Kenzie fell back with a cry as the Black Knight snapped his visor shut and, pushing him roughly out of the way, spurred his horse forward and cantered out of the tent to join the Red Knight.
“What was all that about?” Mac asked, looking at Kenzie anxiously.
Kenzie ignored the question. He was too busy looking after the two knights who were now riding together towards the concourse. “Look at the Black Knight’s scabbard, Mac,” he whispered. “He’s got a real sword there!”
“You’re joking!” Mac looked flabbergasted.
“That’s not all! When I tackled him about it just now … well …”
“Well … what?”
“I don’t think it was Peter on that horse. It was someone else. I saw his eyes through his visor. It wasn’t Peter, I tell you!”
“You’re out of your mind,” Mac said, looking at him in disbelief. “Of course it was Peter! Who else could it be?” Then he frowned as he thought of the sword. “But,” he stammered, “what on earth did he bring a real sword for?”
Remembering the look in the knight’s eyes, Kenzie hesitated. “To kill Simon?” he said, hazarding a guess.
The grooms looked at one another in horror.
“Come off it!” Mac objected. “They’re good friends!”
“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Kenzie muttered. “Hurry up! We might be able to do something!” And with that, they ran towards the crowds.
From the stands, Neil looked on in fascination as the two knights cantered briskly towards the dais. Their visors were closed and Neil wondered just how much they could see through the holes that decorated the front. Both knights and horses looked magnificent. The Black Knight, in trappings of black and gold, carried a black shield with a shining golden sword in its centre. His opponent, the Red Knight, sitting astride a beautiful silver-grey horse, was equally richly attired but his horse was draped in red and a red dragon rampant reared ferociously in the middle of his silver shield.
Lord Rothlan stiffened as they approached and looked at Prince Kalman with raised eyebrows; for the feeling of magic that swept from the knights wasn’t the mere whisper they’d sensed before. It was strong and powerful and it emanated from the Black Knight!
Completely oblivious, Simon, the Red Knight, smiled behind his visor. He was tense with excitement and full of confidence. They’d practised the fight over and over again; every move had been carefully choreographed and they both knew exactly what they were going to do and when they were going to do it. It would, of course, look alarmingly real to the watching crowds but, if the truth be told, there was really nothing dangerous about the fight whatsoever.
The two knights reined in their horses in front of the dais and it was then that Neil choked and gripped Lord Rothlan’s arm as, with a grand gesture, they drew their swords and saluted the assembled gathering.
As the Black Knight held the sword aloft, so that it shone and glinted in the sunlight, a tremor of fear and excitement gripped the crowd. Prince Kalman swore softly under his breath and Neil bit his lip. Dragonslayer, he thought, his heart sinking. It couldn’t be anything else. Magic blazed from its blade! He knew that the MacArthurs would be watching and almost wished he was with them so that he could comfort Arthur.
Dragonslayer blinked in the sunlight. Then it saw the familiar slopes of Arthur’s Seat and glowed with happiness as the years rolled swiftly back. The only thing that took the edge off its feeling of delight was the fact that it was not Sir Pendar who held it in his grasp; for Lord Jezail was a weakling by comparison. He could barely hold the sword, far less wield it with the strength needed to kill a dragon! Indeed, it was only when it had suggested that Count Vassili take his place that the furious magician had downed half a dozen dragon pills and, bursting with new-found energy, had managed to convince it that he had the skills, and the strength, to kill a dragon.
Inside the hill, the MacArthur drew an unsteady breath as he saw the Black Knight holding the sword aloft. It was as though Sir Pendar had returned to life. The Black Knight was once more on their doorstep and Arthur was once more at risk. He was under no illusions for he knew the strength of the magic the sword commanded.
Arthur gazed at the crystal, his eyes fixed on the sword. It was then that he realized that he’d secretly known all along that, one day, Dragonslayer would return to claim him and this — this, it would seem, was the day.
Archie, looking devastated, clung to the dragon in an agony of fear. The MacArthur reached out and grasping Jaikie’s arm, nodded towards the magic mirror, bidding him to tell the Lords of the North what was going on. Minutes later, they arrived, stepping one by one in all their finery to stand by the MacArthur’s crystal and watch the happenings on the slopes of Arthur’s Seat.
“Who is the Black Knight?” queried Lord Alarid.
“I think it might be Lord Jezail,” the MacArthur said shortly.
“And the Red Knight?”
The MacArthur shrugged.
“I still can’t understand it,” Lord Alarid frowned. “There’s no way that Dragonslayer could undo the hex I put on it!”
The MacArthur glanced at him, pursing his lips. “It’s Dragonslayer all right,” he said heavily. “I mean, just look at it!”
And as all eyes turned again to the crystal, they saw the magic that shone from the sword in a triumphant blaze of golden light.
It was as the knights turned from that crowds and faced one another, ready for battle, that the Red Knight noticed the sword for the first time and looked at Dragonslayer blankly. What the devil was Peter up to, he thought, poncing around with a real sword! Even from where he was, he could see that it was razor sharp. It would cut his sword in half the minute they began their fight, for goodness sake!
The Black Knight approached him threateningly, sword at the ready. Simon, still not sure what was going on, edged his horse backwards, holding his shield fearfully in front of him. He sensed that this wasn’t a game anymore. The Black Knight was deadly serious. But why on earth would Peter want to hurt him?
To Simon’s surprise, however, the Black Knight made no move to attack. He merely urged his horse forward, pointed his sword at his shield, and said some strange words. They were, of course, the words of a hex, but they were enough to convince Simon that Peter had chosen the worst of all possible moments to go completely bonkers.
It was then that his shield became heavy on his arm; so heavy that he balanced it on the side of his saddle to keep it from falling to the ground. He didn’t notice that the red dragon in its centre gleamed suddenly bright in the sunlight as Dragonslayer’s power drew Arthur from the safety of the hill to the grassy slopes outside.
The Lords of the North gasped at the power of the hex but could do nothing to counteract it, they could only watch as the great dragon gave a dreadful cry as he shimmered and disappeared before their eyes. Turning in horror to the crystal, they then saw the painted dragon on the Red Knight’s shield become ever larger as Arthur emerged from it in a sinewy, rippling tide of red.
Utterly petrified at the sight of the dragon, the Red Knight backed hastily away, his horse, rearing and whinnying shrilly. It took all of his skill to control the frightened animal and it was only when it was quiet that he hastily dismounted and led it quickly to one side. He not only needed to calm the trembling beast but also had to steady his own shattered nerves. A dragon! This hadn’t been in the script!
What on earth was Peter up to? He looked fearfully at the Black Knight who now stood in front of the dragon, sword at the ready. He must be mad! For the dragon, he knew, was real. He’d seen and felt its body writhe out of his shield. What was Peter thinking? How could he stand there, face to face with a dragon? Even as he watched, the great beast sent a stream of sparkling fire curling across the grass and his heart sank. The dragon was huge and obviously meant business!
The crowd tensed with excitement at the sight of the huge beast. Its appearance was totally unexpected and many people started to flick through their programmes, wondering how on earth they’d missed reading about this utterly fantastic act.
Colonel Jamieson, however, almost had a heart attack. He stiffened and leapt to his feet. looking totally stunned. A dragon! Where on earth had it come from? More to the point, who had organized it without telling him? It looked frighteningly real and the blasts of fire worried him. It had certainly never been planned as part of the tournament and his heart sank as he thought of Health and Safety …
Some people clapped at what they thought were the most fantastic special effects they’d ever seen but the applause faded and a ripple of unease replaced the initial excitement as Arthur stood before the Black Knight in all his splendour. He was a magnificent dragon and, spreading his wings, blinked in the bright sunlight. He had lived in the hill for so long that he’d forgotten the incredible blueness of the sky on a summer’s day, the all-pervading warmth of the sun and the sweet smell of newly mown grass. How wonderful the world was.
In front of him, the black horse reared and bucked nervously, drawing Arthur’s attention to it and its rider. The Black Knight! He wondered if the MacArthur was right in thinking that it was Lord Jezail. Lord Jezail who had kidnapped Clara! His eyes narrowed dangerously for the very thought of Clara in the magician’s clutches made him forget his fears. He roared furiously, a thing he hadn’t done in years and, if the truth be told, gave himself a bit of a fright! But noticing that the Black Knight had backed away slightly, he roared again and then, wings outstretched, clawed his way over the grass towards him, blowing great gusts of flame that licked round the horse’s legs, making it rear in panic. Gone were the days when he had trembled before Sir Pendar. He was now a fully grown dragon and more than capable of looking after himself.
Now, angry dragons are not to be trifled with at the best of times and, despite the powerful hexes that surrounded him and his horse, Jezail trembled at the sight of the fearsome creature moving steadily towards him. The sword, feeling his fear and afraid that the magician might turn tail and run, sent a wave of power through him that did much to steady his nerves so that Jezail, regaining his confidence in an instant, relaxed and smiled nastily. Holding his horse with an iron hand, his eyes gleamed with triumph as the sword’s magic gripped him. He knew exactly what he was going to do and where he was going to strike.
He raised Dragonslayer aloft as Arthur gave another dreadful roar and, wings beating the air furiously, flew at the knight in a blinding blaze of fire.
In the stands, Neil watched, his heart in his mouth, as the Black Knight spurred his terrified horse forward to meet the dragon. “Arthur,” Neil whispered, his breath catching on a sob. “Arthur,” he pleaded, grasping Lord Rothlan’s sleeve, his eyes still on the dragon. “You must save him!”
“Wait,” Lord Rothlan said curtly.
Ignoring the great gusts of flames that Arthur blasted round him, Jezail galloped straight towards him and, lifting Dragonslayer, gave a cry of triumph as he thrust the sword deep into the dragon’s heart.
The whole crowd rose screaming to their feet as Arthur gave a great, shrieking cry, his body arching in pain as he writhed furiously in the air before collapsing in a heap on the grass.