Chapter 1
C link! Clink! Clink! Mordred, the headmaster of Dragon Slayers’ Academy, banged his spoon on his glass. Clink! Clink! Clink!
“Boys!” Mordred’s loud voice filled the DSA dining hall. “I have a surprise for you!”
Egad! thought Wiglaf. What now? Mordred’s last surprise had been a scrubbing party. Wiglaf had been up half the night, working on the stew pot.
“Maybe Uncle Mordred caught the boys who threw his boots into the moat,” Angus whispered to Wiglaf. Angus was the headmaster’s nephew. But Wiglaf didn’t hold that against him. “Or maybe,” Angus went on, “he found out who dropped Sir Mort’s false teeth into the cider jug.”
“Shh, Angus!” said Erica, who was also Wiglaf’s friend. “We’re supposed to be—”
“QUIIIIIET!” Mordred roared.
A hush fell over the dining hall.
“That’s better.” The headmaster smiled. His gold tooth shone in the torchlight. “Now, as you know, Wiglaf has killed two dragons.”
Wiglaf gasped. Could it be? Was Mordred at last going to honor him as a hero?
“But tell me, boys,” Mordred continued. “Did Wiglaf bring back any dragon gold for me?”
“Nooooooo!” the DSA students cried.
Wiglaf slid down in his seat. He should have known! Mordred was only picking on him—again.
Wiglaf was sick of being picked on. Back home, his twelve brothers picked on him all the time. They called him Runt, because he was small for his age. They made fun of his carrot-colored hair and his pet pig, Daisy. They teased him about his tender-hearted ways.
Wiglaf had hoped that things would be better at school. He had come to DSA to learn to be a hero. And he had killed two dragons. A young one named Gorzil and his mother, Seetha. But the truth was, Wiglaf had killed them by accident. He could never have cut off their heads. Or poked his sword into their guts. The very thought of blood made Wiglaf sick to his stomach. Still, he had killed them. That should count for something. And he was the only boy at DSA ever to kill any dragon. But Mordred didn’t care about dead dragons. All he cared about was getting his hands on their gold.
“Wiglaf brought me no gold,” Mordred moaned softly. “No gold.” Then his violet eyes lit up. “But rumors are flying!” he exclaimed. “Villagers in Ratswhiskers say that before Seetha died, she hid all her gold in a cave in the Dark Forest.”
Erica jumped up. “Let me go to that cave, sir!” she cried. “I shall bring you Seetha’s gold!”
Wiglaf smiled. Erica was so gung ho about dragon slaying. Mordred did not let girls into his school. So Erica cut her straight brown hair and dressed as a boy so she could go to DSA. Everyone there called her Eric. Only Wiglaf knew that she was really Erica. Princess Erica, as a matter of fact.
“You shall go, Eric,” Mordred roared. “ All of you are going on a class trip to the Dark Forest! That is my surprise! All of you are going to hunt for Seetha’s gold!”
“Hooray!” Erica cried.
A few others cheered. But not Wiglaf. The Dark Forest was not exactly a vacation spot. It was dark, for one thing. And very scary.
“You shall meet in the castle yard tomorrow morning,” Mordred continued. “Then you shall march into the Dark Forest. And the boy who finds Seetha’s gold...” Mordred rubbed his hands together. “...will get a great big prize !”
“Hooray!” everyone cheered this time.
“Wiggie!” Erica called over the cheering. “I am sure to find Seetha’s gold, so you and Angus stick with me. That way, you can share the prize!”
Wiglaf nodded. If only the prize were some of Seetha’s gold. Then he could pay the seven pennies he still owed DSA for his tuition. He could send some money to his greedy family back in Pinwick. And maybe—just maybe—if he found Seetha’s gold, Mordred would stop picking on him.
Chapter 2
“J ump, boys! Higher!” Coach Plungett, the DSA slaying teacher, called early the next morning. His
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