by C. J. Busby
Snotty raised his eyebrows.
“Well you’re not taking very good care of it, are you? Leaving it lying around where anyone could pick it up. But don’t worry, I’ll give it back. When I feel like it.”
Max took a step towards Snotty, but Jerome moved forward, looking particularly meaty, and Max hesitated. Snotty laughed, and leaned back against a tree, waving the sword idly around in front of him.
“So, how are the magic lessons going? Learned to tell the difference between a cauldron and a kettle yet?”
Max ground his teeth. He was utterly fed up with Snotty’s taunts, particularly coming on top of being humiliated by Olivia. He was not going to let Snotty lord it over him about magic.
“Actually, I don’t really bother with cauldrons or kettles any more. That’s for babies,” he said, loftily. “I’ve been doing magic without potions.”
Snotty narrowed his eyes. “Really?” he said. “I’d like to see you try.”
Olivia looked anxiously from one to the other. She could tell Max was furious, and Snotty was sounding dangerously calm. Jerome was considerably bigger than either her or Max if it came to a fight, and Adolphus, as usual, was never there when you needed him. He’d gone upriver a while ago looking for fish to catch and there was no telling when he’d decide to come back.
“I tell you what,” drawled Snotty, looking down his long nose at Max. “You do some magic ‘without potions’ and I’ll give you your sword back. How’s that?”
Max nodded grimly. Olivia drew in her breath. Max had told her about turning himself into a dragonfly without any kind of potion, but it didn’t sound to her like he’d been entirely in control of the process, and goodness knows what Snotty would get him to do. She was pretty sure Merlin would not be happy about him trying this kind of magic on his own, so far from the castle.
Snotty smiled lazily, and held out a large piece of grey flint he’d been concealing in his hand.
“All right then,” he said. “Do an icespell on this bit of rock.” And he tossed it over to Max.
Max caught the stone and looked at it carefully. There was something familiar about the colour, and the jagged edges reminded him of… what? He couldn’t think.
He turned it over in his hands, getting the feel of it. An icespell would encase the stone in a solid lump of ice. It was quite a straightforward spell – if you had brewed it up in a cauldron and then dried it to a purplish powder. Then all you had to do was sprinkle a few grains on the rock and say the right words. Max thought about the ingredients – bats’ wingbeats, the itch of rosehip powder, slugs’ eyeball slime – and the essence of each of them as they mixed together in the spell.
Olivia held her breath. Snotty looked on with an odd expression. Jerome cleaned his fingernails with his hunting knife.
Max made a decision. He held the stone in front of him and felt for the magic he knew was there, inside him, the magic he’d called on to make himself into a dragonfly. He willed it to make the shape of the icespell, and he directed it at the rock.
Nothing happened.
Max pressed his lips together and tried again, harder.
Still nothing happened.
Jerome started to snigger. Snotty was concentrating on the stone with a frown. Olivia bit her lip.
Max was puzzled. He’d felt the magic flow. He’d definitely felt it hit the stone and it should have been a solid lump of ice by now. But something was resisting the spell. It was as if the stone was enchanted, or bigger than it looked, or shielded somehow from his magic. It was some trick of Snotty’s, he was sure of it. Well, Snotty was going to get a shock.
Max reached for every last drop of magic he could gather and shaped it into the icespell. Just as he did so, he noticed a tiny ant crawling on the grey flint surface, and as quickly as he could, wove an extra thread into the spell to protect any living creature on the rock as it was iced. The he flung the magic at the flint in a great flood of power.
The stone disappeared into the middle of a perfect sparkling crystal of solid ice.
Olivia let out her breath, and Max looked up in triumph at Snotty.
Snotty looked distinctly pale and slightly taken aback, but he recovered swiftly. He clapped slowly and turned to Jerome.
“Well then, I suppose we’d better give him his sword back. He’ll be needing it soon anyway, eh Jerome?”
Jerome, looking ever so slightly sick, nodded.
Max suddenly felt a slight twinge of doubt. What had he done? Had they tricked him? Why was Snotty looking so triumphant, and Jerome so sick?
Snotty threw Max’s sword over, and it landed at his feet with a clatter. Snotty laughed nastily.
“You know you’ve done something, Pendragon, don’t you. You just don’t know what! Well, we’ll leave it to you to find out, shall we?”
And he turned his back and slipped away through the trees, Jerome following, crashing through the undergrowth like a small herd of boar. Silence fell on the clearing as Max and Olivia looked at each other.
What had he done?
Disaster at Camelot
It was Ferocious who broke the silence. He had watched the encounter between Max and Snotty with one eye open, while curled up for an afternoon doze on Max’s pack. But now he jumped down and stretched.
“Well, it’s no use looking like a wet fish, Max. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve done. Better just go and find out what it is.”
At that moment there was a flurry of splashing and squawking as Adolphus crash-landed in the pool alongside a small duck, and both of them flapped their way noisily to the bank.
“Hello! Hello! I’ve made a friend! Come and meet him!” called Adolphus happily.
The duck waddled out of the water with Adolphus bounding round him in circles, and bobbed his head at them all with a wide grin.
“Quack!” he said cheerily. “Got any bread?”
“What?” said Max, startled.
“Got any bread?” said the duck. “Only, I always ask. If it’s humans. ’Cos they often do have. And I like a bit of bread.”
“Umm, yes, I think so,” said Max, and looked in his pack. There was an old dried-up piece of bread he’d stuffed in there at breakfast a few days ago, intending to eat it later. He broke it up and threw it into the water, where the duck happily splashed around finding every last bit.
“Quack!” he said, when it had all gone. “Much obliged. Tasty bit of bread that. Got any more?”
“No, sorry,” said Max.
“Ah well, never mind. Maybe another time.” And the duck dived under the surface for a second, splashed water over himself happily, then waddled out of the river.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, putting his head on one side and looking at Max and Olivia with one beady black eye. “So – what are we doing now?”
“We’re going back to the castle,” said Ferocious. “To see what wonders Max has managed to achieve with his latest spell. Probably turned all the fish in the moat to tadpoles or something.”
“Oh, magic, eh?” said the duck. “Like a bit of magic myself. Got a lot of friends who do magic. Are you any good?” He looked at Max brightly, and Max coloured.
“Well,” he said. “I’m not too bad. But things do have a habit of going wrong…”
He bit his lip, and hoped Ferocious was right and he’d only done something minor with the spell. He had an awful feeling it was going to turn out to be much, much worse.
***
The shadows were lengthening as they reached the edge of the woodland. The duck, whose name was Vortigern, had decided to come with them to visit a distant cousin of his who lived in the castle duckpond. He had regaled them all the way with tales of his family and various adventures – it seemed that he was named after an ancient king, who had been saved from ambush by Vortigern’s great-great-great grandfather, and had gratefully made the whole family official Royal Ducks.
“So really, you ought to call me King Vortigern,” he explained. “Or Your Highness. But I l
et my friends off.”
Max had gradually relaxed as they trudged back, and was looking forward to a good dinner and Lancelot’s new song. But as they rounded the corner and the castle came into full view, all thoughts of food disappeared. Max stood rooted to the spot, feeling like a vast weight had just dropped on top of him.
There, in the distance, should have been Camelot. But in its place, reaching up higher than even the tallest turret of the castle, was a mountain of ice, sparkling blue-white and sheer, right to the edges of the moat.
“Druid’s toenails,” breathed Olivia, awed. “What have you done, Max?”
They all looked at him, wide-eyed.
“Quack!” said Vortigern. “That’s a corker! Did you do that all by yourself? My cousin’s not going to be happy.”
“Neither is anyone else,” said Ferocious. “You’ve really done it this time, Max. Better take it off, quick.”
Max sat down on the ground. He didn’t think his legs would hold him up any more. He felt like he might be sick.
“You can take it off, Max?” said Olivia, looking anxiously at his pale face.
Max pulled out the stone from his pocket and looked at it. It was still solid and covered in ice. None of it had melted.
“The thing is,” he said in a small voice, “I didn’t direct the spell at Camelot. I did it on the stone. There’s some magic that’s linked the stone to the castle, and I’m not sure I can reverse it. And there’s something odd about the spell, too, because the ice should have melted by now and it hasn’t.” He looked at them miserably. “I tried taking the spell off the stone back at the clearing, after Snotty had gone. But I couldn’t. And I’m pretty certain that means I can’t take it off the castle either.”
They looked at him, appalled. The castle was encased in a mountain of ice, which meant that everyone inside it was also encased in ice – King Arthur, Merlin, Sir Bertram… And Max couldn’t take the spell off.
“Wonderful,” said Ferocious, who recovered first. “Excellent. Castle and all its inhabitants iced for an unknown amount of time while we figure out how to break the spell. It’s just as well we were all outside the castle when you did it, Max, or we’d really have been in a sticky situation.”
Olivia gave a shaky laugh. “He’s right, Max. It could have been worse. At least we’re all here together. We’ll find a way to reverse it… But I suppose… the people in the castle… they will be all right, won’t they? When the spell comes off, I mean?” She was trying not to make too much of the question, but Max could see that she had gone rather white. He nodded.
“I’m pretty sure they will be. Luckily there was an ant on the stone so I made sure there was a bit of the spell that protected anything alive on it while it was iced. That should mean the same thing applied to the castle.”
“Well then,” said Ferocious. “Nothing to worry about. Between us, we’ll find a way to take the spell off, you’ll see.”
“Yes, yes!” said Adolphus, nodding vigorously. “And Vortigern will help, won’t you?”
“Quack!” said Vortigern. “You can count on me. Always happy to help!”
Max nodded and felt a bit better. He looked again at the distant castle. He could see dark figures moving around by the gatehouse, which was just outside the moat and so the only part of the castle not encased in ice.
“Umm, Olivia,” he said slowly. “Do you happen to remember who was on guard duty when we left?”
She considered. “Well… everyone important was in the meeting with King Arthur – the one about the mysterious sorceress. I think the only one on guard duty was… oh…” Her face fell. “It was Sir Richard.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Max grimly. “Sir Richard Hogsbottom. Because he knew what was going to happen!”
Ferocious sniffed. “Well, in that case it’s probably best if we don’t just walk up to the castle and ask if they need any help. Or we’ll be helping from the bottom of a very deep dungeon.”
“Too right,” said Olivia. “Maybe we’d better just go back to the woods.”
Max thought about it. “I agree. We can head for the old charcoal-burner’s hut. But first I think we need to know what they’re planning. Which means getting a bit closer, without being seen.”
“Oh yes,” said Adolphus eagerly. “I can do that! I’m very good at creeping. Look – look at me doing invisible creeping!”
He wriggled along the ground on his belly, squawking slightly as he scraped over stones, and not quite in control of his tail, which waved enthusiastically every few yards.
“Yes, Adolphus, very good,” said Olivia encouragingly. “But you’re a bit big. I think it might be better to send Ferocious.”
“Oh yes, me as usual, into the mouth of danger. Ha! Never fear, Ferocious is always ready to risk life and limb,” said the rat, and sighed.
“Quack! I’ll go too! Might get some bread from the guards!” said Vortigern.
“Right,” said Max. “Good idea. Vortigern, you can act as a decoy – distract the guards while Ferocious gets closer and tries to find out what Sir Richard’s up to.”
***
Ferocious crept quietly along the floor of the gatehouse, under the wooden benches by the side of the wall. Vortigern was already outside, quacking loudly, and most of the guards were competing to see who could get a piece of bread straight into his open beak from ten yards. Inside, one of the gate guards was discussing the situation with Sir Lionel, who had just arrived from Leogrance.
“It’s been a complete nightmare! We’ve tried chipping our way into the castle but the ice is like solid rock! Nothing can seem to break it.”
Sir Lionel stroked his moustache. “It’s obviously an enchantment, and I never was any use when it came to magic. It’s a good thing Sir Richard was outside the castle when it happened – at least he knows a bit more about these things!”
Ferocious sniffed. Sir Richard Hogsbottom, Snotty’s father, knew hardly anything about magic – but he knew a great deal about plotting. He was almost certainly in on the whole thing, and was bound to have something nasty up his wide velvet sleeve.
“Yes, well, he’s outside having a look at the ice now, with young Adrian,” said the guard. “And he’s sent a swift to Lady Morgana le Fay – she may be able to help, of course. Hopefully the answer will be back soon.”
Almost as he spoke, the great door of the gatehouse crashed open and Snotty walked in, with his father behind him. Sir Richard was a short, rather tubby knight, with an ingratiating manner. He smiled round at them all, looking very pleased with himself, and then seemed to remember that the occasion was a solemn one and changed his expression to one of concern.
“I fear there’s nothing I can do – and even Adrian, who is very skilled in magic, cannot make a dent in it.”
“I’m afraid so,” nodded Snotty. “It’s quite likely that they’re all dead.” His eyes gleamed, and his mouth gave the tiniest twitch of triumph as he said it.
“Er, well – we can’t be sure of that,” said Sir Richard quickly. “It’s entirely possible they are simply frozen temporarily… We will have to wait and see.”
As he spoke, a small white bird darted into the room, and hovered in front of them. Sir Richard plucked it out of the air and it immediately transformed into a small folded piece of parchment.
“Ah, the return swift from my lady Morgana,” he said with satisfaction, and opened it. He looked round.
“She says she will come at once. She may be able to remove the spell without anyone being hurt – at least, she will do her best. And in the meantime she will accept the position of queen – temporarily, of course – in Arthur’s place. She will be here in three days.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Sir Lionel heartily. “If anyone can sort this blasted sorceress out, it’s Lady Morgana. So – we’ll just do our best to guard the castle, keep the peace, and wait for her to arrive, eh?”
Ferocious had heard enough. He sneaked carefully out of the gatehous
e and hurried back to the others. When they heard what Ferocious had to report, Max looked grim, and so did Olivia. Lady Morgana was due in three days, and they had to find a way to take the spell off before she got here. Because if Morgana was the one who removed the spell, there was absolutely no chance that either Arthur or Merlin would survive the disenchantment process.
Adolphus Has a Plan
Vortigern the duck had found a nice sheltered corner of the wall just outside the gatehouse door. The moon was beginning to rise over the black outline of the hills to the east of the castle, and the icy mountain behind him was shimmering with a pale white translucence. The few soldiers still guarding the boundaries of what used to be Castle Camelot were moving quietly, their armour clinking slightly as they shifted position, peering into the darkness.
Vortigern was considering what to do. He had heard quite a bit about Morgana le Fay from his cousin Guido. Guido regularly found his pond disturbed by the arrival of rather startled castle servants, transported fully clothed and upside down into the mud whenever they annoyed the visiting sorceress. Vortigern was rather curious to see the lady herself. And the soldiers in the gatehouse had bread, and were willing to share it. But on the other hand, Max was clearly quite a magical person, too. And Adolphus was a lot of fun. And he rather thought there was still a bit of bread left in Max’s pack. The duck stretched, ruffled his feathers, and waddled quietly towards the river.
***
It was an hour before Max and Olivia stumbled wearily back to the stretch of river where they’d spent the afternoon. Even Adolphus had lost some of his bounce. The trees around the clearing were shades of silver or grey, while the old stones of the charcoal-burner’s hut shone pale white in the moonlight, its shadow stretching out into the woods like an inky pool.
Inside, the hut was dusty and full of cobwebs hanging from every beam and corner, but when Olivia investigated the cupboards she found jars of preserves, nuts and dried fruit, blankets and firewood. Soon they had a warm fire crackling in the hearth, a bowl of nuts and sweet, wrinkled, old apples balanced between them, and a couple of musty blankets to lie on. If it hadn’t been for the dead weight in his stomach every time he remembered Camelot buried under a ton of ice, Max might actually have enjoyed the sense of adventure.