the centre of the target and stayed there, quivering. It was her third bullseye.
“Hurrah! Well done! Right in the red bit!” cried Adolphus, Olivia’s pet dragon, who was bouncing around the target waving his blue-green forked tail, flapping his wings and generally making a nuisance of himself as usual.
“Show off,” muttered Max, as he headed off to retrieve the arrows. His own were rather less impressively scattered around the edges of the target. One was buried in the trunk of an old beech tree several feet away.
“Just a bit off target, that one,” observed Max’s pet rat, Ferocious, poking his head out of Max’s tunic and surveying the scattered arrows. “Remind me never to get within a hundred feet of anything you’re aiming at, Max.”
“Yes, yes, very funny,” said Max, wrenching the arrow out of the tree and trudging back to Olivia. “I don’t see why I still have to do stupid target practice anyway. I’m going to be a wizard, not a knight.”
“Well, you know what Father told you,” said Olivia. “You still have to have basic knight’s training. Even wizards need to use a sword sometimes.”
Max grimaced. His father, Sir Bertram Pendragon, was every inch a knight, from the tips of his magnificent moustache to the toes of his oversized feet. He was as strong as an ox, surprisingly nifty withhis sword, and renowned throughout the kingdom as the Knight Who Can Quaff the Most Ale in a Single Swallow. Max, on the other hand, was slight for his eleven years, with untidy brown hair, a singular lack of coordination, and a healthy fear of horses. He was pretty sure all the knightly skills in the family had been passed on to his sister. Although she was two years younger and hadn’t had much training, Olivia was already a better rider, considerably better at archery, and was fast becoming better at swordplay too.
Max threw himself down on the grass and stretched out in the sunshine.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of archery, I’ve had enough of whacking the dummy with a lance and I’ve definitely had enough of sword practice. My shoulder hurts.”
Olivia plonked herself down next to him.
“You do realise I’ve only got three weeks left till the Festival of Chivalry, Max? You promised to help me train.”
Max groaned. Olivia was entered for theSquire’s Challenge, the most prestigious competition for novice squires in the kingdom. Normally she wouldn’t even have been allowed to enter, being a girl, but she had nagged Sir Bertram mercilessly till he gave her permission, and King Arthur had bent the rules to let her have a go. If she won, Sir Bertram had promised she could train to be a knight. He had been pretty certain he wouldn’t have to keep his promise – all the best squires in the kingdom would be competing, and Olivia had only been training for a few months.
Max, however, thought she had quite a good chance. His younger sister was quite ruthless when it came to fighting, and she was a fearless rider. What she lacked in training she more than made up for in cunning and brute force.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Can’t help. Got a lesson with Merlin.”
Just saying this made him feel six inches taller. He might not be very skilled with a sword, but Max did have quite a talent for magic – and now he had Merlin himself to teach him. Merlin was the mostpowerful wizard in the kingdom, but he looked like any other of King Arthur’s many knights, with dark plain clothes and a long sword buckled to his belt. Until you caught a glance from his bright hawk-like eyes and felt the power behind them.
Max had been having lessons with Merlin for the past few weeks, and he was buzzing with all the magic he’d tried and the spells he’d learned.
“Are you going to tell him about Snotty?” asked Olivia. Max had told the others about his encounter with his worst enemy. All of them had experienced Snotty’s plotting before, and they were all highly
“Hurrah! Well done! Right in the red bit!” cried Adolphus, Olivia’s pet dragon, who was bouncing around the target waving his blue-green forked tail, flapping his wings and generally making a nuisance of himself as usual.
“Show off,” muttered Max, as he headed off to retrieve the arrows. His own were rather less impressively scattered around the edges of the target. One was buried in the trunk of an old beech tree several feet away.
“Just a bit off target, that one,” observed Max’s pet rat, Ferocious, poking his head out of Max’s tunic and surveying the scattered arrows. “Remind me never to get within a hundred feet of anything you’re aiming at, Max.”
“Yes, yes, very funny,” said Max, wrenching the arrow out of the tree and trudging back to Olivia. “I don’t see why I still have to do stupid target practice anyway. I’m going to be a wizard, not a knight.”
“Well, you know what Father told you,” said Olivia. “You still have to have basic knight’s training. Even wizards need to use a sword sometimes.”
Max grimaced. His father, Sir Bertram Pendragon, was every inch a knight, from the tips of his magnificent moustache to the toes of his oversized feet. He was as strong as an ox, surprisingly nifty withhis sword, and renowned throughout the kingdom as the Knight Who Can Quaff the Most Ale in a Single Swallow. Max, on the other hand, was slight for his eleven years, with untidy brown hair, a singular lack of coordination, and a healthy fear of horses. He was pretty sure all the knightly skills in the family had been passed on to his sister. Although she was two years younger and hadn’t had much training, Olivia was already a better rider, considerably better at archery, and was fast becoming better at swordplay too.
Max threw himself down on the grass and stretched out in the sunshine.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of archery, I’ve had enough of whacking the dummy with a lance and I’ve definitely had enough of sword practice. My shoulder hurts.”
Olivia plonked herself down next to him.
“You do realise I’ve only got three weeks left till the Festival of Chivalry, Max? You promised to help me train.”
Max groaned. Olivia was entered for theSquire’s Challenge, the most prestigious competition for novice squires in the kingdom. Normally she wouldn’t even have been allowed to enter, being a girl, but she had nagged Sir Bertram mercilessly till he gave her permission, and King Arthur had bent the rules to let her have a go. If she won, Sir Bertram had promised she could train to be a knight. He had been pretty certain he wouldn’t have to keep his promise – all the best squires in the kingdom would be competing, and Olivia had only been training for a few months.
Max, however, thought she had quite a good chance. His younger sister was quite ruthless when it came to fighting, and she was a fearless rider. What she lacked in training she more than made up for in cunning and brute force.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Can’t help. Got a lesson with Merlin.”
Just saying this made him feel six inches taller. He might not be very skilled with a sword, but Max did have quite a talent for magic – and now he had Merlin himself to teach him. Merlin was the mostpowerful wizard in the kingdom, but he looked like any other of King Arthur’s many knights, with dark plain clothes and a long sword buckled to his belt. Until you caught a glance from his bright hawk-like eyes and felt the power behind them.
Max had been having lessons with Merlin for the past few weeks, and he was buzzing with all the magic he’d tried and the spells he’d learned.
“Are you going to tell him about Snotty?” asked Olivia. Max had told the others about his encounter with his worst enemy. All of them had experienced Snotty’s plotting before, and they were all highly