The Last Dragonslayer

have in his entire body one hundredth the power I have in my smallest toe.”

‘“I heard that!” said Mu’shad Waseed, throwing off his disguise and stepping forward. He had secretly arrived at Shandar’s palace the day before, having heard of Shandar’s demands. “Let’s see this mighty toe of yours!”

‘But instead of showing Mu’shad Waseed his toe, the Mighty Shandar bowed low, so low in fact that his forehead touched the ground, and he said, in a voice toned deep with respect and reverence:

‘“Welcome to my humble palace, most noble Wizard of the Persian Empire, controller of the winds and tides and known locally as He who can quell the Tamsin.”’

‘Don’t you mean Khamsin?’ I asked. ‘The hot and dusty wind that blows through the Arabian peninsula?’

‘If I meant Khamsin I would have said Khamsin,’ replied Mother Zenobia, beginning to get annoyed. ‘Tamsin was Mu’shad Waseed’s second wife. Frightful, frightful woman. Her love of glittery things, fine robes and bathing in rabbit’s milk set feminism back four centuries. And since you interrupted again, I’m going to ask Sister Assumpta to finish the story.’

‘Please don’t.’

Personally, I liked Sister Assumpta, but she had an annoying habit of telling stories using cricket as a metaphor. I’d be hearing the story in the context of a match, with the knights using the Mighty Shandar as their last man in, and fifty to make in failing light.

‘Very well,’ said Mother Zenobia, who didn’t like cricket metaphors either. ‘Last chance.’

‘“Great Mu’shad Waseed,” continued Shandar, “I read of your work in Sorcerers Monthly. Your control of the thunderstorm and the winds is quite awe-inspiring.”

‘But Mu’shad Waseed, who was the combustible product of a Persian father and a Welsh mother, was too angry to return Shandar’s politeness and instead caused a massive rainstorm to move in from the west, and as all the ambassadors of the seventy-eight kingdoms of the Ununited Kingdoms ran for cover, Mu’shad Waseed and Shandar faced each other. Their eyes narrowed and a Super Grand Master Sorcerers’ contest seemed ready to begin. But Shandar, whose turn it was by the sorcerer’s code to begin the contest, did nothing.

‘“Very well,” said Shandar slowly, a smile gathering on his lips, “you may deal with the Dragon Question. I shall return when you fail.” And so saying, he vanished.

‘Mu’shad Waseed gulped. In reality he knew that he did not have the power of the Mighty Shandar; when he had built a castle in Alexandria it had taken him not one night, but a month, and although he had, on occasion, built palaces in a lunch break, none of them had included—as Shandar’s had—a four-acre heated swimming pool, a library containing every book ever published and a zoo that apart from most of the world’s animals, also included a few that the Mighty Shandar had made up himself.

‘Whoops, thought Mu’shad Waseed, as the seventy-eight ambassadors of the Ununited Kingdoms emerged from their carriages wearing raincoats and galoshes, eager to know how Mu’shad Waseed was going to deal with the Dragon Question.’

The Dragon Question

‘Despite his own misgivings, Mu’shad Waseed accepted the task and threw himself into the project heartily. His first act was to ship many of his fellow wizards from Persia to act as a working committee, as it was a well- known fact that Dragons could do magic too, and that any spell woven by Mu’shad Waseed could just as easily be unwoven by Janus, Mr Beezley or even Dimwiddy. The best that Mu’shad Waseed could manage was the instigation of a class of warriors known as the Dragonslayers, men and women who were bold in heart and soft in the head, who would be sworn into the service after a five-year apprenticeship. Mu’shad Waseed created suits of armour with copper spikes, sharpened by the strongest magic to a point that could cut through anything. To each Dragonslayer he gave a horse blessed with intelligence and courage, and finally a sword and a lance, both of which were made of the finest steel, forged in the fires of the volcanoes of Tierra del Fuego, kept hot and then quenched in the lakes of Alaska—all fairly routine stuff.

‘These weapons were made sharper still by spells that looped and twirled and with loose ends not tied but joined, as any incantation can be undone if the spell has any loose ends, just as even the most difficult knot can be untied.

‘Mu’shad Waseed made one hundred each of these lances and swords, and trained one hundred Dragonslayers. To each of these one hundred Dragonslayers was given an apprentice to learn from his master. All seemed well, and after eight years, Mu’shad Waseed sent his Dragonslayers forth to slay the Dragons.

‘Initially, things seemed to go pretty well. Reports came flooding in of defeated Dragons; even “Bubbles” Beezley, the fabled pink comedic Dragon of Trollvania, fell to a Dragonslayer with the words:

‘“Is there anyone here from Newcastle?”

‘The number of jewels plucked from the foreheads of the Dragons rose quickly. Since the Dragon census of the day listed forty-seven active Dragons, the ambassadors of the Ununited Kingdoms wanted to see that many jewels as proof the Dragon Question had been solved. Mu’shad Waseed was not the only person eager to see the seven dray-weights of gold. Besieging the Persian wizard’s camp were representatives of hoteliers and restaurateurs, laundry companies and tailors, who had all given Mu’shad Waseed eight years of credit and now wanted their money. As reports of fallen Dragons came pouring in, parties were planned throughout the islands by the grateful inhabitants; a land without Dragons meant their harvest wouldn’t be burnt, their livestock wouldn’t be eaten, and they could walk around at night without wearing an uncomfortable copper helmet. So everyone, for the moment at least, was happy.

‘Everyone except the Dragonslayers themselves. The slaying of all those Dragons had not been undertaken without loss. By the end of the first month the one hundred Dragonslayers were down to seventy-six. By the next month there were thirty-eight, and by the end of the year, when Mu’shad Waseed had a pile of forty-seven forehead jewels in a glittering heap, only eight of the original Dragonslayers were left alive.

‘The seventy-eight ambassadors came to see Mu’shad Waseed when he announced that all the Dragons had been slain and, in return, they brought the gold to pay him in many stout carts drawn by oxen. There was a big banquet in honour of Mu’shad Waseed with twenty-nine courses and fifty-two different wines. There were dancing girls and acrobats and fire-eaters and Lobster knows what else. And at the head of the table, as pleased as a cat who had pinched all the cream, and sitting on the glittering heap of head-jewels, was Mu’shad Waseed himself. But then, after the speeches but before the liqueurs, just as the ambassadors were weighing out the seven dray- weights of gold, a fierce whooshing, beating of wings and growling came from the north. In the dying light of the day the party guests could see the sky darken with the approach of the Dragons. Small Dragons, large Dragons, grey ones, blue ones; keen on the wing and lively in claw and breathing fire from their throats and nostrils while howling an agonising war-cry. The party ceased, the musicians stopped playing. The milk turned sour and the wine turned to vinegar. There could be no doubt where the Dragons were heading: they were all converging on the feast of Mu’shad Waseed. The terrified ambassadors turned to the great and powerful wizard:

‘“Great Mu’shad Waseed; there were forty-seven Dragons in the country and you claimed to have killed them all; tell us now, who are these Dragons and where do they come from?”

‘“I think,” answered the wizard with a resigned sigh, “that reports of Dragon death have been greatly exaggerated.”

‘The revenge of the Dragons was quick, terrible and absolute. Mu’shad Waseed, his magic weakened by the eight years of toil, could do nothing, and the terrible screams of the lizards and their victims were heard twenty miles away.’

I wanted to ask a question, but with the threat of Sister Assumpta looming, I thought better not to.

‘Only one person was spared to relate the story,’ said Mother Zenobia. ‘It was said that Mu’shad Waseed himself was left until the last when Maltcassion himself enveloped him with a thunderous blast of fire so intense that the Persian wizard was turned to charcoal where he stood. The Dragons stayed until dawn, razing Mu’shad Waseed’s headquarters to the ground, scouring the earth with their hot breath until all that was left of the carts, horses, ambassadors, musicians and guests was a fine grey ash. Then the Dragons vanished back to where they had come from, leaving behind a blackened patch of earth and a lot of disgruntled hotel owners and restaurateurs who, as far as we know, never got paid.