Dragon Seeker Read Online Free Page A

a bit worried about the MacArthurs. Could we, Mum? I mean, once we’re there we can call our magic carpets and go into the hill.”
    Neil nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, let’s do that,” he said. “It’s ages since we saw the MacArthurs!”
    “And Arthur!” Clara smiled, thinking of the great red dragon that lived in the hill.
    Mrs MacLean looked at her husband who nodded thoughtfully . “I don’t see why not,” he said unconcernedly. “You can tell them we were asking for them … and that we hope the earthquake didn’t do any damage.”
    “If it did,” Clara laughed, “they’d just use magic to fix it.”
     
    Clara didn’t know it, but at that particular moment, Lord Jezail was thinking much the same thing. Should he use his magic to mend Sir Pendar’s tomb?
    He frowned in annoyance as sunlight, streaming in through a jagged gap in the outer wall, revealed a ceiling that tilted alarmingly and stone walls full of deep cracks. How
could
he have made such an error of judgement? The hex he’d cast had been too strong by far. Indeed, he’d been lucky that the tomb hadn’t slipped down the side of the castle rock with the rock-slide !
    Taking a deep breath to steady his quivering nerves, he stepped back and took another searching look round the interior of the small stone chamber, his sharp eyes missing nothing as they darted here and there. A black flag with a golden sword in its centre listed crazily against one wall and, underneath its dusty folds, stood a huge coffin. Cut out of solid rock, it dominated the room. The heavy stone slab that had obviously been its lid, lay shattered on the floor, witness to the strength of the mighty earthquake he’d hexed up.
    Reverently, he approached the coffin and peered inside. Would it be there, he asked himself anxiously? Would the sword be there?
    At first, he was too taken aback to notice it, for although Sir Pendar lay in great splendour, his shining armour encased the white bones of his skeleton. His skull grinned up at him from the depths of his helmet; his bones showed clearly through the joints in his armour and his horn lay by his side. It was then that a burst of joy filled the magician’s heart — for the skeleton’s hand clutched a sword across its chest in a bony grasp. Dragonslayer! There was no doubtabout it! He feasted his eyes on its broad, embossed blade and fingered the delicate curve of the carved dragon that decorated its hilt. Dragonslayer! It was his for the taking!
    His hand shook as he reached into the coffin to take the sword but Sir Pendar’s grasp was unyielding. He pulled at the sword but it didn’t move. Not an inch.
    The magician’s face turned ugly. He hadn’t come all this way to find the sword and leave without it!
    Seeing his face, the sword trembled within itself. The earthquake , totally unexpected, had frightened the wits out of it but when the lid of the coffin had slid off and crashed to the floor, a great well of happiness had surged through it. There was light: it could see!
    Dragonslayer’s happiness, however, dimmed when the magician bent over the coffin, his face evil and triumphant. It had already sensed the presence of magic and the feeling was confirmed the minute Lord Jezail put his hand on its hilt.
    The sword thought rapidly as a myriad of possibilities flashed through its mind. It would, quite naturally, have much preferred to have been found by a human; preferably some simple soul like Sir Pendar who had done
what
he was told,
when
he was told. Magicians, however, were a very different kettle of fish and the sword was wary. It was as Lord Jezail pulled again at the hilt that the sword gauged the depths of the magician’s power and was overtaken by doubt; for this was a powerful magician, indeed.
    The sword sighed. It was the same story all over again! All its life, it had been hampered by the fact that it couldn’t move around on its own. It needed to belong to someone who would care for it, carry it