Revenge of the Dragon Lady (5 page)

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Authors: Kate McMullan

BOOK: Revenge of the Dragon Lady
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“Seetha?” Zizmor gasped. “The Beast from the East?”
“Yes, sir,” Wiglaf answered.
The lesser wizards whispered darkly among themselves: “Oh, he’s a goner. Poor boy. Doesn’t stand a chance.”
“So,” Zelnoc continued, “I said to myself, ‘Zelnoc, old sock, old bean, who better to cast a courage spell on this poor lad than Zizmor the Amazing?’”
Zizmor raised an eyebrow. “As it happens, I have been working on a new courage spell. But it’s still in the experimental stage.”
“I’ll try anything!” Wiglaf said. “Please, sir! Can you help me?”
“Does a troll live under a bridge?” Zizmor answered. “Of course I can. And I shall. With pleasure. I would dearly love to take revenge on that fire-breathing beast myself.”
“Why is that, sir?” Wiglaf asked.
“Seetha burned down my tower,” Zizmor said. “For no reason. Just flew over, leaned down, and torched it.” The Amazing One shook his head. “It’s been nothing but carpenters, painters, plumbers, and stonemasons ever since. I hate to think what the final bill is going to be.” He closed his red eyes. He breathed deeply to calm himself.
“All right, my boy,” Zizmor said, opening his eyes once more. “Are you ready for a dose of courage?”
“I think so, sir,” Wiglaf answered.
“I shall give you a double dose,” Zizmor said. “No, for Seetha, triple, I think. My triple spell doesn’t last too long. But while it’s working it’s a zinger!”
“Ood-gay uck-lay Iglaf-Way!” Daisy whispered.
Wiglaf waved to his pig. Then he crossed his fingers for luck and got ready for the spell.
Zizmor the Amazing called his fellow wizards to make a circle around Wiglaf. They all stretched out their arms toward him. Zizmor held his ten-speed staff over Wiglaf’s head. In a low voice, he chanted:
“Spineless, gutless, weak-kneed brat,
Chicken-hearted scaredy-cat,
Cringing coward, yellow-belly,
Lily-livered, heart of jelly.
Change this boy who’s standing here,
Into He-Who-Knows-No-Fear!”
Sparks began to fly from Zizmor’s staff.
Wiglaf gasped as they showered down on him.
Ziz! Ziz! Ziz!
The sparks flashed and popped. The roar of rushing wind filled Wiglaf’s ears. And then the wizards began to swirl before his eyes.
The next thing Wiglaf knew, he was lying on the henhouse floor.
All the wizards stared down at him.
Zelnoc’s face appeared close to Wiglaf’s. “Speak to me, lad!” he cried. “Speak to me!”
Chapter 11
W
here is Seetha?” Wiglaf growled. He leaped to his feet. ”Where is that ugly dragon?”
“Uh—thought you said she was coming tomorrow,” Zelnoc said.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow!” Wiglaf exclaimed.
He snatched his ram’s-horn helmet from the floor. He jammed it on his head. “I shall save the world from the Beast from the East today! First, I shall slash Seetha’s throat!” He drew his sword and sliced at the air. “Then I shall stab her through the heart!” He lunged forward, shouting, “Take
that,
you scaly scavenger!”
“Oh, dear,” Zelnoc said. “Maybe the triple spell was a little much, Ziz.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Zizmor scoffed. “All right, fellow enchanters!” he called to the other wizards. “Clearly our work here is finished. Let’s get back to the convention, shall we? I believe there’s a brew-tasting party tonight.”
“Wait for me, Ziz!” Zelnoc said. “Good luck, Wigloop!”
“Luck? Who needs luck?” Wiglaf exclaimed. “Not I! For I have courage!”
“Oh, dear,” Zelnoc said again as smoke began to fill the henhouse.
Ten seconds later, both the smoke and the wizards had disappeared.
Wiglaf charged out of the henhouse. He waved his sword and shouted:
“Look out, Seetha! Here I come!
DSA ! That’s where I’m from!
Will
I
slay you?
Yes! I will!
Here I come to kill! Kill! Kill!”
Daisy ran to the henhouse door. She called after him, “Ait-way, Iglaf-Way!”
“Sorry, pork chop,” Wiglaf called back. “I have a dragon to slay!”
He-Who-Knows-No-Fear marched across the castle yard. From the tips of the ram’s horns on his helmet down to the toes of his new boots, every inch of him was filled with courage. There was only one thing he wanted—action!
“Seetha’s a fun-loving dragon, is she?” Wiglaf growled. “Well! Let’s see how much fun she has when I stab her in the pippi-hippo-pappa-peepus!”
Wiglaf saw that Sir Mort had brought the Class I students out to the castle steps. They were having a Rubbish Relay. This was a scheme of Mordred’s for getting the litter in the castle yard picked up.
“Wiglaf!” Erica called. “We were looking for you!” She and Angus broke away from the group. They ran up to him.
Angus waved a piece of parchment. “I’ve started a ba—list. I’ll find Seetha’s weakness yet! Listen—bald men, ballet dancers, bank robbers, barbers, baton twirlers, barking dogs—”
“Stop!” Wiglaf yelled. “What care I for Seetha’s weakness? I shall slay her with my sword!”
Erica’s eyes grew wide. “Wiglaf! You don’t sound like yourself. Where are you going, anyway?”
“I am off to find the Beast from the East!” Wiglaf exclaimed. “I’ll not wait for her to hunt me down. Nay! I shall hunt her down! I shall cut that dragon into a thousand pieces!”
“All
right,
Wiggie!” Erica punched her fist in the air. “You speak like a true dragon slayer at last!”
Wiglaf squared his shoulders. He marched through the gatehouse. He started across the drawbridge. Erica and Angus had to run to keep up with him.
“Look!” Angus yelled. He stopped suddenly. “Some strange creature is coming!”
“Creature?” Wiglaf drew his sword. “Never fear! I shall protect you!”
He looked where Angus was pointing. A giant rabbit was hopping toward the drawbridge.
“Run!” the rabbit screamed as it hopped. “Run for your lives!”
Wiglaf stuck his sword back in his belt. It would not do to slay such a helpless creature.
“You heard the rabbit!” Angus cried. “Quick! Into the castle!” He grabbed Wiglaf by the wolf pelt. He tried to drag him back toward the gatehouse.
“Unhand me, man!” Wiglaf cried. He struggled with Angus.
The rabbit hopped closer. Wiglaf saw that it wasn’t a rabbit at all. It was a man in a bunny suit.
Erica eyed the rabbit. “Yorick?” she said. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” the rabbit said. “I have come to say I was wrong. Seetha won’t be here at noon on Friday. You see, I should have multiplied the wind speed by the width of the smoke cloud. Then divided—”
“Out with it, Yorick!” Wiglaf roared.
“Seetha will be here at noon on
Thursday,”
Yorick told them.
“But today is Thursday!” Angus pointed out. “And it’s almost noon!”
“Right,” Yorick said. “And guess what? Seetha is here!”
Chapter 12
W
iglaf raised his eyes to the sky. Far away, he saw a small, dark cloud. He sniffed the air. Pew! It smelled like rotten eggs.
Wiglaf centered his ram’s-horn helmet. He brushed off his wolf pelt. He drew his sword. Then he struck a manly pose on the drawbridge.
“Seetha, you have but little time to live!” Wiglaf roared at the sky. “For I was born to slay you!”
Yorick backed slowly away from Wiglaf. Then he turned and ran across the drawbridge as fast as the legs of his bunny suit would allow. “She’s here!” he yelled. “Seetha’s here!”
Mordred stuck his head out a tower window. “Seetha’s here?” he cried. “Egad!”
“Seetha comes to meet her doom!” Wiglaf called up to the headmaster. “That’s me,” he added. “
I
am her doom!”
“Oh, right.” Mordred rolled his violet eyes. Then he stuck a whistle in his mouth. He blew it until his face was as red as his pajamas, which he still had on.
“Everybody into the castle!” he called. “Hurry now! Step on it, Angus! You, too, Eric!”
“No!” Erica called back. “I shall stay and fight the dragon!”
“Me, too, I guess,” said Angus.
Wiglaf looked up. The dark cloud was blowing quickly toward DSA.
“Angus!” Mordred yelled. “Get inside! Do you know what your mother would do to me if I let a dragon get you?”
“Sorry, Wiglaf.” Angus shrugged. Then he ran into the castle with surprising speed.
The dark cloud began to drop. Wiglaf saw green smoke puff out from its edges. But its middle was as dark as midnight.
“You, too, Eric!” Mordred yelled. “Inside!”
“No, sir!” Erica cried. “I must fight beside Wiglaf!”
The cloud dropped lower. The smell of rotten eggs grew stronger.
“Into the castle!” Mordred roared. “Now!”
Thunder rumbled from inside the cloud.
“Never!” Erica cried. “I shall not leave my friend in battle! That’s Dragon Slayers’ Rule #37!”
Once more Mordred’s face began to turn as red as his pajamas.
“I
order
you into the castle!” he yelled. “Get in here now! Or turn in the Dragon Slayer of the Month Medal.”
Erica gasped. She clutched at her medal.
“Do as he says!” Wiglaf told her. “Seetha is my dragon! This is my fight!”
Erica looked from Wiglaf to Mordred and back to Wiglaf. “Oh, all right,” she said at last. “But take this.” She put a small, pointy dagger into Wiglaf’s hand. “It’s from
The Sir Lancelot Catalog.
It’s called Stinger. Good luck, Wiggie!”
So saying, Erica walked sadly across the drawbridge. Wiglaf stuck the dagger into his boot. He stood alone outside the castle. The smoky, smelly, rumbling cloud stopped right over DSA.
“I’m waiting for you, Seetha!” Wiglaf yelled.
The cloud began to drop. Then out of the smoke poked the ugly head of Seetha. Her yellow eyes glowed. Her long tongue flicked out of her mouth. “WAIT NO MORE!” she cried.
Wiglaf gagged as the dragon’s breath hit him. It smelled like a garbage dump come to life.
Seetha spread her wings. She flew down from her cloud. She landed beside the moat.
Her smell landed with her. Wiglaf almost wished Zizmor had changed him into He-Who-Smells-No-Foul-Odors. Seetha was one stinky dragon!
“I AM SEETHA!” the dragon roared. “WHOEVER KILLED MY DARLING BOY-PREPARE TO DIE!”
Chapter 13
“
I
killed Gorzil!” He-Who-Knows-No-Fear shouted to the dragon.
“YOU?” Seetha drew her lips back from her pointy teeth in what Wiglaf guessed was a smile. “YOU ARE NOT BIG ENOUGH TO KILL A FLEA!”
“I did the deed,” Wiglaf yelled. “Me! Wiglaf of Pinwick, Dragon Slayer!”
“THEN TELL ME, WIGLAF, HOW DID GORZIL DIE? LAUGHING AT YOUR SILLY CLOTHES?”
“He died laughing,” Wiglaf answered. “Laughing at some jokes I told him. Bad jokes.
Really
bad.”
“OH!” Seetha gasped. “YOU GUESSED HIS SECRET WEAKNESS!” Large orange tears oozed out of her eyes. They rolled down her scaly cheeks. She sniffed. “MY GORZIE WAS EVERYTHING A YOUNG DRAGON SHOULD BE!” she cried. “THE DARLING BOY WAS GREEDY! LAZY! RUDE! CRUEL! HE CHEATED EVERY CHANCE HE GOT! HE WAS...PERFECT!”
Seetha swiped a claw across her runny nose.
“BUT ENOUGH CHIT-CHAT!” she roared. “IT’S PAYBACK TIME!”
Seetha flew up and landed on the castle wall. She looked around. Her eyes found Coach Plungett’s practice dragon in the castle yard.
“LET ME GIVE YOU A LITTLE DEMONSTRATION! HERE’S A GAME YOU AND I MIGHT PLAY, WIGLAF!” Seetha exclaimed. “SPIT BALL!”
She made a hacking sound in the back of her throat. Up came a blob of fire. She spit it at the straw dragon. WHOOSH! It burst into flames.
Mordred poked his head out of the tower window. He cupped his hands to his mouth.
“Excuse me, dragon lady, ma’am?” he called.
Seetha turned toward the window. “AND YOU WOULD BE...”
“Mordred, Your Scaliness. I’m Headmaster of Dragon Sla...um, of this school.” He bowed. “Go ahead and have your fun with the boy. But, please. Try not to set the school on fire. I’m afraid that if a spark hits the—”
Seetha cut him off by spitting a fire ball at his head. The headmaster quickly disappeared from the window.
Seetha flew back down to the grass near Wiglaf. “NOW...HOW SHALL I DO YOU IN?” She tapped a claw on her scales, thinking. “WE COULD PLAY BADMINTON-WITH YOU AS THE BIRDIE.”
2 “Whatever, Seetha!” Wiglaf growled. “But I swear by the ram’s horns on my helmet that
you
shall be the one to die!” He waved his sword in the air. And with a mighty battle cry he charged at the beast.
Seetha’s eyes widened with surprise. Then she blew a puff of red-hot dragon breath right at Wiglaf.
The blast of smelly heat almost knocked Wiglaf off his feet. His wolf pelt crackled. It curled at the edges. Sweat popped out on his brow. But still he ran toward the dragon.

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