If his face had been wrinkled when I met him, it was twice as wrinkled as the years poured on to his ancient body.
‘Wait!’ I urged him. ‘You cannot go now! Who is to follow me?’
‘No one, my child. Your name was the last on Shandar’s list. Maltcassion will die in your tenure. You are the last Dragonslayer.’
‘But I have much to ask you—!’
‘You are a clever girl.’ He coughed, his voice growing weak. ‘You will do well of your own accord. Be true to yourself and you will not fail. But please, do one thing for me.’
‘Anything.’
He handed me a scrap of paper.
‘I gave my watch to be repaired last Tuesday. Would you fetch it and give it to the serving lady named Eliza at the Dog and Ferret, with my love?’
‘Of course,’ I replied, tears welling up in my eyes and running down my cheeks. He beckoned me closer.
‘And it is prepaid, the repair,’ he added, ‘so don’t let the cheeky monkey charge you twice.’
‘I understand.’
‘One last thing,’ he murmured. ‘Will you fetch me a glass of water?’
I left him and went across to the sink. He must have been wanting to spare my feelings, for when I got back there was nothing left of him but his suit, hat and silver-topped cane lying in a heap on the floor among a fine smattering of grey powder. He was gone, home to the Palace of Shandar. I didn’t know what he would find there, but I hoped that he would be happy.
Thus it was that I, Jennifer Strange, sixteen years next month and loyal subject of King Snodd IV in the Kingdom of Hereford, took on the rights and responsibilities of the last Dragonslayer.
The Dragonlands
I looked around my new home. Upstairs was a bedroom with a good supply of books, and downstairs was a kitchen with a well-stocked larder. My friend, the previous Dragonslayer, had been a meticulous housekeeper. There was barely a speck of dust anywhere. I called Tiger.
‘It’s Jenny,’ I told him, ‘is everything all right?’
‘Everyone’s glaring at me and mumbling in low tones.’
‘You’re going to have to deal with that for a while.’
‘How did you get on with finding out about Dragons?’
‘Quite well, actually,’ I replied slowly. ‘I think I’m the last Dragonslayer.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
‘I said I think—’
‘I heard what you said. I just don’t think it’s very funny. I put my neck on the block as a kind of “foundling solidarity” thing and you don’t take any of it seriously.’
‘Tiger?’
‘Yes?’
‘You know how all your life you think maybe you’re placed here for a reason?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you never find out what that reason was?’
‘Yes.’
‘I just have. I’m not kidding. I’m the last Dragonslayer. I have the sword and everything.’
There was another pause.
‘This kind of throws you centre stage,’ said Tiger. ‘You’ll be famous and asked what you’re going to do and stuff.’
‘I’m not looking forward to it, nor the possibility of killing a dragon. But at least I get to actually find something out about Maltcassion—and with the sword Exhorbitus, I’ll finally be able to trim the Quarkbeast’s claws.’
‘That would be helpful,’ admitted Tiger, ‘all that click-click-click upon the floor is a bit annoying.’
He paused again.
‘Does this mean I have to run Kazam?’
I told him that I was sure I could do both, and that I would try to smooth things over with Lady Mawgon and Moobin and the others. This seemed to satisfy him, and after telling him to go and hide in a wardrobe if things got bad, I added I would be home as soon as I had ‘sorted a few things out’.
I replaced the phone slowly. My life had taken a sudden turn and I wasn’t really used to it yet. I needed to get out of the town and find some fresh air, so where better than the Dragonlands? I wasn’t going to learn anything sitting around in the Dragonstation drinking tea, so I turned to the spiky Rolls-Royce armoured car. I mounted the lance on the side and clipped the sword on to the bracket next to the riveted iron door. The doors to the garage opened easily on well-oiled hinges and the Rolls-Royce whispered into life. I paused for breath, then slowly edged the Slayermobile out into the traffic. It was busy on the streets, yet the traffic peeled out of my way as I approached, nobody having ever seen a Dragonslayer driving to work before, and even when I misjudged a corner and hit a bollard, the sharp spikes on the Rolls-Royce simply sliced through the iron as if it were butter. Children pointed, grown-ups stared and even pan-heads saluted me with their blocks of marzipan. Cars stopped at lights to let me cross unhindered, and several times a policeman halted traffic and waved me through a red light, saluting as I passed.
It was in this manner that I reached the Dragonlands and drove carefully through the caravans and tents that had increased in number dramatically since the previous night. Word had got about and people were travelling to the Kingdom of Hereford from all over the Ununited Kingdoms. I even noted that several catering vans had turned up, eager to turn a profit wherever crowds gathered. The mass of people waved excitedly as I entered, running for their balls of string and claiming-stakes in case this was the end of the Dragon. They would have to be disappointed. I took a deep breath and drove between the marker stones. There was a crackle and a rumble. If I had tried the same thing an hour ago I would have been vaporised. I parked the Rolls-Royce and waved cheerfully to the crowd on the other side of the marker stones, who gaped back like fish.
‘New Dragonslayer,’ I shouted by way of explanation, ‘just going to go and do... my... thing.’
I turned back and jumped, for there in front of me, here in the Dragonlands, was a man. He was quite unlike any man I have ever seen before. He was tall and graceful with a shock of white hair, craggy complexion and gleaming eyes that sparkled and danced. He was dressed in a black suit and cape, wore a large amethyst ring on his finger and carried a staff of willow. I had never seen this man before, yet I knew instantly who he was.
‘The Mighty Shandar!’ I gasped, and dropped to my knees.
‘You must be a Dragonslayer or their apprentice,’ said a warm voice that sounded like how I hoped my father would have sounded, had I ever known him. ‘For only they may pass the marker stones.’
‘I am, sir,’ I muttered, unsure of how to address the most powerful wizard the world had ever known.
‘I expect you have many questions,’ continued the Mighty Shandar.
‘Well, yes, I do,’ I replied, looking up.
‘Questions that I cannot hope to answer.’
I got to my feet. ‘How’s that?’ I asked, but the Wizard ignored me.
‘This is a recording, by the way,’ answered Shandar, who now that I looked more closely seemed almost translucent, like a spectre. The image flickered and rocked as he spoke, and I was surprised to find that a sorcery recording is not a lot better than a poor video recording. I waved a hand in front of his eyes, but he didn’t react. The Mighty Shandar continued:
‘You are the first Dragonslayer to venture on to the lands and you are here for one of two reasons: one, you are curious, or two, the Dragon violated the Dragonpact. If the reason is the former, then look and see and leave as soon as you can. If the reason is the latter, then look very carefully at the evidence of the suspected crime. There is much deceit in this world, and if there is even the slightest doubt in your mind, let the Dragon live. One more point. Dragons can be deceitful too. They often have a separate agenda and will manipulate the weak-minded for their own purposes. I wish you the best of luck. If you want to hear the message again, clap your hands once. If you want to delete this message, clap your hands twice. If you want to save this message then... oh, never mind.’