Highlands, there would be panic everywhere!â There was a nodding ofheads. âAnd can you imagine the media?â he added. âTheyâd milk a story like that for all it was worth!â
âWhat was the name you gave them, again? The stone giants, I mean?â asked Sir James.
âThe stone giants?â Malcolm repeated. âIn the Highlands, we call them the Criâachan.â
9. Magic Circles
In a cavern, deep inside Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh, the MacArthur sat worriedly on his ornately carved throne. Archie, Jaikie and Hamish sat around him on divans while Arthur, their dragon, lay half-asleep beside them, his head resting on a cushion. The MacArthur stretched wearily, drawing his fur-lined cloak around him. Its deep red velvet was worn in places but it was comfortable and kept off the chill. Most of the day had been spent discussing the problem of Firestar and his mind was still going round in endless circles as he pondered the dangers of another attack.
Looking up as Arthur lifted his great head and exhaled a long breath of fire and smoke, the MacArthur straightened and rose to his feet. A magic carpet had just sailed into the Great Hall and he raised his eyebrows as he saw that it carried Sir James.
“Give over, Arthur,” Archie said excitedly as he sprang to his feet, waving away the clouds of smoke, “you don’t want to choke our visitor, do you?”
Sir James smiled as he looked round the Great Hall, his eyes taking in the huge, red dragon and a few clustered groups of MacArthurs who stared up at him as he swooped by. It was a comfortingly familiar sight and as breathtakingly magnificent as ever. He smiled at Hamish and Jaikie as they helped him off the carpet and walked over to theraised dais that held the MacArthur’s throne. Eyeing him shrewdly as he bowed low, he wondered what had happened to put the MacArthur out of temper. Or perhaps he’s been ill, he thought, for gleaming under the fur of his robe he glimpsed a heavy necklace of firestones; powerful, magic stones which protect their wearer from harm. So, he noticed were Archie, Hamish and Jaikie. Something must have happened, he decided, for despite their many hair-raising adventures, he had never seen the MacArthur look quite so drawn and haggard.
Hamish and Jaikie pulled up a divan for him and once Arthur had settled his great bulk comfortably , with Archie sitting cross-legged beside him, Sir James poured out his tale about the Cri’achan.
“The rest of the committee laughed it off,” he explained. “They just didn’t believe the crofter’s story. But I did. I remember Neil and Clara telling me how they were chased by the Old Man of the Mountains when they were on their way to Inveraray last year — and he was a stone giant, wasn’t he? Must have been, for Clara saw him.”
The MacArthur listened to Sir James carefully. “We heard that the Cri’achan are walking the mountains again,” he said worriedly, “but from what you say, it sounds as though they’re still very weak. They can grow a lot taller than a house, you know. But you’ve got one thing wrong, James; the stone giants aren’t causing the landslides, they
are
the landslides!”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you. The giants must still be weak. Theyhave the strength to rise from the slopes of the mountains but from what you say, they can’t walk far before they collapse — and that’s your landslide .”
Sir James turned white for, unlike them, he had all the facts and figures at his fingertips. “But if that’s true,” he said slowly, “they must have intelligence of a sort. Look here,” he pointed at his map, “and here and here; all the landslides are in strategic positions that close the glens to traffic. They’ve covered roads, bridges and railway lines and they’re moving steadily eastwards. No one’s been hurt yet but …”
“No one will be hurt, Sir James,” the MacArthur assured him, “the stone giants
âWhat was the name you gave them, again? The stone giants, I mean?â asked Sir James.
âThe stone giants?â Malcolm repeated. âIn the Highlands, we call them the Criâachan.â
9. Magic Circles
In a cavern, deep inside Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh, the MacArthur sat worriedly on his ornately carved throne. Archie, Jaikie and Hamish sat around him on divans while Arthur, their dragon, lay half-asleep beside them, his head resting on a cushion. The MacArthur stretched wearily, drawing his fur-lined cloak around him. Its deep red velvet was worn in places but it was comfortable and kept off the chill. Most of the day had been spent discussing the problem of Firestar and his mind was still going round in endless circles as he pondered the dangers of another attack.
Looking up as Arthur lifted his great head and exhaled a long breath of fire and smoke, the MacArthur straightened and rose to his feet. A magic carpet had just sailed into the Great Hall and he raised his eyebrows as he saw that it carried Sir James.
“Give over, Arthur,” Archie said excitedly as he sprang to his feet, waving away the clouds of smoke, “you don’t want to choke our visitor, do you?”
Sir James smiled as he looked round the Great Hall, his eyes taking in the huge, red dragon and a few clustered groups of MacArthurs who stared up at him as he swooped by. It was a comfortingly familiar sight and as breathtakingly magnificent as ever. He smiled at Hamish and Jaikie as they helped him off the carpet and walked over to theraised dais that held the MacArthur’s throne. Eyeing him shrewdly as he bowed low, he wondered what had happened to put the MacArthur out of temper. Or perhaps he’s been ill, he thought, for gleaming under the fur of his robe he glimpsed a heavy necklace of firestones; powerful, magic stones which protect their wearer from harm. So, he noticed were Archie, Hamish and Jaikie. Something must have happened, he decided, for despite their many hair-raising adventures, he had never seen the MacArthur look quite so drawn and haggard.
Hamish and Jaikie pulled up a divan for him and once Arthur had settled his great bulk comfortably , with Archie sitting cross-legged beside him, Sir James poured out his tale about the Cri’achan.
“The rest of the committee laughed it off,” he explained. “They just didn’t believe the crofter’s story. But I did. I remember Neil and Clara telling me how they were chased by the Old Man of the Mountains when they were on their way to Inveraray last year — and he was a stone giant, wasn’t he? Must have been, for Clara saw him.”
The MacArthur listened to Sir James carefully. “We heard that the Cri’achan are walking the mountains again,” he said worriedly, “but from what you say, it sounds as though they’re still very weak. They can grow a lot taller than a house, you know. But you’ve got one thing wrong, James; the stone giants aren’t causing the landslides, they
are
the landslides!”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you. The giants must still be weak. Theyhave the strength to rise from the slopes of the mountains but from what you say, they can’t walk far before they collapse — and that’s your landslide .”
Sir James turned white for, unlike them, he had all the facts and figures at his fingertips. “But if that’s true,” he said slowly, “they must have intelligence of a sort. Look here,” he pointed at his map, “and here and here; all the landslides are in strategic positions that close the glens to traffic. They’ve covered roads, bridges and railway lines and they’re moving steadily eastwards. No one’s been hurt yet but …”
“No one will be hurt, Sir James,” the MacArthur assured him, “the stone giants
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