How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [37]
Lucky looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“The original prophecy. I assume it’s been passed down from generation to generation.”
“No, as far as I know, Simon came up with it himself last month.”
“Simon?”
“Simon Sezxqrthm,” Nathan said, picking up Lucky’s pack and handing it to the boy. “I suppose as prophets go he’s not as experienced as some of his predecessors, but he’s had the best of teachers. It’s rumored the Sezxqrthms were predicting the future even before there was a past.”
“Wait,” Greg interrupted, “you’re saying the prophet is still alive?”
“Of course. I don’t know about your world, but here they don’t kill you for predicting the future. Simon’s got a place just north a bit, near the edge of the Enchanted Forest.”
Greg couldn’t believe his luck. Wait, I’m starting to think like Lucky. He shook off the thought. “We’ve got to go see him—clear up this whole Greghart/Greatheart mistake.”
“You’re not still on that, are you?” said Lucky.
“Of course I’m still on that. You’re talking about sending me into a dragon’s lair.”
“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” Nathan said. “We could take the trail toward Goblin Gap instead of Guano Trail, swing by Simon’s and not lose more than an hour. I know our schedule’s tight, but if Greg hears about the prophecy from Simon’s own mouth, maybe it will ease his fears about the task at hand. After all, you really shouldn’t go off hunting dragons unless you’re fully committed.”
Greg nodded eagerly. Who could argue that anyone willing to go off hunting dragons shouldn’t be committed? “How about it, Lucky?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt, if it will put your mind at ease.”
“Absolutely!” Greg could barely restrain himself. Whether the prophecy was distorted in the telling or the recording, now he would get to its source, and once Simon cleared up the mistake, Greg could finally give up this farce and leave the dirty work to Marvin Greatheart. For the first time since leaving Pendegrass Castle he actually felt happy. It was a wonderful, welcome feeling. But something deep inside Greg warned him it might also be a feeling that would not overstay its welcome.
The trio retraced their route through the Molten Moor, or at least they would have, if it hadn’t since shifted away. Before long they were back on solid ground, in a section of woods where the trees towered higher than any Greg had ever seen, even on Myrth.
“Giant Forest,” Lucky told him, “but don’t worry, most of the giants died off years ago.”
When Nathan turned and headed south, Greg stopped and pointed over his shoulder. “Isn’t the Enchanted Forest that way?”
Nathan nodded. He pointed to the west and then to the north. “And that way, and that. It’s a long trip around to Simon’s.”
“But we don’t have time,” Greg argued. “Why not just go straight through, like we did before?”
Nathan shook his head. “Spoken like a true hero.” After a brief scowl at Lucky, he added, “But we could not possibly enter the Enchanted Forest and expect to come out alive. You must be cautious, Greg. The princess’s fate relies on your survival.”
The scowl Greg offered Lucky wasn’t nearly as brief, and might have gone on longer if Nathan hadn’t urged them to hurry.
They moved south, and while Greg couldn’t say he was upset about missing another chance to cross the Enchanted Forest, he wasn’t happy with Nathan’s urgent pace. Having already hiked all the way to Witch Hazel’s and back before they even broke camp this morning, every muscle in his body ached. At least it wasn’t the sharp, debilitating pain he’d felt before; more a deeper muscular fatigue. He could almost call it a good feeling, but probably only because he was delirious from the pain.
The shadowcat had returned from hiding and now rode, albeit restlessly, atop of Greg’s shoulders. Occasionally it lost its balance and dug into Greg with its claws, but it never fell, despite Greg’s best efforts to dislodge it.
At first break the creature hopped down, scampered into the shadows, and rustled behind