Firestar (7 page)

Despite the bad weather that continued to plague Scotland, Glenmorven was bathed in sunshine when the children woke the next morning and by the time they made their way lazily downstairs for breakfast, Shona’s father had already left for work in Aberdeen.

“It’s a lovely day,” Helen Ferguson said as they sat round the breakfast table by the big window in the kitchen. She picked up a huge jug and poured glasses of orange juice for them as they tucked into scrambled eggs on toast. “Why don’t you make the most of it and have a picnic on Morven?”

“Sounds great,” Lewis said. Neil and Clara
nodded
enthusiastically. They were wearing their firestones under their T-shirts and couldn’t wait to see what the mountain had to offer.

“Right, that’s settled then. I’ll make you some sandwiches and you can take apples and bananas from the fruit bowl.” She smiled. “I was going to say that it’s a bit of a stiff climb but Lewis tells us that you grew up climbing Arthur’s Seat so I won’t have to give you any advice!”

They left the house and made their way across the road to the rough grassland and the plank bridge that spanned the rushing stream that threaded the foot of the glen.

“The burn’s really full, isn’t it?” Lewis remarked as they stopped to watch the powerful swirl of brown water as it passed beneath them. “You
must have had lots of rain?”

“Heaps,” answered Shona, “which is strange, really, for we usually miss out on storms and stuff. My friend Jennifer lives in the next glen and she’s always complaining that we seem to have the best of the weather.” She looked up at the steep slopes that swept before them. “Mind you, Morven does seem to attract electrical storms from time to time. There was a terrific one a couple of weeks back. It’s a pity you missed it for it really was
spectacular
. There were flashes of lightning on top of the mountain and the thunder was deafening. Hughie says that it’s the Gods of the Mountain having a firework display!”

“The Gods of the Mountain?” Neil turned his head sharply to look at her.

“That’s what he says,” she answered, slightly surprised at his reaction. “There aren’t any really, of course.”

They had their picnic on a grassy bank on the slopes of Morven. It had been a tough climb as Shona’s mother had said and slipping off their backpacks, they relaxed gratefully. The view in front of them was certainly spectacular. Shona pointed out the mountains that lay round them. “Over there,” she ended, “just beyond that ridge, is Glen Garchory and Peter’s Hill.”

“Glen Garchory? That’s where Jenni lives, isn’t it?” remarked Lewis, shading his eyes with his hand as he peered across the glen. “We visited her the last time I was here,” he said, turning to Neil and Clara. “She goes to the same school as we do but she’s a year below us.”

“We could go and visit her tomorrow if the weather’s good,” Shona offered, looking round enquiringly. “What do you think?”

“Sounds great,” nodded Neil.

“It’s a bit of a walk but I told her you were
coming
and she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Hungry after the long climb, they unpacked the food and had spread it out on the grass when Neil noticed movement on the slopes below.

“Don’t look round,” he said suddenly, “but I think we’re going to have visitors.”

“Where?” Shona asked, startled. “Who?”

“I can see some men down there climbing up towards us. They look as though they might be the Americans your mum is so anxious to meet!”

“Let’s pretend we haven’t seen them,” Shona said swiftly. “I hope they’re not going to bother us.”

By the time the Americans arrived, the four children were sprawled out on the grass, drinking orange juice and munching on sandwiches. They looked up, however, as the men sauntered over and although their manner was casual and they were smiling pleasantly, they towered over them
somewhat
menacingly.

“Hi, there!” said one, who seemed to be their leader.

“Hullo,” Shona answered, getting to her feet.

“May I ask who you are, li’l lady?” he drawled. The accent was distinctly American.

Shona’s hackles went up. “I might ask you the same thing,” she said brusquely. After all, she thought, it was really none of his business who they were.

“Sure,” the American said. “My name’s Shane and these are some of my buddies.” He gestured towards them and they held their hands up in greeting. They seemed friendly enough but Lewis noticed that their smiles didn’t reach their eyes.

“Actually,” Shona confessed, “I know who you are.”

“You do, do you?” The man spoke with a definite drawl.

“Mmmm,” nodded Shona, “you must be some of the Americans that have rented Lord Robertson’s castle.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Shona Ferguson and these are my friends; Neil, Clara and Lewis. I live down there in the glen. We’ve seen you passing it in your 4x4.”

Although Shane shook her hand, his expression changed to a frown. “You’re right, Miss Ferguson,” he said, “we do live at the castle. But we haven’t only rented the castle, you know, we’ve rented the entire estate. This mountain,” he gestured vaguely, “is part of it. I’m afraid you’re trespassing and I must ask you to leave.”

“Leave?” Shona looked taken aback. “I most certainly will not. I’ve spent my life climbing this mountain.”

Shane’s expression didn’t change and neither did his tone of voice. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but the mountain is private property, Miss. I don’t particularly want to spoil your picnic but once you’ve finished eating, you’ll have to go.”

Neil had vaguely heard that in Scotland there was no law of trespass. “You can’t make us leave, I’m afraid,” he said, moving to stand beside Shona,
his voice sounding a lot more confident than he felt, “there’s no such thing as trespass under Scottish Law.”

Good for you, thought Lewis, hiding a grin at the sudden look of indecision that crossed the American’s face.

“Besides which,” Shona said, her face pink with annoyance, “Lord Robertson is my godfather and I don’t think he’d like me to be chucked off Morven. He knows how much I love it.” She glared at Shane mutinously.

“We’re only having a picnic,” Neil said
reasonably
, turning round and gesturing towards the juice and fruit on the grass. “We’re,” he choked suddenly and cleared his throat, “… we’re not doing any damage or anything.” He tried to make his voice casual and, with an effort, kept his eyes firmly fixed on Shane’s face, for while they’d been talking, two goat-like little creatures in baggy
trousers
and short waistcoats had wandered casually onto the grassy slope and were standing nearby, watching them interestedly. Lewis saw them, too, and nudged Clara gently. She looked up and such was her surprise that she gasped audibly.

The men standing beside Shane, however, were not as idle as their casual pose suggested. They saw her face change and immediately followed her gaze. Apart from a few stunted bushes, there was nothing there that they could see but they
instinctively
moved forward. The hobgoblins, for their part, froze in horror as they realized that all eyes seemed to be trained on them. Then, as their
tendrils
flared in a sudden frenzy of movement, they
grabbed at one another with tiny hands, took two steps backwards, turned and fled on little hooves.

“What were you looking at?” Shane asked, his voice harsh.

Pretending to be frightened, Clara shook her head in alarm. “I … I thought I saw a snake,” she whispered fearfully. Shane looked totally
unimpressed
, as well he might, so Clara did the only thing she could think off.

Everyone but Neil watched in consternation as she gave a quivering, heart-wrenching sob. Her blue eyes filled with huge tears and, as she fished in her pocket for a tissue, they spilled, unchecked, down her cheeks.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Lewis said angrily to the Americans as Shona, full of
genuine
concern, put her arm protectively round Clara. “You’ve spoiled our day and anyway … we’ve almost finished our picnic. We’ll be going home soon.” Besides which, he thought, an ugly, sharp wind with a cutting edge to it had blown up and black clouds were gathering over the
distant
peaks. It looked as though they’d be lucky to get back home without being soaked to the skin.

Clara’s tears, however, did not deflect the Americans from their purpose. As though
responding
to a signal, they fanned out casually and made an unobtrusive, but thorough, search of the grassy slope — especially the part that had attracted Clara’s attention. In fact, they wandered round for some time until Lewis muttered that he thought they’d better make themselves scarce.

“What on earth are they up to?” Shona said,
stuffing
uneaten apples into her backpack. “Honestly, how dare they! Wait until I tell my dad! He’ll be furious!”

“Are you all right, Clara?” Lewis looked worried as Clara scrubbed at her eyes with a tissue and continued to sob intermittently. “They’ve moved off now but I think they’re still keeping an eye on us.”

“She’s fine,” Neil grinned. “Clara’s the only
person
I know that can cry to order — and, I must say, it has its uses!”

Clara winked at Lewis as she slipped her
backpack
over her shoulders and, much to his
amusement
, sniffed miserably as they started down the slope.

“You can give over now, Clara,” Neil said when they were finally out of earshot, “they can’t hear you any more!”

Lewis looked grim. “That was what you might call a strange encounter,” he said meaningfully.

“Very strange,” agreed Neil, careful not to say more although his mind was full of what he’d just seen.
What on earth were those strange little
creatures
and
where had they come from?

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Shona
muttered
. “It was really strange the way they searched everywhere as though they were looking for
something
.” She looked at Clara. “Did you really see a snake, Clara?”

Clara sniffed and dabbed at her nose with a tissue to give herself time to think. She couldn’t tell Shona she’d seen some kind of faery but she
knew she had to say something. “I saw something move,” she admitted, “and I thought it might be a snake but there wasn’t anything there — it was probably just the wind in the grass.”

Prince Casimir pressed his lips together and hung on grimly to his temper. He’d never felt more like shaking Lord Alarid in his life. What, in
heaven
’s name, was wrong with him? He’d readily agreed to go to Morven when the MacArthur had passed on the gist of Sir James’s worries, thinking that Alarid would take immediate action against the Cri’achan. The attack on Firestar, however, seemed to have done little more than paralyze his thought processes for try as he might, he was
getting
nowhere fast.

“The Cri’achan, Lord Alarid,” he said again, emphasizing the importance of his words, “must be stopped while they’re still weak.”

Lord Alarid shook his head. “Let’s wait and see what happens, Casimir,” he replied, somewhat irritably. “If the giants are as weak as you say then nothing will come of them. They are far from Morven and this strange attack has upset
everything
.”

“The MacArthur is seriously worried about them, milord …”

Lord Alarid waved his hand. “The MacArthur might be worried, Casimir, but he is far away in Edinburgh. You are here in Morven and can surely feel that Firestar itself isn’t the slightest bit
concerned
.” He looked at him shrewdly. “You must feel within yourself that Firestar is aware of what happened and is ready to fight back should there
be another attack?” Prince Casimir nodded. The overall sense of well-being that emanated from Firestar gave him confidence, but a niggling doubt persisted that the unknown force might also have upgraded the weapons in its armoury. As far as he was concerned, there was still a chance that Firestar could be seriously damaged.

“If there is another attack then Firestar will, I’m sure, be able to counter it,” Alarid looked at him confidently. “Forget about the giants,” he said. “I assure you, they pose no danger to us at all.”

Feeling totally frustrated, Prince Casimir bowed low and was about to withdraw when Lord Alarid remembered the hobgoblins.

“By the way, you’d better see Rumbletop,” he continued. “Some of the hobgoblins were
spotted
on the hill by those Americans. They’re quite upset about it.”

“Seen?” repeated Casimir, startled. “How …”

But by then, Lord Alarid had closed his eyes and with a snort of exasperation, Casimir went
downstairs
to the machine and found Rumbletop.

“What’s been going on, Rumbletop?” he demanded. “Lord Alarid said that some of you were seen on the hill?”

Rumbletop tutted as his tendrils started to grow. “They didn’t mean any harm, Prince Casimir,” he apologized. “Rumbletumble says they were on their way down to the glen.”

“Down to the glen?” queried Casimir. “What on earth for?”

“To see Hughie, milord. He gives them biscuits and honey cakes.”

Rumbletop looked relieved as Casimir hid a smile. “Does he now? Hmmm, always was a nice chap, Hughie.” He looked at the little hobgoblin through eyes that were unexpectedly kind. “But that doesn’t explain how they were seen.”

“Shona has friends staying with her. Two boys and a girl. Rumbletumble said it was quite obvious that they could see them.”

“Did he hear their names, by any chance?”

“Yes, he did. They’re called Neil, Clara and …” He stopped as Casimir held up his hand.

“Neil, Clara … and Lewis,” finished Prince Casimir with an exasperated sigh. “I might have known!”

Rumbletop looked amazed. “You know them, milord?” he asked.

“You
could
say that,” Casimir agreed, a smile hovering about his lips. “So Neil, Clara and Lewis are here in the glen, are they? How interesting! You don’t need to worry about them, Rumbletop. They are known to us. They’d be wearing their firestones. That’s how they would be able to see Rumbletumble and his friend.”

Rumbletop looked gobsmacked. “Firestones,” he repeated, startled, “but they’re human children, surely?”

Casimir nodded. “May I ask what happened between them and the Americans? Just as a
matter
of interest.”

“They were telling them to get off the mountain, milord. Shona was cross.”

“I’m sure she was,” Casimir said, smiling at the thought. All the Lords of the North took an
interest
in the families in the glen and over the years had watched Shona grow up from a toddler to a leggy teenager whose favourite pastime was
climbing
and scrambling over the slopes of Morven. “And the other three?”

“The girl cried.”

At this, Casimir raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Cried?” he queried. “That doesn’t sound like the Clara I know.”

“The Americans knew she’d seen something. They searched everywhere. She didn’t mention us, though. She told them she’d seen a snake, but … well, I don’t think they believed her.”

Mr Ferguson, when he heard Shona’s story of how they’d been more or less ordered off the mountain, didn’t believe Clara’s story either. Not that it
worried
him but somehow she didn’t seem the kind of girl who would make up stories about snakes. He turned to Shona. “I hope you weren’t rude to them, Shona?”

Shona blushed. “I wasn’t rude exactly,” she
confessed
, “but I was really mad. You know how I love Morven.”

Her father sighed. “I think I’d better phone the castle and make an appointment to see these Americans,” he said, “and you four can come along and apologize at the same time.”

“Apologize!” Shona looked startled. “What for? We didn’t know we were doing anything wrong!”

“They’re our neighbours, Shona,” her father said in a voice that brooked no defiance, “and I don’t want there to be any bad feeling between us.”

“But there’s no law against trespassing … Neil said …”

“Neil’s probably quite right about the law of trespass, Shona, but we have to respect our
neighbours
’ wishes. I think you should stay off the mountain until Jamie Robertson comes back from Canada.”

Shona looked totally horrified. “Stay off Morven!” she repeated. “But … Uncle Jamie’s going to be away for months and months.”

“I know it’s hard, Shona,” her mother said
comfortingly
, “but it’s not our land, you know. Jamie’s just been kind in letting everyone use it.”

“Look at it from the Americans’ point of view, Shona,” her father pointed out. “They’ve paid a lot of money to rent the estate and they want it to themselves.”

Tears gathered in Shona’s eyes. “I know you’re right, Dad,” she admitted, “but the rest of the year is going to be perfectly foul. And what am I going to do in the summer hols? I spend most of my time on Morven. You know I do!”

“Let your father talk to the Americans first,” her mother suggested. “Once we explain the
situation
and tell them you love the mountain and wouldn’t dream of causing any damage then I’m sure they’ll change their minds.”

But, as it happened, the Americans didn’t change their minds. Ian Ferguson looked more than a
little
annoyed as he put the telephone receiver down and glanced across at his wife.

“They don’t seem a very friendly lot, do they?” Helen said, having heard his side of the conversation.

“No, they don’t,” he admitted. “I spoke to this Shane character that Shona told us about and he was really quite adamant. He didn’t want me to visit the castle to talk the matter over, nor did he want the children to come and apologize and as for giving Shona permission to climb the mountain when she pleased … no way!”

“We’ve been so used to having Jamie around,” his wife frowned, “that we’ve taken his
kindness
for granted. Shona said that the glen had changed and she’s right. It’s not a friendly place any more.”

“I think I’ll nip over and have a word with Hughie,” her husband mused thoughtfully. “He takes a few salmon from the river and the odd stag now and then. I wouldn’t like that lot to catch him at it.”

“It’s hardly likely is it?” Helen frowned.

“You never know,” Ian replied, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, “but I’d better warn him that they’re not exactly an obliging lot. Say goodnight to the kids for me, will you. I might be late! You know Hughie; once he starts talking, he can go on for hours!”

Although Hughie didn’t talk for hours, he
nevertheless
had a lot to say and as he listened, Ian Ferguson’s face grew more and more puzzled.

“They’re a weird lot, Ian,” Hughie said grimly, his weather-beaten face anxious. “I don’t know what they’re here for but whatever it is it’s
something
to do with Morven.”

Ian Ferguson ran a hand through his greying hair. “They’ve been at it ever since they arrived;
taking rock samples, going over it with a Geiger counter … the lot. They chucked Shona and her friends off it this afternoon,” Ian remarked. “Told her she was trespassing. I phoned them, thinking that when they knew we were local it would be all right for her to climb on it when she pleased — but they weren’t having it. They made it quite clear that they don’t want anybody on the mountain at all.”

Hughie frowned. “Shona’s never off the
mountain
in the summer.”

“Well, it looks as though this summer’s going to be different. I don’t want the Americans
complaining
to Jamie Robertson about us. That’s why I came over, Hughie. To warn you to be careful. Taking a wee stag and a salmon now and then, might well land you in hot water.”

Hughie looked thoughtful. “Jamie Robertson always knew fine what I was at,” he said,
looking
Ian straight in the eye. “He never minded me taking a salmon for my tea and the only stags I ever shot were auld beasts that would never have lasted the winter — he agreed that it was better for them to be shot cleanly than die, freezing, in a snowdrift.”

Ian Ferguson nodded. “I guessed as much,” he grinned. “I really came over to sound you out about the Americans. They seem a weird lot. In fact, there’s something totally fishy about the whole set-up at the castle. I just can’t figure out what it is, though.”

“There’s always the secret passage that runs from your house to the castle …” Hughie reminded him.

Ian looked doubtful. “You mean we should spy on them?”

“Well …?”

“I don’t know … perhaps we should wait for a bit. I mean, they might be perfectly innocent … and there’s Jamie Robertson to consider, too. I’d never be able to look him in the eye again if he ever found out that we’d been spying on his tenants.”

Such considerations, however, weren’t worrying Shona, for even as her father was discussing the secret passage with Hughie, she was rolling back the fitted carpet in her old playroom. Set flat within one of the flagstones was a heavy round ring.

“Here let me help you,” Lewis said as she grasped the ring and hefted the stone upwards. It must have been on some kind of spring for as it rose, it tilted sideways so that it rested against the wall.

“There it is,” she said proudly, pointing
downwards
, “our very own secret passage. It goes all the way to Morven Castle!”

Neil and Clara looked excitedly at the square, black hole that had opened up in the floor.

“How deep is it?” Neil asked, kneeling down to peer into it.

“About six or seven feet,” she said shining a torch into its depths, “but Dad put a big, wooden box there so that we can jump down onto it first.”

“It smells a bit musty, doesn’t it?” Clara said, sniffing the air.

“Mmm. We don’t use it all that much. Mostly in the winter when we get snowed in and the drifts
are too deep to use the road. Uncle Jamie always invites us for Christmas dinner at the castle and once, when I was small, we took our presents through it with Dad dressed up as Santa Claus. I’ll never forget it,” she laughed, “it was so exciting!”

“Where does it come out?” Neil asked.

“In the Great Hall of the castle,” Lewis said. “Shona took me through it the last time I was here. Of course, she asked Lord Robertson first if we could come and he didn’t mind.”

“He had tea and cakes ready for us when we reached the hidden door in the panelling and climbed out,” Shona grinned. She looked at her watch. “It’s a bit late to take you along the passage just now but we could go down tomorrow after
dinner
. We’ve got Jennifer to visit in the morning and her mum promised us lunch.”

“Sounds like a busy day,” Clara smiled.

“Yeah,” agreed Neil, his mind still on the secret passage, “and with any luck we might find out what Shane and his lot are up to! I’m just dying to find out!”

It was late when Ian Ferguson left Hughie’s cottage and made his way along the dark road towards the shafts of light that streamed from the windows of his house.

Hughie watched him go and sighed. Many years ago, he had made a promise to the Lords of the North that was proving difficult to keep; for while exploring the mountain as a youngster, he had found his way inside.

It was like a dream now, he thought, as he
visualized the blue and silver halls of the Lords of the North. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the
little
hobgoblins slipping shyly round his door of an afternoon craving biscuits, honey or a piece of cake, he would long ago have decided it was just a childhood fantasy.

Nevertheless, a worried frown creased his
forehead
as he tidied his kitchen and, like Ian Ferguson, wondered what on earth the Americans were up to in Glenmorven.