97 Ways to Train a Dragon (6 page)

But Worm only frowned and nodded in imitation.

Wiglaf's mind was spinning. They had to get Worm away from there before anyone saw him. He stared down at his Eel-meal. And the disgusting gray glop gave him an answer. Wiglaf jumped up. “I'm going to be sick!” he cried. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and raced from the dining hall.

“I'll help you, Wiggie!” Angus called. And he ran after Wiglaf.

The boys zoomed out of the castle and into the yard.

“Worm!” called Angus. “Get down here!”

The pipling swooped down toward the boys. But at the last minute, he swerved away and flew straight into the castle.

The boys ran back into the entryway. Mordred's portrait lay on the floor. Pieces of armor were scattered everywhere, a helmet here, a chain-mail boot there. The boys followed the path of destruction up the staircase and down the Hall of Fame.

“He's taken a bite out of Sir Ichabod's shoulder!” cried Wiglaf.

“Sir Herbert's shield is eaten!” said Angus.

“There he is!” said Wiglaf.

Worm sat at the end of the hallway. He was licking his claws as if just finishing a big messy meal. Wiglaf saw that the pedestal that had once held Mordred's bust was empty.

The dragon looked up as the boys ran toward him.
“Mmmmmmommy! Sirrrrrr!”
he cried, and big soap bubbles floated out of his mouth and nose.

Suddenly a loud bellow split the air.

“Zounds!” cried Wiglaf. “Has a horribly wounded bull gotten into the school?”

“No,” said Angus. “That's Uncle Mordred!”

Chapter 8

“I'll get the dunderheaded varlets who trashed my castle!” Mordred growled. “I will stretch ‘em on the rack until they snap!”

Heavy footsteps sounded up the stairs!

Wiglaf swallowed.

Angus was trembling. “He's not in a very good mood.”

“Mmmmmmom?”
Worm's little crest flattened against his head in fear.

“Quick!” said Wiglaf. “Let's get Worm into the dorm room!”

Wiglaf found an eel bit in his pocket. He waved it in front of Worm who trotted after him. Wiglaf tossed the eel into the dorm room, waited for Worm to bounce inside, and then slammed the door shut. Just in time, too.

Mordred came storming down the hallway. His face was a frightening shade of red.

“Those castle-wrecking knaves can run but they can't hide! Not from me, Mordred the Marvelous.” Mordred's glowing eyes lit upon the boys. “Nephew! Wiglaf! Why aren't you scrubbing?”

“We—we are looking for the varlets who trashed your castle, Uncle,” said Angus.

“Ah! Good! Good!” Mordred nodded.

All of a sudden, a loud thump sounded inside the dorm room. Wiglaf's heart began to thump, too.

“Egad!” Mordred looked over his shoulder. “What was that?”

“What was what, Uncle?” said Angus as the thumping grew louder.

“That noise!” said Mordred.

“Noise?” said Angus. He turned to Wiglaf. “Did you hear a noise?”

“Noise?” said Wiglaf as something banged to the floor.

“That!” cried Mordred. “Surely you heard
that!”

“What, Uncle?” Angus looked puzzled. “Do you think you heard something?”

Mordred's violet eyes bulged. His face turned pale. “Nephew! Are you suggesting that I am hearing things?”

“It is possible, Uncle,” Angus said, looking concerned.

Then to Wiglaf's horror, the Class I dorm room door flew open. And there stood Worm! The pipling's eyes lit up when he saw the boys. He grinned, showing his pointy fang.

Mordred let out a large sigh. “The inspectors, the pressure,” he said. “The wretched students who bring me no gold. The endless Scrub-a-Thon. And now this—this—wreckage! It would break any man.” Worm began bouncing in the doorway.

Don't turn around,
sir!
Wiglaf chanted inside his head.
Just don't turn around!

“You need rest, Uncle,” said Angus.

Worm hooked his claws on his lips and pulled his mouth into a wide grin.

“A nap might help, sir,” Wiglaf suggested.

“Let me walk you back to your office, Uncle.” Angus took him by the elbow. “You could lie down on—”

Worm cried,
“Srrrrrrrr?”

Mordred whipped his head. He froze as he stared at the pipling, who had crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and was wiggling his pink ears.

“Good King Ken's britches!” Mordred cried. “You see it, don't you, boy?”

“See what, Uncle?” said Angus.

Mordred's violet eyes circled once inside their sockets then the large headmaster sagged against the wall. “Hearing things,” he mumbled. “Seeing things. Must lie down. Must rest. Must pull self together.” So saying, he staggered off down the hallway.

“Wrrrrrrrm!”
crowed Worm, thinking he'd won whatever game he'd been playing.

Wiglaf and Angus shoved Worm into the dorm room.

“We were soooo lucky,” said Angus.

“Oh no!” groaned Wiglaf. “Worm was making a nest.”

Worm had stripped the blankets off all the cots and piled them in the middle of the room. Lots of cots had been over turned in the process. Erica's pillow was ripped. Feathers were everywhere.

“Wiggie?” said Angus. “What's that on Erica's Sir Lancelot rug?”

Wiglaf went to take a look. “Pipling poo!” he cried. “A big pile of it—right on Sir Lancelot's head!” Dr. Pluck had been right about that. Pew!

“Oh, man!” cried Angus. “Worm's cleaned out my stash!” He shot the pipling a dirty look. “At least he didn't eat the marshmallows.” But Worm only jumped up and down on Angus's cot, burbling,
“Mmmommy! Sirrrrr! Mmmommy! Sirrrrrr!”

Wiglaf figured this was as good a time as any to bring up what he'd been thinking about. “Angus, it's time to take Worm back.”

“No, we can keep him!” said Angus. “I'll train him not to wreck stuff. Besides, you were the one who wanted to raise a pipling.”

“And we did!” said Wiglaf. “But we can't keep a huge dragon, Angus. Worm gets bigger every day. He can fly now. He can feed himself. He'll be fine.”

Angus folded his arm across his chest. “Let's just get this mess cleaned up.”

Angus gathered the blankets while Wiglaf worked on getting the poo out of Erica's carpet. Even Worm helped by turning the cots right side up again. Wiglaf Worm-sat while Angus went to lunch. Angus stayed with him while Wiglaf went to supper. Then, just before the other boys were due back, Wiglaf and Angus tucked Worm into Wiglaf's bed.

Angus covered the pipling with his blanket.

The pipling looked up at him.
“Sirrrrrr?”

“I'm going to tell you a bedtime story, Worm,” Wiglaf said. “Once upon a time there was a purple egg.”

Worm murmured
“Mmmmmommy...”
He closed his eyes.

“Two boys found the egg and took it back to their school,” Wiglaf went on. “And—”

“Out you came, Worm!” said Angus.

Worm's eyes popped open.
“Wrrrrrrrrrrm!”

“Out came a pipling,” Angus went on. “He was no bigger than a little bunny. The boys took good care of him. And the pipling grew and grew and grew.”

The boys heard faint snoring sounds. Worm was blowing little soap bubbles from his nose. Now, except for the long, green snout, the dragon looked like any sleeping DSA student. Angus pulled the blanket up just over his head.

“At last the pipling grew too big to stay at the school,” Wiglaf picked up the story even though Worm was fast asleep. He looked straight at Angus as he spoke. “So the boys took him back to the Dark Forest. The pipling flew off. He found other dragons to play with, and lived happily ever after.”

The pipling smiled in his sleep. He murmured a faint,
“Haaa haaa!”

Angus sighed. “You win,” he said. “We'll take him back tonight.”

After all the Class I boys were sound asleep, Wiglaf rolled out from under Angus's cot, where he'd been hiding. Angus woke Worm. And the three of them made their quiet way out of DSA.

“I hope Worm won't be scared in the forest,” said Angus as they walked through the starlit night.

Worm bounced along happily between them. Every once in a while, he spread his wings and flew part of the way. At last, they reached the bank of the Swamp River.

“Snack time!” said Angus. He pulled two marshmallows from his pocket, stuck them on a stick and held them out to Worm. “Flame up!” he said.

Whoosh!
Worm toasted them until they were perfect—crispy, but not burned. The boys were licking marshmallow goo off their fingers, when they heard a strange noise.
“Haaa haaaa haaa!”

“What is that?”

Now Worm spread his wings, and answered:
“Haaa haaaa haaa!”

Wiglaf heard flapping wings. He and Angus hunkered down. Out of the dark, a pair of piplings came flying down. They looked just like Worm. Except that they had purple ears. And they were a little bigger.

“Worm's sisters!” whispered Wiglaf. “I guess Worm was the runt.”

The three piplings bounced around, circling each other. They took turns shooting flames from their noses. They hooted their wild cry. Wiglaf knew he was seeing something that few had ever seen. He just hoped that he and Angus might live to tell about it.

Then Wiglaf's hair began blowing in the breeze as the piplings rose into the air. They circled once over Wiglaf and Angus's heads.

“Mmmmmmommy! Sirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”
called Worm. He glided down to the boys. He crossed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and wiggled his ears. Then up he flew to join his sisters. And the three piplings disappeared over the Dark Forest.

Chapter 9

With heavy hearts, Wiglaf and Angus walked to Dr. Pluck's class. They didn't care if they were late and had to sit up front in the Spit Zone.

The boys didn't care about much of anything now that Worm was gone. Angus had lost his appetite. Wiglaf daydreamed during classes. Once, he thought he saw Worm winging through the sky. But it was only a crow.

St. Globule's Day had come and gone, but still the inspectors had not arrived. At last, Mordred realized there was nothing left to scrub or shine, so classes started up again.

Wiglaf and Angus reached Dr. Pluck's classroom and sat down in the front row. Wiglaf took his notebook from his tunic pocket. Then he saw that it wasn't his notebook at all. It was
97 Ways to Train Your Dragon.
Worm! He wondered how the pipling was doing in the wild.

“Pupils!” Dr. Pluck rapped his pointer. “Who knows the proper way to protect people from a pack of dragons?”

Wiglaf held up
97 Ways to Train Your Dragon
to protect himself from the spray.

Just then the classroom door opened. Mordred swept in wearing his best red velvet cape. “Continue, Dr. Pluck,” the headmaster said. “These gentlemen only want to see the high quality education that goes on each and every day here at Dragon Slayers' Academy.”

“The inspectors!” Angus whispered.

A tall inspector, a short inspector, and a plump inspector followed Mordred into the classroom. They wore black robes. They carried parchment books. They peered at the students and scribbled in their books. They peered and scribbled in Sir Mort's Stalking Class. And again, in Coach Plungett's Slaying Class. Wiglaf thought the inspectors did not look pleased. Finally, lunchtime rolled around.

Wiglaf, Angus, and Erica sat together.

“Are you not hungry, Angus?” said Erica.