The Last Dragonslayer

Sir Matt Grifflon

The door to the Dragonstation was open when I got back. There was no sign of Gordon. Instead, sitting at the kitchen table and reading through The Dragonslayer’s Manual was a striking-looking man with a lantern jaw and long flowing blond hair. He looked up at me and smiled his best smile as I entered, rising politely to his feet. I knew who he was well enough but pretended I didn’t.

‘What’s this?’ I asked him. ‘A Mr Handsome competition?’

‘My name is Sir Matt Grifflon,’ he said in a deep voice that set the teacups rattling in the corner cupboard. ‘His Gracious Majesty King Snodd IV has ordered me to personally oversee the Dragonkilling process in order that this whole sorry business can be brought to a successful conclusion as soon as possible. I have been given free rein over the manner in which this is done, and any order from me can be taken to have come from King Snodd himself.’

He was sickeningly full of self-confidence.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘what did you say your name was again?’

He glared at me.

‘I don’t think you fully appreciate the seriousness of the situation. The evidence is clear: Maltcassion is rogue and will be destroyed.’

‘Evidence can be faked.’

He held up The Dragonslayer’s Manual.

‘Faked or not, the rule of the Dragonpact is clear: three attacks and the Dragon must be destroyed. Proof is no longer a burden in this investigation, Miss Strange. If you do not have the stomach for the job, then step aside.’

He was right, of course. The rules were clear and I was bound by them.

‘I will do my duty.’

‘And kill the Dragon?’

‘If that is what my duty entails.’

‘Not good enough,’ he said, his voice rising.

‘No one can replace me unless I agree,’ I replied hotly.

‘Will you kill the Dragon? YES or NO?’

‘If the Dragon is rogue, I will do my duty.’

‘YES or NO!’

He was shouting at me now, and I was shouting back.

‘NO!’ I yelled as hard as I could. The knight fell silent.

‘I thought as much,’ said Grifflon in a normal tone of voice. ‘King Snodd feels that you have been beguiled by the charm of the beast and I agree with him. Action must be taken to remove you from your post. You have failed in your fundamental duties as a Dragonslayer and as a loyal citizen of Hereford.’

‘Listen, Grifflon,’ I said, purposefully not calling him ‘Sir’ because I knew it would annoy him, ‘why don’t you do yourself a favour and head on home? The only way you get this job is over my dead body.’

Grifflon was staring at me in a dangerous sort of way and I suddenly felt as though my last sentence was probably not the right thing to say.

‘You force my hand in this, Miss Strange,’ murmured Grifflon. ‘By your stubborn refusal to kill the Dragon. The first person to hold the sword after the violent death of a Dragonslayer is, by Dragonpact decree, the next in line.’

Sadly, this was true. It was Old Magic from the days of Mu’shad Waseed. If a Dragonslayer died a violent death anyone might take his place—all it required was to lay their hands on the hilt of Exhorbitus, the sword. Sir Matt Grifflon was smiling rather nastily at me and had taken a step closer. There was no weapon to hand and to be honest I probably would not have known how to protect myself if there had been.

‘Don’t make this too hard on yourself,’ he said, pulling a small dagger from his pocket. ‘If you stand still I can make it painless.’

He was between me and the door, and I was just thinking of leaping out of the window when a single word came to my rescue and stopped Grifflon in his tracks. It was a simple word. Short, to the point and quite unmistakable in its meaning. The word was Quark, and the Quarkbeast said it.

‘Quark,’ said the Quarkbeast again, positioning himself defiantly between myself and Grifflon.

My outrageously handsome would-be assassin looked at the Quarkbeast nervously. It had its mouth open and was revolving its five canines in a menacing fashion.

‘Call him off, Miss Strange.’

‘And let you kill me? Just how stupid do you think I am?’

‘Quark,’ said the Quarkbeast, taking a step towards Grifflon, who backed away nervously.

‘You can’t hide behind a Quarkbeast for ever, Miss Strange.’

‘It’s Sunday tomorrow,’ I told him. ‘After the premonition of Maltcassion’s death is proved wrong I won’t need to hide behind anything.’

He glared at me and ran quickly out of the door. The Quarkbeast sat on the rug and looked up at me with his large mauve eyes.

‘You did good,’ I told him. ‘Thank you.’

I looked out of the Dragonstation and into the street. The crowds that had been camped outside had vanished. I was no longer news now that the scent of war was in the air. On the street outside only Sir Matt’s squires were in attendance, doubtless to keep an eye on me in case I decided to make a run for it. I went back inside, locked the door and caught the mid-morning TV bulletin. King Snodd was giving a speech about how the Dragonlands were ‘historically part of Hereford’, and that the whole Kingdom had to act together to prevent the perfidious Duke of Brecon invading the country and threatening ‘all that we know and love’. I switched off the TV and went through to the kitchen, where I found a note from Gordon van Gordon. It read:

Dear Miss Strange,

I am sorry but I have been called away to look after my mother, who has gout. I wish you the very best on this most difficult of days for you, and hope you will find the courage to act in the way that you think correct.

Yours, Gordon van Gordon

‘Coward,’ I muttered angrily, tearing up the note and throwing it aside. I sat down to ponder my next move, and hadn’t come up with a plan half an hour later, when there was a loud hammering at the door. The Quarkbeast’s hackles rose.

‘Hello?’ I yelled without opening the door.

‘Police,’ came the reply.

‘What do you want?’

‘The Quarkbeast has been declared a dangerous animal,’ announced the impassive voice of the officer, ‘harbouring one is considered unlawful.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since when the King decreed it, seven minutes ago.’

The rug was being pulled rapidly from under my feet.

‘I need the Quarkbeast for protection,’ I answered a bit feebly.

‘King Snodd has thought of that,’ bellowed the officer through the door. ‘His Majesty has sent Sir Matt Grifflon to guarantee your safety.’

A shiver ran down my spine.

‘Grifflon wants to kill me so he can take over as Dragonslayer.’

There was a pause.

‘You have been beguiled by the Dragon, Miss Strange. Sir Matt tried to help you and you set the Quarkbeast on him. King Snodd has given his word that no harm will come to you. There is no higher guarantee in the Kingdom.’

He then added in a patronising manner:

‘We don’t want to hurt you or the Quarkbeast, Jennifer. All we want to do is help you.’

I peeped cautiously out of the window. The street had been blocked off and three police cars were parked outside. There were about a dozen officers, and two of them were dressed in heavy armour. They had between them a riveted titanium box in which to imprison the Quarkbeast. A half-inch of titanium was about the only metal he couldn’t chew through. Standing on one side but still looking very much in charge of the operation was Sir Matt Grifflon.

‘Please, Jennifer,’ said the officer, ‘open the door.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, running to the rear window and looking out. There were police out there, too. I was trapped.

‘This conversation is going round in circles, Miss Strange,’ said the officer as I returned to the front door. ‘Either you surrender the Quarkbeast or we come in and take it and arrest you for non-compliance with a royal decree. If the Quarkbeast so much as looks at us in a funny way, we will have no choice but to use lethal force. The choice is yours. I’ll give you a minute to decide.’

I looked down at the Quarkbeast.

‘It’s fourteen against two, chum. What do you say?’

‘Quark.’

‘I thought you’d say that. But I’m not risking your life for mine. Let’s find another way out.’

I ran to the Rolls-Royce and unclipped Exhorbitus. As the Quarkbeast watched me with growing interest, I attacked... the wall. The sword cut deep into the brickwork, slicing the masonry as though it were wet paper. Three quick slashes and we were through to the property next door.

‘Sorry!’ I said to the surprised-looking resident who had been watching The Snodd v. Brecon War Show Live when his wall came down and a Dragonslayer and her Quarkbeast jumped through.

We didn’t stop there, either. Holding the sword in front of me, I ran across the room and went through the next wall and into a coin-operated launderette. Water sprayed everywhere as the sword sliced easily through the washing machines. We heard an explosion from the Dragonstation as the police blew the door down; but by that time we had cut our way out of the launderette and were into the house beyond that. Luckily this one was empty and the next wall brought us out into the daylight at the end of the terrace. Exhorbitus was too unwieldy to allow me to run far, so I hid it beneath some rubbish in an empty building site and ran into the network of small alleyways in the Old Town behind the cathedral. We heard yells behind us, and I stopped. We couldn’t run for ever, my Volkswagen was in the other direction and the Dragonlands and the safety of the force-field almost twenty miles away. I turned to the Quarkbeast and told him to run off and hide. He looked all doleful and made signs that his place was by me so I had to be cross, and he eventually lolloped off. I waited until Sir Matt and his officers could see me from the far end of the street, then darted off in the opposite direction. I ran through the narrow streets with Grifflon and the officers barely a hundred yards away. I turned left, then right, then found myself outside Zambini Towers. I was out of breath, luck and ideas, and before I knew what I was doing I had darted inside and thrown the bolt.

I had hoped that Wizard Moobin might have returned and would help me, but I knew as soon as I entered that the old building was empty. For the first time ever I noticed an eerie silence within the echoing corridors of the old hotel. There was no hum, no static, no strangeness—nothing. All the sorcerers were absent, even the mad ones on the eleventh floor.

I dashed through the open doors of the Palm Court, looking for a place to hide, but my heart fell as I entered. Sitting next to the fountain was Lady Mawgon. She was sitting bolt upright with her hands on her lap. She was dressed in blacker than usual crinolines, and wore gloves and a veil. She looked even more funereal than normal, and had been waiting for me. It would have been a child’s spell to make me decide to run left when I entered the lobby.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Mawgon.’

‘I’ve been waiting for you, Jennifer.’

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I know we’ve not been getting on very well at present, but there’s a Big Magic going on tomorrow at noon, and I’ve got to be there.’

I didn’t get to say any more as there was a sharp report from the front door as the lock was shot off, and a cry from Sir Matt. There were footfalls on the steps of at least six officers and I heard shouts and cries in the lobby.

‘Sir Matt?’ called Lady Mawgon. ‘Would you come into the Palm Court please?’

Sir Matt stepped in and nodded respectfully to Lady Mawgon.

‘My Lady,’ he said, ‘will you give her to me?’

There was one of those long pauses that seem to go on for ever. I closed my eyes.

‘I have not see the wretched child all afternoon,’ she announced. ‘After you find her, you may send her to me.’

‘Don’t think me untrusting,’ said Sir Matt, and he beckoned his officers to search the Palm Court. He stepped forward and Lady Mawgon placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Sir Matt could not have missed me, but he did—and I breathed a sigh of relief. Lady Mawgon had occluded me from his sight. I could not be seen, so long as I stood perfectly still and made no noise.

‘Nothing in here, sir,’ said an officer, and trotted out to search the rest of the building.

‘She won’t get far,’ replied Grifflon. ‘The whole of the Old Town is sealed off.’

He turned back to Lady Mawgon and lowered his voice.

‘If I find out you’ve hidden her, I will return—and my revenge will be frightful.’

She gave him one of her most imperious looks, and Sir Matt called off the search since the wizards, ever worried about thieves, had left frighteners in their rooms, and even the burliest officers were quaking with fear at what they had seen. Within five minutes they had gone, and Lady Mawgon took her hand off my shoulder.

‘There is a Big Magic to be completed,’ she said in a quiet voice and without looking me in the eye, ‘and it behoves me to set our differences aside. Get a good night’s sleep. I will watch over you.’

‘Lady M—’

‘It is my duty,’ she said, ‘nothing more.’

I said nothing, and went to find Tiger.