Dragonfire Page 6

  “Dear goodness,” gasped Sir James in horror, “he’s … he’s going to fly!”

  The MacArthurs, to give them their due, did what they could. They made a concerted rush for Arthur, but against a dragon they had their limits. The night air, the starry sky and the limitless curve of the heavens had woken old memories in Arthur. With a few effortless flaps of his wings he left the earth behind and soared skywards, revelling in his new-found freedom.

  The MacArthur stomped up to the transporter looking sour.

  “What are we going to do now,” gasped Sir James in a panic.

  “I wouldn’t worry, Sir James. He’ll no’ be gone long, more’s the pity. Look over yonder!”

  Neil grabbed Sir James’s arm. “Look, Sir James! Over there! An aeroplane! It’s coming in to land!”

  Sir James paeld. “Oh no!” he gasped in horror. “It’s the London Shuttle!”

  “I’d love to see the pilot’s face when he sees Arthur,” said Neil, watching with fascinated eyes as Arthur soared towards the plane.

  The pilot of the Shuttle picked Arthur up in the powerful beam of his landing lights and at first refused to believe his eyes. His first incredulous thought was that Arthur was a kite or even a stray balloon but the steadily beating wings and supple movement of his body soon banished that idea from his mind. This was a living, flying dragon straight from the pages of a storybook.

  “What the devil?” he said savagely to his co-pilot as he banked hard to avoid colliding with Arthur. His co-pilot, in much the same state of disbelief, shook his head in amazement. “A dragon! But … but, they don’t exist … do they?”

  “This one looks pretty solid to me!” muttered the pilot grimly as he banked again.

  Dragons, as one would expect, don’t rate highly in any of the emergency procedures that pilots routinely follow. The Air Traffic Controller at Edinburgh Airport, enquiring politely as to why flight B6672 had left its flight-path to career wildly across his radar screen was not amused to be told by the pilot that he was trying to avoid a dragon, especially when the blips on his radar screen showed nothing of the sort.

  “I don’t care if you’re not picking anything else up,” snarled the pilot, craning his neck to see where Arthur had got to. “Why don’t you just look out of your window?”

  And against the backdrop of the night sky the Air Traffic controller saw the shape of the dragon, and watched in horror as Arthur flapped interestedly around the Shuttle.

  Clara watched in dismay as the pilot put his aircraft into a steep climb. As it soared upwards, the resultant turbulence hit Arthur full on and sent him tumbling head over tail in a wild spin that left him disoriented and dizzy. Watching the performance in the sky, the MacArthur shouted triumphantly and ran towards the transporter. “Get the ramp down, Ranger, and be ready for him!”

  “You mean he’ll come back?” asked Sir James.

  “The daft beast! Of course he’ll come back! All he’s ever met in the sky before are golden eagles. That plane has probably scared the wits oot o’ him.” The MacArthur grabbed Neil’s torch and started to wave it wildly. “Come here, Arthur,” he roared in a mighty voice. “Come here, ye great daft thing!”

  “There he is,” shouted the Ranger. “He’s coming in low.”

  The plane’s surge of power and dreadful roar had reduced Arthur to a shivering bag of nerves. Now totally petrified, he headed like an arrow for home. The MacArthurs saw him coming and scattered for their lives as he came in low, hit the ground at speed and ended up in a tangle of legs and wings, not far from the transporter.

  From his perch, high up on the crags, Amgarad looked on with interest and some sympathy. These new monsters of the skies seemed beyond even the power of dragons! And only a few yards from Sir James, Dougal MacLeod also watched the proceedings with interest. In the general excitement, he had managed to free himself and revenge burned deep within him as he watched everyone dashing towards the dragon.

  “Get Arthur over here, quickly!” Sir James shouted anxiously. “There’s bound to be trouble!”

  “Trouble?” Neil asked.

  “The police, Neil! They’re bound to have contacted them. They’ll be here any minute, I should imagine. Look, you and Clara had better get into the cab of the transporter. Once we get Arthur inside, we won’t be hanging around!”

  Arthur, still in a state of shock and frantically trying to hide his head under his wings, was refusing to move. The MacArthur went over to him and gave him a great buffet with his arm.

  “Come on, Arthur! Get moving! Up the ramp with you! Remember, you’re on your way to see your Nessie and we’re all coming with you,” he said determinedly.

  Arthur opened a wonderful eye that was quite unlike any other eye that Sir James had ever seen. It blinked resignedly as he heaved himself grudgingly to his feet and obediently clawed his way up the ramp into the gaping maw of the transporter.

  “In with you all!” screamed the MacArthur. In an instant the MacArthurs ran to the flock of sheep being held beside the transporter and, to Sir James’s amazement, seemed to dissolve into them. Watching from behind the rocks, Dougal MacLeod, too, watched with incredulous eyes. The MacArthurs seemed to have melted into the sheep, who now seemed to be sheep with a mission! As one, the flock moved purposefully towards the transporter and, in minutes, had pushed and scrambled its way up the ramp to join Arthur.

  When the last sheep was bundled in, Sir James and the MacArthur hastily raised the ramp and fastened the metal pegs that held the back doors in place before running to the front of the enormous vehicle and climbing hurriedly into the cab. The Ranger started the engine and, with a clashing of gears, the huge transporter lurched forward. Slowly and carefully it moved down the slope and set off for the distant shores of Loch Ness.

  13. Firestones

  Dougal MacLeod, however, didn’t wait to see it leave and didn’t care where it was going. Whilst everyone’s attention had been concentrated on the dragon, his mind pictured an empty cave and unguarded treasure. Indeed, the memory of the wonderful jewels in Arthur’s cave had haunted him ever since he had first seen them. Now that the dragon had left the hill, and most of the MacArthurs with him, it seemed an ideal opportunity to return to the cave to take one more look at the fabulous stones.

  Although he told himself that he merely wanted to see them again, Dougal knew in his heart that he really meant to take them. In truth, he was powerless to think otherwise since the fault lay in the stones themselves, for they were magic stones and it was their power that drew Dougal helplessly to them.

  He was careful to enter the hill from the entrance that he had discovered on the lower slopes and it didn’t take him long to reach the entrance to Arthur’s cave. He shone a torch round its high walls and then, confident that he was alone, illuminated the treasure itself. Lying as Arthur had left it, it lay strewn untidily across the floor of the cave in scattered heaps that glittered and sparkled in the torchlight.

  The fiery amber stones drew Dougal like a magnet. Uncaringly, he scrunched and slipped over gold and priceless jewels to reach the pieces that held the stones. Kneeling on top of a mound of treasure, his eyes shone as he held up a delicate belt of gold filigree studded with stones the size of sovereigns, a fabulous ring and a most beautiful necklace, all of which glowed with the mysterious and irresistible amber fire.

  Something made him look into the darkness and conscious that he had been in the cave for some time, he hurriedly tied the wonderful jewels in his handkerchief and made to leave. He shivered. The darkness that surrounded him had become strangely oppressive and, although it might have been his imagination, he thought that he heard a slight sound.

  Flashing his torch for reassurance, the beam instead revealed the terrible sight of Amgarad swooping towards him, eyes blazing, wings wide and talons outstretched. Dougal froze in horror, but only for a second. Instinctively, he threw the heavy torch at Amgarad. It was, as it happened, a lucky throw. The torch hit Amgarad on the side of his
head and knocked him to the ground in a swirling heap of feathers. Dougal didn’t wait. Feeling for the handkerchief, he picked up the bundle of jewels, stuffed them into his pocket and took off into the blackness. In his panic, however, he missed the entrance to the tunnel and ran straight into the wall of the cave.

  The pain of the collision brought him to his senses and, cowering against the wall, he took stock of a situation that suddenly seemed full of unknown horrors. Where had that dreadful bird come from and were there any others perched in the cave, ready to strike? Looking back, he saw Amgarad’s body lying in the torchlight, but nothing else moved. Still shaking with shock he crept towards the still, monstrous body of the bird and, grabbing his torch, shone it frantically round until its beam revealed the black entrance to the tunnel. All he could think of was escape, and making for the tunnel, he stumbled like a madman up its steep incline until, panting with exhaustion, he saw the starry glimmer of the night sky and knew he was safe.

  He stepped out onto the hill, then stopped abruptly and gazed around in amazement. The park resembled a disaster zone. There were policemen everywhere! Helicopters flew overhead and police cars, lights flashing and sirens wailing, sped round the network of roads that lace the park.

  “Good grief!” he muttered. “What on earth!” Then it clicked. The dragon! They were looking for Arthur!

  Looking like a tramp after his ordeal and conscious of the bundle of jewels in his pocket, Dougal did not think it wise to move into the open. Instead, he hid inside the tunnel, wondering what on earth he was going to do. Two police cars, blue lights flashing, were parked nearby and it was obvious that anyone found loitering on the hill at this hour would be taken to the nearest police station for questioning. Dougal groaned and cursed the dragon.

  He remained crouched inside the tunnel for the best part of the night and although the policemen came worryingly close, the entrance to the tunnel was well hidden. It was almost dawn before the two police cars moved off to circle the park.

  It was this factor, plus some worrying noises from the inside of the tunnel, that tempted Dougal to move out onto the hill. It certainly saved him from another encounter with Amgarad who, having recovered from the stunning blow, had been creeping stealthily towards him. Although still dazed, Amgarad was determined to fight to get the firestones back.

  He was a minute too late, however, as a frightened Dougal, hearing him approach, slipped quietly out onto the hill. Amgarad, seeing his quarry escape, frantically flapped to the entrance but had to watch in helpless fury as Dougal made his way towards the shelter of a rocky outcrop. It was not only Amgarad, however, who saw the creeping figure. A burly policeman, stationed on the slopes above, also saw Dougal moving towards the rocks. Reacting swiftly, he leapt down the incline and threw his arms around the shadowy figure.

  “Got you, my lad!” he said. His arms, however, clasped empty air and although the policeman could have sworn that he had actually grabbed someone, his senses told him otherwise. The person had disappeared! He looked round and could see no one.

  Dougal, too, could not understand what had happened to him. He had felt the policeman’s arms grip him and had heard his voice … and then nothing! He was standing on his own by the rock. He looked around but, to his astonishment, the policeman seemed to have disappeared! His relief, however, was short-lived for, as he peered into the darkness, two other policemen ran up.

  “What’s up, Ian? Did you get him?”

  “I … I could have sworn I saw someone but … it must have been the rocks casting a shadow.” The policeman peered around. “There’s no one here! Sorry, chaps.”

  It was at that particular moment that Dougal freaked! The two policemen seemed to be talking to him and he could see them quite plainly but it was also obvious that they could not see him! He walked back up the slope and, to his horror, the legs that moved were not his own! It was then that he remembered that the MacArthurs had merged into the flock of sheep before climbing into the transporter. Had he somehow merged with the policeman? The thought terrified him! But how had it happened? He kept very still and looked out of the policeman’s eyes at the darkness of the hill. He wondered if the policeman could read his thoughts and if he knew that he, Dougal MacLeod, was sharing his body.

  “This is awful!” thought Dougal wildly. “What if I can’t get out again!”

  The policeman, however, seemed unaware of anything amiss and as he calmly continued to patrol the hillside, Dougal gradually relaxed at the very ordinariness of the occupation.

  “I wonder,” he thought, “if I can use him to get me out of this mess. The High Street isn’t far. If only I could get through the cordon!” Dougal concentrated his mind on leaving the hill and, to his relief, the policeman started to make his way down the slope towards the road.

  No one but Amgarad seemed to notice that the policeman had left the hill and was walking towards the police cars, fire engines and ambulances that sealed off the park from the public. Still dizzy, Amgarad shook his head, stretched his wings and flew unnoticed to the houses at the foot of the High Street, determined to follow the firestones to their destination.

  Dougal, feeling much more confident, strode through the barrier knowing that no one would stop him. Once through the cordon, however, he guided the policeman’s steps to a narrow passageway at the foot of the High Street.

  “Now,” he thought, “now I have to try to escape!”

  He gathered himself and his mind together and stepped out of the policeman’s body. He had succeeded! He felt faint with relief as he looked down and saw his own dusty trousers and scuffed shoes. He held his breath and stood very still as the policeman gave himself a slight shake, looked alertly up and down the High Street and then, realizing that he was supposed to be part of the action round the barricade, moved back towards the police cordon.

  The relief was enormous! Dougal felt washed out and exhausted but, as he moved out into the High Street and turned his feet for home, he remembered the fabulous jewels that he carried. As he slipped his hand into his pocket to feel their reassuring bulk, a sense of triumph and power surged through him.

  He would not, however, have felt quite so happy had he known that Amgarad, watching from the rooftops, was following him home.

  14. The Loch Ness Monster

  As Dougal MacLeod strode the streets of Edinburgh, Neil and Clara climbed down from the cab of the transporter, stretched their cramped legs and looked over the blue waters of Loch Ness.

  “Here at last,” laughed Clara delightedly, as she breathed in the wet smell of the loch that gleamed before them in the morning sun. Little ripples splashed on a narrow bank of pebbles where tree branches hung limply over the water.

  “What do you think then, MacArthur?” queried Sir James. “The bank here is a bit steep but if we drive much further on we’ll find ourselves too exposed for comfort. And we are on a bend, as you asked.”

  “Aye. The place is fine.” The MacArthur scanned the road in both directions and saw that it was clear. “Let’s get the sheep out of the back of the transporter while the going’s good.” They moved to the back of the vehicle where the Ranger was already unfastening the pegs and preparing to let down the ramp.

  “I hate to dash your hopes,” said Sir James looking keenly over the loch, “but there isn’t any sign of Nessie.”

  “Have patience, Sir James. She’ll be out there somewhere, never fear. Just let’s get things organized here first. We don’t want any passing motorist to see Arthur, do we?”

  “No, no, certainly not.”

  “I told the Ranger to park on the bend so that I could put the sheep on either side of the transporter. If any motorists do come along then we can easily hold the traffic up while Arthur gets out.”

  Sir James laughed. “A brilliant idea!” he announced. “Let’s get started.”

  As the ramp was lowered, the sheep streamed out purposefully in both directions and proceeded to mill about aimlessly in the middle of the road. Sir J
ames regarded them with approval. Certainly, with them in place, no car coming from either direction would be able to see what was going on by the side of the loch.

  The transporter, now empty of sheep, revealed Arthur in all his glory. He was a magnificent dragon, red scales glistened over his sinuous body, his head was fearsome and horned and his fleshy wings were webbed in glittering gold. Archie was the only MacArthur left inside and was in a dreadful state, clutching an edge of Arthur’s wing in one hand and scrubbing tears out of his eyes with the other.

  “Arthur! Arthur! How can I leave you?” He started to cry bitterly and for a moment the dragon lowered his great head and rubbed his cheek on Archie’s tattered sheepskin jacket, to give him comfort.

  “Come on then, Arthur. It’s time to go,” Archie sobbed. They left the transporter together and, as Arthur clawed his ungainly way across the grey tarmac road to the edge of the loch, a small, slim woman ran down the hillside towards them.

  “Father!” she called. “Father! I’m here!”

  “Ellan!”

  She slipped gracefully through the bushes and ran to hug her father. It showed in every line of his face that the MacArthur thought the world of his daughter and he proudly introduced her to Sir James and the Ranger. Clara and Neil came up from the shores of the loch and took an instant liking to the beautiful, fair-haired young woman, who seemed to glow with youth and laughter.

  “Well,” she said to her father, “I see you’ve brought Arthur to Loch Ness as you promised.”

  “I have,” he said, albeit a trifle defensively.

  She regarded him steadily and shrugged slightly. “What’s done, is done. Let’s hope that no trouble comes from it.”