Icespell (2 page)

Danger in the Moat!

T
he pike snapped its jaws shut like a steel trap, but Max dodged the razor-sharp teeth and shot upwards as fast as he could. His only thought was to get back onto dry land as quickly as possible. He leaped out of the water, the pike only just behind him, snapping angrily. The bank was still a few feet away, and Max was clearly going to drop back into the water just where the giant fish would be waiting hungrily.
A dragonfly buzzed past Max, hovering over the surface of the water, and in that instant he mentally grabbed great handfuls of the magic he knew was inside him and flung it at the dragonfly, at himself, at the moat, and at the pike. He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to achieve but it had a lot to do with not falling back down into the water and the pike’s waiting jaws.

WHOOSH!

There was a buzzing and a burst of light, and suddenly everything around Max seemed to be turning over and over in a dizzy whirl of bank, water and sky. Max felt giddy, and slightly sick, and wasn’t at all sure where he’d ended up. He didn’t seem to be inside the pike at least, because he could see the sunlight glinting on motes of dust and reflecting off the water…

Suddenly Max realised where he was. He was in the air, above the moat, and he had turned himself into a dragonfly. The giddiness came from the speed at which he was flying and a constant change of direction as he slightly overdid a wingbeat on one side or the other. Gradually he managed to bring his flying under
control, and to keep the surface of the water more or less steady underneath him. He flew up a little higher from the surface, safely out of the reach of any jumping fish, and started to enjoy speeding along in a straight line.

“I did it!” he thought. “I did magic without any potions! I turned myself into a dragonfly!”

He was so triumphant at having managed such an amazing piece of magic on his own that at first he didn’t notice he was heading straight for the wall of the castle. By the time he did, it was too late. There was only one option, and Max took it. He flapped desperately to the left, and whizzed straight through a dark narrow window into a small chamber.

The moment he was in the room, Max realised there were people in there too. One of them raised a hand to swat him, and he dived sideways, coming to a quivering rest on a tapestry along one wall. Luckily the tapestry was brightly coloured, and Max disappeared nicely into the pattern. It seemed like a good place to hide while he assessed the situation.

Max peered at the people in the room. They looked vaguely familiar, although dragonfly vision took a bit of getting used to. Then he heard one of them speak, and he knew instantly who they were.

“Get your fat head out of the way, Jerome. I need to find a good hiding place, and it’s got to be on this side because this is the northernmost wall of the castle.”

Max would have known that sneering voice anywhere. Which meant the other figure must be Snotty’s usual sidekick, Jerome Stodmarsh, a stocky boy with red hair and a face like a pug. What were they up to?

He fluttered a little closer, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. Just where they were huddled together, there was an ornately carved chest. Max settled on it and kept as still as he could. As he watched, Snotty placed a small pile of white powder on the ground behind the chest, right next to the wall. In the centre of the white powder he placed a small jagged piece of grey stone. Then both figures stood up, and Snotty dusted off his hands.

“There. That’s the last one. Come on Jerome, let’s go and whack a few novices in the practice yard…”

They left, and the heavy oak door of the chamber crashed shut behind them. Which meant Max would have to get back out again through the narrow slit window.

Max had often watched flies and other insects trying to get out of a small window, and thought how ridiculously stupid they were. Now he wished he had been more charitable. Not only was dragonfly vision not quite as sharp as he’d hoped, it was also very difficult to judge speed and angles so as to get exactly where he was aiming for. Max lost count of the times he found himself, dazed, on the window ledge, having knocked himself out flying into the wall. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and aimed ever so slightly to the left of the window. Mentally crossing his fingers, he flew directly at the wall… and emerged into the sunlight on the other side, breathing a sigh of relief.

But his relief did not last long. Because try as Max might, he could not see Merlin anywhere, either
in the moat or beside it. In fact, there didn’t appear to be anyone around at all. The moat was as still as a pond, the sun was shining fiercely, and most people had retreated indoors for a midday meal or a quiet nap. Even when he managed to find the gatehouse and fly through it, the castle yard beyond was deserted.

He settled on a stone buttress, folded his shimmering wings, and considered the situation. He was a dragonfly. No one knew he was a dragonfly, not even Merlin, who had last seen him as a frog. If Max wasn’t going to end up as a dragonfly for the rest of his life, he was going to have to find some way of reactivating the magic he knew was inside him to turn himself back.

Max concentrated hard and thought about being a boy. He thought about the handfuls of magic he’d flung at the pike in his terror. He thought about the feeling of being drenched in magic, the feeling of being transformed into another creature. He held his breath and
willed
as hard as he could to be a boy.

But he was still a dragonfly.

Max closed his eyes and tried again. He willed it so hard he thought his dragonfly brain would burst. He flapped his wings and shouted random spell words in the hope that it might get something started. But nothing happened.

Slugs’ eyeballs! This was getting serious. It looked like he might be destined to stay a dragonfly forever. But then his antennae pricked up. Max heard a clash of sword on metal, and a distinctly familiar voice.

“Ow! Dungballs! I’ve whacked my knee
again
!”

Just around the corner, a small but sturdy figure with short, messy brown hair was picking up her sword from the ground and preparing to do battle again with a rusty old practice dummy. Max remembered spending hours trying to disarm a similar dummy at Castle Perilous. There was a trick to hooking the dummy’s sword out of its metal hand – but get it wrong, and you might find yourself slicing your own leg off instead. From the look of Adolphus, who had one claw over his eyes, wincing, Olivia had not been having much luck this session.

Max flew across and landed on Olivia’s shoulder, as close to her ear as he could get. Ever since they’d both been transformed into frogs, a few months before, they’d been able to understand animal speech. But just as Max prepared to shout as loud as he could into her ear, Olivia’s hand came up automatically and brushed him off. Max went tumbling through the air, turned three somersaults and landed on the ground, feeling extremely dazed.

The world took a few seconds to stop whirling round and round. When it did, Max realised he was looking straight into the eyes of Adolphus the dragon. Adolphus, the dimmest dragon in the kingdom. Adolphus, who generally ate first and asked questions later.

Adolphus had just started to open his mouth when Max, shouting as loud as he possibly could, bellowed, “No! Stop! It’s me – Max!”

Adolphus stopped, and peered at the dragonfly in front of him.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“It’s me – Max! It’s Max! Tell Olivia!” shouted Max, hopping up and down and flapping his wings madly.

Adolphus looked puzzled. He frowned in concentration. He took a deep breath. He scratched his ear with his back leg. Then he looked down at the dragonfly again.

“Did you say you knew Max?”

“No,” said Max, thankful that at least he was having a conversation, rather than being digested. “I
am
Max. It’s Max! Tell Olivia!”

“Umm, OK,” said Adolphus doubtfully, and called out to Olivia. “Er… there’s a dragonfly here. He’s called Max. Funny – same name as our Max. Anyway. He wants to talk to you, for some reason.”

Olivia stopped in the middle of a complicated manoeuvre, and frowned.

“Says his name is Max? That’s an odd name for a dragonfly… Are you sure?”

“Well, umm, I think so,” said Adolphus uncertainly. “Maybe you’d better talk to him.”

Olivia came over and bent down. She put out her finger and Max crawled onto it, clinging tightly as she raised him up to her face.

“So,” she said. “You’re called Max.”

“I
am
Max, idiot!” he shouted in his tiny dragonfly voice. “It’s me! I turned myself into a dragonfly and now I can’t turn myself back. Have we got any antidote?”

Olivia looked at Max and started to laugh. In fact, she couldn’t stop laughing. She had to put him down on the ground so she could really howl with laughter. Max rolled his eyes and waited for her to reach the hiccupping stage. Then he took off, landed on the end of her nose and demanded the antidote, that second, or he would never help her train again.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But I don’t think we’ve got any left. I’ll have to… kiss you.” Which sent her off into another fit.

Eventually, she lifted Max up on her finger and kissed the tip of one wing which he held out very gingerly.

WHOOSH!

There were stars, and Max landed with a thud on the ground, fully human again, while Adolphus bounced round joyfully, quite amazed to see him, and telling him what a shame it was that he’d missed the chance to meet a dragonfly that had the same name.

At that moment Merlin came striding into the yard with Ferocious on his shoulder. He gave a shout of relief.

“Max! Thank goodness! I thought I felt transformation magic taking place. Everything all right? Where did you go?”

Max explained about being a dragonfly, and Merlin apologised for not getting to him sooner when he’d realised Max had started following the pike.

“When I did get there, I was just about to whip you out of the way when you came up with that blast of magic. Gave me a bit of trouble,” said Merlin, gingerly feeling his nose. “Quite some power you’ve got there Max, once you learn to control it. I don’t suppose you managed to turn yourself back?”

Max shook his head.

“Never mind, never mind, early days… Where did you go, anyway? I lost track of you while I was trying to deal with almost having my nose broken.”

Max told Merlin and the others about seeing Snotty and Jerome, but he had got so dizzy and disoriented as a dragonfly that he had no idea which chamber he’d been in. As Max described the white powder, Merlin frowned, and a strange, absent expression came over his face, like he was trying hard to detect a faint smell. After a few moments, he looked round at them all.

“They’ve been planting a spell of some kind. I’ve tried to sense where, but I can’t. I rather suspect that the white powder contains some kind of shielding magic that’s hiding it from me. And if it’s good enough to stop me, then there’s really only one person in the kingdom who could have made it.”

Merlin looked fierce, and Max shivered. Lady Morgana le Fay. So Snotty was up to something, and it
did
have something to do with Morgana. He told Merlin
about finding Snotty in the armoury that morning.

“So. Maybe that was his first attempt, and now he’s managed to plant the spell somewhere else. We’ll have to see if we can find out where… But in the meantime, keep an eye out, all of you. We are almost certainly going to have some trouble from Morgana at the Festival of Chivalry, and we need to be ready.”

Icespell

T
he black knight stood motionless, foursquare on his huge black charger, his lance extended in front of him. Olivia took a deep breath, steadied her horse, and took a firm grip of her lance. She narrowed her eyes, sighting along the lance at the brooding knight, and then nudged the horse into a trot.

“Go, Olivia!” shouted Max from the stands, and Adolphus, who was sitting beside him, waved his
forked tail and snorted a small spout of flame. Olivia frowned. It was bad enough being the only girl doing the training for the Squire’s Challenge, without having embarrassing family members cheering for you. But there was worse to come. As she headed at a canter towards the waiting knight, the unmistakable bellow of Sir Bertram Pendragon’s hearty voice rang out across the jousting ground.

“Whack him one, Olivia! That’s my girl!”

Olivia rolled her eyes, then grasped her lance firmly and focused on the knight in front of her. There were two dangers to avoid at all costs. One, being hit by the knight’s lance on any part of your body, and two, hitting him anywhere on his left-hand side. The ideal option was to get him straight between the eyes, and this Olivia fully intended to do.

She avoided his lance in style, by leaning over in the saddle just a fraction to the left, and then she struck in her turn. Unfortunately, her lance wavered at the last second, and she caught the knight on his left shoulder. The flat iron figure spun round smartly
and his lance whacked her hard on the back as she galloped past.

There was an outbreak of cheering from the other end of the jousting ground and Olivia, smarting from the blow and from annoyance at missing, ground her teeth. Of course, the biggest cheer of all came from the red-haired Mordred, son of King Lot of Orkney and her biggest rival.

“Slimy good-for-nothing son of a septic carbuncle,” she muttered, as she led her horse slowly back down to where the other squires were gathered. “I’d like to see you do better!”

But to Olivia’s annoyance, Mordred, who was next, managed to place his lance perfectly. The great iron knight toppled over backwards and crashed to the ground with a resounding clang. Mordred waved his lance in the air triumphantly, and all the novices clapped. All except Olivia.

“Never mind, my dear, can’t expect to beat the son of the King of Orkney, eh?” said Sir Bertram, patting her heartily on the back. “He’s been training
since he was five years old. You’re very good, you know, but you can’t expect miracles.”

Secretly, Sir Bertram was rather relieved to see that Olivia had a serious rival. He’d been very much afraid she might actually pull it off, might win the Squire’s Challenge. And although it would be rather a triumph in some ways, it
would
mean he’d have to keep his word and let her train to be a knight, and his wife, Lady Griselda, would never let him hear the end of it. He stroked his magnificent moustache and tried not to look too pleased.

“Well, now, afternoon off, eh? You should go down to the river with Max. Got to stick around in the castle, myself. The king’s calling a meeting of all his knights, see what we can do about this blasted sorceress causing trouble. Otherwise I’d come with you – lovely day for a swim!”

“Yes, hurrah, let’s go to the river!” said Adolphus, bounding up to them and flapping his wings. “I love swimming!”

Olivia sighed. She only had three weeks left to
get good enough at the mock joust to beat Mordred, and she would rather have spent the afternoon tilting at the practice dummy. But Sir Bertram was right, it was a lovely afternoon, and maybe some time off would do her good. And of course, she could always try out a few sword manoeuvres on Max. She brightened, and nodded, and Sir Bertram clapped her on the shoulder.

“Excellent! Don’t be late back – supper in the Great Hall tonight. Caradoc’s just got back from his travels, got a new song for us all.”

Olivia exchanged glances with Max and they both grinned. ‘Caradoc’ the bard had been quite an ally in their last adventure. But what Sir Bertram didn’t know was that Caradoc’s name was actually Lancelot, and he
wasn’t
actually a bard. He was really a knight, but because he was working as a spy for Merlin, he had to keep his knightly skills a secret. He was also pretty good at magic, although he kept that talent a secret too – Lady Morgana and her fellow plotters wouldn’t be suspicious of a lowly bard, and that was the way Merlin wanted things to stay.

Max and Olivia were looking forward to seeing Lancelot again, and maybe he’d have some news about just what Morgana was plotting for the festival.

“Ow!”

Max’s sword tumbled through the air and landed with a clatter among the rocks by the edge of the river. Max himself was bent over, nursing his hand and swearing under his breath. Olivia stood panting, her sword in her hand, looking triumphant and just a little bit concerned.

“Umm, are you all right, Max?” she said.

“No, I’m not all right! I think you sliced my hand off, you maniac!” said Max through gritted teeth. “Honestly, Olivia – you are a total menace with a sword.”

They had spent the afternoon lazing by the river just a few miles from the castle, at a place where the woodland opened out round an old charcoal-burner’s stone hut. There was a deep sandy pool there that was perfect for swimming. The shadows were just starting
to get longer and it was nearly time to head back, when Olivia had challenged Max to a sword fight. He hadn’t fenced with her for a few months, and he was taken aback by just how much better she’d become. Her manoeuvre might have been a bit unorthodox, but she’d disarmed him very effectively, and Max was smarting less from the injury than from the shame of being beaten by his younger sister.

Which meant that he was in no mood to deal with the mocking laughter that was now coming from the trees just a few yards away.

“So, Pendragon. You really
are
a bit of a loser, aren’t you? Disarmed by your baby sister!”

The tall, thin figure of Snotty Hogsbottom emerged from behind the stone hut, followed as usual by Jerome Stodmarsh. Before Max could react, Snotty had bent down and picked up his sword from where it was lying. He balanced it in his hand, then looked over to the deep water in the middle of the pool.

“Give it back!” said Max hotly. “That’s my sword!”

Snotty raised his eyebrows.

“Well you’re not taking very good care of it, are you? Leaving it lying around where anyone could pick it up. But don’t worry, I’ll give it back.
When
I feel like it.”

Max took a step towards Snotty, but Jerome moved forward, looking particularly meaty, and Max hesitated. Snotty laughed, and leaned back against a tree, waving the sword idly around in front of him.

“So, how are the magic lessons going? Learned to tell the difference between a cauldron and a kettle yet?”

Max ground his teeth. He was utterly fed up with Snotty’s taunts, particularly coming on top of being humiliated by Olivia. He was not going to let Snotty lord it over him about magic.

“Actually, I don’t really bother with cauldrons or kettles any more. That’s for babies,” he said, loftily. “I’ve been doing magic without potions.”

Snotty narrowed his eyes. “Really?” he said. “I’d like to see you try.”

Olivia looked anxiously from one to the other.
She could tell Max was furious, and Snotty was sounding dangerously calm. Jerome was considerably bigger than either her or Max if it came to a fight, and Adolphus, as usual, was never there when you needed him. He’d gone upriver a while ago looking for fish to catch and there was no telling when he’d decide to come back.

“I tell you what,” drawled Snotty, looking down his long nose at Max. “You do some magic ‘without potions’ and I’ll give you your sword back. How’s that?”

Max nodded grimly. Olivia drew in her breath. Max had told her about turning himself into a dragonfly without any kind of potion, but it didn’t sound to her like he’d been entirely in control of the process, and goodness knows what Snotty would get him to do. She was pretty sure Merlin would not be happy about him trying this kind of magic on his own, so far from the castle.

Snotty smiled lazily, and held out a large piece of grey flint he’d been concealing in his hand.

“All right then,” he said. “Do an icespell on this bit of rock.” And he tossed it over to Max.

Max caught the stone and looked at it carefully. There was something familiar about the colour, and the jagged edges reminded him of… what? He couldn’t think.

He turned it over in his hands, getting the feel of it. An icespell would encase the stone in a solid lump of ice. It was quite a straightforward spell – if you had brewed it up in a cauldron and then dried it to a purplish powder. Then all you had to do was sprinkle a few grains on the rock and say the right words. Max thought about the ingredients – bats’ wingbeats, the itch of rosehip powder, slugs’ eyeball slime – and the essence of each of them as they mixed together in the spell.

Olivia held her breath. Snotty looked on with an odd expression. Jerome cleaned his fingernails with his hunting knife.

Max made a decision. He held the stone in front of him and felt for the magic he knew was there, inside him, the magic he’d called on to make himself
into a dragonfly. He willed it to make the shape of the icespell, and he directed it at the rock.

Nothing happened.

Max pressed his lips together and tried again, harder.

Still nothing happened.

Jerome started to snigger. Snotty was concentrating on the stone with a frown. Olivia bit her lip.

Max was puzzled. He’d felt the magic flow. He’d definitely felt it hit the stone and it should have been a solid lump of ice by now. But something was resisting the spell. It was as if the stone was enchanted, or bigger than it looked, or shielded somehow from his magic. It was some trick of Snotty’s, he was sure of it. Well, Snotty was going to get a shock.

Max reached for every last drop of magic he could gather and shaped it into the icespell. Just as he did so, he noticed a tiny ant crawling on the grey flint surface, and as quickly as he could, wove an extra thread into the spell to protect any living creature
on the rock as it was iced. The he flung the magic at the flint in a great flood of power.

The stone disappeared into the middle of a perfect sparkling crystal of solid ice.

Olivia let out her breath, and Max looked up in triumph at Snotty.

Snotty looked distinctly pale and slightly taken aback, but he recovered swiftly. He clapped slowly and turned to Jerome.

“Well then, I suppose we’d better give him his sword back. He’ll be needing it soon anyway, eh Jerome?”

Jerome, looking ever so slightly sick, nodded.

Max suddenly felt a slight twinge of doubt. What had he done? Had they tricked him? Why was Snotty looking so triumphant, and Jerome so sick?

Snotty threw Max’s sword over, and it landed at his feet with a clatter. Snotty laughed nastily.

“You know you’ve done something, Pendragon, don’t you. You just don’t know what! Well, we’ll leave it to you to find out, shall we?”

And he turned his back and slipped away through the trees, Jerome following, crashing through the undergrowth like a small herd of boar. Silence fell on the clearing as Max and Olivia looked at each other.

What had he done?