“Okay,” he finally agreed. “I’ll let Nathan ride Tehrer first. If he fails . . .”
What chance do I have?
For the benefit of the others, he left the sentence unfinished.
Priscilla exhaled deeply. “Good. Now, finally, I’ll be able to get some sleep.”
Greg wished he could say the same.
Priscilla strode over to the door and pulled it wide. She paused and stared at the bed where Greg was seated. “You coming?”
Greg nearly got up and left, but then Kristin answered. “What? Oh, yes, of course.” She stood rather uncertainly and meandered toward the door, then turned and ran back to the bed to give Greg that hug she had stopped herself from giving him earlier. “Good night. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
Melvin shifted uneasily beneath the covers. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
Greg lay awake for hours.
Halfway through the night he jotted down a few of his adventures and stuffed them into his journal. It was the first he had picked up the book since he loaned it to Kristin, and the feel of its worn leather binding helped calm him.
He awoke what seemed an instant later to the feel of Rake’s rough tongue exploring his chin. Why the shadowcat picked today of all days to make sure Greg didn’t sleep through the activities irked Greg to no end. But then he thought of what Dolzowt Deth had said about shadowcats being far smarter than people thought, and about all that Rake had done to protect him so far. He couldn’t help but wonder if Rake didn’t have some inside knowledge about events to come.
“Okay, Rake, enough. I’m up.”
Rake chattered and hopped off of Greg’s chest, only to land on Melvin’s cheek. Melvin bolted upright out of a dead sleep and gasped, effectively waking up Lucky in the other bed.
“What’s going on?” said Lucky.
“It’s morning,” said Melvin, feeling his cheek for blood. “I guess Hazel didn’t attack last night. Maybe it’s today Greg’s supposed to die.” Greg shot the boy a glare that Melvin totally missed.
Outside in the brisk air, every sound echoed brilliantly across the castle lawn. As Greg marched across the frost-covered grass, he wondered if the day really was this clear, or if he was just cherishing it more because it was the last he would ever see.
He glanced over at Lucky, who was striding along beside him, avoiding his eye. For the first time Greg could remember, the boy seemed anxious, and in spite of the fact Greg was the one about to die, he felt the need to console his friend.
“You look worried,” Greg told him.
“I am, a little,” Lucky said. “I don’t like the idea of you starting off watching the fight today. You shouldn’t be messing with the prophecy like that.”
Greg’s spirits sank lower than they already were. “I thought you might actually be concerned about me.”
Lucky looked embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I am. But I’m not kidding myself either. As much as I’d like it to be different, the prophecy says you’re going to be killed in this battle. I hate the idea as much as you do—”
“I doubt it.”
“—but I’ve watched too many of the Sezxqrthm’s prophecies come true to believe it could be otherwise.”
Greg’s feet grew heavier. The crunching of frost beneath his feet echoed through his head like someone swinging a hammer inside his skull. “Yeah, well, if you’re that sure the prophecy can’t be wrong, then there’s no reason for you to be anxious about me not fighting in time, is there?”
Lucky glanced sideways at his friend. “I’m sorry, Greg, I really am. I wish there was something I could do.”
“You could ride on Tehrer with him,” said Melvin, who was strolling closely behind.
“Huh?”
“That’s a great idea,” said Priscilla. She and Kristin were just now catching up to Melvin.
Lucky, whose lifetime of confidence must have been broken by his repeated misfortune in the Netherworld, stopped so abruptly he had to sidestep to keep Melvin from running into him. “How is that possibly a great idea?”
Priscilla and Kristin both carried pastries they’d taken from the kitchens inside. They doled them out to the boys, but Greg waved his away. He didn’t feel much like eating.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Priscilla said to Lucky. “With you out there in the battle, there’s no way Tehrer can lose. It’s the only way we can hope Greg will come back to us alive.”
Melvin wolfed down his pastry greedily, but Lucky waited, regarding Priscilla unhappily. “Just because I’m safe doesn’t mean Greg will be. He could fall off, or Hazel could hit him with a lightning bolt, or who knows?”
“But at least his odds would be improved, don’t you think?”
Lucky, who clearly didn’t want to ride a dragon into battle against Hazel, was the only one who didn’t nod.
“Then it’s settled,” stated Priscilla with a finality only someone of royal heritage could manage.
“What?” said Lucky. “Who says anything’s been settled?”
Greg said nothing throughout the discussion. He had to admit he liked the thought of Lucky being at his side. Amazing things tended to happen whenever the boy was around. But he also remembered Nathan saying he didn’t think Lucky was as fortunate as everyone believed. Nathan attributed Lucky’s talent to nothing more than optimism. No matter what harm came his way, Lucky always claimed how fortunate he was it hadn’t been worse.
Like the time he’d managed to get himself pinned to a tree in the path of an angry ogre. That hardly seemed lucky at all. And what about the time he was dragged out of Ruuan’s spire, crushed beneath the dragon’s belly? How crumpled and beaten he had looked. Lucky was so sore he’d wanted to die, yet he still considered himself lucky to be alive.
Yes, Lucky’s optimism was amazing, and a great thing to have, but Nathan claimed it could also cause him to be overconfident and might one day get him killed. If so, today seemed more likely to be that day than any other—especially if Lucky was stupid enough to climb on top of a murderous dragon to battle an angry witch. Just because the prophecy didn’t mention Lucky’s death didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. A lot of men and spirelings had died battling trolls the last time Greg was here, and Simon’s prophecy never mentioned any of them specifically.
“No,” Greg finally said, “I don’t want him to come. It’s not safe.”
“But Greg,” both Priscilla and Kristin said at once.
“I mean it,” Greg said. “There’s no sense both of us getting killed.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” said Lucky, but Greg could see he was relieved.
A grating screech broke the chill air, and the children all turned toward the eastern edge of the lawn. Near the trees, a wyvern reared. The eight spirelings who attempted to hold it were whipped around like ornaments on a chain. Another had attempted to crawl upon the creature’s back. He was hurled a good thirty feet, where he landed in the crackling lawn on hands and knees. After a moment to regain his composure, he jumped to his feet and climbed back aboard the wyvern. Less than a second later he landed hard on his back. This time he was slower getting up.
“Are they seriously thinking of riding those things?” Kristin asked.
“My brother Marvin rides wyverns all the time,” claimed Melvin.
“Your brother never,” said Lucky.
“Does too,” insisted Melvin, “and someday he’s going to teach me, soon as I’m old enough.”
“Have you ever seen him ride a wyvern?” Lucky asked, not bothering to hide a chuckle.
“I didn’t have to,” Melvin said, growing furious. “He wouldn’t lie to me.”
Greg had spent some time traveling with Marvin Greatheart. It was hard to think Melvin didn’t question every word that came out of his brother’s mouth, let alone an entire string of them.
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” said Lucky. “Marvin should be up any time now, and I’m sure when he sees how much trouble the spirelings are having, he’ll want to go over there and show them how it’s done.”
“He will,” insisted Melvin. “You’ll see.”
Crunching footsteps approached rapidly from behind Greg. He turned to find Nathan striding purposefully his way.
“There you are, Greg. I’ve been looking all over. I think it best we get in some riding practice before breakfast.”
“Too late,” said Melvin as he slurped up the last of the pastries.
Greg frowned. “Please tell me you’re not talking about
dragon
riding?”
Nathan regarded him sympathetically. “Well, you don’t want to go up against Hazel without a bit of practice, do you?”
“I don’t want to go up against Hazel at all.”
Nathan nodded. “Believe me, if there were any other way . . .”
“There is,” said Kristin. “You can ride alone.”
Nathan’s eyebrows arched upward. “What about the prophecy?”
“Prophecy, schmophecy.”
“I don’t believe I’m familiar with that term.”
“Look,” she said frowning, “just because this Simon guy predicted something doesn’t make it so.”
“It pretty much does.”
“I don’t believe it. Why should Greg need to ride against Hazel? Everyone says you and Mordred are the only two who can match her powers.”
“That may be so, but after our experience with those last two prophecies, I’m beginning to place more stock in Simon’s ramblings. Just because we don’t understand him doesn’t mean we know what is best. Never has he failed before.”
“Yeah,” said Kristin, “well, never has he predicted Greg was going to die, either. If you ask me, even if this prophecy succeeds, it’s already failed.”
The others chimed in their agreement. Only Greg remained silent. Inside he was begging to lift Kristin onto his shoulders so she could be heard more clearly.
Nathan studied the girl’s face, observing her desperate concern for her friend. “I guess I hadn’t looked at it that way. Maybe Simon’s prediction is but one way we can succeed. Perhaps there are others. Who’s to say?”
“Then you’ll do it? You’ll ride Tehrer alone?”
“I will think on it.”
Kristin squealed, and afterward Greg wasn’t sure if he had also.
“But in the meantime,” continued Nathan, “we should be getting in all the practice we can. After all, Greg may be our only hope yet.”
Nathan held out
an object on a chain—the Amulet of Ruuan. Greg was so excited he nearly forgot the horror of why he needed it. Any metal object would have gleamed brightly in the morning sunlight, but the amulet possessed a radiance of its own, an eerie glow that managed to wash out the sun. Greg could only imagine what it felt like to hold such power in his hand.
Then Nathan forced it into Greg’s palm, and Greg knew exactly how it felt.
Awful.
He quickly slipped the chain over his head. An unpleasant tingling surged through his entire body, as if all his limbs had fallen asleep at once. He found he could barely stand, but that mattered little, since Nathan had no more than given him the amulet before he levitated Greg into position on Tehrer’s back.
Greg settled into a relatively flat spot between the dragon’s shoulders at the base of its neck. The Amulet of Ruuan radiated so much power, Greg wondered if it would burn right through his chest. He took it in his hand the same way one might touch two electrical wires to see if they were live, and held it out before him, exactly as Nathan had instructed. The muscles in his arm danced under his skin, beyond his control, but he did his best to ignore the sensation.
“Fly,” he commanded.
Tehrer’s head swiveled back on his reptilian neck to stare Greg in the face. Greg waited, breathless, for a jet of steam to blast him off his perch, but none came.
Tehrer’s jaws opened slightly, a mere Greg-width apart. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING.”
“But I need to learn how to control you,” Greg pleaded. “How else am I supposed to defeat Hazel?”
“NO HUMAN WILL EVER CONTROL ME,” Tehrer told him with such certainty, Greg was convinced it could never be otherwise. “I OFFER MY ASSISTANCE OF MY OWN FREE WILL, ONLY BECAUSE I FEEL IT IS NECESSARY. NOW I AM TRYING TO REST. DO NOT FEAR. WHEN THE TIME COMES, I WILL FIGHT WELL FOR YOU.”
“But don’t you think we should practice?”
“I ALREADY KNOW HOW TO FIGHT, THANK YOU.”
“But I need to at least learn how to hold on,” Greg tried to reason. “You want me to get killed out there?” Even as he said it, Greg realized the dragon’s desires toward Greg’s fate mattered little. Still, it would at least make him feel better to know the dragon was on his side. “Well, do you?”
“MY MAGIC WILL KEEP YOU FROM FALLING. NOW, THE WITCH MAY BLAST YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR SHOULDERS, OR TURN YOU INTO A NEWT. THAT I CANNOT SAY. BUT IT IS OF LITTLE CONCERN TO ME, AS I DO NOT NEED A HUMAN WITH ME TO BATTLE ANOTHER DRAGON—OR EVER, FOR THAT MATTER.”
“What’s the holdup, Greg?” Nathan called from below.
“He doesn’t want to practice,” Greg called back.
“You have the amulet,” Nathan reminded him. “Remind him who’s in charge.”
Greg seriously doubted Tehrer needed to be reminded he was in charge. The dragon’s head swung down like a carnival ride to stop in front of Nathan. Nathan stared back at him, chin held high, though he would have been hard-pressed to hold it as high as Tehrer’s.
“I HAVE ALREADY TOLD THE BOY I WILL FIGHT WHEN THE TIME COMES AND NOT A MOMENT BEFORE. DID YOU HAVE AN OBJECTION YOU WANTED TO VOICE?” He allowed a waft of steam to drift out one nostril, causing the frost to sweep back from around Nathan’s feet.
Nathan continued to stare back at him through the steam. “So that’s how you want to play it.”
“Can I get down now?” Greg yelled. “It’s not very comfortable up here, and I think this amulet may be killing me.”
“Stay where you are, Greg,” Nathan called up to him. “Tehrer and I have more to discuss.”
“YOU ARE FOOLING YOURSELF, MAGICIAN.”
Greg tried his best to ignore the discussion after that. He felt as if his own fate were completely out of his hands, and all he could do was wait for the inevitable to happen.
Off to his right, he could see the entire spireling race, several hundred thousand in all, sharpening their axes. To his left, Mordred was coaching the king’s magicians in some last minute strategies. Behind, wrapped in a warm robe of magenta velvet, Queen Pauline sat in an elegant chair that had been placed awkwardly on the lawn for her. Princess Penelope was seated by her side, as were Princess Priscilla and Kristin. The four of them had come to watch Greg’s practice, but as of yet they’d witnessed nothing more exciting than Greg’s violent protests as he was being levitated to Tehrer’s shoulders.