Authors: Anne Forbes
Kenzie fell back with a cry as the Black Knight snapped his visor shut and, pushing him roughly out of the way, spurred his horse forward and cantered out of the tent to join the Red Knight.
“What was all that about?” Mac asked, looking at Kenzie anxiously.
Kenzie ignored the question. He was too busy looking after the two knights who were now riding together towards the concourse. “Look at the Black Knight’s scabbard, Mac,” he whispered. “He’s got a real sword there!”
“You’re joking!”
Mac looked flabbergasted.
“That’s not all! When I tackled him about it just now … well …”
“Well … what?”
“I don’t think it was Peter on that horse. It was someone else. I saw his eyes through his visor. It wasn’t Peter, I tell you!”
“You’re out of your mind,” Mac said, looking at him in
disbelief
. “Of course it was Peter! Who else could it be?” Then he frowned as he thought of the sword. “But,” he stammered, “what on earth did he bring a real sword for?”
Remembering the look in the knight’s eyes, Kenzie hesitated. “To kill Simon?” he said, hazarding a guess.
The grooms looked at one another in horror.
“Come off it!” Mac objected. “They’re good friends!”
“Well, I don’t
know
, do I?” Kenzie muttered. “Hurry up! We might be able to do something!” And with that, they ran
towards the crowds.
From the stands, Neil looked on in fascination as the two knights cantered briskly towards the dais. Their visors were closed and Neil wondered just how much they could see through the holes that decorated the front. Both knights and horses looked magnificent. The Black Knight, in trappings of black and gold, carried a black shield with a shining golden sword in its centre. His opponent, the Red Knight, sitting astride a beautiful silver-grey horse, was equally richly attired but his horse was draped in red and a red dragon rampant reared ferociously in the middle of his silver shield.
Lord Rothlan stiffened as they approached and looked at Prince Kalman with raised eyebrows; for the feeling of magic that swept from the knights wasn’t the mere whisper they’d sensed before. It was strong and powerful and it emanated from the Black Knight!
Completely oblivious, Simon, the Red Knight, smiled behind his visor. He was tense with excitement and full of confidence. They’d practised the fight over and over again; every move had been carefully choreographed and they both knew exactly what they were going to do and when they were going to do it. It would, of course, look alarmingly real to the watching crowds but, if the truth be told, there was really nothing dangerous about the fight whatsoever.
The two knights reined in their horses in front of the dais and it was then that Neil choked and gripped Lord Rothlan’s arm as, with a grand gesture, they drew their swords and saluted the assembled gathering.
As the Black Knight held the sword aloft, so that it shone and glinted in the sunlight, a tremor of fear and excitement gripped the crowd. Prince Kalman swore softly under his breath and Neil bit his lip. Dragonslayer, he thought, his heart sinking. It
couldn’t be anything else. Magic blazed from its blade! He knew that the MacArthurs would be watching and almost wished he was with them so that he could comfort Arthur.
Dragonslayer blinked in the sunlight. Then it saw the
familiar
slopes of Arthur’s Seat and glowed with happiness as the years rolled swiftly back. The only thing that took the edge off its feeling of delight was the fact that it was not Sir Pendar who held it in his grasp; for Lord Jezail was a weakling by
comparison
. He could barely hold the sword, far less wield it with the strength needed to kill a dragon! Indeed, it was only when it had suggested that Count Vassili take his place that the furious magician had downed half a dozen dragon pills and, bursting with new-found energy, had managed to convince it that he had the skills, and the strength, to kill a dragon.
Inside the hill, the MacArthur drew an unsteady breath as he saw the Black Knight holding the sword aloft. It was as though Sir Pendar had returned to life. The Black Knight was once more on their doorstep and Arthur was once more at risk. He was under no illusions for he knew the strength of the magic the sword commanded.
Arthur gazed at the crystal, his eyes fixed on the sword. It was then that he realized that he’d secretly known all along that, one day, Dragonslayer would return to claim him and this — this, it would seem, was the day.
Archie, looking devastated, clung to the dragon in an agony of fear. The MacArthur reached out and grasping Jaikie’s arm, nodded towards the magic mirror, bidding him to tell the Lords of the North what was going on. Minutes later, they arrived, stepping one by one in all their finery to stand by the MacArthur’s crystal and watch the happenings on the slopes of Arthur’s Seat.
“Who is the Black Knight?” queried Lord Alarid.
“I think it might be Lord Jezail,” the MacArthur said shortly.
“And the Red Knight?”
The MacArthur shrugged.
“I
still
can’t understand it,” Lord Alarid frowned. “There’s
no way
that Dragonslayer could undo the hex I put on it!”
The MacArthur glanced at him, pursing his lips. “It’s Dragonslayer all right,” he said heavily. “I mean, just look at it!”
And as all eyes turned again to the crystal, they saw the magic that shone from the sword in a triumphant blaze of golden light.
It was as the knights turned from that crowds and faced one another, ready for battle, that the Red Knight noticed the sword for the first time and looked at Dragonslayer blankly. What the devil was Peter up to, he thought, poncing around with a real sword! Even from where he was, he could see that it was razor sharp. It would cut his sword in half the minute they began their fight, for goodness sake!
The Black Knight approached him threateningly, sword at the ready. Simon, still not sure what was going on, edged his horse backwards, holding his shield fearfully in front of him. He sensed that this wasn’t a game anymore. The Black Knight was deadly serious. But why on earth would Peter want to hurt him?
To Simon’s surprise, however, the Black Knight made no move to attack. He merely urged his horse forward, pointed his sword at his shield, and said some strange words. They were, of course, the words of a hex, but they were enough to convince Simon that Peter had chosen the worst of all possible moments to go completely bonkers.
It was then that his shield became heavy on his arm; so heavy that he balanced it on the side of his saddle to keep it from falling to the ground. He didn’t notice that the red
dragon in its centre gleamed suddenly bright in the sunlight as Dragonslayer’s power drew Arthur from the safety of the hill to the grassy slopes outside.
The Lords of the North gasped at the power of the hex but could do nothing to counteract it, they could only watch as the great dragon gave a dreadful cry as he shimmered and
disappeared
before their eyes. Turning in horror to the crystal, they then saw the painted dragon on the Red Knight’s shield become ever larger as Arthur emerged from it in a sinewy, rippling tide of red.
Utterly petrified at the sight of the dragon, the Red Knight backed hastily away, his horse, rearing and whinnying shrilly. It took all of his skill to control the frightened animal and it was only when it was quiet that he hastily dismounted and led it quickly to one side. He not only needed to calm the
trembling
beast but also had to steady his own shattered nerves. A dragon! This hadn’t been in the script!
What on earth was Peter up to? He looked fearfully at the Black Knight who now stood in front of the dragon, sword at the ready. He must be mad! For the dragon, he knew, was real. He’d seen and felt its body writhe out of his shield. What was Peter thinking? How could he stand there, face to face with a dragon? Even as he watched, the great beast sent a stream of sparkling fire curling across the grass and his heart sank. The dragon was huge and obviously meant business!
The crowd tensed with excitement at the sight of the huge beast. Its appearance was totally unexpected and many people started to flick through their programmes, wondering how on earth they’d missed reading about this utterly fantastic act.
Colonel Jamieson, however, almost had a heart attack. He stiffened and leapt to his feet. looking totally stunned. A dragon! Where on earth had it come from? More to the point,
who had organized it without telling him? It looked
frighteningly
real and the blasts of fire worried him. It had certainly never been planned as part of the tournament and his heart sank as he thought of Health and Safety …
Some people clapped at what they thought were the most fantastic special effects they’d ever seen but the applause faded and a ripple of unease replaced the initial excitement as Arthur stood before the Black Knight in all his splendour. He was a magnificent dragon and, spreading his wings, blinked in the bright sunlight. He had lived in the hill for so long that he’d
forgotten
the incredible blueness of the sky on a summer’s day, the all-pervading warmth of the sun and the sweet smell of newly mown grass. How wonderful the world was.
In front of him, the black horse reared and bucked
nervously
, drawing Arthur’s attention to it and its rider. The Black Knight! He wondered if the MacArthur was right in thinking that it was Lord Jezail. Lord Jezail who had
kidnapped
Clara! His eyes narrowed dangerously for the very thought of Clara in the magician’s clutches made him forget his fears. He roared furiously, a thing he hadn’t done in years and, if the truth be told, gave himself a bit of a fright! But noticing that the Black Knight had backed away slightly, he roared again and then, wings outstretched, clawed his way over the grass towards him, blowing great gusts of flame that licked round the horse’s legs, making it rear in panic. Gone were the days when he had trembled before Sir Pendar. He was now a fully grown dragon and more than capable of
looking
after himself.
Now, angry dragons are not to be trifled with at the best of times and, despite the powerful hexes that surrounded him and his horse, Jezail trembled at the sight of the fearsome creature moving steadily towards him. The sword, feeling his fear and
afraid that the magician might turn tail and run, sent a wave of power through him that did much to steady his nerves so that Jezail, regaining his confidence in an instant, relaxed and smiled nastily. Holding his horse with an iron hand, his eyes gleamed with triumph as the sword’s magic gripped him. He knew exactly what he was going to do and where he was going to strike.
He raised Dragonslayer aloft as Arthur gave another dreadful roar and, wings beating the air furiously, flew at the knight in a blinding blaze of fire.
In the stands, Neil watched, his heart in his mouth, as the Black Knight spurred his terrified horse forward to meet the dragon. “Arthur,” Neil whispered, his breath catching on a sob. “Arthur,” he pleaded, grasping Lord Rothlan’s sleeve, his eyes still on the dragon. “You must save him!”
“Wait,” Lord Rothlan said curtly.
Ignoring the great gusts of flames that Arthur blasted round him, Jezail galloped straight towards him and, lifting Dragonslayer, gave a cry of triumph as he thrust the sword deep into the dragon’s heart.
The whole crowd rose screaming to their feet as Arthur gave a great, shrieking cry, his body arching in pain as he writhed furiously in the air before collapsing in a heap on the grass.
Peter dismounted from his horse and looked at the sword in his hand incredulously. It was a real sword! How on earth did he come to have it in his hand? And where had the dragon come from? It was enormous. He took a few steps towards it but it didn’t move. It must be dead, he decided. But then, who had killed it? He looked again at the sword in his hand and turned white. Had
he
killed the dragon in some sort of dreadful dream? Was it possible?
He started in surprise as a gorgeously robed old man appeared at his elbow. A magician, Peter thought, without quite knowing why.
“Give me the sword!” the old man snapped and then,
seeing
that Peter was still in more than a bit of a daze, grasped it roughly from his hand. It was only as the sword flashed
triumphantly
in the sun that Peter dimly began to understand what had happened.
“Stay where you are,” the old man snarled. Peter blinked in surprise for although he’d worked out that the sword had made him kill the dragon, it hadn’t entered his head that anyone else might be involved, far less a magician.
Lord Jezail left him standing and ran quickly up to the dead dragon. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the magicians retaliated with a barrage of hexes but he was desperate to have some trophy of his great kill. Let him at least have the dragon’s tongue! His heart thudded and his black eyes gleamed with triumph! He’d done it! He’d killed a dragon!
It was only as he approached the dragon’s head that the suspicion dawned that something wasn’t quite right. His eyes sharpened. The head looked … well, it looked rather like
rubber
. Horrified, he bent down and touched it, his face
incredulous
. It
was
made of rubber! But it couldn’t be! His brain worked furiously. It had been a real, live dragon he had killed. He was sure of it!
He became aware of a hissing noise and, looking at the vast bulk that was Arthur, saw that the dragon seemed to be
shrinking
by the second. Poking the red scales on the dragon’s side with the blade of his sword, he stiffened angrily as the sudden burst of escaping air made the rudest of rude noises.
It was then that realization struck him.
The dragon was nothing more than a great big balloon!
“You didn’t really think that we’d let you kill Arthur, did you?” Prince Kalman said conversationally.
Lord Jezail whirled round, an expression of fury on his face, to find Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan standing behind him.
“You!” he mouthed venomously, realizing too late that he’d been outwitted. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you! But don’t forget,” he hissed, “don’t forget that I still have the girl — and,” he waved the sword threateningly, “I have Dragonslayer as well!”
And, before they could answer or make any move to stop him, he muttered the words of a hex and disappeared.
“Look out,” Archie shrieked as Prince Kalman’s hex returned Arthur to the hill in a roar of sound, fire and fury.
No one needed to be told. The MacArthurs took one look at the dragon and scattered — for Arthur, unaware that he was no longer confronting Lord Jezail, was a terrifying sight as, wings beating strongly, he roared his way furiously round the cavern.
Great sheets of flame scorched the walls and several banners and wall hangings were reduced to ashes before he discovered that he was no longer in the open air but back in the safety of a strangely deserted hill.
Where, he thought, looking round in amazement as he swooped down to land, where had everyone gone? It was only when he saw scared faces peeping apprehensively from behind rocks round the cavern’s edge that he realized the sensation he’d caused and, feeling more than slightly guilty, landed beside the MacArthur and the Lords of the North who had watched his sudden arrival with heartfelt relief.
“Well done, Arthur!” the MacArthur smiled broadly as he jumped to his feet, delighted to see him safely back.
Archie, Hamish and Jaikie rushed up together with the rest of the MacArthurs who crowded excitedly round the dais. They looked rather shame-faced at having run away but really, as Archie said later, you could hardly blame them; for the fearsome dragon that had soared into the cavern belching smoke and flames all over the place was nothing like the Arthur they knew and loved.
Conscious that he’d done well, Arthur’s eyes glowed with happiness as Archie flung his arms round his neck. No longer fearful and timid, he’d stood up to Lord Jezail
and
his magic sword.
It was then that Neil arrived with Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan.
“Arthur, you were wonderful!” Neil said, rushing forward. “Absolutely brilliant!” he added, looking at the dragon with real respect. He still couldn’t quite believe that Arthur could look so terrifying.
It was when the MacArthur cleared his throat that they noticed the Lords of the North and hastily moving towards
them, bowed low.
The MacArthur, nodding approvingly, gestured to Hamish and Jaikie, who immediately brought chairs forward for their visitors. It was only when Amgarad flew over to perch on Lord Rothlan’s shoulder and everyone had settled
comfortably
that Arthur breathed a very gentle cloud of smoke down his long nose and looked questioningly at the
magicians
. “What happened?” he asked simply.
Prince Kalman smiled. “Well, we’d no intention of letting Lord Jezail kill you, Arthur. You know that. I just waited for the right moment and hexed you back into the hill.”
“So I disappeared?”
“Well, not quite,” the prince confessed. “I, er … I left your image behind … in the shape of a huge balloon. The people watching didn’t know the difference.”
“Neither did Lord Jezail,” added Lord Rothlan. “In fact, his face when he discovered that he’d just killed a balloon was really quite something!”
“I bet he was gutted!” Neil grinned.
“Something like that,” the prince admitted, his eyes gleaming appreciatively.
Amgarad hissed as Lord Rothlan rose to his feet and approached the small table that held the MacArthur’s crystal. With a muttered few words, he passed a hand over it but to no effect. The crystal remained dull and cloudy. “No joy there,” he remarked. “He’s still hiding himself from us.”
“
And
Clara!” Lord Alarid said somberly.
Lord Rothlan nodded. “Actually, those were his final words,” he said, looking dismayed as he remembered the triumph on Lord Jezail’s face. “He has Clara and he has the sword …”
“He won’t hurt Clara, will he?” Neil asked hesitantly.
“No, but he’ll force Clara to give him the spells,” Prince
Kalman’s voice was grim, “and I wouldn’t be surprised, either, if he has plans for Dragonslayer. Or, more likely, that Dragonslayer has plans for him.”
Lord Rothlan looked startled. “You mean he’ll attack the Valley of the Dragons?”
At his words, a murmur of unease ran round the circle of assembled lords and Amgarad gave a cry of distress.
Neil looked at the MacArthur. “You mentioned that before,” he said, trying to visualize a valley full of dragons. “It’s in Ashgar, isn’t it?”
Lord Rothlan nodded. “Yes, and once Jezail returns to his citadel in Stara Zargana, I think the sword will most definitely take charge of him. Lord Jezail will become another Sir Pendar.”
“Not necessarily, Alasdair,” the MacArthur disagreed. “Sir Pendar wasn’t a magician and once Jezail has the spells from Clara, he might well be able to control the sword.”
“Oh, no,” the prince leant forward to emphasize his words. “He won’t want to! One of Jezail’s main complaints was the price he had to pay for his dragon pills. He was never a well man and he’s very old, you know, even in our terms. He used to say that if it weren’t so dangerous, he’d have a go at killing some of his own dragons to save himself the expense. Jokingly, you know … but underneath it all, I think he was quite serious.”
Lord Rothlan smiled sourly. “You’re right, Kalman,” he
nodded
in agreement. “
Once
a Dragon Seeker,
always
a Dragon Seeker!”
Arthur gazed at Lord Rothlan in horror. He’d heard stories about the Valley of the Dragons when he was very young; a fabulous place set among fantastically shaped cliffs that hid caves and deep gorges. No human ever went there for the dragons were fierce and could kill with one long breath of flame. Now, from what Prince Kalman had said, the dragons
were in real danger. Worry gripped him. He knew only too well the strength of Dragonslayer’s magic. The dragons wouldn’t stand a chance and even if they tried to hide, there would be no escape. Lord Jezail would use the sword to seek them out, pick them off one by one and kill them all! He had to go there and warn them. Now! At once!
He was just about to say so when Lord Alarid rose to his feet and looked at them all in turn. “Now that we know his true nature, I think we must make plans to stop Lord Jezail before he does any more damage,” he said seriously.
There was a general murmur of agreement at his words.
“Quite right,” Lord Dorian said grimly. “The man’s a
menace
. He’s always been full of crazy schemes and, if he gets the spells from Clara, he’ll be a threat to the entire region!”
“Very true,” Lord Alarid nodded, “but first of all, we have to rescue Clara from his clutches, and then,” he continued, “do what we can to protect the Valley of the Dragons from Dragonslayer.”
Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan looked at one another. This was going to be no mere skirmish.
“You’re talking about a massive undertaking, Alarid,” Lord Alban said seriously.
“I am, indeed,” Lord Alarid said. “I’m talking about war!”
“War?” Neil gasped as everyone sat up, looking more than slightly startled.
“War,” Lord Alarid repeated sternly. “It’s the only way! We must end Jezail’s rule in Ashgar forever!”
Hamish and Jaikie looked at one another in alarm but Arthur’s eyes lit up at Lord Alarid’s words and, with a roar of approval, he sent a long, curling stream of fire streaking across the cavern.
They were going to Ashgar!