by Anne Forbes
Clara’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What’s the matter, Neil?” she asked, looking across at him as she pushed the cards towards the major, who’d won handsomely. “You’ve been very quiet since we got back.”
Neil looked uncomfortable but was saved from answering by a murmur of voices as the high, double doors opened and Prince Kalman entered followed by Lord Rothlan, Count Vassili and the MacArthur.
The two children stood up respectfully, smiling a welcome as Amgarad flew over and landed on Clara’s shoulder.
“Well,” the MacArthur said once the initial greetings were over and they’d settled themselves in a group round the fire, “you seem to have had an exciting time. Prince Kalman’s been telling me all about it!”
Clara smiled and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been fighting battles,” she pointed out. “That must have been exciting, too!”
Neil said nothing but looked at them warily for there was an air of seriousness about the four magicians that told him they’d been discussing him and his hex.
It was as the conversation petered out that Prince Kalman looked at Neil thoughtfully. “Before we go any further, I … er, I think that you might have something to tell us, Neil? About Lord Jezail’s medallion?”
Neil looked apprehensive for there was little warmth in the prince’s voice.
Count Vassili, however, noticing the shocked surprise in Neil’s eyes, intervened quickly. “What happened, Neil? Please … just tell us. It is important, you know.”
Neil by this time was sitting straight up in his chair. “You … you don’t think I stole it, do you?” he said, looking at them disbelievingly.
“Stole what?’ Clara looked from Prince Kalman to her brother and back again. “Neil never stole anything in his life!”
“I didn’t say anything of the sort,” the prince pointed out, slightly taken aback at Clara’s hot defence of her brother, “but we didn’t find the medallion on his body when we brought him here to Trollsberg,” the prince continued,” and Neil did throw a hex at the serpent.”
“Serpent?” Clara echoed in bewilderment. “What serpent?”
Neil ignored her question. “A medallion? Is that what it’s called?” He frowned but looked interested at the same time. “I thought it was a coin. No, he didn’t give it to me,” he answered. “You know that perfectly well! It’s a magic coin. He’d never have given it to me.”
“Then how did you get it?”
Neil didn’t answer. The question brought back all of the dreadful memories he’d been trying to push to the back of his mind. His face reddened and he clenched his hands together as unexpected tears clouded his eyes. He looked at the ground so that no one would notice but stumbled over the words. “Actually, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said, eyeing Clara sideways, “but … well …”
“Well what, Neil?” Lord Rothlan asked softly, throwing Kalman a warning glance.
“It was really quite horrible,” Neil answered, lifting his eyes and looking straight at Prince Kalman. “Lord Jezail,” he whispered, “I … you see, I managed to catch him when he fell off the cliff. I thought he’d be grateful but he … he grabbed me and threw me off my carpet.”
“Lord… Jezail … what?” The prince’s voice cracked in disbelief as the others jumped to their feet. Whatever they had expected to hear, it hadn’t been that!
Neil looked at the prince through a sudden blur of tears. “I caught hold of his shirt but it tore and I think that’s when the chain broke …” he swallowed and managed a feeble grin, “I didn’t notice it at the time. By then I was falling and I’d more to worry about. Fortunately, Nestor saw the whole thing. That’s when he swooped down and caught me just … just before I hit the ground. That’s … that’s how he broke his wing.”
Prince Kalman took two steps forward and hugged Neil tightly. “Forgive me for doubting you, Neil,” he said. “I never dreamt that such a thing could happen. None of us did,” he added, stepping back and holding him by the shoulders. “You see, we just couldn’t understand …”
Clara had never seen the prince look so upset. He’d misjudged the situation completely and didn’t know how to put things right.
Neil fished the coin out of his pocket and held it out to the prince. “It was Nestor who saw it lying in the dust,” he explained.” He thought I’d dropped it and maybe I did when I was falling. I can’t remember, really. I just picked it up, shoved it in my pocket and more or less forgot about it. I was still a bit shaken, you see, and Nestor’s wing was broken and … anyway, he’ll tell you if you ask him.”
There was complete silence for a long moment as the magicians looked at one another very oddly indeed. Prince Kalman, however, barely heard what Neil had said; he’d stiffened abruptly as he felt the power of the coin that lay heavily in the palm of his hand.
It was the MacArthur who broke the silence. “Well, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “it looks as though we have a brand new magician in our midst. I think we’d all agree that the medallion made a wise choice in Neil.”
As Neil and Clara watched curiously, the coin passed from hand to hand. The MacArthur took it and, drawing a sharp breath, looked at the prince in disbelief before passing it on to Count Vassili, who shuddered as he held it and, with a horrified look on his face, passed it quickly to Lord Rothlan.
Pale with shock, Lord Rothlan’s face was unreadable as he handed it back to the prince. “Well,” he said heavily, “now we know why Lord Jezail acted the way he did. Whether or not he influenced the medallion or it influenced him, we’ll never know but …”
“No, Alasdair,” Count Vassili interrupted. “There was nothing wrong with the medallion when Jezail inherited it from his father. He’s the one who corrupted its magic!” He paused and looked at the two children. “And I don’t need to tell you that there’s no way Neil can wear it. Not in its present state, at any rate. It would control him within days.”
Prince Kalman pressed his lips together in a thin line. “You’re right, of course, Vassili,” he said grimly, “except that it didn’t take days. It controlled him from the start.” He looked at them all in turn. “Neil’s honest. We all know that. Yet he didn’t tell me about the medallion when he hexed the serpent, did he?”
There was a silence as the magicians looked at one another, eyebrows raised.
“You mean … it was the medallion that stopped me from telling you?” Neil said slowly.
Lord Rothlan nodded.
“Then I don’t want it,” Neil said sharply. “It made me lie!”
The MacArthur smiled wryly. “It’s not as easy as that, Neil. It’s a magic coin and … well, the fact remains that it chose you.”
“Only because I was there,” Neil pointed out, biting his lip in disappointment as all thoughts of being a magician faded rapidly from his mind.
“No, no, you’re wrong, Neil,” Lord Rothlan said slowly. “First of all, the medallion would sense the magic in your firestone and secondly, I rather think it was looking for a new master. Lord Jezail was very old, remember, and in the end, went completely mad. And madness, you see, was the one thing the medallion couldn’t control …”
The MacArthur nodded. “Yes, I think Neil was a deliberate choice but as Vassili says, he can’t wear it in its present state. It’s much too dangerous!”
“I know it made me lie,” Neil said hesitantly, “but otherwise, you know, I didn’t feel all that different. Yet, you … all of you, looked so horrified when you held it …”
Count Vassili smiled and put an arm round his shoulders. “You must remember, Neil, that apart from the firestone, you have no real magic in you; but we are magicians and when our magic met that of the medallion we immediately knew how evil it was.”
“There are ways of removing the evil from the medallion,” Prince Kalman said slowly, turning it over in his hand, “but quite frankly it’s a job for the Lords of the North and … it’ll take time.”
Neil looked anxiously from one to the other
.
“What do you think, Neil?” Lord Rothlan asked. “If you agree, we could rid the medallion of evil and give it to you when you are older. You see … the medallion is yours. You didn’t take it from Lord Jezail. It chose to give itself to you.”
“May … may I hold it?” Neil asked, his spirits rising at the thought that one day he would wear it. “Just for a minute.”
“Of course,” Prince Kalman answered, smiling reassuringly as he handed it over.
Neil looked down at the circle of gold that was going to change his life. Lifting it closer, he looked at the strange symbols that curved round two intertwined crescent moons. It was beautifully made and his fingers closed over it protectively. It was his but he knew within himself that the magicians were right. It had to be cleansed of evil before he could wear it. Taking a deep breath, he gave it back to the prince. “Please keep it for me,” he said.
“When you do wear it, Neil,” Prince Kalman said, “you will be one of us. You know that, don’t you? And your magic will be just as great as ours.”
“But in the meantime, you’ll be our pupil,” Lord Rothlan said with a smile, as the others nodded in agreement, “for there’s a lot more than magic tokens to being a magician, believe me! I’m afraid it’ll be a bit like being at school all over again!”
Neil nodded, looking confused as Clara hugged him. Thank goodness for the medallion, she thought. It’s really evened things out between us! I really wasn’t happy at having the talisman when Neil only had a firestone. He wasn’t jealous, exactly, but he must have felt a bit left out. She smiled happily at him.
“Now then …” she said aloud, “I’m absolutely dying of curiosity. For goodness sake, tell me about the serpent!”
42. The Citadel
Clara gasped and clutched at Maria as their magic carpet approached Stara Zargana. “Look!” she gasped, “look at the citadel. It isn’t black anymore!” They looked at one another in amazement and Clara gestured to Neil and Colonel Strelitz who were travelling alongside them.
“Look at the citadel!” she called. “It’s changed colour!”
“It must be because Lord Jezail is dead,” Colonel Strelitz called back, looking in wonder at the shining white towers that rose, clean and shining, against the green backdrop of forest-clad mountains. His heart filled with hope. Life was going to be very different now that Lord Jezail had gone. He was going to marry Maria and, now a colonel and the newly appointed Commander of the Citadel Guard, he would never have to return to Dragonsgard and its lonely, rocky valley.
Soon they were flying over the red-roofed houses of the little town and in no time at all had landed in the deep courtyard of the citadel. Clara smiled at Maria, her eyes shining as she looked round. How different it all was from that dreadful night when they’d left for Dragonsgard!
Carpets landed all round them and it was Prince Kalman who led the way towards the rounded curve of shallow steps where Count Vassili, the new Governor of the Citadel, waited to receive them. The Citadel Guard, in smart, white uniforms, snapped to attention as they approached and it was a happy, chattering group that entered its halls.
“You should have seen it when I was here,” Clara said to Neil. “It was awful; really dark and creepy.” She looked up at the shining, vaulted ceiling and marvelled at the difference.
Count Vassili ushered them into the Great Hall of the citadel and it was then that they saw Dragonslayer. Hung against the glass of a tall window, it glowed golden with happiness.
“I asked it to choose where it would like to rest and it chose the window,” Count Vassili explained. “After hundreds of years shut up in Sir Pendar’s tomb, it wanted the light and the view. That’s why it’s so high up,” he admitted. “The window overlooks the citadel garden but from that height it can see over the walls to the town and the mountains and forests beyond.”
“Does it remember its past,” Clara asked curiously.
“Only vaguely, I think,” the count answered. “The hex you used from the Book of Spells blotted out all of its evil desires. It’s now a very definite force for good.”
Prince Kalman looked at him, knowing there was more.
“It was only after I had it placed in the window that the citadel started to change colour!”
“A good omen,” Lord Rothlan smiled.
“And a powerful one,” Prince Kalman added, looking at the sword speculatively.
The sword heard their words, for its hearing was sharp, and smiled to itself. It had no intention of revealing just how powerful its magic was or how, from its vantage point high in the windows of the citadel, it could use it to its best advantage. For the sword, as always, had its own agenda and cleansing the citadel of Jezail’s warped personality was just the start …
Lunch was a pleasant meal as they talked lazily over the happenings of the past days. It was as they rose from the table that Clara asked the count if she could show Neil her old rooms in the tower.
“Why, of course, Clara,” he answered readily. “You can go where you like. Your room will be just as you left it.”
Clara nodded, secretly glad that nothing had been changed and, beckoning to Neil, headed for the spiral staircase that wound its way up the tower, stopping every now and then to peer through the slit windows. “I was so miserable and unhappy here,” she murmured, as she opened the door to her bedroom and looked round, “but there’s no feeling of it left.”
Neil walked over to the window and peered down at the red roofed houses and narrow, winding streets of Stara Zargana.
“I used to stand there,” Clara said, sadly, “and look at the houses, wondering who lived in them and what their lives were like. I thought about Mum and Dad, too.” She paused. “I can’t believe we’ll be seeing them tomorrow. They must be worried sick about us. I mean … we’ve been here for ages when you think about it.”
Neil shook his head. “Don’t forget that magic time and our time are completely different,” he pointed out. “When we do get back, we won’t have been gone any time at all, as far as Mum and Dad are concerned. Anyway, Lady Ellen’s there and even before we set off, she’d more or less convinced them that everything would be fine.”
“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?”
Neil looked at her ironically. “I’d say so,” he grinned. “Didn’t you hear Prince Kalman talking to Count Vassili about hunting wild boar? Not that I want to hunt wild boar,” he added hurriedly, “but, well, I always liked Count Vassili, even when he taught us German at Netherfield …” he tailed off as a sudden thought struck him. “Do you know, I’d forgotten all about school!”
“So had I!” Clara looked at him in horror. “I guess our holidays must be almost over!”
“I haven’t looked at my holiday homework either,” Neil groaned as they left the room and clattered down the dizzying spiral stairs.
“Hey! Neil! Clara!”
Clara beamed with delight as she saw Hamish and Jackie walking towards them. Both looked absolutely exhausted.
“Clara!” Jackie said in relief. “They told us you were here! Thank goodness you’re safe!”
“We heard that Amgarad rescued you from some dragon’s castle or other!” Hamish added. “Are you alright?”
Clara laughed. “I’m fine,” she smiled, “but where’s Archie?”
“He stayed in the Valley of the Dragons,” Jaikie answered. “Arthur wanted to see that everything was sorted out before he left. I think the dragons are throwing a party for him.”
“We wondered why you didn’t turn up at Trollsberg.” Neil looked at him enquiringly.” All the MacArthur would tell us was that you were busy. Did you see any fighting?”
Jaikie shook his head, smothering a yawn. “Jezail’s men were glad to surrender,” he said, tiredly. “We stayed behind to round up the last of them.”
“He’d sent scouts in to suss the place out,” Hamish explained, “and we had to scour every nook and cranny to find them. By the time we’d rounded them all up
, the carpets were pretty shattered, I can tell you!”
Clara looked concerned. “You do know we’re leaving tomorrow morning, don’t you?” she asked.
“We heard,” Jaikie nodded, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “We could have done with another rest day, but what to do? The carpets are asleep already and we’re heading for bed as soon as we’ve eaten. I can hardly believe that by this time tomorrow, we’ll be home!”
“I can hardly believe it, either,” Neil sighed. “We’ve got school next week!”
“I’m not going to say goodbye to you, Neil … nor to you, Clara,” Count Vassili smiled, taking their hands in his, “because I know you’ll be back. We, the Onegin, are deeply in your debt and you will always be welcome here, you know that!”
Neil and Clara murmured their thanks, genuinely sorry to be leaving.
“And don’t forget to work hard at your German grammar when you’re back at Netherfield,” the count urged with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s spoken here and if you’re going to go out exploring on your next visit, then it might help if you speak the language!”
As they thanked him again, a chill wind swirled round the shallow steps of the citadel blowing a scatter of brown leaves round their ankles. Autumn was setting in and despite the blankets they’d piled on their carpets, they knew it was going to be a cold journey home.
“I hope you put on that extra sweater I laid out for you,” Maria fussed as she hugged Clara before seeing her safely onto her carpet. “I hadn’t realized how bitterly cold it was up there until I flew back with you the other day!”
Clara smiled and waved as her carpet followed Neil’s into the air and drifted towards those of Hamish and Jaikie. They’d fly home together, side by side, for company.