It was a long journey and by the time they reached the border, night was falling. The waters of the North Sea gleamed in the moonlight as they passed over Holy Island, crossed the River Tweed and slipped over the dark slopes of the Lammermuir Hills. After that it was just a matter of following the coastline as, one after another, the lights of the many little fishing villages blinked peacefully beneath them as their carpets headed north.
“There’s Edinburgh!” Clara called to Neil as the lights of the city glowed on the horizon. Soon, the outline of Arthur’s Seat appeared, crouched like a protective dragon over the housetops; its massive bulk growing ever larger as they approached, rising darkly from the sprawl of glittering lights that marked the city. Although stiff and cold, they forgot their discomfort in the excitement of coming home as, one by one, the exhausted carpets swooped thankfully into the old familiar tunnel that led into the depths of the hill.
Lady Ellen gave a cry of pleasure as she saw the carpets soaring towards her across the dim vastness of the Great Hall. She’d been expecting them for the last half hour and had begun to get fidgety. “Look, they’re here at last!” she said, leaping to her feet.
John and Janet MacLean joined her, eyes shining at the thought of seeing their children again. Really, Janet thought, the MacArthur had been as good as his word when he’d said he’d have Clara back in no time at all. Here they were, back already; only a few days later!
“Neil, Clara, it’s lovely to have you back,” Mrs MacLean cried, hugging Neil and clasping her daughter tightly as Clara stumbled tiredly off her carpet. “I hope that horrible Lord Jezail treated you well!”
“Of course he did,” Clara reassured her with a smile, feeling that it was best not to go into too much detail.
“He won’t be troubling us anymore,” the MacArthur said reassuringly, greeting the MacLeans with a broad smile. “He died in the Valley of the Dragons!”
“The Valley of the Dragons?” John MacLean looked round, realizing for the first time that Arthur was nowhere to be seen. “Arthur’s alright, isn’t he?”
“He’s flying back with Archie,” Neil said, easing his aching bones. “You know, MacArthur, now that Count Vassili is Governor of the Citadel, I think it would be a marvellous idea if you were to give him a magic mirror as a present.”
“I was thinking that myself,” Prince Kalman smiled, looking at Lord Rothlan. “It’ll make it much easier to get to Ashgar in future … and we never did get to that old hunting lodge in the forest, did we?”
Amgarad spread his wings and gave an approving squawk. Although he was, perhaps, the only member of the party who wasn’t tired — for he’d travelled back snuggled in the warmth of his master’s cloak and had slept most of the way — he nevertheless agreed wholeheartedly. Magic mirrors were by far and away the easiest, and most comfortable, way to travel.
“I’d set one up right away then, Father,” Lady Ellen advised, “for the Lords of the North will be inviting Count Vassili to Morven in a couple of days’ time. They’re planning to have a banquet to celebrate your safe return!”
Neil dug his elbow into Clara’s ribs as she hid a yawn. Lady Ellen noticed, however, and smiled understandingly. “You must be exhausted,” she said, putting an arm round them both. Although she’d said nothing to the MacLeans, she’d kept in touch with her husband through the crystal and Lord Rothlan had told her much of what had gone on. “Your parents have been keeping me company while you were away and I’ve given you rooms beside theirs.”
Clara’s eyes brightened. It wasn’t often that they slept in the hill but she loved the huge rooms and the long, stone corridors with their suits of armour, ancient pictures and the displays of old-fashioned spears and claymores that decorated the walls. It was as if, at one time, an old castle had somehow been built into Arthur’s Seat.
That night, curled up snuggly in the huge four-poster bed that dominated the bedroom, she sighed happily. The adventure was over, Lord Jezail was no more and the talisman was, once more, curled round her wrist where it belonged. It would never again leave her. She felt its content and relaxed, knowing that it, too, was happy to be safe and well in the heart of the hill.
In the bedroom next door, Neil blew out the flickering candles that lit the room and slipped between the sheets. Usually, he lay for a while, enjoying the richness of the room; the tapestried walls, the huge carved pieces of furniture and the silk carpets that felt so smooth under his bare feet. Not tonight, he thought, he was just so tired. A wave of comfort swept over him as he shut his eyes and let his mind drift as sleep overtook him. But his last thought was of the medallion and its magic and what it would be like to be a great magician …