Firestar (17 page)

“Everyone pull out,” yelled a technician, waving his arms to attract attention. “The press ’copter’s down but they’re all okay. Harvey says to clear the glen. The giants have crossed the ridge and they’re in an ugly mood.”

Nobody needed to be told. They could see the giants crossing the ridge from where they stood. It was a frightening sight as wave after wave of the huge figures loomed up over the ridge and marched on heavy feet into Glenmorven.

“Cripes! Let’s get out of here!” gasped a
white-faced
reporter. There was a mad rush to get into cars, vans, anything that moved and a hassle of frantic hooting, revving and reversing to get onto the road that led out of the glen.

At the castle, Shane looked frustrated as he climbed into the waiting 4x4. “Chuck staying, then?” Sammy asked. Shane nodded and as the ground started to shake under the weight of the giants’ feet, he started the engine and took off at speed.

Shane grunted. “I tried to reason with him but he wasn’t having any of it!” he said, starting the engine. “I don’t think he was even listening!” he said disgustedly as he backed into the driveway.

And this was, indeed, the truth. Chuck had been so absorbed in the stream of data pouring from his computer that Shane’s panic-stricken pleas to leave had barely registered. Indeed, such
was his concentration that he’d barely looked up as Shane told him what was going on outside. Leave the castle with Powerprobe up and running again? What on earth was he on about? A total
no-brainer
if ever he’d heard one.

Now, although Chuck hadn’t seen the giants, the others had. And it made a difference!

Shane hadn’t wasted time arguing. He knew it was pointless. If Chuck wanted to stay, that was his business — but no way was
he
going to hang around.

He put his foot down hard on the accelerator, so that the gravel spurted beneath his wheels, and took off down the driveway at speed.

Sammy looked back out of the rear window as they left the castle grounds and whitened as he saw the huge figures of the giants, fast
approaching
from the ridge, terrible in their intensity.

The scene of panic was repeated at Glenmorven House.

“Quick … into the cars you lot,” Ian Ferguson snapped as they tumbled out of the door to see the giants marching towards them with huge strides. Neil and Clara looked at one another. Scared as they were, they didn’t want to leave, they wanted to see what would happen when the giants reached Morven.

“I wonder what the magicians will do?” Lewis whispered to Clara as they climbed into the back seat of the car.

“Where’s Shona?” Helen Ferguson looked round frantically.

“I’m here, Mum,” Shona shouted, running up
with Ugly Mug clutched against her. “I couldn’t leave her behind.”

Her mother smiled, despite herself. “In you get,” she said, “or the giants will be stepping on us!”

“Look,” Neil said, excitedly. “There’s the 4x4 from the castle. Shane and his lot are pulling out, too.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ian Ferguson remarked as he turned out of the driveway and settled in behind the Americans.

Lewis craned his neck. Shane was driving but he couldn’t see Chuck’s spiky hair among the passengers. “Chuck must still be in the castle,” he whispered to Neil.

“He must be mad,” Neil whispered back. “The giants are on the warpath. You can tell by the way they’re stomping along.”

“I hope Hughie’s okay,” Mrs Ferguson said
worriedly
from the front seat. “I’ve been looking out for Clarissa but I haven’t seen her at all. Do you think we should go back for him?”

“We can’t go back,” her husband said grimly. “The giants would be on top of us before we reached his cottage. And we’ve the children to think of!” He looked through his rear-view
mirror
and scanned the road behind. It was empty. Maybe, he thought, Hughie didn’t want to run away. He was a very old man. Perhaps he’d decided just to take his chance.

Racing along at the head of the convoy, the
television
crews were on their mobiles and despite the dangers the giants posed were determined not to pull out completely. Still anxious to get footage
of the giants, they’d slowed down as they came to a passing place at the head of the glen. “This is as far as we go,” the producer snapped, jumping down from his jeep. “Offload the gear and get over there,” he pointed to a high bluff of rock that gave them a clear view of Morven. “We ought to have a grandstand view from there!”

“Please stop, Mr Ferguson,” Neil urged, seeing the cameramen puffing up the steep slope. “The TV people are right. The giants are heading for Morven. They won’t come this far. Let’s stop and see what happens!”

“Yes, pull in, Ian,” his wife urged. “We’re far enough away to be safe.”

They clambered out of the car and shivered as the wind hit them. The lay-by gave them a
spectacular
view and they gasped as they saw the giants approach Morven, their roaring voices carried on the wind.

Shona gripped Clara by the arm as they watched them near Hughie’s cottage. As it happened, all the houses in the glen were safe, even Jenni’s house in Glen Garchory, for the Lords of the North had put a protective shield round them so that no harm would come to them. The
children
didn’t know this, however, and their hearts were in their mouths as they watched the giants approach. Set in a dip in the road, they were afraid that the giants mightn’t see the little cottage and tramp all over it. The giants, however, sensed the protective shield round the cottage and avoiding the belt of trees round the little house, lumbered past. Seeing this, the children breathed again as
they saw that, for the moment at least, Hughie was safe.

The castle, however, reared high and
unmistakeable
in a stretch of open ground. The giants saw it and much to their relief, circled it carefully. Glenmorven House, with its sheltering trees was also given a wide berth as the giants converged triumphantly on the mountain.

Shona gave a gasping sob as the others looked at one another aghast. Why weren’t the Lords of the North doing something to stop them?

It had been Casimir, in the end, who had persuaded Lord Alarid that they desperately needed Chuck’s help; for despite Rothlan’s best efforts, the machine was still pouring out the same,
meaningless
jumble of data. But Alarid, wary of Chuck’s motives and terrified of Powerprobe, had dithered and it was only when he had been forced to break the protective shield round the glen to save the people in the helicopter that he’d had to give in — for it was then that they had all ganged up on him.

After all, Prince Casimir had pointed out forcefully, with Cri’achan Mòr leading the march on Morven, it really didn’t matter
who
came into the mountain! With no protection against the giants, Chuck was now their only hope!

Lord Rothlan had been quick to act and before Lord Alarid could even think of changing his mind, had promptly hexed himself into the castle.

Now, he gazed at Chuck assessingly, hoping against hope that he could perform miracles. They needed his help badly and time was short!

Chuck stiffened and looked up from his
computer
as he felt the presence of a figure at his elbow and turned fearfully round. It just had to be one of the ghosts, he thought, looking at the old-
fashioned
velvet robes and ruffled shirt. Just like the pictures in the portrait gallery upstairs.

“Who … are you? Are you one of the ghosts?” he whispered through a throat that had gone
suddenly
dry.

“I’m not a ghost, Chuck,” Rothlan said to him. “My name’s Alasdair Rothlan and I’m a magician. I’ve come here to ask for your help.”

Chuck looked at him blankly. A magician! He wasn’t sure this made his situation any
better
. Ghosts were one thing and magicians, quite another and although this apparition didn’t seem the least bit threatening, he nevertheless
swallowed
hard and brought his intelligence to bear. It provided poor comfort. Magicians, he reckoned, could be both dangerous and awkward.

“Ask for my help?” he repeated, a frown shading his eyes. “If you’re really a magician,” he pointed out, “shouldn’t you be able to wave a magic wand, or something?”

“What I need you for can’t be solved by wands,” Rothlan said shortly. “But if it’s magic you want …” He looked round the hall and his eyes fell on the fan-shaped display of swords, claymores and pikes that had so fascinated Neil. Without any more ado, he straightened his arm and threw a hex at it.

Chuck almost leapt the height of himself as the entire display fell; clattering and clanging onto the stone floor in a ferocious jumble of razor-sharp blades. As he knew just how firmly the display had been screwed into the wall, he swung round and looked at the magician in amazement. Before he could even open his mouth to comment, however, there was another great heaving and clanking as
the entire armoury rose from the floor, sailed into the air and once more settled, each piece in its place, back on the wall.

“Well?” Lord Rothlan queried quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

Chuck looked at him, his mouth dry. “What … what exactly do you want me to do?” he asked.

Alasdair Rothlan smiled in relief. He was a
handsome
man who had always found it easy to make friends and Chuck found himself relaxing slightly. Apart from the fantastic outfit he was wearing, the magician actually looked like quite a nice chap. Dark-haired with direct, brown eyes; his face was serious but not unfriendly.

“That rock that Shane took from the landslide,” Rothlan said. “It was part of a giant, wasn’t it?”

“How on earth do you know that?” Chuck gasped.

“The ghosts told me.”

“The ghosts? You mean you can see them?” Chuck looked round somewhat wildly.

Rothlan pursed his lips in a wry smile. “They’re both here, I assure you,” he said, nodding to Red Rory and the MacTavish who were watching them interestedly. “Now, tell me about the rock, Chuck.”

Chuck shrugged and leant over to pick it from a shelf. “This is it,” he said, hefting it in his hand. “It has somehow been de-magnetised. I thought it was a bit strange but it would explain how the giants managed to rise from the mountains.”

Rothlan nodded. “That’s why we want you to help us.” He paused as the giants thumped their way past the castle windows. “The fact is that you
and your satellite have caused us a lot of trouble one way or another. It’s your fault that the giants woke up, for a start!”

“
We
woke the giants?” Chuck looked out of the window in alarm and blenched at the sight of the huge figures.

Rothlan nodded. “You did … although I’m sure you didn’t intend to.”

Chuck, still gobsmacked at the huge figures crashing past the windows, barely heard him. “I didn’t realize they were so huge,” he stammered. “They … they just need to step sideways to
demolish
this place.”

“Don’t worry, Chuck. We’ve put a protective shield round the castle so they won’t be able to cause any damage. Now, listen. It was something in your satellite that made all this happen. It not only locked on to the power source that keeps those of us in the magical world alive and nearly killed us in the process but it also woke the giants from their sleep so that they were able to rise out of the mountains and walk. You
must
know what caused it!”

“No, I don’t,” Chuck shook his head. “That’s not part of my job. I’ve no idea what it could be. Just a minute, though! The lasers! I knew it! Professor Jezail was wrong all along.” He slapped his hand on the desk of his computer. “I always thought there was a virus …”

Lord Rothlan froze. “Professor
who
?” he demanded in a somewhat strangled voice.

“Jezail,” Chuck answered. “He worked with us on Powerprobe. Brilliant chap!”

Lord Rothlan swallowed. “Indeed,” he said in a whisper, hardly able to take in the knowledge that Lord Jezail, of all people, had been involved in such a dastardly scheme.

“Are you all right?” Chuck asked somewhat
anxiously
, as the magician looked as white as a sheet.

“No, not really,” Rothlan admitted. “You’ve just given me the most dreadful shock.”

“About Professor Jezail?”

“Jezail,” Rothlan smiled sourly, “is no more a professor than a fly in the air. He’s a magician! And a powerful magician at that!”

“He knew his stuff, though,” Chuck objected.

“I’m quite sure he did,” Lord Rothlan answered, “and I hope you can remember some of it for the virus left an icon like a dancing spider on our screen.”

“You have a computer inside the mountain?” Chuck looked amazed.

“Er … well, yes, I suppose you
could
call it that.”

Chuck took a deep breath and looked suddenly excited. Here, he thought, was his chance to get into the mountain at last. “If you like, I’ll see what I can do to fix things,” he offered.

“Very well,” Rothlan said slowly, “but I warn you. When we bring you back to the castle, you’ll have no memory of us.”

“I don’t mind,” Chuck said with a grin, “I’m desperate to see what the inside of the mountain’s like.” He cringed suddenly at the roaring voices of the giants as they tramped round outside and met Rothlan’s eyes fearfully. “Come on, let’s get a
move on! If we’re going to get rid of them, it has to be now!”

Rothlan held out both his hands. “Hold my hands,” he instructed, “and I’ll take you with me into Morven.”

And in an instant, they were there, inside the mountain. Chuck barely had time to look in wonder at the awesome sweep of the cavern, the silver thrones, the fearsome dragon that lifted a horned head at his approach and the fabulously dressed Lords of the North who bowed politely as Lord Rothlan swept him swiftly down a long spiral of wide, shallow steps that led into another cavern. It was dominated by a huge, gleaming machine that was nothing like
anything
Chuck had ever seen before.

And then he saw them and stopped abruptly. The aliens!

The hobgoblins had turned in surprise as Lord Rothlan came hastily down the staircase and almost died of shock when they saw that he was followed by a human. Their goat-like little faces looked totally flabbergasted, their slanting, yellow eyes panicky and their tendrils started sprouting at a furious rate.

“Calm down
at once
,” Casimir ordered sternly as Rumbletop and Rumblegudgeon clung
anxiously
to his robes. Prising their fingers loose, he stepped forward to meet the newcomer with a smile of relief.

“Well, Alasdair?” he said, raising an eyebrow as introductions were performed.

“Chuck’s going to try to access his satellite on our machine.”

“It’s called Powerprobe,” Chuck said, trying to take everything in at once. Whatever he had expected, it certainly hadn’t been anything like this. It was all quite incredible; the humungous machine, the little goat-like creatures and the
fantastically
attired occupants of the mountain.

Seeing the consternation on Rumbletop’s face, Lord Rothlan took him by the hand and drew him forward. “This is Rumbletop,” he said. “He’s the hobgoblin in charge of the machine and very shy so you must excuse him if he’s a bit nervous of you.”

The hobgoblin looked so scared that Chuck squatted down so that their eyes were level. Rumbletop was fascinated and couldn’t take his eyes off Chuck’s spiked hair. Chuck burst out laughing and Rumbletop jumped back.

It was enough, however. The ice had been
broken
and Chuck slipped into the chair by the
control
panel, listening to Rumbletop carefully as the mountain shook from the force of the attacking giants.

“Do something quickly,” Prince Casimir said suddenly as the great machine started to vibrate violently and red lights flashed warningly. “Look, the giants are taking energy from Firestar! It will make them even more powerful. You must block it.”

“They’re bypassing the machine,” Rumbletop said, almost in tears.

“Why don’t you just shut everything down for a while?” Chuck asked, his mind rapidly turning over a variety of possibilities.

“That would kill us all,” Casimir said, his face
white and strained. “Our very lives depend on Firestar.”

“Where’s this spider icon you were telling me about?” Chuck asked sharply, shocked at the rigid look of control on Rothlan’s handsome face.

Rumbletop pointed to it with a shaking hand and Chuck bent forward, mind racing. Something, somewhere clicked in his mind and he gave a sigh of relief. But would it work?

“I reckon this Firestar you told me about must be trying to help,” he said. “I bet that’s why it
reactivated
Powerprobe and the lasers. The lasers,” he repeated, “they must hold the key … I wonder … Ah yes, got it!” he muttered. And as Chuck tapped frantically on the keyboard, the huge machine started to rattle, flash and hiss furiously but whether it was his doing or that of the giants he had no means of telling.

It was, had he but known it, Malfior’s doing. Given the strength of his power, Malfior had found it fairly easy to run rings round Firestar and Rumbletop’s efforts to catch him were … well, nothing short of pathetic. Chuck, however, was a different kettle of fish and with sudden, dreadful certainty, Malfior realized that whoever was now at the keyboard, knew what he was doing, knew what he was looking for and worst of all, knew how to track him down.

Despite Chuck’s knowledge, however, it proved a long and complicated chase. Chuck tried
everything
but Malfior always managed to keep a few jumps ahead of him, skipping desperately here and there, using his computerized brain to jump from
program to program to program. As Chuck erased his hideouts one by one, however, Malfior knew real fear as the realization gradually dawned that he was fighting a losing battle. Frantically, he tried every trick he knew but eventually, with a sinking heart and a sense of complete disbelief, he came to the end of his journey. There was only one place left to hide …

Knowing the end was near, Chuck tapped away furiously at the keyboard. Rumbletop stood by his side, rigid with excitement, his yellow eyes the only thing that moved as he followed Chuck’s manoeuvres on the screen while Rothlan and Casimir, sensing that Chuck was on a winning streak, could barely breathe. They knew exactly how much rested on his shoulders.

Chuck gave an exclamation of triumph as Malfior was suddenly revealed to him. “Gotcha!” he muttered, stabbing finally at the keyboard. “Gotcha!”

Chuck didn’t hear Malfior’s final, despairing cry as he was erased, zapped, wiped out and finished off for good — but underneath the machine, alone in the depths of the mountain, Firestar suddenly pulsed brightly and knew within itself that the strange entity that was Malfior had been
overcome
.

Chuck flung himself back in his chair with a sigh of relief as he realized he’d done it! Wow! Thank goodness for that! There had been a few nasty moments when he thought he’d never screw the little blighter down. But he’d done it! The virus had been well and truly nailed! He looked round,
expecting cheers and words of praise but nothing happened. It was incredible. No one was there.

It was then that Chuck realized that he was alone in the depths of the mountain. He got to his feet and looked around as though expecting the magicians to pop out from behind the machine. Even the little hobgoblins had vanished.

It was then that the ghastly, inhuman voice of a siren wailed dreadfully through the mountain.