Borgon the Axeboy and the Prince's Shadow
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Borgon the Axeboy and his friends are going to watch the Shadow Trials - the most dangerous contest in the Lost Desert. But they didn't mean to join in! Then one of the contestants challenges Borgon . . . and barbarians NEVER refuse a challenge! After all, all he has to do is race up a deathly mountain, cross a sabre-tooth bear pit, avoid the vultures and escape a skeleton. What could possibly go wrong?
With Asterix-style illustrations from award-winning author/illustrator Philip Reeve, this series is set to have you rolling in the desert with laughter.
WHUMP! The laughs from the crowd were enough to tell him that it was time to give up. ‘And so, Borgon,’ said the dame, ‘as I was about to say, it gives me great pleasure to announce that you are … THE PRINCE’S SHADOW!’ ‘Hooray!’ cheered the crowd. TUB-ARP! went the double-headed trumpet. But Borgon shook his head. ‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’ Then he jumped off the stage to join his friends. ‘Ha ha ha!’ they all laughed. ‘Good one, Borgon!’ Madreesh was astonished. ‘No, wait!’
could do me a favour?’ The Night Visitor ‘Hey, Dad! Mum! Guess what? I WON I WON I WON!’ Borgon ran into the cave to find nothing had changed since the morning. It was just as he expected. His mum was still trying to pull her hair straight with her fingers, and his dad still had only one sock. ‘You won what?’ asked Fulgut. He was in the middle of swapping his sock over so that his cold foot could have a turn at being warm. ‘The Shadow Trials!’ said Borgon proudly. ‘I thought you were only
Fulgut. ‘Now go away.’ ‘They’re not for him, they’re for you,’ said Madreesh. She handed over two boxes, one to Fulgut and one to Fulma. Fulma opened hers first. ‘Oooh!’ she said in an excited, squeaky voice. ‘Is this really for me?’ Madreesh nodded. Fulma took out a long silver comb with two hundred teeth, then hurried over to her mirror. Even before the comb touched it, her hair was starting to straighten out and behave itself. ‘It’s wonderful!’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ Everybody stared
pile of darts all ready to throw. The rest of the crowd were buzzing with excitement, and some of them were getting out their daggers and spears to throw as well. ‘I’m watching you all,’ warned Madreesh. ‘When the trumpet sounds, you just throw the darts. You do NOT throw anything else!’ ‘Aw!’ moaned the crowd. Madreesh got off the stage, just leaving Borgon and Akabbah holding their little shields. The fat blue slave took a deep breath and gave his trumpet a mighty blow. TUB-OW! A little
straight at them, skipping his long legs in the air and waving his shield around. THUPPA PLUPPA DONK! Akabbah’s shield was already filling up with darts, so Borgon had to catch up quickly. He ran around, holding out his shield and trying not to be hit. More darts came whistling through the air, some landing on the floor, some flying off to the side, and a few just skimming past his hair and clothes. Borgon thought he was doing rather well, until he saw Akabbah’s shield was already completely