Wheel of Misfortune (7 page)

Sir Verm turned to Mordred. “Take the cart, if you like,” he offered. “You can bring the trophy back in it next year.”

“All right,” said Mordred. “Of course, next year is a long way away,” he muttered. Then he picked a single gold coin out of the trophy. “Do not take this the wrong way, Sir Verm,” he said. “But I always do this little test on my gold.” So saying, he put the coin between his teeth and bit down, hard.

“EGAD!” he cried. “This coin! It is a fake!”

Wiglaf saw that the coin Mordred held between his thumb and forefinger was certainly not solid gold. A dark goo oozed out of it. Were the coins filled with some foul mold?

Once more the headmaster’s violet eyes rolled up into his head. He collapsed onto the stage.

“Ake-fay?” Daisy exclaimed.

“He thought they were
solid
gold, did he?” asked Sir Verm. “Why, he never read the invitation to the tournament all the way through!” Then the KNC headmaster threw his head back and laughed long and loud.

Wiglaf picked a coin out of the trophy. He did not have much experience with gold. But this coin felt very light in his hand.

Erica did the same. “These coins are covered with gold-colored foil!” she exclaimed. She found a seam at the edge of a coin and picked at it with her fingernail. “And look! Inside the foil is...”

Angus put his nose down next to the coin and took a sniff.

“Chocolate!” he cried. He picked up a coin and quickly tore away the foil. He popped a circle of chocolate into his mouth. “Mmmmmm,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and chewed. “Mmm.”

“Of course it’s chocolate,” Sir Verm managed. “That’s the prize for young scholars. That’s what they want. Oh, to think that Mordred thought the coins were gold!”

“And a very fine grade of milk chocolate they are, too,” Angus added, popping another one into his mouth. “Not too sweet. Not too bitter. Not one bit chalky.”

Erica and Bragwort joined Angus in eating chocolate coins. Wiglaf peeled the foil off several pieces of chocolate and fed them to the DSA coach.

“Um-yay,” said Daisy.

Then Wiglaf ate several himself.

Bragwort wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and said, “Who good.”

“Bragwort!” Erica exclaimed. “Your spell is wearing off.”

“Zelnoc’s spells have a way of doing that,” said Wiglaf.

Bragwort frowned. “Whoat spell? Whoat are you talking about?”

“Never mind, Bragwort,” said Wiglaf. “Have some more chocolate. You, too, Brother Dave,” he added.

“Well, maybe one,” the monk said, taking a coin. “Because thou hast made me so proud! Ou-yay oo-tay, Aisy-day,” he added. “Thou answered every question like the bright, eager pupils that thou art!”

“Thank you, Brother Dave,” said Erica.

“You gave us our victory, Brother Dave,” Wiglaf put in. “We won thanks to your words of wisdom about
if.”

Brother Dave beamed happily at his team. He reached for one more coin.

“There is just one thing that puzzles me,” said Wiglaf.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” asked Brother Dave.

“Those questions about cabbage farming, washing dishes, and Sir Lancelot,” said Wiglaf. “Why, it seemed almost as if those categories had been made for us.”

Brother Dave smiled. “Who dost thou think made up the questions from DSA?” he asked.

“You?” said Wiglaf.

Brother Dave nodded. “And this morning, the knights just happened to pick three of my categories.” He cast his eyes heavenward. “Miracles can happen! Never give up hope!”

Mordred stirred suddenly. He let out a pitiful moan.

Brother Dave quickly grabbed the cart handle.

“Here, lads,” said the monk. “Takest thou this cart with thine trophy and thine coins. And runneth thou that a-way! Hurry! For thou dost not want to be here when Mordred waketh up.”

“I’ll say,” said Angus. “For he shall surely gobble up a big part of the chocolate himself.”

“Or he’ll try to sell it at sky-high prices to the students back at DSA,” added Erica.

“Then let us be off!” cried Wiglaf. He grabbed the cart handle and gave it a great yank. “If we beat Mordred back to DSA, we can share our winnings with our fellow students. Free chocolate for all!”

After a quick stop at Suite D to get their things, the team hurried across the KNC drawbridge and started back to DSA.

“I am the team captain,” Bragwort said as they headed up the steep hill. “By rights, I should have the honor of pulling the cart to DSA.”

“Certainly,” said Erica.

“Absolutely,” said Angus.

“If you insist,” said Wiglaf.

Erica handed him the cart handle.

Bragwort took it. With a groan, he began pulling it up the hill.

Wiglaf smiled as they wended their way back home. They had made a proud name for DSA at the tournament. Their bellies were filled with something besides eel. And when they reached DSA with thousands of chocolate coins, they would surely be cheered as heroes.

Sir Herbert and Sir Ichabod founded Dragon Slayers’ Academy on a simple principle still held dear today: Any lad—no matter how weak, yellow-bellied, lazy, pigeon-toed, smelly, or unwilling—can be transformed into a fearless dragon slayer who goes for the gold. After four years at DSA, lads will finally be of some worth to their parents, as well as a source of great wealth to this distinguished academy.
^1
2
3

Mordred graduated from Dragon Bludgeon High, second in his class. The other student, Lionel Flyzwattar, went on to become headmaster of Dragon Stabbers’ Prep. Mordred spent years as part-time, semi-substitute student teacher at Dragon Whackers’ Alternative School, all the while pursuing his passion for mud wrestling. Inspired by how filthy rich Flyzwattar had become by running a school, Mordred founded Dragon Slayers’ Academy in CMLXXIV, and has served as headmaster ever since.