The Underground City, page 16
It was an unequal battle at best and one that Wullie won, hands down.
“Well!” said the MacArthur, when they had all stopped laughing, “that’s certainly solved all Sir Archie’s problems, hasn’t it?”
“It has that!” Lord Rothlan said, shaking his head in awe as he watched the last of the ghosts fizzle and disappear. “The man deserves a medal!”
Wullie, who hadn’t, until then, appreciated the fact that he was a walking weapon of mass destruction, looked round in satisfaction at the empty alley, but it was only when he was convinced that all the ghosts had choked their last that he resumed his journey, a misty figure enveloped in a gauzy haze of cigarette smoke. On reaching the pile of crates that gave onto Deacon Brodie’s cellars, he scrambled through the trapdoor and replaced it gently with a sigh of relief. He felt a great sense of achievement. Murdo would be proud of him!
He stopped on the stairs on the way up to the bar and spent quite a while in the Gents, tidying himself up. The shelving had given him a whacking bump but his hair covered most of it and if anyone asked he could always say he’d been in a fight, couldn’t he? Not a lot of people ever argued with Wullie, him being over six-feet tall and broad with it, so he wasn’t too worried at being asked anything, really. He even stopped to have a quick pint before setting off up the road to his own wee flat on the High Street, well content with his night’s work.
The High Street, needless to say, was stiff with police and although they stopped many late-night revellers, checked identities and patted people over for concealed weapons, none of them stopped Wullie.
And it wasn’t because he was six-feet tall and broad with it either; it was because the MacArthur and Lord Rothlan reckoned that Wullie deserved to get back to his flat unhindered and, just to make sure, cast a wee spell that quite successfully protected him all the way home!
27. An Uninvited Guest
Lewis couldn’t wait to get home. He’d been on tenterhooks ever since Casimir and the Sultan had vanished. Not only Casimir but Prince Kalman and Neil and Clara as well!
Casimir had told him when they’d got home from the ice-rink that Neil and Clara had magic in them but he hadn’t really believed it until he’d seen them stand up to the goblins on stage. There was no doubt about it. They’d known who and what the goblins were, all right! He’d expected his parents to make some remark about them at the interval but, like the rest of the audience, they seemed not to have noticed anything amiss. Everything, as far as they were concerned, was totally normal. Magic again, he thought!
After the show, they’d gone backstage and although he’d smiled and chatted with Matt Lafferty and been polite to his father’s friend, Sir James, his mind had been elsewhere. He’d liked Sir James, although the understanding twinkle in his eye when he’d said he hoped living in Edinburgh wasn’t proving too dull, had been a bit unnerving; almost as if he’d known that he was the Shadow! All he could think of was Casimir and he’d been glad when his parents had eventually said their final goodbyes.
“Well,” said his father, putting the car into gear and pulling out into the traffic. “That was quite an evening!”
“It was a super pantomime!” Lewis agreed. “Matt Lafferty was marvellous as the Grand Vizier!”
“Yes,” murmured his mother, with a yawn, “the theatre is really quite magical. It takes you into quite a different world, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Lewis nodded, quite determined to get into the “other world” that very evening! For he still had Casimir’s carpet and he was going to use it!
Once in his bedroom, he quickly changed into warmer clothes and as he zipped up his anorak, he looked at the carpet, propped in a corner, against the wall.
Clapping his hands together sharply, he said “carpet,” the way Casimir had done. Nothing, however, happened.
“Now listen, carpet,” he said seriously as he bent to pick it up, “I know you can hear me, so don’t pretend you can’t!” He spread the carpet over his bed and looked at it thoughtfully. “Lots of things have happened tonight,” he explained, “and I’ve just got to see Casimir! He might be in Arthur’s Seat or he might have gone to Ardray but I have got to see him. He found his son tonight, that Prince Kalman, and his son didn’t want to know him! Would you believe it? After all the time he’s spent searching for him?”
The magic carpet wriggled uneasily. “I’m only supposed to carry Prince Casimir,” it said.
“Come on, carpet,” pleaded Lewis. “Didn’t I make you beautiful again when I had my magic wishes?”
“Yes,” the carpet breathed, thinking back to the perfectly awful time when it had been threadbare, shabby and full of holes.
“And you’ll be taking me to Casimir,” added Lewis persuasively. “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere on my own. And Casimir might call you, you know, and you’d never get out of here with the window shut!”
The carpet thought about it and then lifted gently into the air. Lewis pulled a blanket off the bed and folding it up, spread it over the carpet, for the snow still lay deep over Edinburgh. He ran to the window and opened it wide so that he and the carpet could get through and a few minutes later they were soaring over the city towards Arthur’s Seat.
So he had been right, he thought, as the hill loomed nearer. Casimir had gone to the friends he had told him about; the MacArthurs, the magic people that lived inside Arthur’s Seat. The air was frosty and cold and Arthur’s Seat was deep in snow as the carpet sailed towards it and he wondered apprehensively how on earth he was going to get in. He needn’t have worried, however, as the carpet had been there many times before. The tunnel entrance was cunningly hidden but it knew its way and slid deftly with the ease of long practice, into the hill.
Lewis switched on his torch as the carpet sailed downwards through the inky blackness of a tunnel that seemed to go on for ever. Would it never end, he wondered. And just when he thought it never would, the carpet sailed into a huge cavern, brightly lit by blazing torches in iron sconces that were fastened to the walls.
As the carpet sailed into the cavern, Lewis almost fell off in fright, for the first thing he saw was a huge dragon, its scales glittering red in the light of the torches. Even as he gaped at it in wonder, it sent a stream of bright, sparkling fire across the cavern in a blaze of heat. Casimir had never mentioned a dragon and Lewis, keeping his balance only by a miracle, looked at it in awe as his carpet circled round and took him to a raised dais where several people were seated round a high throne. Thank goodness! Relief flooded through him. One of them was Casimir! His carpet drew closer and although he’d half guessed what to expect, his jaw nevertheless dropped at the sight of Sir James!
Everyone stared at him in amazement and, as he got off the carpet, he felt suddenly lonely and awkward. Casimir had told him about the MacArthur, however, and he’d no hesitation in picking out the strange, regal little figure perched on his throne. He bowed to him and waited.
“Welcome to the hill, Lewis,” the MacArthur said. “Or should I call you ‘The Shadow?’”
“I was the Shadow,” Lewis admitted. “With Ca … Prince Casimir, that is.”
Casimir grinned at him sourly. “Lewis was learning!”
“So this is Lewis?” the Sultan said.
Lewis looked up as he recognized both the face and the voice. It was the Sultan of the pantomime!
“Make your bow,” the MacArthur said, “to His Majesty, Sulaiman the Red, Sultan of Turkey!” So involved had Lewis become in the affairs of the world of magic that this actually came as no surprise at all and he bowed low as he had seen Casimir do on stage. Even as he straightened, a huge eagle spread its wings. Amgarad, he thought, and its master, Lord Rothlan. The goblin at Ardray had talked about them.
Then there was Casimir! “I had to come, Prince Casimir!” he said, going up to him and grasping both his hands, “I wanted to help you and I … well, I thought you might need your carpet.”
At a nod from the MacArthur, Sir James got to his feet and, smiling at Lewis reassuringly, introduced him to the others: Lord Alasdair Rothlan, Lady Ellan and several of the MacArthurs who sat on cushions by the chairs. Archie, Hamish and Jaikie got to their feet and, eyeing him with interest, shook his hand. Sir James then took him towards another man in Highland dress who rose to his feet as they approached. “And this,” he said, “is Neil and Clara’s father, John MacLean, and their mother, Janet.”
The black crow perched on John MacLean’s shoulder, fluttered its wings.
“And Kitor,” Janet MacLean smiled, her hand reaching up to stroke the crow’s black feathers, “Clara’s crow!”
“And that,” Archie said, indicating the dragon, “is Arthur, our dragon.” At the mention of its name, the dragon let loose another burst of flames and turned its great head towards them. Archie grinned. “I’ll take you over to meet him properly afterwards. He’s not in a very good mood just now. A bit upset that Neil and Clara have been kidnapped, you know.”
Sir James interrupted. “You were in the audience this evening, Lewis, and you saw what happened. We’ve just been wondering how we can get Neil and Clara back from Prince Kalman.”
“Why does Prince Kalman hate them so much?” Lewis asked.
“He hates Clara more than he hates Neil,” the Sultan said, taking charge of the conversation. “It was Clara who spoke the magic words that broke the spell round the crown. They were my words and I was able to take my crown back from him when she said them.”
“Where have they gone? Do you know?” Lewis asked, looking around.
“That’s what is troubling us,” the Sultan admitted. “Prince Kalman has used a hex to hide them from the world of magic. We can find no trace of them in our crystals. No trace at all.”
28. Kalman’s Revenge
Neil and Clara shivered violently as they recovered from their surprise at Kalman’s hex and opened their eyes. The warmth of the blazing spotlights in the theatre had vanished the minute the prince had grasped their arms and now they found themselves in freezing blackness.
Neil sensed that the prince was still with them. “Where are we?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely.
“You are where no one will ever find you,” Kalman said, his voice casual and cruel.
Clara put out her hand and drew it back swiftly as she touched a rocky wall that wasn’t only icy cold but ran with moisture. Were they in a cave, perhaps?
At that moment, Kalman hexed up a couple of burning torches and stuck them into cracks in the wall. They looked round in wonder at their prison as the flaring flames flickered and glowed. It was, as they had suspected, a cave; a big cave with a towering ceiling that disappeared into gloomy darkness over their heads. The openings of tunnels were outlined against the surrounding walls but on the far side, a stretch of water rippled and lapped against the cave’s rocky shelf.
Even as they looked, the ripples surged and splashed as a huge head broke the surface and a monster reared its long neck up out of the waves. Its face had a sly, predatory look and its scaly skin was a blackish, grey colour mottled by patches of livid green. Neil and Clara clutched at one another in horror mixed with sudden understanding, and knew instantly where they were. They had seen this particular monster before and they hadn’t much liked her then, either.
“Nessie!” Clara mouthed at Neil.
“The Loch Ness Monster!” he whispered in awe as more and more of the enormous beast appeared, dwarfing the cave with her size. They clung together, shivering with cold and fright. No wonder Kalman was so sure they’d never be found! These must be Nessie’s caves, hundreds of feet under the mountains!
The monster dragged her great bulk out of the water, sending waves surging in powerful ripples across the floor until she finally managed to heave herself onto the rocky platform.
“Prince Kalman!” she sounded surprised and more than a little suspicious. “What brings you here?”
“Am I not welcome, then?” the prince said with a low bow. “Grechan always speaks well of you and I have come to ask you a favour, milady.”
The monster didn’t exactly preen herself but, Neil thought shrewdly, the prince certainly knew how to handle her.
“A favour, is it? Well, what do you wish of me, Kalman?” Then she saw Neil and Clara. “Who are those children?” she demanded.
Neil and Clara moved forward. “Bow!” Neil muttered, as he bent at the waist. “Go on, Clara, as low as you can!”
Kalman looked at them sourly. “Two children that I want to hide from the eyes of Sulaiman the Red.”
“The Sultan?” Nessie said, impressed. She eyed them interestedly. “But they’re surely too young to pose a threat to you?”
“They’ve meddled in my plans and need punishing,” he said. “I’d be glad if you’d keep them here until Grechan arrives. Then, he can take charge of them. They’ll be no bother. Feed them sparingly and they’ll behave!”
Neil’s heart sank at his words. This didn’t sound too good!
Nessie moved towards them and so awed were they at her towering bulk that they failed to notice the arrival of several other strange creatures that had bobbed to the surface of the water in her wake. The mention of Grechan should have warned them that they’d be around and as the grey, shiny little creatures hoisted themselves effortlessly into the cave, Neil nudged Clara. Their noses wrinkled at the musty smell that emanated from them. Both knew immediately what they were — water goblins!
Attracted by the shining colours of their Ali Baba costumes that glowed brightly in the light of the torches, the water goblins flapped forward on webbed feet, their red eyes gleaming in their dome-like heads. They crowded round, fascinated by the glittering silk of their costumes and as their long fingers stretched out curiously, Neil and Clara shrank away from them. Nessie, however, saw what was happening and as her tail lashed threateningly, the goblins immediately backed off, looking resentful.
Nessie stared at Neil and Clara thoughtfully. “Do you know, Prince Kalman,” she said, her expression suddenly turning very unpleasant indeed, “I think I recognise these children.” Her huge head on its long neck bent over Neil. “You know the MacArthurs, don’t you?” she hissed. “Weren’t you both with Lady Ellan when she brought my Arthur to Loch Ness?”
They cowered back, nodding, too scared to speak.
“And you know that my Arthur came here and then left without even saying goodbye to me and quite broke my heart,” she said, her voice rising. “I’ll never forgive him, never!” Her tail lashed the floor of the cave angrily, sweeping several unwary goblins into the water. “And, let me tell you,” her voice lowered threateningly, “that if you’re his friends, I’ve a good mind to keep you here for ever and ever!”
She was so furious that, had she been a dragon, she’d probably have burnt them to a cinder there and then. As it was, she looked so fearsome that Neil and Clara took to their heels and ran, helter-skelter, into the first tunnel they came to.
Nessie frowned as Prince Kalman made no attempt to stop them.
Now Nessie had her moods and although she was quick to lose her temper she was equally quick in making up — but Neil and Clara, she suddenly realized, weren’t to know this and now that they’d run off into the tunnels, she looked after them apprehensively, wishing that she hadn’t been quite so dramatic.
“Leave them,” Kalman shrugged, his voice casual. “With any luck they’ll get lost in the tunnels and we’ll never hear of them again.” He bowed mockingly to Nessie. “If they do turn up, you can give them to Grechan. If they don’t … well, give him my regards, anyway. Tell him I’ll be back soon!”
And with that, Kalman muttered a hex and promptly disappeared.
29. Kabad to the Rescue
“Stop, Clara,” Neil gasped, his lungs bursting. “Stop! We’ve run far enough and nobody’s chasing us.”
Clara leant against the wall of the tunnel, clutching her side. She had a stitch and her breath was coming in great gasps. Never in her life had she felt so scared.
“Where are you, Neil?” she panted. “I can’t see you. It’s so dark and …” she shivered, “I’m freezing cold.”
Neil walked towards the sound of her voice. “I can’t help it,” she said, her teeth chattering. “It’s just fright that’s making me all shivery.”
What they needed, Neil thought, was some warmer clothes for the thin, silky stuff of their pantomime costume was no protection whatsoever against the freezing draught that edged sharply along the tunnel.
“I think we should go back,” Neil said, “while we remember the way.”
“No! How can you even think about it? Nessie’s horrible!!”
“She can’t be all that bad if Arthur likes her. And he does, you know.”
“Well …” she sounded doubtful.
“We’ll freeze if we don’t keep moving,” Neil insisted, “and if we go any further, we might get lost.” So, arms outstretched, they made their way back the way they had come. At least they thought they did. It was only much later when they’d stumbled along for a good half hour that Neil called a halt. “We must have missed a turning,” he admitted, anxiously. “We didn’t run from Nessie for more than a few minutes. We’re lost, Clara!”
“Shhhh!” Clara grabbed Neil’s arm. “I can hear something! Listen …”
It was a strange flapping noise and it was coming closer. Clara stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself from screaming.
“Are you there?” a voice whispered. They heard it in their heads, in much the same way as they heard Kitor and Amgarad.
Neil relaxed thankfully for it didn’t sound like a terribly fierce voice. “Yes, we’re here,” he answered, guessing that the flapping noise was the sound of webbed feet. “Who are you? Are you a water goblin?”
