Revenge of the Dragon Lady (3 page)

“Stop being so gloomy!” Erica ordered. “Even if the worst happens, death by dragon is a noble way to die.”

“But I don’t want to die!” Wiglaf cried.

“Ba—could be baskets,” Angus kept on as they ran down the steps. “Or baboons. Or battle-axes.”

“It could be a thousand different things,” Wiglaf said. “Oh, I wish I could just disappear!”

Angus stopped suddenly.

“Keep moving!” Erica said.

“Disappear,” Angus said. He began walking slowly down the steps again. “That gives me an idea. Maybe my Aunt Lobelia could help you, Wiglaf. For there are those who say”—he dropped his voice—“that Lobelia is a sorceress.”

“Do
you
think she is?” Wiglaf asked.

Angus nodded. “My mother is always saying that Lobelia can transform people. That she works wonders on them. And you know what?” He smiled. “Mordred keeps a room for Lobelia here in the castle.”

Wiglaf stopped dead in his tracks.

“Move!” Erica cried. “You don’t want to be late, do you?”

But Wiglaf didn’t move. “Angus, do you think Lobelia has something in her room that might transform me?” he asked. “Something to make me disappear for a few days?”

“She might.” Angus grinned. “Let’s go see. I happen to know that Uncle Mordred keeps the key to her room on a nail over his desk.”

“Sneaking in is against DSA rules,” Erica reminded them. She fingered her Future Dragon Slayer of the Month Medal which she wore on a ribbon around her neck. “But don’t worry,” she added. “If you two go, I won’t tell. Now, out of my way. I’m going to Slaying.” Erica pushed past Wiglaf and Angus. She hurried down the stairs.

Ten minutes later, Angus lifted the latch and slowly opened Mordred’s office door. He peeked inside.

“All clear,” he whispered.

Wiglaf walked into the office behind Angus. He didn’t want to think what the headmaster would do to them if he caught them there.

The boys made their way to the key. They had just reached it when a low moan startled them.

Wiglaf turned. Yikes! There was Mordred! Angus hadn’t seen him because he was lying down on his velvet couch.

Mordred had put on a pair of red pajamas. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He was mumbling to himself, “A dragon with no gold. Alas! The thought of it makes me ill!”

Wiglaf sighed with relief. Mordred was suffering far too much to notice them.

Angus lifted the key silently off its nail. Then the boys left the office.

In the hallway, Angus burst out laughing. “What a baby Mordred is!” he exclaimed. “Say, maybe that’s Seetha’s weakness—babies!”

“Give it up, Angus,” Wiglaf said. “We will never guess Seetha’s weakness. I’m pinning my hopes on Aunt Lobelia.”

Wiglaf and Angus hurried through dark hallways. At last they came to a wide door in the East Tower. Angus put the key in the lock.
Click!
The door opened.

Wiglaf stepped inside. It was very dark. He swallowed. Maybe breaking into a sorceress’s room was not such a good idea. What if it was booby-trapped? What if Lobelia had cast spells against trespassers?

Angus felt his way over to the curtains. He pushed them back. Light flooded in.

Wiglaf looked around. He had expected to see shelves packed with jars of nettles and toadstools. He had very much hoped to see bottles labeled “Invisibility Potion” or “Dragon Repellent.”

But instead he saw a fancy sitting room. Dozens of large trunks were lined up against the walls. In the far corner stood a three-sided mirror. Tapestries hung on the walls. Each one showed St. George in some bloody stage of killing a dragon. Wiglaf looked away. Even blood stitched into a tapestry made him sick.

“Maybe she keeps her potions in the trunks.” Angus bent down to check one. “It’s open,” he whispered.

As Wiglaf helped him raise the lid, a husky voice called from the doorway: “Freeze!”

Wiglaf and Angus froze.

“Step away from the trunk,” the voice went on. “And I mean
now
!
”

“
T
urn around, you little snoops,” the voice said. “Let me have a look at you.”

Wiglaf shook with fear as he turned.

“Aunt Lobelia!” Angus exclaimed.

“Angus?” The woman gasped. She dropped her traveling bags. “My stars!”

“I didn’t know you were coming for a visit, Auntie,” Angus said.

“That’s pretty obvious,” Lobelia told him.

Wiglaf saw that Angus’s Aunt Lobelia had the same thick dark hair as Mordred. She had the same violet eyes, too. But the headmaster was stout. And Lobelia was as thin as a rail.

The sorceress did not look happy. Wiglaf swallowed. What if she turned him into a toad?

A pair of lean hounds with jeweled collars stood at Lobelia’s side. The dogs began barking as they, too, recognized Angus.

“Shush, Demon! Lucifer, stop it!” Lobelia said. She threw off a blue velvet cape. Under it, she wore a silvery gown. “So, what are you two after? My jewels?”

“No, Auntie,” Angus said. “I’m sorry we broke in. But it’s an emergency. This is my friend Wiglaf. He needs help. The dragon Seetha is coming after him!”

“Seetha?” Lobelia cried. “The Beast from the East?”

Wiglaf nodded.

“So it’s you she is after! But why?”

“Well, I...um, sort of...by accident, killed her son,” Wiglaf explained.

“Bad move,” Lobelia said. “On my way here, I passed through the village of Wormbelly. Seetha had just been there. And she left behind her horrible stink.” Lobelia wrinkled her nose. “Someone should give that dragon a bottle of perfume. Anyway,” she continued, “it seems that Seetha made a mistake. She thought the biggest, strongest man in Wormbelly killed her son. Oh, how she tortured the poor man! She made him play ‘Ring Around the Rosie’ until he fell down and could not get up.”

“Say no more, I beg of you!” Wiglaf cried.

Lobelia shook her head. “Some villagers think he may get his wits back one day. But others fear the worst.”

Wiglaf let out a little squeak.

“Seetha will be here at noon on Friday,” Angus said. “Can you help Wiglaf, Auntie?”

“Of course I can help,” Lobelia answered.

Wiglaf dropped to his knees. “Oh, thank you, Lady Lobelia!” Yes! A sorceress was going to use her magic to help him! Why, he was as good as saved. He grabbed Lobelia’s hand and tried to kiss it.

Lobelia yanked her hand away. “Get up!” she ordered. Then she began circling Wiglaf. She tilted her head. She looked at him from every which way.

“For starters,” she said at last, “I’d lose the DSA tunic. And those old breeches. A leather tunic would be nice for you. Brown, to bring out the carrot color of your hair.”

Wiglaf had never seen a sorceress at work before. But this was not what he had expected.

Lobelia walked over to her trunks. She started throwing open the lids. From one trunk, she pulled a shirt with billowing sleeves and a pair of quilted yellow breeches. From another, she took brown boots. From still another, forest green leggings and a helmet.

“The ram’s horns on this helmet make a strong statement. Don’t you think so?” Lobelia asked. “Oh! And this wolf pelt! It’s perfect! You can drape it over one shoulder for a sort of Viking effect.”

Lobelia piled the clothing into Wiglaf’s arms. “Go behind that tapestry and change. We won’t peek,” she told him. “You know, Wiglaf, clothes make the man. Or, in your case, the boy. Go on, now! Hurry!”

Wiglaf gave Angus a puzzled look. But he did as he was told. After all, who was he to question the ways of a sorceress?

Wiglaf took off his DSA tunic and his breeches. He put on the shirt. Then he pulled on the green leggings and the heavy yellow breeches. He slipped the leather tunic on over his head. He put on the boots and draped the wolf pelt over his shoulder, Viking style. Finally, he put the ram’s-horn helmet on his head. He felt like a fool as he stepped out from behind the tapestry.

Demon and Lucifer began to growl at him.

Angus giggled—until a sharp look from Lobelia made him stop.

“Turn around, Wiglaf,” Lobelia ordered. “Let me see the new you!”

Wiglaf turned.

“I am a genius!” Lobelia clapped her hands. “Seetha will drop
dead
when she sees you!”

“She will?” Wiglaf exclaimed. “For sure?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking,” Lobelia answered.

Wiglaf’s heart sank. “I didn’t think it could be that easy,” he said. “But, Lady Lobelia! I need Seetha
really
and
truly
to drop dead! Or she will kill me! Oh, I know you have the power to help me! Angus said—” Wiglaf stopped. He shot a look at his friend.

“Said what?” Lobelia asked. She turned to her nephew. “Angus? Speak up!”

“I said...” Angus mumbled. “I said...uh...that you might be a sorceress.”

“A sorceress!” Lobelia’s eyes flashed with anger. “Who told you such a thing?”

“My mother,” Angus answered.

“What? My own sister?” Lobelia cried.

Angus nodded. “She said that you could transform people. That you worked wonders.”

“Oh, now I see.” Lobelia smiled. “That part is true enough. I
do
transform people. Have you ever heard of King Richard the Lion-Hearted?”

Wiglaf and Angus nodded.

“Before I fixed him up, you know what people called him?” Lobelia asked. “Chicken-Hearted Richie, that’s what! Who do you think put him in the bold red tunic? Who do you think told him to blacken his beard? Me!” Lobelia exclaimed. “Me!

“I transformed that man,” she went on. “And I have transformed you, Wiglaf. Listen, if Seetha sees you as a little DSA student, she’ll fry you! And from what I hear, she’ll take her own sweet time about it, too.”

Wiglaf swallowed.

“But,” Lobelia went on, “if Seetha sees you as a mighty hero, she’ll respect you. And who knows? Maybe she won’t even kill you.”

“That would be good,” Wiglaf said. “Thank you, Lady Lobelia.”

Lobelia smiled. “Dress like a hero, Wiglaf, and you
are
a hero. That’s my motto!”

“
S
orry, Wiglaf,” Angus said as he and Wiglaf left Lobelia’s room.

“Me, too,” Wiglaf said. He straightened his ram’s-horn helmet. It was so heavy! And the wolf pelt made his neck itch. Worst of all, he didn’t believe that the silly clothes would scare Seetha. He wished he had thought to get his clothes back from Lobelia. What would the other boys say when they saw him?

They reached Mordred’s office. Angus opened the door and entered the room.

Wiglaf peeked in. He saw that Mordred had fallen asleep.

Angus reached up to put the key back.

But as he did, Mordred’s eyes popped open. “Angus?” he said. “What are you up to?” Then he saw Wiglaf at the door.

“Blazing King Ken’s britches!” he yelled. He sat up. “What are
you
supposed to be?”

Wiglaf stepped into the headmaster’s office.

“It’s...er, a hero look, sir,” he said.

“To scare off Seetha,” Angus added.

“Bite your tongue, nephew!” Mordred exclaimed. “And never say the name of that no-good, no-gold dragon around me again!”

Mordred mopped his face with his big red hanky. He turned back to Wiglaf. “Where on earth did you ever get such a silly outfit?”

“Lady Lobelia gave me the clothes, sir,” Wiglaf answered.

“Oh, Lobelia. That explains it.” Mordred nodded. Then his eyes widened in horror. “Egad!” he cried. “Lobelia’s
here?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Angus said.

“She never sent word that she was coming,” Mordred complained. “I don’t suppose she said how long she plans to stay.”

Angus shook his head.

“Oh, I’m at death’s door already! Five minutes with Lobelia will finish me off!” Mordred exclaimed. “Shoo, boys! Be off! Be gone! Leave me to enjoy what little peace I have left!”