How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [32]
No one can bake meat pies like your Grandma Hazel.
With Nathan’s staff rested in the crook of his elbow, Greg clenched the bulges under his tunic. He could feel the power radiate right through the cloth. “I need these,” he said defiantly. “The prophecy says I’m supposed to have the Amulet of Ruuan with me when I fight the dragon.”
“True,” said Hazel, “but neither of those is the Amulet of Ruuan.”
Greg squeezed the amulets tighter, felt them pulse beneath his grip. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I have the real one. Don’t get me wrong. Those trinkets of yours are not entirely worthless, but they will not guarantee your triumph over Ruuan. Only I can help you there.”
“But—” Greg hesitated. Hazel was lying, he was almost certain, but he remembered Nathan’s advice well. He was supposed to go along with whatever she said. It wasn’t wise to argue with a witch. Greg had no reason to doubt Nathan. In fact, he was pretty sure it wasn’t wise to do anything with a witch.
“I’ll tell you what,” Hazel said. “I’ll give you all that you need: the torch, the spell, the dragon spit, even the powerful Amulet of Ruuan, if you’ll do just one favor for me.”
Greg’s expression must have revealed his concern.
“Do not worry. It is a simple thing.” Hazel hobbled over to a rickety wood rocker and lowered herself onto it, relying heavily on her cane. She looked so frail Greg thought she might collapse at any moment, and for one maddened instant he thought he might help her to it with a swift kick to the knee. But he had an idea she wasn’t as weak as she pretended. Surely this was another attempt to deceive him.
Greg longed for a chair of his own. He was as tired as Hazel pretended to be, and the torch and walking stick were growing heavier. Hazel regarded him for a time, as did the large crow perched on the seatback just over her left shoulder. Her chest rose and fell in raspy, wheezing breaths. At last she spoke.
“You will find the dragon Ruuan in a cavern inside a tunnel within a spire that rises high into the air, up into the clouds and beyond. Legend says the spire has no end, that it stretches into the sky forever. I cannot say if this is true, but I have never been one to argue with legends.”
“That’s not possible.”
“You can always argue with legends. There’s just no point to it.”
“I mean, the spire having no end.”
“It has one end, at the bottom, just no top.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not possible.”
“You’re on your way to kill Ruuan!” Hazel suddenly screamed, spittle flying from the corners of her mouth. “Don’t argue with me about what is possible.”
Don’t argue with a witch, Greg reminded himself. It shouldn’t have been that hard to remember. “So, the spire has no end. I suppose you’re going to tell me Ruuan lives at the top of it?”
“No, not on top,” Hazel said, returning instantly to her previous calm, “only halfway up.”
Greg thought a moment. Infinity was a hard concept to grasp. “Wouldn’t halfway still be pretty high?”
Hazel’s wrinkled smile returned. “You’re quite bright for a male. Yes, Ruuan’s lair is still infinitely high. It would be quite impossible for you to walk there through the tunnel.”
“Oh.” Greg wasn’t sure whether to be upset or relieved. “Then I won’t be going there after all. What about the princess?”
“Don’t concern yourself with the stillborn,” said Hazel. “The dragon will help her reach his lair.”
Greg felt Nathan’s staff slip from his fingers to the floor, where it rolled back and forth on the wood, the only noise in the otherwise deathly quiet room. “But if I can’t get to the lair, who will save her?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t get there. I said you couldn’t walk through the tunnel. There is another way.