How to Slay a Dragon (16 page)

Lucky glanced at Greg, who felt the color drain from his face. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“So, we can’t count on the prophecy,” said Priscilla. “What about my sister?”

Everyone looked to Greg, including Simon and his wife, although in Mrs. Sez’s case it was probably a coincidence, as it was not likely she was hearing the conversation.

Greg stared back defiantly. “What we need to do is find Marvin Greatheart.”

“Look, Greg,” said Lucky, “I can guarantee Ruuan is going to be slain, whether by you or by Greatheart or by Simon himself, what does it matter? The plain and simple fact is that if Marvin’s going to show up at the last second, as you would have us believe, then what’ve we got to lose? There’s no reason we shouldn’t at least go and watch the show.”

“We’ll get ourselves scorched,” argued Greg.

“Okay, maybe there’s one reason. But I still think we should go. We’ll just have to be careful.”

“Lucky’s right,” said Nathan. “Even if the prophecy was supposed to say Greatheart slays Ruuan, it doesn’t mean he’s going to do it without our help. We owe it to Princess Penelope to do everything we can.”

Greg knew Nathan was right, and he wanted to say so, but what he heard himself say was, “We do?”

“Yes,” Nathan said firmly, “we do.”

“I don’t care who else goes,” said Princess Priscilla, “but that’s my sister we’re talking about, and
I’m
going to help her.”

Greg wasn’t sure what to say to that. In the end he agreed to go on. Princess Priscilla seemed far too stubborn to be talked out of anything, and Greg felt fairly certain it wasn’t safe for her to be out wandering these forests by herself. They would just have to escort her for now and hope Greatheart caught up to them before the Infinite Spire. If not, well, Greg would decide then what to do. It was best not to dwell on the matter now, for if he did he would surely come to his senses and sprint off into the flowers.

While the Sezxqrthm’s house
looked cozy, and darkness was beginning to fall, the group decided against asking to stay the night. It would be halfway to morning before they could hope to get Mrs. Sez to understand the request, let alone run it by Simon and get a straight answer. It was easier just to say goodbye and head back to Wiccan Wood. They made camp by the edge of the forest, knowing it would be safer there than inside. Lucky unpacked bedrolls for himself and Greg, while Nathan gathered flowers to make himself a soft mat to sleep on.

“Look, Nathan’s going to sleep on a flowerbed,” Greg said, trying to ease his own tension. The others gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind, and it was enough to make Greg want to go back and apologize to the incoherent Simon for the look Greg had given
him.

Princess Priscilla carried a pack similar to Lucky’s, only half as big. From it she pulled a full-size goose-down mattress, which she laid out on the ground next to Greg’s tiny bedroll, but before turning in, the boys looked to Nathan for their usual chikan lesson.

“I want to join in, too,” Priscilla said. She hunted out a suitable walking stick, and amazed Greg when she challenged him to a friendly sparring match, then promptly disarmed him and pinned him flat on his back.

Nathan grinned approvingly. “Maybe we should let you tackle Ruuan after all, Princess.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” Greg said, struggling to his feet.

“Dad taught me,” she told him. “Being a princess isn’t all white lace and satin, you know. I have to be able to protect myself.”

Greg rubbed his elbow where his arm struck the ground. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”

Nathan turned the night’s lesson over to Priscilla, who shared tips that, when combined with all Nathan had taught about breathing and concentration (which turned out not to be nonsense after all), helped Greg greatly improve his chikan skills. Soon Greg could best both Lucky and Priscilla in every sparring contest. Give him a stick and a moment to compose himself, and he felt he could defeat any opponent. Then he remembered the type of opponents Myrth had to offer.

Priscilla interrupted his thoughts. “Greg, can I talk to you about something?”

He stared at her, his stick hovering in midair.

“In private.”

Greg lowered his stick. “Sure.”

The two left Nathan and Lucky to practice and moved to the spot where the bedrolls were laid out. Greg looked to Priscilla expectantly.

“It’s about what you were saying at Simon’s,” she said, “about prophecies never being wrong.”

“I thought we settled that. This is going to be the first.”

“No, it won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

Priscilla glanced over at Nathan and Lucky and back again. “Yes, I can.” She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “If anything, this would be the second.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. “What are you saying?”

She looked at him sternly. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny everything.”

Greg lowered his voice, too. “Tell me what you know.”

“When my father received word of the prophecy from Simon, Mother started acting weird.” She grinned slightly. “That’s usually Dad’s department. I knew right away something was wrong, so I hounded her to tell me what it was.”

“What did she say?”

“To mind my own business.”

“Everything okay over there?” Nathan called out.

“We’re fine,” Greg said, feeling anything but. He fixed Priscilla with a stare. “So, what do you know?”

“I don’t think Mother would have ever told me, but each day closer to your arrival she grew more and more worried about Penelope. She’s been putting on a brave face for Dad, but I think she finally needed someone to confide in.”

“And she told you about another prophecy?”

“No.” Priscilla looked at the others again. “I mean yes. Sort of. She didn’t tell me anything about it, just that she thinks there was a prophecy that didn’t come true. Apparently there was some big cover-up. I don’t think many people know about it. Not even Daddy.” Priscilla quieted. “Greg, are you okay?”

Greg swallowed hard. “Since I’ve been here, I was sure that everyone on Myrth was crazy.”

“Thanks.”

“But there’s always been this one chance, however small, that they were right and I was the crazy one.” His voice barely escaped his throat. “Now even that small chance is gone.”

Priscilla shrugged. “Well, at least you’re not crazy.”

Greg found it impossible
to sleep. He slipped away from the others and used the eternal torch to light a second length of wood, which he planted in the ground so he could free up his hands to write in his journal. He had intended the book to last only one summer, and while that in itself had required him to use small print, the number of bizarre experiences he had been recording since he arrived in Myrth had required him to achieve a new mastery of tiny penmanship.

Priscilla must have been having trouble sleeping too. She walked up behind him and spoke, nearly causing him to scream. “What are you doing?”

“Writing about my adventure,” Greg said. “It helps me relax.” He noticed his hand trembling. “Usually.”

“You know how to write?” she asked, amazed.

“Well, sure,” Greg said. “Don’t you?”

“Of course
I
do,” Priscilla said indignantly. “But I’m royalty. Most . . . common folk never learn.”

“Most?”

“Well, a few do. Like my father’s scribe, Brandon.”

“Not very well, according to Lucky.”

Priscilla frowned. “He’s not that bad when he’s not drinking. Oh no.” Her face reddened in the cutest way. “He wasn’t drunk when you met him, was he?”

“I didn’t,” said Greg. “Meet him, I mean.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Normally Dad doesn’t allow it, but he really has gone overboard on this whole Greghart thing. It’s really embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“My dad—he’s usually not so—what I mean is, he’s quite smart. I don’t know why he can’t see the prophecy is wrong. I knew as soon as I heard. It’s so obvious.” She stared at Greg with an odd expression.

“What are you looking at?” he asked her.

“We need to get back to the castle so we can send you home.”

“If you’re waiting for me to disagree, we could be here a while.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He exhaled deeply. “But first I have a plan to save your sister.”

Priscilla’s face brightened. “You do?”

“All we have to do is make sure Ruuan never gets hold of her,” Greg explained.

Priscilla looked skeptical. “How would we do that?”

“Easy. We hide her. Ruuan can’t take her if he can’t find her.”

Priscilla frowned. “No. People around here take this prophecy stuff pretty seriously. We can’t interfere.”

“What?” Greg practically shouted. “But you know the prophecy isn’t true.”

“Of course not, but that doesn’t mean we can go around changing it.”

“Wait, you were the one talking about running off to fight Ruuan yourself.”

“That’s different. Once we’re away from the castle no one will know what we do. As long as we bring Penelope back, we can tell people whatever we want. They’ll have no reason to doubt us.”

“How about this, then?” Greg said. “We go to the castle, hide Penelope and tell everyone Ruuan took her. We can still go off for a while and pretend to rescue her. No one else has to be the wiser.”

Priscilla grinned, and it struck Greg how pretty she was. “I like the way you think,” she said. “You know, that could just work.” But then her smile disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” Greg said.

“How do we get them to go along with it?” she said, indicating the sleeping forms of Lucky and Nathan wrapped up tight in their bedding and flower petals, respectively.

“I know,” said Greg. “We’ll tell them you’ve come to your senses and decided to return home. Then they’ll have to see you safely back to the castle. After all, what’s the point of us saving one princess if we lose another in the process?”

Priscilla shook her head. “No, they know I can handle myself. Besides, Lucky and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. I doubt he’s ever seen me change my mind about anything. He’d never believe I’d change it about this.”

“Wait, that’s it.”

“What is?”

“You’re stubborn, right?”

She scowled.

“And you’re a princess, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then you tell them you want to go back, and if that doesn’t work, you order them.”

Fey Field

“EEEEE!”

Greg burst awake and jumped to his feet. “What’s going on? Who screamed?”

“Get it off!
GET IT OFF!
” Priscilla thrashed about on her mattress, punching and kicking an invisible foe.

Lucky and Nathan both jumped awake and rushed to her side.

“What is it, Princess?” said Nathan.

“Yeah, what’s up, Prissy?” Lucky asked.

Priscilla paused in her contortions long enough to scowl. “Sasha.”

Greg was about to offer a hand when Rake jumped up and landed delicately on his shoulder.

“Eeeee!” Priscilla screamed. “There it is again.”

She snatched up Greg’s walking stick and leapt to her feet, the stick poised over her head to strike. Nathan shot out a hand so quickly Greg nearly missed the movement. An instant later he held Greg’s stick at his side.

“Is that what all the fuss is about?” he said. “The shadowcat?”

Priscilla blushed. “Sorry, I thought it was a rat.”

Rake raised his fur and hissed defiantly from the safety of Greg’s shoulders. His long tail flittered around nervously, beating Greg about the eyes.

“This is Rake,” Greg explained. “He’s my . . . pet.”

“Don’t be silly. Shadowcats can’t be pets. They don’t like people.”

“Well, he seems to like me,” Greg said, pointing a thumb at his own chest. The movement caused Rake to lose his balance and dig his claws into Greg’s neck, causing Greg to scream.

“Yeah, I can tell,” said Priscilla. She studied Rake a moment. “He is kind of cute though, isn’t he?”

At this, Rake’s mood softened, and he allowed the princess to scratch behind his ears and stroke his soft fur. Only then did Greg notice the cold. Lucky obviously felt it too, and searched his pack for heavier garments. Though grateful, Greg couldn’t help but feel disappointed when Lucky pulled out a bright orange cloak for himself and a drab gray one for Greg. Priscilla checked her pack and found a luxurious reddish-orange fur coat fit for a princess. Sure it was pretty, and no doubt quite warm, but Greg didn’t like her wearing it. Every time he saw her out of the corner of his eye he thought another bollywomp had snuck up behind him.

After a hearty breakfast of wyvern sausages and fried potatoes, Priscilla tried to convince the others she’d changed her mind and wanted to return to Pendegrass Castle, but as expected, Lucky knew her far too well.

“Okay, what’s going on?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” Priscilla asked innocently.

“Look, I’ve known you long enough to know you’d die trying before you ever gave up on anything. And then I question if death would only slow you down a bit.”

“But Greg needs to get to the castle,” she said, stomping her feet.

Lucky looked as if she’d truly surprised him. “What on Myrth for?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you guys said yesterday, about Greg going to see Simon to learn all he could about the prophecy. I mean, let’s face facts. Does he really look like someone who could slay Ruuan without a trick up his sleeve?”

Greg stopped searching for his hand within the sleeve of the huge cloak Lucky just gave him. “I heard that.”

“Look, if Greg does survive this thing,” Priscilla continued, “it may all hinge on something he has yet to learn. He needs to know all the facts so he can be ready.”

“I don’t get it,” said Lucky. “This is Greg’s destiny. Don’t you see? He can’t fail no matter what he does.”

Nathan, who had been working at shoving Priscilla’s mattress back into her tiny pack while she less than patiently held it open for him, paused. “No, see, that’s the kind of thinking that will get Greg killed. The only reason prophecies have been fulfilled in the past is because the special men and women who fulfill them aren’t the type to go strolling unprepared into the jaws of an awaiting dragon.”