Borgon the Axeboy and the Dangerous Breakfast

by Kjartan, Poskitt

  ‘Well that’s where you’re wrong. Do you have any idea where I’m going to get this breakfast?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Grizzy. ‘You’re going to find a dragon.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Borgon. ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  ‘The sign,’ said Grizzy. ‘It says To the Dragons.’

  Borgon stared at Grizzy in astonishment. ‘Then why aren’t you scared?’ he asked. ‘Why aren’t you riding off screaming in terror?’

  ‘Because you might need some help,’ said Grizzy. ‘And if we’re dealing with dragons, I’ve got just the thing.’

  Grizzy reached into her pocket and pulled out a little flappy thing and waved it at him. Borgon immediately ducked, thinking it was going to fire some poisoned darts or something, but it didn’t. It just flapped.

  ‘Is that all it does?’ he said. ‘It’s the most pathetic weapon I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘It’s not a weapon, you clot,’ said Grizzy. ‘It’s the Book of All Things, and it tells you everything about everything, including dragons. You should learn to read.’

  ‘Pah!’ sniffed Borgon. ‘I’m a barbarian. We ride and fight and shout YARGHHHH. Why would I need to read?’

  ‘Then you could understand that sign for a start,’ said Grizzy. ‘It’s telling you which path leads to the dragons.’

  ‘Barbarians don’t need signs!’ retorted Borgon. ‘I’ll find a dragon with my awesome tracking powers.’

  Borgon leaned right down from the top of his horse until his nose almost touched the ground. ‘Aha! This path has got a bent blade of grass and two overturned pebbles. A dragon definitely went up there!’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Grizzy, then she set off down the other path.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Borgon shouted after her.

  ‘To the dragons,’ said Grizzy. ‘The sign says they’re this way.’

  ‘But what about the pebbles?’ protested Borgon. ‘And the bent grass …?’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong,’ said Grizzy. ‘It’s this way. So are you coming, or are you scared?’

  The Smoking Tree

  Borgon and Grizzy rode in silence. It was partly because they wanted to catch the dragons by surprise, but mainly because Borgon was having a HUGE sulk. Poor Borgon! He was very proud of his tracking powers, but he’d been made to look silly by a little wooden sign.

  The horses were heading down into a dark wooded valley, when Grizzy noticed a big black patch on one of the trees. She went over and poked it. Her finger came away covered in sticky black soot.

  ‘It’s a burn mark!’ said Grizzy. ‘It could be from a dragon.’

  ‘I still say that a dragon went down the other path,’ growled Borgon.

  ‘But you didn’t find one,’ said Grizzy. ‘And the sign says the dragons are this way, and this tree has definitely been burnt by something.’

  The path got darker and darker as it twisted through the woods. More and more trees were covered in black burn marks, which made Borgon get sulkier and sulkier.

  ‘Cheer up, Borgon,’ said Grizzy. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘What doesn’t matter?’

  ‘You being wrong.’

  ‘I am not wrong!’ bellowed Borgon. ‘I bet there hasn’t been a dragon down here for years. This is a waste of time.’

  Just as he said that, their horses came to a stop next to a tree that was still smoking.

  ‘There MUST be a dragon round here somewhere,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘No there isn’t!’ said Borgon.

  ‘Roar,’ said a dragon politely as he watched them from behind a firethorn bush. He was quite a shy dragon and didn’t like the look of the two savages, so he was gently warning them off.

  Borgon and Grizzy stared into the darkness.

  ‘I think there’s something in there,’ said Grizzy, trying to sound casual. ‘Maybe it’s a dragon?’

  ‘No it’s not,’ snapped Borgon.

  ‘ROAR,’ said the dragon a bit louder.

  ‘It sounds pretty close,’ said Grizzy. ‘And it’s dark here. Shall we move on a bit?’

  ‘Why?’ said Borgon. ‘That’s not a dragon.’

  ‘ROAAARRGH!’ said the dragon even louder.

  ‘And that’s not a dragon either,’ said Borgon. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you admit I’m right.’

  ‘Ok,’ said Grizzy. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. You’re very, very right. That was not a dragon.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Borgon triumphantly.

  ROAAARRRRGGHHHH!

  ‘Actually,’ said Borgon, ‘now I come to think of it, that might be a dragon.’

  ‘YARGHHHH!’ they both screamed.

  The two horses leaped over the burning tree and off they went.

  GALLOPY-CLIPPETY-CLOPPETY-WHIZZ!

  The Little Lizard

  The two savages charged through the blackened trees and smoky bushes until they came to a small clearing.

  Borgon clattered down from his horse then quickly unrolled the steel net and hung it between two trees to make a dragon trap. Meanwhile Grizzy sat herself down and looked through the Book of All Things.

  ‘Have you ever seen a dragon before?’ asked Grizzy.

  ‘No,’ admitted Borgon.

  ‘The book says you can always recognise a dragon by its orange eyes,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘Who cares what your silly book says?’ laughed Borgon. ‘All we need to know is that dragons are BIG and they BLAST FIRE.’

  ‘Please yourself,’ said Grizzy. ‘There are loads of dragon recipes in here too. What are you making?’

  ‘I’m not telling you,’ said Borgon.

  ‘How about dragon soup?’ suggested Grizzy. ‘Oh, actually you can’t make that.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Borgon.

  ‘Because you need two onions and a jug of cream,’ said Grizzy. ‘And you haven’t got those with you … unless they’re in that bag?’

  Grizzy pointed at the bag of extra bits that was still hanging from Borgon’s horse.

  ‘That bag is none of your business,’ said Borgon. ‘Now stop talking. I need to listen out for this dragon.’

  So Grizzy stopped talking and Borgon waited by the net, clutching his axe. He stared into the darkness of the trees, ready to pounce. But everything was silent – until Grizzy turned a page in her book.

  ‘Oooh!’ said Grizzy. ‘How about dragon burgers? Perfect for parties.’

  ‘Shh!’ said Borgon.

  ‘Or there’s dragon pie,’ said Grizzy. ‘I can do the pastry if you like.’

  ‘Oh, give up, Grizzy!’ said Borgon. ‘The Best Barbarian Breakfast Ever won’t be in your silly little book.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Grizzy.

  ‘Because it’s far too dangerous,’ said Borgon. ‘My dad even tried to stop me making it. Now be quiet.’

  Everything went silent again.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed Grizzy.

  ‘QUIET!’ whispered Borgon.

  ‘Oh, but you’ve got to hear this,’ said Grizzy. ‘Did you know there’s a recipe for dragon toenail custard?’

  Borgon stomped over to Grizzy and pulled the book from her hands.

  ‘This isn’t a game,’ he said. ‘If this dragon creeps up on us while you’re talking, then we could be fried alive!’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Grizzy. ‘But you have to admit, dragon toenail custard is funny.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ said Borgon, and he stomped back to his net.

  Grizzy tucked her book into her pocket and decided to pick some flowers. Borgon carried on waiting for the dragon. And waiting … And waiting.

  Eventually Grizzy came over.

  ‘Pssst!’ she whispered.

  Borgon tried to ignore her.

  ‘Pssst!’ she whispered again. ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘No,’ said Borgon.

  ‘Yes you can,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘What do you want now?’ snapped Borgon.

  ‘Is this dragon coming?’ said
Grizzy. ‘Because I’m getting bored. Are you getting bored?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I am,’ said Grizzy. ‘You wait here. I’ll go and see where it’s got to.’

  ‘No, hang on!’ said Borgon. ‘You can’t just go looking for a dragon.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s a dragon!’ said Borgon. ‘You should be scared silly!’

  ‘Well of course I’m scared,’ admitted Grizzy. ‘But I’d rather be scared than bored.’

  Borgon watched in horror as the girl skipped off into the trees armed with nothing more than a little bunch of flowers.

  ‘Come back,’ Borgon called after her. ‘You haven’t got any weapons!’

  ‘I’ve got one,’ shouted Grizzy’s voice.

  ‘What?’ said Borgon.

  Weee – donk!

  A stone flew out of the trees and hit Borgon on the nose.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed Grizzy.

  ‘GRRR!’ growled Borgon.

  It was SO unfair. Why was Grizzy having more fun than he was? What’s more, if anything happened to her, Borgon knew that somehow he’d be the one in trouble. He had to go after her, but there was no time to collect up the horses and the big weapons. He ran into the woods clutching his axe.

  It wasn’t hard to follow Grizzy’s trail. She had picked every flower along the way, leaving just the empty flower stalks. Borgon finally spotted her sitting on a little rock surrounded by big floppy mushrooms. Grizzy had caught a fat spider by the leg, and was dangling it in front of a little yellow lizard that was sitting on the biggest and floppiest mushroom.

  ‘Come on, eat up!’ she said.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Borgon. ‘You’re supposed to be watching out for dragons.’

  ‘But he’s hungry!’ said Grizzy.

  Borgon watched as the lizard’s tongue flicked out and lapped up the spider. A big smile appeared on his face.

  ‘Hey, Grizzy, you’ve just given me a great idea! We could use that lizard thing for bait.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We tie the lizard to the net, and then when the dragon comes to eat it, we trap him!’

  ‘That’s mean!’ said Grizzy, scooping up the little yellow lizard. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘Oh yes I can,’ said Borgon. ‘Give him to me!’

  ‘No, go away,’ said Grizzy.

  Borgon pulled his axe from his belt and took a step towards her. ‘Come on, Grizzy, don’t be—’

  ROAARRRRRGGHHHH!

  A massive flame cloud shot from the little lizard’s mouth. Borgon’s axe crashed to the ground and lay there with the red-hot blade sizzling in the undergrowth. The thunderous roar echoed through the trees, then it shot up the path and turned right at the wooden sign before bouncing all the way back to Golgarth Basin where Mungoid and Hunjah were feeding the ostriches.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Hunjah.

  ‘It sounded like Borgon making his dangerous breakfast!’ said Mungoid.

  A Big Fat Lie

  For a few moments it was silent. Borgon and Grizzy lay curled up on the ground with their hands clasped over their ears. Eventually Borgon raised his head. The little lizard had hopped back on to his mushroom.

  ‘What IS that?’ asked Borgon admiringly.

  ‘Do you think it’s a dragon?’ said Grizzy.

  ‘That little thing?’ Borgon shook his head. ‘It can’t be.’

  ‘I can soon check,’ said Grizzy. She flicked through her book and then stared at the lizard again. ‘Be honest. What colour would you say its eyes are?’

  ‘Orange,’ said Borgon.

  ‘Then it is a dragon!’ said Grizzy, snapping the book shut.

  ‘But it’s tiny,’ said Borgon. ‘My dad said dragons are huge!’

  ‘Maybe your dad wanted to sound tough, so he told you he made breakfast from a giant dragon,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘My dad doesn’t make stuff up,’ said Borgon.

  ‘Oh no?’ giggled Grizzy, pointing at the dragon. ‘Look at it! No wonder he tried to stop you coming out here. He didn’t want you to know the truth about the tiny dragons! HA HA HA HA HA! Your dad told you a big fat lie!’

  Grizzy rolled around laughing, thumping the ground with her fists and wiping the tears out of her eyes.

  ‘Don’t you dare laugh at my dad!’ growled Borgon. ‘He is the fiercest barbarian the desert has ever known.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Grizzy. ‘Then what was it about this breakfast he made that was SO dangerous?’

  ‘It’s a secret,’ said Borgon.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ said Grizzy. ‘There’s only one thing it can be. It’s a teeny weeny little dragon sausage!’

  ‘No it is NOT,’ said Borgon.

  ‘Well, whatever it is, I’m not going to let you hurt my new friend,’ said Grizzy.

  And before Borgon could stop her, Grizzy had crawled over to the dragon and picked him up again.

  ‘Put it back right now!’ hissed Borgon.

  ‘Calm down!’ said Grizzy, stroking the little yellow head with her finger. ‘Don’t wet your barbarian pants.’

  ‘But if you get yourself blasted, I’ll be the one in trouble.’

  ‘I’m perfectly safe,’ said Grizzy. ‘You’re the one that upset him. He likes me. Aw, look, he’s licking my hand! He is just SO cute, aren’t you, my little baby draggy yum yums?’

  ‘Baby draggy yum yums?’ repeated Borgon. ‘Look what he did to my axe!’

  Borgon went over to his weapon. The handle was still hot, so he picked it up with his fingertips, leaving a black axe-shaped burn mark on the ground.

  ‘Aw!’ said Grizzy. ‘Poor little Borgon. Diddums little Barbarian axe get too hot for your little handy pandy?’

  Borgon raised his axe in the air.

  ‘I’m warning you, Grizzy,’ he said. ‘I came here with a job to do. Now pass that dragon over.’

  Grizzy carefully put the dragon back on his mushroom.

  ‘OK,’ said Grizzy. ‘If you want him, then you come and get him … IF you think you’re tough enough.’

  Grizzy moved back out of the way.

  Borgon took a step forwards.

  The dragon opened his mouth and a wisp of smoke came out. It was a warning! Borgon quickly stepped back again. Keeping his distance, Borgon circled around the mushroom to try and sneak up from behind, but the little dragon wasn’t silly. It twizzled itself round to watch him.

  ‘Well, go on, then,’ said Grizzy. ‘Give it your best shot. I’ll sweep up your bones and take them back to your dad.’

  Borgon had no choice. He raised his axe in the air with one hand, and got his other hand ready to grab the dragon. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and braced himself for a scorching blast of white-hot flame.

  ‘YARGHHHH!’ he shouted and charged forwards.

  ROAARRGHHHH!

  ‘YOW!’ screamed Borgon. ‘YOW YOW ow ow oooooh … eh?’

  For some reason, it wasn’t hurting. Borgon decided he must already be dead. He just stood there and waited for some angels to take him up to barbarian heaven so he could meet up with his mad Uncle Jing and eat live rattlesnake pie.

  ‘That was boring,’ said Grizzy.

  When Borgon realised that he wasn’t dead after all, he opened his eyes. The little dragon was sitting on the mushroom, looking up at him sweetly.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Grizzy.

  ‘He must have run out of fire,’ said Borgon.

  Grizzy came over and gave the little creature a stroke. The dragon licked her hand and then rolled over to have its silver tummy tickled.

  ‘He’s got a tiny flame coming out of his nose,’ said Grizzy.

  The dragon was happily wriggling and twisting under Grizzy’s fingers when suddenly …

  Kee-chiff!

  The dragon sneezed. The last flicker of flame shot out and sizzled the edge of the mushroom.

  Grizzy stood up and sighed.

  ‘All right, Borgon, you win,’ sh
e said sadly. ‘If he can’t defend himself, then I suppose you can do what you like.’

  ‘No I can’t,’ said Borgon. He tucked his axe into his belt, then reached down to give the dragon a friendly tickle. ‘How can I make a dangerous barbarian breakfast without any danger?’

  ‘Stop moaning,’ said Grizzy. ‘You came to get a dragon and you’ve got one. You should be pleased.’

  ‘But it’s all gone wrong,’ sighed Borgon sadly. ‘I’m a barbarian! I wanted to meet up with a BIG dragon. I wanted to attack it while it blasted me with flames. I’m Borgon the Axeboy, not Borgon the tummy tickler!’

  Borgon gave the dragon a final stroke then stood up. The dragon flipped back on to his feet and Borgon gave him a little wave.

  ‘Goodbye, my little friend,’ he said. ‘I hope you get your fire back soon.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Grizzy, as they returned to the horses.

  ‘I’m going home,’ said Borgon.

  ‘What a waste of a morning,’ said Grizzy, trudging along behind him. ‘I wanted to see a bit of danger.’

  ‘Really? Then you’re going to enjoy this afternoon,’ said Borgon.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m going to ask my dad why he lied to me. And that’s when it’s going to get REALLY dangerous.’

  The Punch Pit

  By the time Borgon and Grizzy got back to the signpost, the sun was directly overhead. The horses were hot and tired, so they got down, and let the animals wander off to find a bit of shade.

  Grizzy was grumpy because she’d left her bunch of flowers somewhere, but that wasn’t important. Borgon was grumpy because he was going home without a dangerous breakfast. He looked up the path where he’d first seen the bent blade of grass and two overturned pebbles.

  ‘I STILL say a dragon went that way,’ said Borgon sulkily.

  ‘Then you’re still wrong,’ said Grizzy. ‘And anyway, why would a dragon go that way? The sign says it goes to something called the Punch Pit.’