The ice palace of the Snow Witches was breathtaking. It reared high, slender and majestic from a plain of barren ice. Neil had never, in his life, seen anything so fragile or so beautiful. High ice walls, battlements and soaring towers glittered in the sun. The Earth Witches’ castle under the copse in Witches’ Wood was nothing in comparison.
“They’ve seen us,” Lord Rothlan said, flying alongside Neil on his carpet. “Look, they’re closing the great gates.” Neil looked across the smooth, white expanse that stretched between them and the castle and saw white figures pulling at silver doors, heaving them shut. Snowmen, thought Neil, just like the ones they’d seen on the moors.
As their carpets skimmed high above the surface of the ice, Neil looked back in wonder at the huge army of MacArthurs that Jaikie and Hamish had so efficiently organized. Store cupboards deep under the hill had been opened and although armour and weapons had been quickly distributed, it all took much longer than an anxious Neil had expected. Clara, he knew, would be relying on him to come to the rescue and by this time, he reckoned, she’d be worried stiff and wondering what on earth had happened.
He had to admit, however, that the extra time had been well worth it as the entire army, resplendent in shining armour flew impressively towards the castle on hundreds of magic carpets. Pennants in gold, red and black, showing a dragon rampant, fluttered bravely from spears and lances held at the ready and as they neared the castle, archers reached over their shoulders to fit arrows in their bows from quivers slung across their shoulders.
The witches, clustered fearfully on the battlements, watched the approaching army in horrified wonder. The sight of the MacArthur’s troops was bad enough but what really scared them was the enormous dragon that flew threateningly above the ranks of the soldiers on their flying carpets. They had heard tales of the great dragon that lived in Arthur’s Seat but this was the first time they’d seen him and they hissed and screamed in alarm as Arthur suddenly sent a blazing stream of sparkling fire through the air.
“Summon the ice men,” ordered the queen, “and let them give battle!” Trumpets sounded and as the array of magic carpets approached, a great crack of sound announced the arrival of the ice men. Neil gaped, for they lifted from the plain itself; jagged of limb and armoured in ice they rose in their thousands; strange, helmeted creatures carrying sharp, slender spears. Volley after volley of the thin, razor-sharp spears glittered as they curved through the air in relentless waves towards the MacArthur’s troops who raised their shields against them. The spears were then followed by clouds of arrows from the archers on the battlements.
It was the dragon, however, that was worrying the queen. She had little protection against such a fearsome creature and a lot less power than she’d had minutes previously — for the wolf man had returned alone from the dungeons and wrested the precious talisman from her arm in a snarling fury. She hadn’t been able to resist and although she’d thrown the most powerful hexes she knew when he had appeared snarling at the door, she had been unable to harm him. His protective shield was such that her hexes didn’t even bounce, they died, dropping in pitiful bursts of colour to the floor as he’d stood there, all powerful and demanding. Then, leaping across the floor in great bounds he had changed once more into a man. The struggle that followed was brief and his fingers, still half wolf claws, had pulled the talisman from her arm. His eyes, blue, cold and empty met hers for a few seconds before he vanished in a shimmer of light.
It was then that Matilda had rushed in with the news of the approaching army.
“Majesty,” she cried, trembling with fear, “they come in their thousands and — and majesty, they come with a dragon!”
Samantha paled and, straightening her headdress and torn gown, strode swiftly along corridors and up endless flights of stairs until, at last, she reached the battlements. Matilda, she thought sourly, as she took stock of the situation, might have over-estimated the size of the approaching army but she hadn’t underestimated the size of the dragon. It was huge!
Now she watched in helpless fury as Arthur, with Archie on his back, swooped over her beautiful towers and turrets and sent long breaths of sparkling fire swirling round them. The towers immediately started to melt and the screams and cries of horror from her witches drifted out across the plain of ice.
It was over in minutes, for Lord Rothlan had been right. Samantha surrendered immediately. She couldn’t bear to see her beautiful palace melt round her ears and as she knew she was going to lose the battle in the end she would, she decided, rather lose with her palace in one piece than be left standing in its ruins.
“Well, Samantha?” the MacArthur said, shifting uncomfortably on one of the spindly chairs that decorated the Great Hall, hoping that it wouldn’t collapse under his weight. Lord Rothlan, too, had eyed the furniture distrustfully at first but it was proving stronger than he’d given it credit for.
Samantha looked a wreck of her former self. Her robes were torn, her hair tangled and her face lined with exhaustion. She gave a gesture of defeat. “If it’s the talisman you want, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I don’t have it.”
Neil looked at Lord Rothlan. “Who has it, then?” Rothlan asked, addressing the queen. “Clara?”
Samantha looked positively terrified for a moment. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “The wolf man took it,” and as she rubbed her arm they could see where the wolf’s claws had left two red, bleeding weals.
There was a deathly silence. “And Clara?” asked the MacArthur in a voice of steel. “Where is she?”