“Thank goodness there wasn’t much damage, Father,” Lady Ellan said, settling comfortably in her chair as she glanced round the cavernous heights of the Great Hall that lay in the depths of Arthur’s Seat.
Her husband, Lord Rothlan, nodded. “We thought it might be a lot worse,” he admitted.
“It’s just as well that earthquakes don’t happen often in this part of the world,” the MacArthur observed sourly from the cushioned depths of his throne-like chair. “Gave us quite a shock, I can tell you.”
The great, red dragon that lay curled by his side, looked at him affectionately and stretched lazily. He was very fond of the MacArthurs, the magic people who lived inside Arthur’s Seat, especially Archie, who sat comfortably in the crook of his arm.
“Some of the passages that lead down to the store rooms have collapsed,” Archie said, “but Hamish and Jaikie say that they won’t take long to clear.”
Arthur blew a tiny puff of smoke and Archie turned to look at him warningly. He knew the signs. Arthur, delighted to see the MacArthur’s daughter, Lady Ellan, and her husband Lord Rothlan, who had just arrived through the magic mirror from their estate at Jarishan, was just itching to breathe a few welcoming clouds to show how pleased he was to see them. As this generally set everyone coughing and spluttering, it wasn’t exactly a popular pastime, however, and Archie was just about to say “no” very firmly indeed, when the dreadful, eerie blast of a horn rang through the Great Hall.
Everyone froze in their chairs. Arthur gave a terrible dragon scream. His body convulsed as he buried his head in his wings, desperately trying to shut out the sound. Never again had he thought to hear that piercing blast. Its memory had gradually faded with the passing of the years and it no longer sounded in his dreams but now the old fear swept over him again; Sir Pendar’s horn!
Archie threw his arms round the trembling dragon, trying to comfort him while the MacArthur and Lord Rothlan looked at one another in horror and amazement.
“Pendar’s horn!” Lord Rothlan snapped. “How on earth …?”
Hamish and Jaikie rushed into the hall and, like Archie, went to comfort the dragon who was still shivering violently as old memories clouded his mind. Sir Pendar’s horn …
The hobgoblins in Morven looked at one another in disbelief as the sound of the horn swept through the mountain. It was so long since they’d last heard it that at first they hardly recognized it. Then, as memories returned, the tiny nodules on their heads started to sprout long, anxious tendrils and their goat-like little faces puckered anxiously. Sir Pendar’s horn!
With one accord they headed for the curving flight of steps that led to the blue and silver halls of their masters, the Lords of the North. Creeping upwards on tiny hooves, they peered at the curve of silver thrones that dominated the Great Hall. The lords would surely know what was going on.
In this, they were not mistaken. The Lords of the North, old and wizened with age, had been dozing comfortably in their chairs after a good lunch. Now wide awake, they knew exactly what the blast signified.
Lord Dorian blinked irritably and looked at Lord Alarid, his eyebrows raised. “I thought you hexed that wretched tomb ages ago, Alarid,” he remarked sourly.
“I did,” Lord Alarid snapped, an anxious frown creasing his forehead.
“The earthquake?” Lord Alban suggested, glancing round the semi-circle of gorgeously robed magicians. “It hit Edinburgh pretty hard and I understand there was some damage to the castle. You never know, it might have opened the tomb …”
The Lords of the North exchanged thoughtful glances and, rising to their feet, moved instinctively towards an oval table of beaten silver where a shining crystal ball rested on an ebony stand. Lord Alarid passed a hand over it and, as the lords crowded round, breathed in sharply as he saw two soldiers standing in the ruins of Pendar’s tomb. One of them was holding the horn!
As the eye of the crystal moved over Sir Pendar’s coffin, Lord Dorian stiffened. “Never mind the horn, Alarid,” he said, grasping the velvet sleeve of his robe, “hex the sword! Hex it now! Now!” he repeated, as Lord Alarid wavered. “For goodness sake, Alarid, stop dithering! We won’t be the only ones to have heard the horn!”
Hastily, Lord Alarid spoke the words of a powerful hex and as he watched the soldiers swing round at the sudden crack of sound, breathed more easily. The hex was in place.
“Someone else is watching through a crystal,” Lord Alban pointed out as the crystal registered the presence of magic.
“The MacArthurs, perhaps, or Lord Rothlan?” Lord Alarid hazarded a guess.
Lord Dorian’s eyes narrowed as he bit back a sharp retort. “Possibly,” he said icily, “but personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if we haven’t just stopped Lord Jezail in his tracks. He must have heard the horn and now he’s seen the sword!”
There was a moment’s silence as his words registered. They all knew that Lord Jezail craved power. And Dragonslayer was enormously powerful!
“One way or another,” Lord Dorian continued, “there’s going to be trouble over this! Think about it, Alarid! He managed to get the talisman last year and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he isn’t working on some sort of scheme to steal the Book of Spells! He flung out his hand dramatically towards the crystal where the startled soldiers were looking fearfully round the tomb. “And now, this!”
Lord Alarid frowned in annoyance. “Relax, Dorian,” he said shortly. “Dragonslayer will never again slay a dragon. Not with that particular hex in place!”
Lord Dorian, however, wasn’t convinced. “That’s all very well,” he stated firmly, “but Jezail doesn’t know that, does he? Believe me; he’ll move heaven and earth to get his hands on that sword! Don’t forget that he was a Dragon Seeker of old!”
There was a long silence as the magicians considered the matter.
“You know, I think I agree with Dorian,” Lord Alban said thoughtfully. “Jezail was always ambitious, remember, and if he sees half a chance of getting his hands on Dragonslayer, he’ll take it! And you never know, Alarid … his magic is such that he might well be able to reverse your spell!”
The Lords frowned worriedly and Lord Alarid’s face grew stern at the thought of the terrible power of the sword that had killed many of the world of magic’s most precious creatures.