THE
RELUCTANT KNIGHT BOOK 2
KNIGHT PROTECTOR
'…a winning mix of fantasy,
danger and downright silliness…'
(Sally Murphy, from www.aussiereviews.com)
CHAPTER ONE
UNDER THE
HEDGE
Simon Knight was running like a
champion. Running like a hero. Running like a boy whose stepsister was
catching up.
It was Sarah’s fault he
was running. Sarah thought it would be good if Simon and Reba ran in a
cross-country race together. Reba thought it would be good to beat Simon to the
finish line. Simon thought it would be good to get away from Reba.
That's why he was
running like a champion. Running like a
hero. Running like a -- sprunnnnch!
Running like a boy who
had fallen into a hedge.
Reba skidded to halt.
‘Do get up. It will be so embarrassing
if you come last.’
Simon sat up, and wiped
the mud from his face. ‘You’d better go
on without me,’ he said. ‘I'll only hold you back.’ Since he was muddy already,
he leaned back on his elbows and began to sing. ‘Here I sit like a bird in a
tree! Listen! Listen! Whistle with me!’
‘Don't sing!’
snapped Reba. ‘You’ll scare the wildlife. And what if the other runners catch
up? Oh! This is so
embarrassing!’
Simon grinned and
started the second verse. ‘Here I sit like a bird on a bough! Listen!
Listen! I’ll whistle right now!’
Reba turned and dashed off down the hill.
Silence. Wonderful silence. And then he heard the crashing and slithering of feet. The
panting of breath. The rest of the runners were coming, like an elephant
stampede. Simon turned and dived back into the hedge.
It was prickly in
there, but there was a kind of grassy tunnel underneath. It seemed a better
option than being trampled by an elephant stampede. A much better option than
running cross-country with Reba. And a much, much better option than being carried off in the claws of a
Braverian dragon.
Now that had been an experience to remember.
Simon sighed as he
started along the tunnel. His visit to the land of Braveria had been full of
danger, dragons and discomforts. But at least he hadn't been bored.
The tunnel led onto a
grassy hillside. It was dotted with
daisies and spiked about with thistles.
Very pretty. Very prickly, too.
Simon was ouching a
prickle out of his knee when something clinked behind him. He turned to face a
clever-looking pony.
The pony looked
familiar. So did the man who was holding her reins.
‘Porter?’ blurted Simon.
‘I’m glad I ran into you, Simon,’ said
Porter. ‘You remember you promised to exercise Traveller?’
Simon remembered. Last
time he’d exercised Traveller, he’d ended up doing battle with Fleamer, the
Dragon King.
‘I
want you to exercise her again,’ said Porter.
Simon had three
options:
#1. Say ‘Yes of
course’.
#2. Say ‘Not on your
nelly’.
#3. Say ‘What, now?’
‘What, now?’ said Simon.
Porter beamed like a
granddad. ‘Now would be excellent.
Unless you’d rather finish that race?’
Simon mounted the pony.
‘I’ve had enough of racing. Where would you like me to take her?’
No answer.
‘Porter? Mr Porter?’
But when he turned to
look, Porter wasn’t there.
The hedge had fuzzed
into the distance.
The hillside had
changed.
That's when Simon knew
he was in for another adventure.
He gathered the reins
and settled more firmly in the saddle, ready (he hoped) for anything. ‘No
tricks, Traveller!’ he said sternly to the mare.
Traveller set off down
the hill, waggling her rump like a hula dancer.
‘I said, “no tricks!”
said Simon. Traveller snorted wickedly. The waggle became a jiggle. The jiggle
became a trot. The trot became a canter. And the canter (ouch) became a jolting
gallop.
It was only a matter of
time before Simon bit his tongue or fell off.
And then he did both, with an ouch and a hideous clang.
He was back in Braveria.
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