How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [34]
“I don’t know,” said Greg. “It sounds like stealing to me.”
“Of course it’s stealing,” Hazel said. “The spirelings would never give it up freely. Ruuan would incinerate them in a heartbeat.”
“Sorry. Why would Ruuan care what the spirelings did with their amulet?”
“Because it is not theirs to give. Ruuan loaned it to them centuries ago, so they could see in darkness and live under the intense heat of the spire. Without it they’d have to return to the forests. In time the passageway would be found, and the lair would be open to every dragon-thirsty adventurer on Myrth. Ruuan would never have a moment’s peace again.”
“It sounds very important, this amulet,” Greg said. “All the more reason I shouldn’t be stealing it.”
“Fool!” Hazel nearly spat. “Ruuan won’t need to worry about trespassers once he’s dead.”
Hazel’s face had turned the same fierce red as Lucky’s backpack, and Greg had a fleeting notion that as bright as it was, she could probably travel safely through the Enchanted Forest. She planted her cane on the floor by her chair, pried herself to her feet, and craned her neck backward until she stared Greg straight in the eye. Miraculously Greg stared back at her, though a good deal of the time he was really focused on a far less intimidating splotch on the wall behind.
Slowly Hazel raised her head and shoulders until her eyes were level with Greg’s own, but she didn’t stop there. Her deformed back creaked and crackled and gradually unfurled until Greg found himself craning his own neck back just to keep her in sight, and still she grew.
The witch’s matted hair surged from her head like so many serpents and darkened to a deep black. Her flesh stretched smooth. She stared down at Greg, her eyes no longer those of a tired, aged woman but those of a wild animal sizing up its prey.
Greg sidled toward the door.
“Stop!”
Greg nearly fell over backward. The torch slipped from his grasp, and suddenly the room went dark. He groped the floor, not knowing where Hazel was—not knowing if she was about to seize him through the blackness.
There. His right hand struck wood, but the torch didn’t light.
She’s cast a spell to cancel its magic. Greg felt his chest squirm. Now she’s put a spell on me.
Greg felt the tiny shadowcat struggle loose and run down his arm, and a second later, rolling wood rumbled in the darkness. Greg stabbed his free hand toward the sound and watched the eternal torch burst to life. Nearby lay Nathan’s staff. The shadowcat hopped over it, as if reminding Greg it was there, and then darted back into hiding beneath Greg’s tunic. Greg seized the torch and the staff and jumped to his feet, brandished the staff like a weapon.
Hazel laughed, a hollow haunting sound that caused Greg to lose all hope. The staff slipped. He groped madly just to keep from dropping it.
“Let me put this to you in terms you can understand, little one,” Hazel said, and this time her voice reverberated strongly throughout the close room. The crow on the back of her rocker flapped its wings for balance but never made a sound. “You will bring me the amulet from the Infinite Spire. In exchange I will give you the things you asked for. I’ll even give you something you’ve not yet requested, but which should be quite precious to you.”
“W-what’s that?” Greg asked.
“I will allow you to leave with your life. Personally, I would just as soon keep you for spare parts,” she said, indicating the jars about the room with a sweep of her hand, “but there is the matter of the prophecy. I cannot argue the future.”
Greg realized he hadn’t breathed for quite a while and opted now to make up for lost time. Hazel waved her arms, and Greg felt the lump beneath his tunic disappear. For a moment he thought the witch had taken his shadowcat, but then he realized the two amulets that had warmed his chest were gone, along with any hope he had of defeating Ruuan.
Then Hazel waved her arms a second time, and Greg felt the lump return beneath his tunic. To his surprise the familiar tingle of magic returned as well. Was it possible Hazel had been telling