The rules of combat 9/10

George waved to the cheering villagers of Hetherside for the second time in a week, as he rode through on his way to fight the witch. He was wearing chain mail instead of his full armour and his gleaming new sword hung by his side.

"It's all very well for them to cheer, we're the ones going to get roasted. I only hope that new contraption of yours works."

"Well if it doesn't, I expect you'll find out quick enough."

"Thanks," said the horse sarcastically, which was probably the shortest speech he'd ever made.

George dismounted in more or less the same place as he'd fought the witch before.

"Now we'll just have to wait until she notices us,” he said.

"I already have deary," said the familiar voice of the witch.

George turned round and drew his sword.

"I suppose you think that chain mail will make you fast enough to catch me," said the witch, who still looked like a little old lady selling fruit.

George made a gentle swing towards her and she vanished.

"She's right behind you Sir," said the horse in a rather meaningful tone of voice.

George set his left foot into the turn and then spun round with all his strength. There was a rather soggy thump as the extended sword cut the witch in two. As George looked down at her she changed back into her real form. The top half still had a very surprised look on it's face.

"Right, dragon next," said George in a very business like manner, "it's up to you now old son, just get me up there as quick as you can."

He sheathed his sword, picked up his lance and swung up into the saddle. Then he settled himself comfortably and urged his horse forward.

"Charge," he cried at the top of his voice, in order to bring Raknor from his cave.

The dragon duly obliged, still wearing his nasty grin and breathed a ball of fire in George's direction. The grin very quickly faded as the flame didn't quite reach the galloping horse. Without the witch's spell he was just an ordinary dragon and like most dragons faced with the prospect of being skewered with a fifteen-foot lance at twenty five miles an hour, he tried to run away.

Unfortunately for him, the only way out of the cave was downhill towards the rapidly approaching George. He just managed to get airborne before the two of them met. With the skill obtained in many a similar encounter, George struck the dragon with the point of his lance and dropped the butt into the ground. The dragon couldn't stop and impaled himself. The horse and George turned round and went back to make sure Raknor was dead.

"Well that's that," said George, "that's enough excitement for me for one day."

"Excitement's all very well when it's over," said the horse,” but on the whole I think I prefer story telling and quiet daily exercise!"