Read Online Handbook for Dragon Slayers by Merrie Haskell - Free Book Online Page B

dragon.”
    â€œWe haven’t done any of the research!” I repeated.
    â€œNot so!” Parz said. “You read about Saint Magnus and the pitch and resin and you told us about it. That’s research right there.”
    I folded my arms, annoyed. Parz had launched this grand plan to make the Handbook , but I was beginning to think that, really, he didn’t want me along at all—he just wanted Judith, so he had someone to fight dragons with. The Handbook was just a . . . a sop, to keep me from taking Judith away from him.
    I was about to say this, but Judith clutched my hand. “Please understand, Tilda. We’ll be back at Alder Brook before you know it . . . and I’ll be a handmaiden again. But until then—I want to be a dragon slayer. This is my one chance to try something of my own.”
    It would be lying to say I didn’t understand her. So I gave in. “You stay far back,” I said. “And don’t get hurt.”
    â€œI won’t,” she said.
    Parz looked satisfied and began his spear carving again. Just then, the wind picked up in the trees. I glanced at the branches uneasily, shivering, thinking about Frau Oda’s old warning.
    â€œOooo,” Parz said, laughing. Judith joined, though I remained silent.
    â€œWe should get some sleep,” I said. “There’s a dragon to fight tomorrow.”

chapter 7
    I WOKE TO FIND P ARZ STRUGGLING INTO SOME MESH armor: a mail shirt that hung to his knees and a mail coif for his head. The rest of his body was clad in padded leather pieces, though I worried for his unprotected legs and hands.
    But I worried much harder for Judith. All she had to wear was some old quilted cloth armor Parz had worn in training, and it didn’t fit very well.
    Judith grinned at me. “Oh, Tilda, don’t worry. I’ve little training, but I know better than to jump into the mouth of the dragon! I’ll hang back and wait to make my move.”
    This was less reassuring than she seemed to think, especially when I overheard their plan, which didn’t seem to involve any sort of hanging back and was more a “march together into the jaws of death” sort of idea.
    We packed up all our gear and loaded it onto the palfrey, then put out our campfire and started upstream alongside the Willows River. I rode with Parz—only because I refused to ride alone, and I would be too slow at walking—while Judith led the laden palfrey.
    The mounts were still tired from the day before, but Parz’s drooping horse began to pick up his pace. “Balmung knows a fight is coming,” Parz said. “See how excited he is?” The horse’s ears swiveled forward and back as though listening to us.
    â€œBalmung . . . why is that name familiar?”
    I didn’t have to look; I could hear the smile in Parz’s voice. “Because that was the sword Siegfried used to slay Fafnir.”
    I giggled. Saint Catherine, I giggled! I put it down to tiredness from sleeping on the ground, though I could not help but feel that I was most certainly not myself right now. Of course, I had left myself behind at Snail Castle. I could no longer be Mathilda, Princess of Alder Brook. I would now be Tilda, errant dragon slayer, or at least the scribe to one.
    â€œSo Balmung is accustomed to battle?”
    â€œHe’s used to training with me, and he’s used to practice melees, too. Now listen: If we get separated,” Parz said to me and Judith, “meet up at the next town up the Rhine. It’s called Upper Folkstown.”
    â€œWhy would we get separated?” I asked, alarmed.
    Parz’s slightly crooked grin didn’t look very real. “We won’t! But we’re going into battle, and it’s just good to have a plan.”
    We crested a hill and came to a crumbling tower standing in the midst of a field of browning grass.
    â€œThis is it,” Parz said, and