by Anne Forbes
They had all worried about Lord Rothlan who had slept soundly until Amgarad had arrived with the firestones and restored him to health. Lady Ellan had told her that she suspected that the spell cast by the Old Man of the Mountains had been aimed at him alone as the others had all recovered and been up and about after a very short space of time; even the horses had regained their strength by the following morning.
And it hadn’t been at all bad at Inveraray for the Campbell chief had done his best to entertain them during their brief stay. Indeed, when Lord Rothlan had recovered, he had held a great feast for them. Afterwards there had been a ceilidh but although the celebrations had, by the sound of it, continued until morning, the travellers had nevertheless taken to their beds well before midnight so that they could make an early start. The first stage of their journey over the mountains, Rothlan had told them, would be the longest, for Campbell had drawn rolls of maps from the shelves of his library and shown him the paths that the raiders used to move quickly through the glens.
Now, thank goodness, Lord Rothlan was his normal self and delighted to have Amgarad with him. Clara smiled. Seeing Amgarad again had cheered them all considerably and they’d listened fascinated to his story of how the Scottish fishermen had attacked the French consulate and been forced into undignified flight.
Inveraray Castle, however, now lay far behind them and although flying on the winged horses was exciting; she half-wished that their journey were over. When she thought of how they were going to steal into Prince Kalman’s castle and take the crown, however, she quickly revised her opinion. Maybe it was just as well that the journey hadn’t yet finished. She wasn’t ready for the scary part that lay ahead and the magic words the Sultan had given her seemed to be hidden deep in her mind. What would happen, she worried, if she couldn’t remember them when the time came to say them?
Lunch that day was an uncomfortable meal by the side of a stream that gurgled down the mountainside. The rain was steady and the rocks that flanked the stream gleamed wet and shiny against the sparse grass. Clara thought she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and looked round sharply but there was nothing there. She thought of the crow that had followed them to Loch Lomond and wondered if it had somehow found them. She’d ask Amgarad to keep an eye open for it.
As it happened, Amgarad’s arrival at Inveraray had been a severe shock to Kitor. So much so, that he’d taken half an hour to stop shaking. It had been the last thing he’d expected, for until then he hadn’t had a clue as to who the riders actually were. Lord Rothlan and Amgarad! He sweated with fear as he realized the quality of the opposition lined up against him, for when he had been looking for the crown in Jarishan Loch, Kalman’s fear of Rothlan had told the wily crow that he was a magician to be reckoned with.
Although driven by terror of the prince, however, Kitor was not without courage and even as he wondered dismally how long he could survive against such odds, he nevertheless continued to slip warily round the castle, listening to conversations among the clansmen to find out what was going on.
As the main topic of conversation revolved round the travellers it did not take him long to find out that Archie Campbell was in his library with Lord Rothlan and, as luck would have it, he fluttered onto a window-ledge while they were discussing the secret routes that wound through the mountains to Appin. He listened greedily to what was being said and that evening, when the prince had spoken to him through the crystal, had immediately passed on all of his information.
Kitor’s tale of the travellers’ dramatic arrival in Inveraray, however, did not meet with quite the praise he’d expected. There was a shade of anger and disappointment in Kalman’s voice when he heard of the happenings in Hell’s Glen that told the astute crow that his master had probably had a hand in awakening the Old Man of the Mountain. Yes, he pondered, the prince had expected to hear very different news from him that evening.
Nevertheless, he knew by the tone of his voice that the prince was pleased to hear details of the route the riders were going to follow. Pleased and relieved — and considerate, too, for he had told him of the cave in which he was now resting. It was sheltered from the wind by a jutting buttress of rock and perched so high on the mountain that he could see for miles across the rain-swept landscape. He fluffed his feathers contentedly, proud at having been of such assistance to his master. Comfortably placed to keep watch for the little group as it made its way towards Appin, he was able to report sighting them on the first day of their journey.
“Are you sure?” demanded the prince. “How can they have travelled so far already?”
“Master,” Kitor perched on a spur of rock just inside the entrance to the cave, “master, they are not riding through the valleys; they are flying on the winged horses from peak to peak. By tomorrow they will surely reach Appin and your castle at Ardray.”
Kitor heard the prince hiss in fury. “They will never reach Ardray, Kitor. Watch carefully and you will see how I deal with my enemies!”
The beam of light that held him in the sight of the crystal faded and, knowing that the prince was no longer watching him, the crow fluttered to the lip of the cave to see what would happen to the little group. Perhaps, he thought, they might be blown up by thunderbolts or perhaps the prince might destroy the flying horses in mid-flight. Nothing, however, prepared him for what was happening. He gasped in pure horror for, even as he watched, the sky was changing from dull grey to a deep, dark brown and the wind was rising, blowing violent, purple clouds across the mountains. His eyes sharpened as he glimpsed them in the skirts of the clouds; shapes and forms that he had only ever heard tell of in legends of old. Riding the wind on broomsticks, black hair flying and cloaks swirling, they swooped, revelling in their unaccustomed freedom across the length and breadth of the heavens.
“Snow witches!” Kitor stared at them in awful fascination and marvelled at his master’s power.
26. Snow Witches
Lord Rothlan looked up as the clouds started to swirl and darken and saw the snow witches on their broomsticks at much the same time as Kitor.
“Snow witches,” he called to Lady Ellan, who had immediately flown up beside him and was staring in horror at the sky around her.
“I’ve heard of them,” she called back, “but I never thought to see them. This is the prince’s work for sure!”
“We must land at once,” Rothlan said, pulling at Rasta’s reins. “Quickly, follow me, everyone!” The winged horses slipped into line behind him as he headed downwards towards the winding track that they had been following through the mountains.
Once on firm ground, Neil and Clara loosened the horses’ reins and sat gaping in open-mouthed wonder as they watched the witches soar and swoop on the wind like darting shoals of fish, their eerie, screaming cries echoing weirdly over the mountains. The clouds fused and melted in an evil jumble of hideous colour before their eyes and, even as they watched, the first few flakes of snow drifted through the sky.
“How many of them are there?” Ellan asked, her eyes scanning the swirling clouds.
“Hundreds!” Rothlan snapped.
“What’ll we do?” the Ranger asked, looking around anxiously as the first snowflakes, large and white, started to fall softly around them.
Lord Rothlan came to a swift decision. “We’ll have to split up,” he said, scanning the sky as Amgarad swooped in to perch on his shoulder. “You must protect the children, Ranger; whatever happens, they must get through to Ardray, for only they know the magic words. Now, listen carefully,” he said, gathering them around him, “the snow witches cast spells that freeze their victims but the Sultan’s cloaks will protect us from their hexes as well as from the cold. Even the horses have a built-in magic that will protect them. While Jaikie, Hamish and I keep them busy, you must try to slip unseen across the mountains. It’s not far now and you’ll be all right as long as you follow the track. If the blizzard gets too bad, try to find shelter — a cave or something. In the meantime, we�
��ll try to draw off the witches.”
The witches, now swooping here and there across the slopes of the mountains, were searching for them everywhere; their screeching calls echoing through the air. The snow was becoming thicker and, nodding to Hamish and Jaikie to do the same, Rothlan quickly eased his saddlebags from his horse’s back. “You’d better take these,” he said to the children. “They’ll only hinder us in the air and we’ll need every bit of mobility we’ve got if we’re going to outwit that little lot.”
As Neil and Clara hurriedly slung the bags over the necks of their horses, Rothlan fumbled in his saddle bag and drew out his crystal. “Take this, Ellan,” he said urgently, putting it into her outstretched hands, “and let your father know what is happening. Our journey is no longer a secret,” he looked grimly at the snow witches, “Kalman seems to know our every move! Take care, my dear.” He gripped her hands in his but his last words, spoken softly, were whipped away by the wind. Then, with a final wave, Lord Rothlan turned his horse towards the screaming hordes of witches. “Ready, Hamish? Jaikie?” he looked at them both and smiled encouragingly. “Come on, then! Let’s go!” The order rang out. “Serai!” they called together. The horses’ wings grew in seconds and, in no time at all, the three riders had flapped strongly upwards into the swirl of falling snowflakes, with Amgarad soaring above them.
“It’s not going to be that easy,” Neil predicted as he strained his eyes to follow them. “The witches have scattered and the snow is getting thicker!”
The Ranger looked worried and glanced at Lady Ellan whose eyes were still following the riders in the sky. She smiled shakily as she turned back to the little group but her voice was calm as she spoke hurriedly to Neil and Clara. “Wrap your cloaks around you,” she told them, “and keep a firm hold on the reins in case the horses slip. This is only the beginning; the snow is going to get a lot worse!”
Clara pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and wrapped its comfortable folds round her. Despite the cold, the cloak gave her a wonderful feeling of warmth and safety. Encased in its gentle glow, she draped as much of it as she could over Sephia’s flanks as she knew that the horse would find it easier to travel if warm and dry.
When Ellan finished telling her father of the appearance of the snow witches, she stowed the crystal safely back in her saddlebag and, seeing that they were all ready and waiting, led the way forward. The snow was now falling in thick, heavy flakes which showed no sign of easing and, as the drifts deepened, the track disappeared and landmarks that might have helped them find their way were blotted out under the glaring whiteness of the snow. Nevertheless, they made steady progress at first as the trail was wide and followed the side of the mountain but, as they penetrated deeper into the hills, it soon became apparent that they were lost when, instead of following an even trail, the horses found themselves scrambling between outcrops of rock.
As the blizzard thickened, Lady Ellan called a halt. “I’m afraid to go any further,” she told the Ranger. “We’re totally lost and I can’t see a thing in front of me apart from the snow. I don’t want the horses to lose their footing and break their legs on these rocks or maybe slip down a sheer drop by mistake.”
By this time, they were all layered in snow. Neil looked like a snowman and, realizing the weight of snow that the horses were carrying, Clara turned Sephia to the side of the track and shook her cloak to get rid of it all.
A sudden swooshing sound in the air made them freeze in their saddles. A coven of snow witches had spotted them through the driving blizzard. Screaming in triumph, they bore down on the little group and their leader, using her broom like a battering ram, headed straight for Lady Ellan, knocking her off Rihan’s back, into the snow.
In the seconds that the snowflakes parted to allow the witches to fly unhindered through the blizzard, Clara had a clear view of the sky beyond and what she saw filled her heart with dread; for Amgarad, wings outstretched, was toppling out of the sky, spiralling downwards and making no attempt to fly.
Clara didn’t think twice. “Serai!” she snapped. Sephia’s wings grew in an instant and she immediately took off into the blizzard; for she, too, had seen the falling eagle and, flapping her wings strongly, headed straight for it.
As Lady Ellan struggled to rise from the snowdrift, the witches zoomed triumphantly amongst them and, with jubilant screams, threw their spells. Much to their astonishment, however, they had no effect. Thoroughly alarmed, they watched open-mouthed as the hexes bounced off the riders’ cloaks and proceeded to zigzag harmlessly among the rocks. Lady Ellan, rising from the snowdrift, took in the situation at a glance and before the witches realized what was happening, straightened her arm and hexed witch after witch in quick flashes of blistering light.
The Ranger, still stunned at the swiftness of the attack, dismounted and picking his way round the bodies of the witches, reached out a hand to help Lady Ellan who was floundering in the deep snow. “Are you all right?” he asked, grasping her arm and hauling her to her feet.
Breathing heavily, she shook the snow off her hair and cloak and dusted herself down. “Yes, yes, thank you, Ranger. I’m fine.”
“You were wonderful, Lady Ellan,” Neil said with respect. “I didn’t know you could hex people like that!”
“Fortunately I don’t have to do it too often, Neil,” she smiled, “but from now on, we’ll have to keep a careful look-out. They took me completely by surprise.”
They looked down in silence at the crumpled figure of one of the witches. The flowing, layered silks of her dress were the ivory of the clouds, her cloak a wonder of shredded lengths of delicate, silvery chiffon and her face, under the drooping, pointed hat, was framed by long ear-flaps of braided, silver ribbons. It was her face that captured their attention, however, for the witch was beautiful. Long black hair curled round a face that was pale and breathtakingly lovely.
“She … she’s beautiful!” the Ranger exclaimed in surprise. “I always thought witches were ugly, old crones!”
Lady Ellan smiled grimly. “Don’t judge by appearances, Ranger. She has eyes of stone and for all her beauty, her heart is as black as the night! Take my word for it!”
Neil walked over to where her broomstick lay and picked it up. He felt magic tingle through him as he did so and looked quickly at Lady Ellan.
“I can feel the magic in it,” he said. “Is it all right for me to hold it?”
“Let me see it?” Ellan took it from him and looked at it carefully.
Neil continued. “I noticed when they flew in, that there were empty spaces round them. I mean, no snowflakes were landing on the witches at all. If we each held a broomstick out in front of us then perhaps we could see where we were going.” He looked round at the broomsticks, scattered here and there in the snow. “There are more than enough, Lady Ellan. We could sling them on either side of the horses.” He looked round, his eyes scanning the sky. “In fact, I think we might have to for, if anything, the blizzard is getting worse!”
It was then that they missed Clara. So alarmed had everyone been at the witches’ ferocious attack that no one had noticed that she had gone. Neil ran back down the track holding a broomstick in front of him to clear the driving snow, but despite being able to see for quite a distance, there was no sign of Clara or her horse.
“I don’t understand this at all!” Ellan stated, shaking her head in disbelief. “I saw nothing when I was in the snow but you must have noticed if they took Clara, surely?”
“She dropped behind me,” Neil said. “I didn’t see anything. And if they did take her, then where’s Sephia?”
Lady Ellan looked at the Ranger and read the despair in his eyes. “Whatever has happened, we must go on, John, and hope that she finds us again. We can’t go back! Remember, nothing can happen to her; she is under the Sultan’s protection.”
Sick with worry, Neil looked at his father and nodded. “Lady Ellan’s right, Dad. We have to go on.”
Neil gathered the broomstic
ks that lay stuck at various angles in the snowdrifts and passed them to his father who tied them lengthwise along the sides of their saddles under the horses’ harnesses. Lady Ellan breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that Neil had been right; they did make a difference. The snow around her had disappeared and she could now see ahead for quite a considerable distance.
The Ranger, grim-faced and tight-lipped, mounted his horse with a heavy heart and was just about to urge it forward when they heard the scream of snow witches again. Freezing where they stood, they peered fearfully into the whirling white flakes.
Neil’s sudden exclamation of joy at seeing Sephia loom out of the blizzard was cut short as he saw that the horse was being harassed by two snow witches who soared and swooped round the desperate animal, trying vainly to hex it out of the sky.
Lady Ellan moved quickly. Urging her horse forward, she straightened her arm and as a streak of light shot from her fingers, one of the witches slumped forward with a scream of agony and fell before them. The second witch tried to flee but she had left it too late and even as she swung her broomstick round, a hex hit her and she too, tumbled out of the sky and fell, cloak and skirts swirling crazily, into a nearby drift.
It was only when Sephia landed that joy changed to horror, for they saw then that the horse had no rider and Lady Ellan gave an anguished cry as, grasping Sephia’s bridle she saw, lying awkwardly over the saddle, the stiff body of an eagle.
It was Amgarad. The witches had frozen him with one of their spells.
27. Kalman’s Captive
So desperately worried was she at Amgarad’s plight that Clara hadn’t actually realized that no one had seen her leave. As she flew through the blizzard, she tried to catch sight of the falling bird; for apart from that first dreadful glimpse, she had not been able to see him again as the snowflakes, whirling dizzily round her head, blotted out everything else. Sephia, however, being a magic horse, had the advantage. Flying faster than she had ever done before, she had immediately homed in on Amgarad and knew exactly where he was as he fell through the air. Lower and lower she swooped until Clara was afraid they might hit the ground. Nevertheless, she had the sense to give the horse its head as it seemed so confident in its flight. Then she saw Amgarad, still dropping like a stone and, as Sephia flew alongside, she reached out and caught his wing. It was as stiff as a board. With a scream of horror, she pulled the great eagle over the saddle and caught the frozen bird in her arms just as the ground loomed beneath them.