floor. The significance wasn’t lost on them and, indeed,
nothing
could have told them more clearly the seriousness of the situation for the broomsticks had obviously been so
traumatized
that they’d lain where they were thrown. Trouble was most certainly afoot!

Neil bowed to each of the witches in turn and, gesturing towards the living room door, followed them in.

Wanda and Samantha strode in regally and Clara hid a grin as they, too, stopped dead in amazement at the sight of an entire coven of earth witches drinking tea in the MacLean’s
living
room. The earth witches hung on to their cups and saucers, rose to their feet and curtseyed deeply.

Maritza, too, curtseyed respectfully as Samantha and Wanda looked at her blankly.

“What’s going on?” Wanda demanded.

“Why did you summon us?” Samantha asked, looking totally bewildered.

Neil brought in more chairs from the hall as Maritza
introduced
Mr and Mrs MacLean to the newcomers and Clara slipped off to the kitchen to put another kettle on to boil. The cup of tea that Mrs MacLean had originally offered the witches had multiplied to four or five cups at least and, given the way things were going, might stretch to four or five cups more …

The meeting was quite lengthy but as the witches spoke in their own language, the MacLeans didn’t understand a word of what was said although they did gather that Wanda and Samantha weren’t too keen on Maritza’s suggestions. Eventually, however, there was a nodding of heads and Maritza turned with a relieved smile to John MacLean.

“It is settled,” she announced, “we will do our best to protect Clara from danger.”

Mrs MacLean looked at her sharply. “Protect Clara?” she questioned. “But what … what about Neil?”

“Oh, we’ll keep an eye on him as well,” Maritza nodded, “but it was Clara the bird wanted. She’s the one that’s in danger.”

John MacLean looked at his wife in alarm and made to argue but Neil held up his hand and said quietly. “The Queen of the Earth Witches is right, Dad. The bird wanted Clara.
I’m
sure of it, too!”

“Well,” the MacArthur said, once they’d finished telling him all that had happened, “if anyone else had told me a tale like this, I’d never have believed it for second!”

Archie, too, looked alarmed and Arthur flapped his dragon wings anxiously.

Never have believed what?” John MacLean asked.

“That Clara was attacked by a Gra’el. It isn’t a bird that can be called up lightly, you know.”

“What exactly
are
Gra’els?” Neil asked. “I know they’re birds, but …”

At his words, a grumbling roar gathered in Arthur’s throat and he blew an angry cloud of smoke that set them all
spluttering
.

“Gra’els,” the MacArthur continued when they’d stopped coughing and waving their hands about to disperse the cloud
of sparkling smoke, “are vile birds, a bit like vultures. They can only be conjured up by magic and in the old days were used to pick clean the bones of dead dragons — once the apothecaries had finished their task, that is. Dragon flesh is poisonous to humans, you see; which is why magicians used them as
scavengers
.”

“But,” Clara looked mystified, “apart from Arthur, there are no dragons in the world today, are there?”

“There are, actually,” Archie said, breaking into the
conversation
. “There’s a whole valley full of dragons in Ashgar.”

Neil looked at him in surprise. “In Ashgar!” he repeated, “then it
could
have been Lord Jezail who called up the Gra’el,” he said, looking worriedly at Clara. “If what you’ve told us about the sword is true then I bet he came the moment he saw it in the tomb! He wants the sword and …” he paused, his brow wrinkling as he tried to puzzle things out, “… now it looks as though he wants Clara, too. Otherwise, why would he send the Gra’el to capture her?”

The MacArthur looked thoughtful. “The only other thing that Jezail would want is the
Book of Spells
,” he frowned. “That’s why I gave it to the Lords of the North for safe keeping. He might be able to get into the Arthur’s Seat but he’d never get into Morven. Not in a million years!”

Neil turned pale. “But, that’s it, then,” he whispered, looking anxiously at his father. “That’s why he wants Clara. She knows all the spells off by heart.”

Clara’s heart sank. She knew instinctively that Neil was right. It was the spells that Lord Jezail wanted …

There was a sudden silence as they all looked at Clara.

“The witches said they’d look after me,” she said in a small voice.

“I’m sure they will,” the MacArthur said grimly, “and it was
good of them to offer, but if Lord Jezail
is
here then I think you’re going to need more than witches to protect you, Clara. The Lords of the North will have to be told of this!”

“Has Prince Kalman returned yet?” John MacLean asked.

The MacArthur nodded. “Yes, he and his father got back yesterday.”

There was a murmur of delight from the children. Since the prince had returned to Morven, they had seen him many times and, indeed, they held a special place in his affections for he was very conscious that Neil and Clara had saved his life; Clara by giving him her firestone to wear when he was on the brink of death and Neil by working out that, unbeknownst to anyone, Lord Jezail had hexed him. When they’d heard this, the Lords of the North had been quick to lift the dreadful hex that had left him near death and now, once more, his easy, charming self, the prince had become firm friends with Neil and Clara.

“They were in Turkey with the Sultan when the horn sounded,” the MacArthur continued, “and decided to cut short their stay. The Sultan came back with them and now they’re busy trying to find Lord Jezail.”

“Have they had any luck?” John MacLean asked.

The MacArthur shook his head. “They’re working round the clock,” he assured him, “but so far the crystal hasn’t picked up on the slightest whisper of magic. Lord Jezail is hiding himself well.”

“Well, you can go and have a quick look round, I suppose,” Mrs MacLean said, looking at her watch. “I’ll be about an hour at the hairdresser’s, maybe a bit longer if she’s really busy. You’ve got your mobiles on you, haven’t you?”

Neil and Clara nodded. They’d intended to do a bit of shopping while they were in Kelso but on the way in had spotted a series of brightly-coloured posters pinned to trees announcing the arrival of the circus; the same circus that was due to appear in Edinburgh for the Festival the
following
week. Although they’d no intention of going to see the show, the fairground looked like a lot of fun.

Kelso was, in fact, heaving with people; men and women, old and young, many with young children in tow, were heading for the broad, grassy banks of the river where fluttering flags atop the circus tents, flew in the breeze.

The circus was busy and the fairground remarkably big. It seemed to have everything — from swings and roundabouts, a helter-skelter and a coconut shy to a ghost train, a
fortune-teller
’s tent, dodgems and, of course, the Big Top itself.

Clara relaxed as the tinkling music of the fairground raised her spirits. It wasn’t long before they were totally absorbed in the sights and sounds of the circus as they wended their way among the various stalls and booths. Clowns on stilts, a
fire-eater
and jugglers mixed with the sellers of ice cream, popcorn and candy floss, all of whom seemed to be doing a roaring trade given the number of families out for the day armed with
pushchairs and hordes of children.

“Tell your fortune?” A pretty young girl, her dark hair tied up in a colourful gypsy scarf, beckoned to them as they passed. “Tell your fortune, Milady?”

Clara laughed and hesitated. “My pocket money’s nearly all gone,” she confessed.

“I’ll do it for your pretty face,” the gypsy girl smiled, grasping her hand and pulling her forward. “Business is slow, you see,” she whispered. “Folks are shy when it comes to fortune-tellers but others will come if they see you sitting in front of my crystal ball with a smile on your face.”

Clara looked doubtful but she’d always wanted to have her fortune told and although she didn’t believe in it …

“Go on,” Neil said, looking at the crystal ball with a grin, “I won’t be far away. I just want to have a quick look at that rifle range over there.”

Clara sat down on the somewhat rickety chair and pulled it in towards the little table that held the crystal ball. It rested on a black cloth, spangled in the silver and gold signs of the zodiac. She waved as Neil moved off and, looking at the
crystal
ball with interest, hid a smile. It looked exactly like the MacArthur’s, even down to the swirling mist that clouded it.

“Just put your hands on the ball, Milady, and we’ll see what it shows us.”

Clara put her hands round the crystal and sensed its magic at once, for it tingled straight through her. Her mind screamed danger and she wanted to get up and find Neil but, by then, it was too late to cry out, too late to run away, too late to let go; the crystal had her in its power and it was only as she turned round, trying to free herself, that she saw the strangely distorted face of the gypsy and realized with a gasp of horror that somehow she had been hexed into the crystal and that the
gypsy girl was looking at her from the outside. Huge fingers grasped the ball, clouding her view as she was tossed around in the crystal’s interior … then everything became suddenly dark.

Neil turned round before he reached the rifle range as it suddenly crossed his mind that it really wasn’t a good idea to leave Clara on her own. He turned round and blinked. He was quite sure that he’d walked in a fairly straight line towards the rifle range and yet there was no sign of the fortune-teller or her tent. Nor of Clara! He looked round frantically and a terrible fear gripped him as he realized that she’d disappeared.

He looked up and saw two of the wind witches hovering helplessly above the stalls. They didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t their fault, he thought. It was his! How could he have been so careless! Hands shaking, he got out his mobile phone. His mum and dad had to know about this and, he thought, Sir James as well. He’d tell him to go straight to the hill to tell the MacArthur what had happened.

He’d barely started scrolling down, however, when someone bumped into him and knocked the phone from his hands. As he bent to grab it, a foot kicked it hard and sent it spinning across the ground. He looked up to see two heavily built, rather swarthy men beside him and one gave him another shove.

“Hey! What did you do that for?” a young man shouted at them. He’d seen what had happened and, understandably, thought that they were trying to steal Neil’s phone. Glowering furiously at them, he bent and picked it up. Built like a rugby player, he was quite willing to take them on and at his ferocious glare, the two men backed off quickly and melted away. Heads had turned and a bit of a crowd had started to gather — the last thing that Lord Jezail wanted.

“Wait until the fuss has died down,” Lord Jezail said quietly, speaking through the mouth of the man he’d merged with.
“Then we’ll get him!”

Vassili nodded wearily. He hadn’t been keen on the idea of kidnapping Neil; especially when he found out that Jezail intended to use him to force Clara to write down the spells! When they did eventually return to Stara Zargana, he thought, he was most definitely going to leave the magician and return to his father’s castle at Trollsberg. He was fairly sure that the book he’d been looking for in Jezail’s library wasn’t there … if the magician had ever had it in the first place, which he now doubted. Yet his father had been so sure that Jezail had stolen it …

Thinking that the two men were nothing more than petty thieves, Neil looked at the man gratefully as he gave him back his mobile. “Thanks a lot,” he said.

“No problem,” came the answer. “Just watch out, mate!”

Neil nodded but once the man had gone and he started to dial again, he saw the same twomen in the crowd and knew they were still after him. Were they really just thieves, he
wondered
, or were they out to kidnap him, too?

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he darted round the side of some stalls and then realized it had been a stupid move. There was hardly anyone around and he could hear the sound of running feet behind him. Fear lent him wings and, jumping over guy ropes and dodging among the stacks of empty cartons that lay behind the stalls, he swerved towards the rear of the circus tent where rows of animal cages were lined up.

Tigers growled, a lion roared and just as he thought he might make it through the row of cages to the safety of the crowds, he found he was in a dead end.

Neil paled. He was trapped! There was no escape! The men
knew it, too, for they paused and then, smiling triumphantly, moved forward to grab him.

The witches, however, hadn’t forgotten their promise to keep an eye on Neil and Clara and had been watching the chase. Clara’s disappearance had freaked them out but they’d kept their heads. Although they hadn’t been able to do anything against such powerful magic, they were more than capable of rescuing Neil. So it was that, grey robes flapping, the wind witches swooped in on a gust of wind, grabbed him by the arms and soared exultantly skywards. The Lords of the North were going to be more than pleased with them!