The minute their magic carpets soared into the MacArthur’s Great Hall in the depths of Arthur’s Seat, Neil and Clara knew that they had been right to come. They’d been at home playing Nintendo when they’d heard the dreadful sound of the horn and had known instinctively that something had happened in the world of magic. Something dreadful!
Neil, peering over the edge of his magic carpet, looked across at Clara and pointed at Arthur, for the huge red dragon was curled in a huddled heap, his wings covering his head. Everyone, it seemed, was trying to comfort him for he was surrounded on all sides by a crowd of MacArthurs.
Indeed, so concerned were the MacArthurs about their dragon that it was only Amgarad, Lord Rothlan’s great eagle, who noticed the carpets soaring in across the vastness of the cavern. He flapped into the air as they lost height and Clara waved to him delightedly as he circled round them. It was only when they landed, however, that Lady Ellan, the MacArthur’s daughter, turned to see what was happening. She came across swiftly and hugged them tightly. “It’s so nice to see you,” she said, “but you’ve chosen a bad time to visit, I’m afraid!”
Amgarad, his great wings beating the air, swooped down to land on Clara’s shoulder and she winced slightly as his claws dug deep into her jacket. Neil looked on admiringly as the bird settled its wings and started to pull gently at Clara’s long brown hair with its frighteningly curved beak.
“What’s the matter with Arthur, Lady Ellan?” Neil asked. “He’s not ill, is he?”
Several heads turned at the sound of his voice. The MacArthur, himself, looked up as did Lady Ellan’s husband, Lord Rothlan, who was deep in conversation with Sir James Erskine, the owner of a local distillery. After several adventures involving a variety of goblins, monsters and magicians, he too had become familiar with the MacArthur’s world, wore a firestone and had his own magic carpet.
The eagle answered, shifting on his claws. “The voice of the horn frightened him,” he said. “Did you hear it too?”
Clara nodded, her eyes apprehensive. “We thought it was a horn,” she said. “It sounded … I can’t describe it … it made my blood freeze!”
It was then that Sir James walked over and shook their hands warmly. “Hello, you two,” he said with a smile.
“Hello, Sir James,” Neil’s expression relaxed and he grinned. “We heard that you’d been in the States for a while. Are you back for good?”
“No, this is a flying visit, I’m afraid,” Sir James replied. “I still have business to finish off when I get back to New York.”
“That sounds impressive,” Clara said, looking up at him. “Did the MacArthur tell you that we’ve moved house?”
Sir James nodded. “Yes, he did. So, how are you enjoying living in the Borders?”
“Well,” Neil said after some consideration, “we still miss Edinburgh but the country’s nice as well. It’s different. We’re taking riding lessons and stuff like that …”
“And we’ve made lots of friends at school,” Clara added.
Sir James raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you missing something out?” he queried, hiding a smile. “The MacArthur’s just been telling me about a whole lot of witches and a certain Book of Spells?”
Neil grinned and told him briefly how they’d flown to the witches’ castle in the middle of the night, crept inside and stolen the precious book from their library.
Clara, however, frowned; for their set-to with the witches hadn’t been at all the light-hearted adventure that Neil was painting. Stealing the fabulous Book of Spells from the witches’ castle had been one of the most frightening events in her life and, as she now realized, the consequences were still with her. Thinking back to the time when she’d had the book hidden in her room at school, she now reckoned that it had wanted her to learn the spells. It was a magic book with its own power; and the spells, written in the language of old magic, had somehow imprinted themselves in her brain. How she wished they’d never stolen it!
It was then that Lady Ellan interrupted their conversation and, putting an arm round Clara, gestured to the dragon who had folded his wings back and was being cosseted by the little people. “Come and say hello to Arthur,” she whispered. “He’s very upset and frightened at the moment. I’ll explain things to you later.”
Neil followed her over to where Arthur lay and patted the dragon awkwardly but Clara flung her arms round his neck and laid her cheek against his scaly head, murmuring words of comfort as a shudder ran through the length of his body. “Don’t worry, Arthur,” she whispered, “we’ll all look after you! You know that!” The dragon gave a long sigh and his wonderful eyes opened for a few seconds before closing again. It was enough. She knew he was happy to see them.
Archie, one of a little group of MacArthurs, looked at them seriously. “He’ll be alright,” he whispered. “He just needs a bit of time to get over the shock.”
Jaikie nodded at them reassuringly. “He’s much better than he was. Don’t you think so, Hamish?”
“Is it because of the horn we heard?” Neil whispered as they moved towards the dais where the MacArthur was arranging the pile of cushions on his ornate chair. Hamish nodded briefly as they sorted themselves out. Lord Rothlan and Lady Ellan opted to share a divan but everyone else pulled up chairs, stools or cushions.
Lady Ellan, who had overheard Neil’s remark, looked round the little group with a slight smile. “You must all have been wearing your firestones to have heard the horn,” she observed.
“May we ask whose it was?” Sir James asked, looking from her to the MacArthur. “It made my hair stand on end!”
“Aye, and so it might!” the MacArthur began in a grim voice. “It’s a story that goes back hundreds of years to the time when Arthur came to the hill.” There was a murmur of surprise at this as, until then, no one had really given much thought as to how Arthur had come to live in Arthur’s Seat. “The horn you heard,” he continued, “belonged to a knight called Sir Pendar who had a sword called Dragonslayer. The name,” he said sourly, “speaks for itself — for Dragonslayer is a magic sword with an overpowering desire to find and kill dragons.”
“Yes,” Lord Rothlan mused. “Poor Sir Pendar! I’ve often felt sorry for him!”
“Poor Sir Pendar?” repeated Neil questioningly.
Rothlan nodded. “Just think about it, Neil. The sword’s natural instinct is to find and kill dragons,” he explained. “Once he laid his hand on Dragonslayer, I doubt if Sir Pendar had much of a say in his choice of career. The sword’s magic would have taken him over completely and driven him on to kill more and more dragons. Mind you,” he added thoughtfully, “he probably did very well out of it, too …”
“How do you mean?” Clara sounded puzzled.
Lord Rothlan turned to look at her. “Dragons are, as you know, magic creatures, Clara, and, like everything else, magic has its price. Apothecaries …” he stopped as he saw Neil frown over the word, “I suppose you’d call them chemists or pharmacists, nowadays,” he explained. “Well, they used to follow knights like Sir Pendar round the country. Wherever he went, they went and once he’d killed his dragon, they’d pay him for its body. Then they’d drain its blood, remove its tongue and collect its scales and things. Not its flesh, for dragon’s meat is poisonous to humans.”
“Its tongue?” echoed Neil.
Lady Ellan nodded. “In those days, people believed that if you possessed a dragon’s tongue, no one would be able to poison you. Kings and princes paid a fortune to own one.”
Clara gave a horrified gasp at this and looked across at Arthur, hoping that he couldn’t hear what was being said. The MacArthur, following her glance, lowered his voice and went on to tell them what had happened on that fateful day, long ago — but it was only when they heard of Sir Pendar’s burial in the castle rock that they understood Arthur’s fear at the sound of the horn. No wonder he was afraid! It meant that Dragonslayer had been found and was free to work its magic again.
“The minute we heard the horn,” Lady Ellan said, “we looked in the crystal and saw what had happened. The earthquake had cracked open the tomb and some soldiers were there from the castle. We think they were probably investigating the earthquake damage and had stumbled on the tomb by accident. From what they were saying, it was obvious that they had just found it.”
“It was one of the soldiers who blew the horn,” Lord Rothlan added.
The MacArthur nodded. “Fortunately, Lord Alarid, too, used his crystal and saw what had happened. He hexed the sword immediately,” he continued, “and put a protective shield round it so that it can’t be used against dragons.”
At this, they all turned and looked at Arthur.
“But Arthur — well, you can see for yourself. It’s brought back all his old nightmares!”
Sir James frowned. “The newspapers are full of the discovery,” he said slowly, “but there’s a lot they’re not telling us. Colonel Jamieson obviously doesn’t want people scrambling up the rock face to get in from the outside. The artefacts will be valuable.”
“What do you think he’ll do with them?” Clara asked.
“Put them on display, I should think,” Sir James answered.
“And the skeleton?” Neil asked.
Sir James looked serious. “Sir Pendar himself? Well, I read in the Scotsman this morning that he’s going to be given a proper burial in the castle. They’re going to make a big thing of it, by the sound of things.”
“It’s the sword we’re really worried about,” the MacArthur said frankly. “We’re afraid that Lord Jezail may try to steal it. He’d like nothing better than to own Dragonslayer.”
At the mention of Lord Jezail’s name, Sir James looked at the MacArthur sharply. Even Neil and Clara sat up and took notice for, from what they’d heard in the past, he was definitely not a magician to be trifled with. Neil’s eyes gleamed with excitement but Clara felt her stomach sink.
“Lord Jezail!” Sir James repeated, startled. “In that case,” he said slowly, “I think it might be a good idea to pay Colonel Jamieson a visit. I’ll go up to the castle tomorrow morning and find out what’s going on.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” the MacArthur smiled gratefully. “We need to know exactly what they’re planning to do with the sword.”
“No problem,” Sir James assured him. “I’m sure Jamieson’ll tell me what he has in mind. I got to know him quite well when I gave the commentary at the Tattoo … as you all doubtlessly remember!” he added with a knowing grin.
Neil and Clara laughed at the memory but Lady Ellan blushed and Lord Rothlan chuckled at this reminder of the time when they had both been enemies.
“If this sword is as dangerous as you say it is,” he continued, looking at the MacArthur, “then the least I can do is make sure it’s properly guarded!”