Lord Rothlan and the MacArthur looked at one another in growing alarm as the queen, scrunching her ivory robes with nervous fingers, continued to mouth soundless words. Her witches, too, looked petrified and watching her, Lady Ellan felt her heart sink as a feeling of acute fear gripped her. Indeed, she was just about to rise from her chair and physically shake the words out of the trembling queen when the dreadful silence was broken by a calm voice from the doorway.
“Majesty,” Matilda said, “I have brought the child and the prince as you commanded. Shall I bring them in?”
Everyone, except Samantha, who would have fallen over had she attempted anything so energetic, leapt to their feet and stared beyond Matilda to the two wet, bedraggled figures that stood framed in the delicate fretwork of the arched doorway.
Clara and Prince Kalman!
Lady Ellan gave a cry of distress as her eyes fell on the prince. Eyes wide, she shook her head in horror, trying to see in him the slim, fair-haired, handsome young man that she remembered. It was impossible. This old man was surely a stranger.
As everyone turned towards Clara and the prince, Samantha met Matilda’s eyes with a look of such relief in them that Matilda almost preened herself; for the look of heartfelt gratitude in the queen’s eyes was all that she had hoped for and more. She straightened proudly and the frightened Snow Witches, cowering beside the throne were quick to note her new status. Once again in the queen’s favour, her position was assured.
Lady Ellan’s cry, however, had brought Hamish and Jaikie running into the room, followed by a host of armed MacArthurs who approached in full armour, spears at the ready.
Samantha, now totally petrified, slumped back in her chair, shuddering violently as reaction set in. Hiding her trembling hands under the chiffon folds of her gown she could hardly believe what had happened. How the child had managed to survive, she didn’t know, but thank goodness she had, or the MacArthur’s army would have destroyed her and razed her beautiful palace to the ground.
Clara came slowly into the hall, her arm supporting the weak, shambling figure of the prince. She smiled shakily as she looked round.
Neil ran towards her, his face reflecting his anxiety. It had been a mistake to delay their departure for so long, he thought. They should have left Arthur’s Seat at once! Clara looked a complete mess, her face white and cold and the thin black material of her witch costume no protection whatsoever against the freezing temperature of the Snow Witches’ palace. “Clara,” he asked, “are you okay?”
“Yes, but I’m freezing,” she said, shivering. “Honestly,” her voice was aggrieved, “I thought you were never coming!”
Lady Ellan swept up behind Neil and, taking off her cloak, wrapped it round Clara’s shoulders, muttering a hex as she did so. “This’ll warm you up, Clara,” she said, hugging her.
“The prince …” Clara protested, tightening her grasp on the prince’s arm as he tottered unsteadily on his feet. She knew from his eyes that he was on the verge of fainting again, for the effort of getting out of the cell had used up the little energy he’d had left.
“Clara …” he muttered, desperately, “I can’t … can’t …”
At that moment, Lord Rothlan strode up and, nodding at Clara to let go, put a strong arm round the prince. “You’re quite safe now, Kalman,” he said gently. “We’ll look after you.”
Kalman looked into his eyes and a smile twisted his lips. “Thanks, Alasdair,” he whispered. Then his eyes closed and he passed out.
Looking round, Lord Rothlan gestured urgently to Jaikie and Hamish to help him support the prince. The MacArthur, too, came forward, looking concerned.
“He’s in a bad way,” Lord Rothlan said briefly, looking at Kalman’s pale face. “We have to get him to Morven at once.”
The Macarthur nodded and clapping his hands together sharply, called one of the magic carpets.
“We’ll have to use your carpet,” he said apologetically to Neil. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Neil shook his head. His only thought was for the prince who looked unbelievably old and frail.
“You and Clara will have to travel back to Edinburgh with Archie. Arthur will be able to carry the three of you quite easily,” he said rapidly, “but we’ve got to get the prince to Morven as quickly as we can. It’s only the Lords of the North who can save him now.”
Neil nodded. He was, of course, concerned for the prince but at the mention of the dragon, his insides had started to churn with excitement. To travel on Arthur’s back all the way to Edinburgh …! His eyes shone at the thought.
Hugging Lady Ellan’s cloak round her, Clara watched in relief as the magic carpet sailed up and, at the MacArthur’s command, hovered beside them. Jaikie and Hamish helped lift the prince’s frail body onto the carpet, while Lord Rothlan slipped his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it carefully round the still figure.
“I’m going with him, Jaikie,” he said. “The carpet can carry us both.”
Jaikie and Hamish nodded. “Safe journey,” the MacArthur said briefly. “We’ll keep in touch with you through the crystal once we’ve sorted out this little lot!”
“What about Herr von Grozny?” Clara asked suddenly, looking puzzled. “Is he still here?”
“Von Grozny?” Lord Rothlan asked, his head jerking in surprise. “You mean, von Grozny was here, too?”
Clara nodded. “He came with Prince Kalman. They saved me from the snow worms.”
“Snow worms!” Lord Rothlan repeated in a terrible voice, turning to look disbelievingly at the queen.
Samantha, who had hoped that the snow worms would never be mentioned, turned as white as a sheet and cowered in her chair. She shot a wild glance at Clara. “What did you expect me to do with her?” she cried defensively, her voice shrill with fear. “She called up daemons against my witches …”
The MacArthur looked grim but it was Lady Ellan who moved determinedly forward. “I’ll deal with this, father,” she said quickly. “You see the prince on his way and I’ll settle with dear Samantha.”
The MacArthur nodded briefly and after exchanging a few hurried words with Lord Rothlan, watched as his carpet rose into the air and, floating through one of the delicately carved, arched windows that lined one wall of the Great Hall, disappeared from view.
Lady Ellan, in the meantime, narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the snow queen who, huddling apprehensively on her throne, wondered what dreadful fate lay in store for her.
Given Lady Ellan’s fury, she soon found out.
“You may not know it, Samantha,” Lady Ellan began in a deceptively honeyed voice that held distinct undertones of steel, “but I possess some … quite remarkable powers.”
“You do?” the queen quavered.
“Yes,” Lady Ellan continued, “I … er, have the ability to see into the future.”
“You … you have?”
“Shall I tell you what I see in the future, Samantha?” she asked gently.
The queen nodded, looking at Lady Ellan with awful fascination.
“I see that the winter in Scotland this year is going to be very mild,” she said blandly, “very mild, Samantha!”
Samantha looked devastated as the implication hit home.
“M … mild?” she whispered, appalled.
“Remarkably so,” Lady Ellan repeated in a voice of iron. “In fact,” she observed, “it will be so mild that not one single flake of snow will fall. Not one, Samantha! Do you understand?”
Samantha nodded, looking as though she were going to burst into tears at any minute.
“Not one, anywhere, over the whole of Scotland!” Lady Ellan made her message quite clear.
“Not … one?”
Lady Ellan shook her head.
The queen’s shrill cry of anguish rose high above the keening wails of her witches. Such a dreadful punishment was unheard of. Pressing her hands to her face in horror, she watched disbelievingly as the MacArthur, nodding in approval, put an arm round his daughter.
“And,” he added, for good measure, “if anything were to happen to either Clara or Neil in the future because of you — well, let’s just say that your Snow Witches would be looking for a new queen very shortly afterwards! We would all make sure of that!”
Samantha, now totally demoralized, nodded dumbly and hid her face in her hands.
The MacArthur met his daughter’s eyes approvingly. “I think we can go now,” he said. “Where’s Archie? I’ve told Neil that he and Clara can join him on Arthur’s back.”
Seeing that everyone was preparing to leave, Clara started forward anxiously, catching at the MacArthur’s cloak. “But what about Herr von Grozny?” she asked anxiously. “I mean, where is he?” She looked questioningly at Matilda. “You were there,” she said accusingly. “What happened to him?”
Matilda, who had moved towards the throne to console her devastated mistress, looked round at her words and came towards them. She curtseyed briefly. “I was on my way to the battlements, Miss, when the wolf man appeared and,” she looked apologetically at her mistress, “forced me to help him. I think he wanted to make sure that the prince was still alive before he left, for when he pulled him up out of the cell, he told me to … to look after him well.” She paused and shrugged slightly at her liberal translation of the threats the count had made should anything nasty happen to the prince before help arrived. “Then he cast a hex and disappeared,” she said softly. “He is long gone.”
“With the talisman?” Clara asked, although she already knew the answer to the question.
Matilda nodded. “Yes, Miss,” she said slowly, “with the talisman.”
“I see,” Clara said, lowering her eyes so that no one would guess the sense of loss that enveloped her. The talisman had gone. It was no longer hers! And she missed it! Aware that Matilda was looking at her strangely, she smiled somewhat ruefully. “Well, anyway,” she said, “thanks for pulling me out of the dungeon.”
“The wolf man commanded me,” Matilda answered, giving the queen a sidelong glance to make sure she was listening. “I could not refuse.”
With that, she curtseyed again and as the little group bowed to the queen and left the hall, she turned to her shivering mistress with a sigh, murmuring soothing words. It was going to be a long, hard winter for them all, she mused.
Not one, single, solitary flake of snow!
Not one!
A severe punishment, indeed.