How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [10]
He’d face any sensation,
Laugh at decapitation,
Even incineration, or worse.
The crowd began to clap, but faded once they realized Bart was just getting started.
He would hike ‘cross the land,
Till too weary to stand,
Face much worse than I’d planned for this tune.
He’d dodge hot lava pitches
And dark evil witches,
To rescue the princess from Ruuan.
Off to make his last stand,
Amulet in his hand,
With a small band of friends he would gather.
Though he never sought fame,
Now we all know his name.
Prophecy to fulfill. That’s what matters.
This time Greg spotted the chorus coming and backed out of the way as Bart finished.
“Oh, very good, Bart,” King Peter said. “Very good.”
“But, I have three more verses . . . .”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid we have no more time. If Greghart’s going to get on the trail in the early morn’ like the prophecy says . . . well, we’re already pushing it as it is.”
“I could listen to more,” suggested Greg.
The king shot him an increasingly familiar glare. “There really is no more time.”
“Yeah, we need to get going, Greghart,” said Lucky. The boy smiled happily as he bid farewell to Queen Pauline and Princess Penelope, and then forced Greg to do the same—bid farewell, that is. It would have been tricky getting him to smile.
But Queen Pauline wasn’t smiling either. In fact, Greg noticed a barely perceptible quiver in her lower lip.
“You don’t believe in the prophecy,” he said.
A murmur arose from the crowd as the queen glanced worriedly from side to side. “Of course, I do.” She leaned in close, as if to adjust the tunic King Peter had already straightened, and spoke in a voice only Greg could hear. “But this is my daughter’s life we’re talking about.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but then Lucky grabbed Greg’s arm and pulled, and the crowd swarmed in around them, blocking her from view.
“Come on, Greghart.”
The pair headed across the castle lawn toward the edge of the woods, with the crowd moving right along beside them, pointing and staring every step of the way.
Greg paused. To his amazement the crowd paused too.
He swayed back and forth nervously. The crowd swayed with him.
If his situation weren’t so dire, he might have tried dancing the Hokey Pokey. Instead, Greg focused on the edge of the forest, where a foreboding path extended straight through the trees as far as he could see.
“Well, this is it,” Lucky said. “You ready?”
“Actually—”
“All right then.” Lucky took the first step off the castle lawn onto the path, and in celebration of the momentous event, the crowd erupted into boisterous applause. Startled by the noise, Greg dove after Lucky, to which the crowd screamed and clapped all the more.
“Wait up,” Greg said. He had to run to catch Lucky, who in his determination to fulfill his destiny barely stopped even when Greg managed to clasp Lucky’s shoulder.
“What is it, Greghart?”
“Slow down,” Greg said, puffing. “You’re getting too far ahead. What’s your plan, anyway? Duck out of sight, I suppose. Wait for everyone to go home before we sneak back.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
“You think it would be better to wait until after dark?”
“We can’t go back, Greghart.”
“Greg. And sure we can. Everyone will go away soon.”
“No, I mean we really can’t go back,” Lucky repeated, pointing in the direction they had just come.
Greg followed Lucky’s finger and felt his stomach knot up tighter than one of Manny Malice’s fists.
It was not what he saw, but what he didn’t see that bothered him. He didn’t see King Peter. He didn’t see the crowd. He didn’t even see the castle lawn. Although he and Lucky had walked only a few steps into the woods, the opening they passed through was now nowhere to be found. Somehow the trail behind had been completely cut off by a sudden growth of dense trees and impenetrable vines.
The Enchanted Forest
“What happened to the trail?” Greg screamed.
“It’s okay,” said Lucky. “It was there when we needed it. Come on. We have a long way to go. We don’t want to find ourselves in this forest