How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [53]
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.”
Greg listened helplessly while the others argued his fate. Why didn’t Priscilla just order them to the castle? Too bad he couldn’t tell them the real reason he wanted to go back. But they would just say he was crazy even considering changing the prophecy.
“See?” Priscilla said to Lucky. She gave Nathan a scolding look as if to indicate her arms were tired, even though the magic of her pack hid the weight of its contents. “I told you we have to go back.”
But Nathan shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea either. I’ve been thinking more and more about this ever since our meeting with Simon. It’s never wise to learn too much about one’s own future. Just knowing he’s supposed to succeed may cause Greg to become overconfident and overlook some important detail when he faces Ruuan.”
“I doubt overconfidence will be a problem,” Greg mumbled.
“The fact he even knows as little as he does may have already hurt him,” Nathan went on.
Greg replayed the words in his head, trying to determine if he’d been insulted.
“But seeing the prophecy isn’t going to hurt him,” argued Priscilla. “It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Everybody knows all about it.”
With one final heave Nathan managed to squeeze the mattress past the rim of the pack, where it popped out of sight without so much as a bulge. Matching Priscilla’s scolding look, he said, “Everybody except you, I guess you mean.”
“Only because I didn’t pay attention when Dad told it to me.”
“You know about it,” Greg challenged Nathan.
“Just bits and pieces, as I’ve told you before. Perhaps it is best that I don’t know all. More importantly, it’s best that you don’t know. There may be a predestined reason. After all, it seems odd your efforts to learn about it so far have failed so miserably.”
Greg thought about how little he knew of the actual prophecy. Even the song that Bart, the traveling bard, had sung at the outset of his journey had been interrupted after only two verses. Suddenly he remembered something Bart mentioned on the castle