Eventually they stepped into a wider passage, where the floor sloped noticeably to the left, and Greg knew that they had reached the Netherworld’s equivalent of the Passageway of Shifted Dimensions that bore through Ruuan’s spire. Dolzowt turned right and started up the incline toward the dragon’s lair, but Greg dropped behind to talk without being overheard. He pointed toward what he hoped was the main tunnel.
“Gather everyone and go that way, down the incline,” he whispered to one girl who looked remarkably whole. “If I guess right, it will take you to a wider tunnel that leads out of the spire.”
The young girl simply stared, tears in her eyes, and pushed back her hair to reveal two holes in her head where her ears should have been. Greg recoiled from the sight, but caught himself and fought hard not to add to the girl’s fear.
An older boy stepped up and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“I’ll help her,” he whispered, and to Greg’s relief, guided the girl away.
Greg ran after the others. When he caught up to Priscilla and Kristin, they were looking even more worried than he felt.
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked, though he could think of very little that was right.
“How are they going to travel the main passage?” she said. “Once we leave, they’ll have nothing to protect them from the heat.”
Greg’s stomach lurched. He’d just sent all those children to their doom. The passages they traveled before were cooled by magic, but if the outer tunnel resembled the one in Ruuan’s spire, those children couldn’t possibly step into it without melting into the rock. The best they could do would be to wander the catacombs looking for a way out until Dolzowt returned and herded them up again.
“But your friend Nathan’s obviously using magic to free them,” Kristin argued. “Maybe he’ll protect them from the heat, too.”
Greg looked ahead to where Nathan led the pack. As if hearing her words, Nathan glanced back at Greg and nodded, and Greg knew that at least the children would be safe.
With Nathan in control, Greg was nearly willing to believe the same about himself, but then he remembered Simon’s warnings. Even if they did get back to the kingdom safely, all Greg had to look forward to was his “rather unfortunate demise.”
“WHY SHOULD I
COOPERATE WITH
YOU
, MAGICIAN?” Greg stood cowering with the other children near the wall of Tehrer’s lair, as Nathan and Dolzowt presented their proposal to the dragon. Since befriending Ruuan, Greg had forgotten how much bigger a dragon could look when it was angry.
“It’s the only way the kingdom stands a chance of survival,” Nathan told him.
Tehrer’s head dropped to Nathan’s level so quickly, Greg thought the walls were caving in. The dragon’s jet black coloring contrasted so much with the glowing white walls, it looked as if there were a dragon-shaped hole in the center of the immense cavern.
“I’M NOT SEEING YOUR POINT.” The look in the dragon’s eye could only be described as challenging, especially given Tehrer’s eye was taller than Greg himself.
“It is not just the kingdom that will suffer,” Nathan said. “Without anyone holding the reins on Witch Hazel’s power, it is only a matter of time before she comes to stake her claim here.”
“LET HER COME,” Tehrer said. “I WELCOME THE CHALLENGE.”
“That is only because you do not fully understand it.”
“IT IS YOU WHO DOES NOT UNDERSTAND. THE WITCH WILL DIE IF SHE STEPS FOOT INTO THE NETHERWORLD.
THIS IS MY PLACE. SHE HOLDS NO POWER HERE.”
“That is where
you
are wrong,” Nathan told him, “and why you will surely die. When she comes, she will come riding the dragon Ruuan, and she’ll wield more power than you can imagine, for she will hold both the ancient Amulet of Ruuan and the Amulet of Tehrer.”
Greg wouldn’t have thought Tehrer’s eyes could have grown bigger.
“Ah, yes,” said Nathan. “You of all dragons should understand the danger. With them she can bend your will, control you like a puppet.
You will perish, and then Hazel will force Ruuan to destroy himself, and all of your kind will be remembered as weak, mindless creatures, little more than livestock.”
“LIVESTOCK! I WILL SEE THIS WITCH HAZEL DIE A LONG AND LINGERING DEATH.”
“No. On the contrary, you will do whatever she asks, cater to her every whim.”
The dragon released a jet of searing steam that would have surely disintegrated Nathan if not for his protective magic.
“Do it for Dolzowt,” Kristin tried from behind Nathan’s shoulder. “HA! I CARE NOTHING FOR HIM,” Tehrer shouted, his blazing red eyes darting Dolzowt Deth’s way. And to illustrate his point he directed a second jet of steam, equally as hard as the first, straight at the sorcerer.
Dolzowt’s magic must have been weaker than Nathan’s, because he ended up standing about five feet shorter, as nothing above his calves remained.
The screams of all five children echoed about the lair. ”You killed him,” Kristin said, horrified.
“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO,” the dragon advised her. Sound advice, Greg silently decided. He could hardly believe his ears when he heard Kristin say, “But what about your anger? Dolzowt told us you grow more ornery every year.”
The dragon’s gaze locked on Kristin, and Greg could only hope Nathan wasn’t going to be stingy with his spell of protection just because he didn’t know the girl.
“YOU’RE LUCKY I DO NOT CONSIDER THAT AN INSULT, OR YOU WOULD SHARE DOLZOWT’S FATE.” Greg very slowly released his breath, but Kristin refused to learn from her mistake.
“I just mean, there’s a reason why you’re angry. I’d be angry too if someone killed my father.”
“NO ONE KILLED MY FATHER. HE DIED HERE IN THE NETHERWORLD SEVERAL CENTURIES AFTER THE DRAGON WARS.”
“Okay, then, I’d be mad if someone forced my dad into hiding for the rest of his life.”
“DRAGONS DO NOT HIDE.”
Tehrer unleashed a third jet of steam straight at Kristin, and for a change it was Greg who screamed for
her
safety. Kristin opened her eyes again, and if Greg could interpret her expression correctly, she was quite surprised to see she still had eyes to open, or a head to support them.
Again Greg released a nervous breath.
Nathan gave him a nod to indicate he might want to help Kristin.
With caution, of course.
“Okay, maybe your dad wasn’t down here hiding,” Greg said.
“Maybe he wasn’t afraid of the amulets that were used on him and his kind during the Dragon Wars.”
“OF COURSE HE WASN’T.”
“Then why does everyone think he was?” said Kristin. “WHAT? WHO THINKS THAT?”
“Everyone,” Kristin repeated. “At least that’s what it seems like to me. Of course, I’ve only been here a few days. It could just be everyone I’ve met—you know, a matter of coincidence—but I’m betting it’s really
everyone
everyone.”
“THEN EVERYONE DESERVES TO DIE. LET THE WITCH HAVE HER DESTRUCTION. THE WORLD WILL BE A BETTER PLACE FOR IT.”
Not the result Greg had been hoping for. “But they’ll die thinking your father was a coward.”
“A COWARD? MY FATHER?”
“I’m not saying he was,” Greg said, backing away. “I’m just saying that’s what people will think.”
“But if you fought Witch Hazel and showed you weren’t afraid of the amulet,” said Kristin, “everyone would assume your father didn’t feel threatened enough to bother.”
“HMMM. DO PEOPLE REALLY THINK MY FATHER WAS A COWARD?”
“Well, not any of us, of course . . .” Greg said, to which all of the children hastily agreed, “but other people . . .”
“THIS WILL NOT DO.” The dragon’s head turned swiftly toward Nathan, causing all five children to shriek. “VERY WELL, MAGICIAN, THIS ONCE I SHALL HELP. WHAT IS IT YOU NEED?”
Mordred’s arms were
still raised when Greg felt the hard stone floor of Pendegrass Castle rise up to meet his feet. It was an especially welcome feel, since not an instant earlier he’d been seated just behind Tehrer’s neck, clutching on for dear life as the dragon soared across the border between the Netherworld and the Styx.
The other children were there too, at his side.
Nathan?
Greg thought. A minute ago the magician had been seated directly in front of Greg on the dragon. Where was he now? The last thing Greg wanted to do was mount another rescue inside Dolzowt’s spire, even if Dolzowt’s boot-clad shins possessed far less threat than the entire sorcerer.
“Ah, here at last,” came a familiar voice, and only then did Greg spot Nathan standing next to Mordred, dressed not in a black magician’s robe but in his more familiar white shirt and loose pants cinched at the waist by a heavy cord.
“Huh?” said Greg. “We were just with you in the Netherworld.”
“Ah yes, but when I returned it was to a time two evenings ago, just after I left. Good thing, too, as I have my doubts that without my prompting, Mordred would have thought to bring you back here once you crossed out of the Netherworld. Best not to think about it,” he said winking. “It’ll just make your head hurt.”
“But what about the dragon?” said Greg. “Where’s Tehrer?”
“Let’s hope he’s on his way here,” Nathan answered. “He did agree to help. Anyway, we should know in a few minutes.”
“Let’s hope he eats before he gets here,” said Lucky.
Nathan’s face took on a more concerned quality. “Perhaps I should be outside to oversee his arrival.”
Greg and the other children followed Nathan and Mordred out into the late afternoon sun to greet Tehrer, but too late. The three-hundred-foot long dragon already lay, munching peacefully, on the castle lawn. From the hundreds of thousands of furious shouting spirelings, Greg had a bad feeling about what Tehrer was munching on. “What’s going on here?” Nathan asked.
Greg caught a blur to his right, one that seemed to originate behind the dragon and sweep around it in a wide arc, racing toward them with the speed of a cannonball. The blur seized to a stop, revealing the gruesome face of an enraged spireling. Actually Greg was just guessing it was enraged, as spireling faces tended to always look pretty much the same, but the tone of the spireling’s voice fit his suspicions.
“What is the meaning of this? You summon us for assistance, and this is how you welcome us?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Nathan. “Did something happen?”
“Did something happen?” the spireling shrieked. “Did something happen?”
“I’m guessing it did.”
“We come to you in good faith, generously offer our assistance, and how do you repay us? By having this dragon sentry of yours sweep up our lead with a single swipe of its tongue. Look, it’s still chomping on the last of him now.”
Greg cringed as Tehrer slurped up a tiny leg that had been dangling from the corner of his mouth. The two girls gasped.
“Ugh,” added Lucky.
“Oh, dear,” said King Peter, who’d stepped from the castle gate just in time to witness the sight. “Please accept our sincerest apologies, sir. We had no—”
“Sir? My name is Gnag, and I am no more male than that one,” she said, pointing at Melvin.
“But I
am
male,” insisted Melvin.
“Again I apologize,” King Peter said. “As I started to say, we had no way of knowing you would be here so soon.”
“Soon? We would have been here yesterday had we not stopped to pick up the wyverns.”
“Ah,” Mordred said, “hence the wailing. What do you plan to do with those?” His face indicated he held little regard for wyverns. Or spirelings, for that matter. He probably wasn’t the best person to have around while King Peter was trying to console this spireling over her loss.
“Queen Gnarla wants to know what you have to say for yourself,” said the spireling. “Are you declaring war against us, or what?”
“War?” said King Peter. “Heavens no. This has just been a most unfortunate accident, I can assure you. A small oversight gone horribly awry . . .”
Nathan withdrew the amulet he wore on a chain about his neck. He held it up before him and called out across the lawn in a commanding tone.
“Tehrer, back.”
Although the dragon stood nearly fifty yards away, Tehrer’s neck swept around so that his head rushed up like a speeding car. Hatred for Nathan and the object he carried was written in every facet of Tehrer’s features. It was the same kind of look Ruuan once gave Greg after Greg hit him with a heavy sleigh at the bottom of the Infinite Spire, not an expression he wanted to see on any dragon’s face, then or now.
Begrudgingly Tehrer sidled to the north, shaking the castle lawn as he moved. To the east was revealed the start of the King’s Highway and the first hundred of what was sure to be the entire race of spirelings, screaming and shaking their fists at the dragon.
“Oh, dear,” said King Peter.
As if an inaudible signal had been given, the spirelings parted. Up through their ranks marched three angry wyverns, snapping at the air and tugging against frighteningly thin chains secured about their necks. Fixed to the other end of each of those chains were four spirelings, who despite being hurled first one way, then the other, managed to maintain a firm grasp on the chains.
Each time one of the spireling-laden chains swung too close, the surrounding spirelings dodged nimbly out of the way, their incredible speed keeping them from harm. As quick as they were, Greg couldn’t imagine how Tehrer ever managed to snatch up one of them. He could only assume that with an entire army pressing from behind, the luckless leader simply had nowhere to retreat once the dragon spotted him.
Queen Gnarla was among the first to cross the castle lawn. Greg knew this not because he could distinguish her from any other spireling, but because she was being carried on a litter atop the shoulders of four of her tallest warriors. The litter-bearers stopped directly in front of Greg, their mouths full of gruesome teeth aligned roughly even with Greg’s throat, and lowered the litter to the ground.
Queen Gnarla stepped off with the grace of an injured rhinoceros. She tried to speak, but King Peter interrupted, pleading for her forgiveness. The queen’s anger over the death of her warrior paled in comparison to her rage over being interrupted. Fortunately King Peter picked up on her expression and quickly quieted, even before she waved him to silence.