World's Oldest Living Dragon (6 page)

That evening the four DSA students were the first in bed.

Day thirteen arrived. The aged knights and the DSA students spent the morning polishing their dance steps.

“Muy, muy bueno!”
cried Don Donn, watching them dance through the first twenty-five verses. “You look like pros.”

After lunch, the knights went back to their usual Uno! Dos! Tres! routine. As they went through their final workout, Sir Lancelot appeared at the gym door. He had a smirk on his face.

“
Hola, Señor
Lancelot,” Don Donn said. “They are ready. You can join in. You have watched every day. You must know all the moves.”

“You can do it, sir!” cried Erica.

“You can!” cried Wiglaf.

“I know I
can
,” said Sir Lancelot. “It's just, do I
want
to? And the answer is ‘I don't.' ”

He turned and stalked off.

Wiglaf thought Erica looked like she might cry.

April Fools' Day dawned clear and sunny. The aged knights and training assistants ate a hearty breakfast. Then they went outside.

“Bring out our noble steeds!” cried Sir Poodleduff.

“Sorry,” said Don Donn as he drove a large hay wagon pulled by two gray horses out of the stable. “No steeds.”

“No problemo,”
said Sir Roger. He and the other aged knights jumped onto the back of the wagon. Wiglaf and his friends jumped on, too.

“Giddyap, Rosa! Giddyap, Bella!” Don Donn said to his horses. “Let's go!”

The ride was bumpy, but none of the aged knights complained. Wiglaf thought they all seemed glad to be out in the world again.

At last, a dark stone castle came into view. “There it is!” Erica said, pointing. “Dragon Slayers' Academy.”

Wiglaf looked with fondness at his school. How he hoped the aged knights would be able to save it from Grizzlegore's flames.

Don Donn stopped the hay wagon at the foot of the drawbridge. All his passengers hopped off.

“Uncle Mordred!” called Angus as he ran across the drawbridge. “Auntie Lobelia!” He pounded on the great wooden doors.

Wiglaf waited on the bridge with Erica, Janice, Don Donn, and the aged knights. He stared up at the castle. The great wooden doors were shut. The iron bars had been let down in front of the doors. All the windows were shuttered. DSA was ready for Grizzlegore.

Angus pounded on the doors again. “Open up!” he cried. “We know how to save DSA from Grizzlegore!”

At last Frypot, the school cook, flung open the doors. He stared past Angus at the ragged group of aged knights.

“Looking for a bite to eat, are you, my good fellows?” he asked. “Come in. I'll fix you some of my good lumpen pudding.”

“Lumpen pudding?” cried one of the aged knights. “That's what they served at school when we were lads!”

“We didn't like it then,” said another knight. “And we don't like it now.”

Before Frypot had a chance to offer them any of his eel stew, Lobelia came up behind him.

“Welcome, knights!” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

“
Señorita
L.,” Don Donn said, bowing. He took Lady Lobelia's hand and brought it to his lips. “What a pleasure to see you once more.”

“Oh, Donn!” squealed Lady Lobelia. “Likewise!”

Angus rolled his eyes. “Auntie,” he groaned.

“Please, everyone, come in!” said Lobelia.

They all walked through the gatehouse and into the castle yard.

Wiglaf was surprised to see Mordred in the castle yard. He had on his red silk traveling cloak and hat. He was sitting by the scrubbing block on a huge pile of luggage.

“The students are in class,” Lobelia said, keeping her voice low. “I am trying to keep things as they always are. I don't want anyone to panic because a dragon is coming.” She glanced at Mordred and rolled her eyes. “Come to my sitting room, knights. You, too, Donn.” She smiled and batted her eyes. “Angus?” she added. “You and your friends come help me get these knights into their DSA uniforms.”

“This looks just like my old school,” said Sir Poodleduff as they headed for the castle.

“Makes me feel like a lad again,” said Sir Roger.

When they entered Lady Lobelia's sitting room, Wiglaf saw that she had laid out many DSA uniforms by size.

“Pick out your size,” said Lobelia. “You can go behind that screen to change.”

Sir Poodleduff and nine other aged knights quickly grabbed up the ten lads' uniforms. They scurried behind the screen.

“All that's left are lasses' uniforms!” cried Sir Roger.

“The point is to fool Grizzlegore,” said Lady Lobelia. “Go on, pick out a uniform.”

Sir Roger and the other knights did not look happy as they picked up their lasses' uniforms. They, too, went behind the screen.

Minutes later, all the knights came out again, clad in DSA tunics and breeches.

Wiglaf's eyes grew wide as he looked at the many spindly old legs sticking out from under the uniforms. And at the white-haired heads above the tunics. Wiglaf swallowed.
Would Grizzlegore be fooled?
He hoped so.

“I feel like a lad again!” exclaimed Sir Poodleduff. He turned around to show off his uniform.

“Well, I don't,” said Sir Roger, who was clad in one of the lasses' uniforms. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Maybe this will help,” said Lobelia. She plopped a wig of blond curls onto his bald pate. Then she stepped back to admire it. “Very nice!” she said.

She began putting wigs of different colors on all the aged knights dressed as lasses.

Wiglaf hurried over to Sir Roger. “You are indeed a hero, sir,” Wiglaf told him. “No matter how you are dressed.”

“Thank you, lad,” said Sir Roger, perking up. “I needed that.”

“We need a dress rehearsal of the dance moves with the students,” said Sir Poodleduff. “Let us go out to the castle yard.”

Wiglaf and his friends went out to the yard ahead of Don Donn and the aged knights. They saw Mordred still sitting on his bags.

“Sir!” called Wiglaf as he, Erica, and Janice hurried over to Mordred. “We have brought sixteen knights from Ye Olde—”

“Enough!” boomed Mordred, holding up a gold-ringed hand. “Did you catch sight of my scout Yorick on your way here?”

“No, sir,” said Erica.

Mordred frowned. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago to drive me and my gold to—” He looked at them suspiciously. “
—
to a safe place.”

“There is no need to hide your gold from Grizzlegore now, sir,” said Janice.

“No?” Mordred raised one bushy eyebrow.

“No, Uncle,” said Angus. “The aged knights will save us from the dragon.”

Mordred frowned. “Those old bags of bones don't stand a chance against Grizzlegore.”

“They know his secret weakness, sir,” said Wiglaf. “'Tis a poem. And they shall recite it to him.”

“You mean…my gold may be saved?” asked Mordred eagerly.

“Yes, Uncle,” said Angus. “Your gold
will
be saved.”

Mordred grinned. “Well, what are you lads and lasses waiting for?” he cried. “Pick up my luggage! Take it to my office. Get a move on, now. Chop-chop!”

Wiglaf had just picked up a heavy bag when there was a commotion at the castle doors. He turned and saw DSA students pouring forth into the castle yard.

“Egad!” cried Mordred. “Don't let those ruffians near my gold!”

“They're not ruffians, Uncle,” said Angus. “They are your students.”

“Let us out of there!” the students cried, running for the gatehouse.

Erica ran in front of them. “As the Future Dragon Slayer of the Month, I order you to stop!” she cried.

All the lads and lasses stopped.

“There is no need to flee,” said Erica.

“But a dragon is coming to flame the school!” cried Charley Marley.

“A dragon is coming,” said Erica. “But he won't flame the school. Because we have a secret weapon!”

“All right!” cheered the lads and lasses. “A secret weapon!”

“What is the secret weapon?” asked Farley Marley.

Just then the castle doors opened again. The aged knights came down the steps, dressed in DSA uniforms.

“Behold!” said Erica, pointing to the castle doors. “Our secret weapon!”

All the lads and lasses turned toward the doors. When they saw the aged knights in the DSA uniforms, their jaws dropped open.

“
That's
your secret weapon?” cried Barley Marley.

“A bunch of geezers?” cried Charley Marley.

Without waiting for an answer, they ran screaming for the gatehouse.

“Stop!” Erica called after them. “Wait!”

But they ran on. And as they ran, the sky above darkened.

Wiglaf looked up. Great black clouds were rolling across the sky.

The students stopped and looked up, too. The castle yard grew still.

A sudden whoosh of bright orange flame cut through the clouds. And a voice rang out above them:

At the sound of Grizzlegore's voice, Mordred began to scream.

All the students at the gatehouse screamed, too.

“Cancel the dress rehearsal,” Sir Poodleduff called calmly over their screams. “Students, line up. Knights, get behind them.”

Wiglaf, Angus, and Janice lined up as Sir Poodleduff had asked.

But Erica ran to the gatehouse.

“As Future Dragon Slayer of the Month, I order you to stop screaming!” she yelled.

They stopped.

“You have to help save DSA,” she told them. “Go over with the aged knights. Crowd around them. That will make it look like they are students.”

“Yes, Erica,” said Charley Marley.

“Keep your eyes on Wiglaf, Janice, Angus, and me,” she told them. “Follow what we do. For if we fail, DSA will go up in flames!”

“Yes, Erica!” they all said.

Erica ran back to the front of the formation. The other students crowded in among the aged knights.

“Forward, march!” cried Sir Poodleduff.

And all together, they marched through the gatehouse, over the drawbridge, and onto the grass in front of DSA.

Emboldened by such a large crowd, Mordred scampered after them.

Wiglaf's heart beat like a drum as he went. Verses of the Grizzlegore poem skipped around inside his brain. Bits of the dance steps popped into his head. He felt dizzy.

“Look! Look!” everyone started shouting.

Wiglaf looked up. At first, he did not see Grizzlegore. Then he spotted the dragon curled on a tree branch not far from the drawbridge. He was a sickly green color. The horn on his nose flopped sadly over to one side. He was badly bent and had a hump on his back.

“My, my,” said Grizzlegore, his voice trembling with age. “How nice that the whole school is coming out to greet me.”

The creature smiled. Wiglaf thought that for the world's oldest living dragon, he sure had a nice new set of false fangs.

“Let's not waste time,” said Grizzlegore. “I'm already old as the hills. Who knows how much time I have left? So! Hand over your gold and I'll be gone.”

Mordred elbowed his way to the front of the group.

“We will give you no gold, dragon!” he cried.

The shocked dragon's mouth dropped wide open.

Wiglaf watched, horrified, as his fangs fell from his mouth.

“Drat my dentist!” cried the dragon. “There goes another set of choppers!”

Then from his toothless mouth he shot an angry tongue of flame. Flame so hot that everyone began to cough and sputter. Mordred's hair began to smoke.

“Zounds!” cried Mordred. “I am on fire!”

He zoomed over to the moat and plunged his head into the water.

“Go get the gold,” Grizzlegore growled as best he could without his fangs. “Bring it to me. Now! Or your school is toast.”

“Ready, and!” called Sir Poodleduff.

And everyone who had taken the time to learn the rhyme shouted out:

Wiglaf and Erica jumped to face each other. They drew imaginary swords.

Behind them, the aged knights and DSA students followed along.

Everyone put their index fingers to their foreheads.

Now they put their fingers up to their heads and made terrible, angry faces.

Everyone held up their right hands in the shape of a claw.

“By my scales!” cried the delighted dragon. “You know the poem! Well, go on. Go on!”

And so they did. Those who knew the rhyme recited it. And everyone did their best with the dance.

After they said the first eight verses, the aged knights had to recite on their own. But by that time, Grizzlegore was writhing with happiness at hearing himself immortalized in his poem. No one had anything to fear from this fire-breather.