How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [74]
Bart, too, peered somewhat nervously at the spirelings below. “You’re supposed to rescue the maiden on the night of the full moon. We, of course, thought it would be the next full moon, three weeks from now, but it is not the first time you have surprised us.”
Greg glanced at the sky. The sun still hovered above the horizon to the north, but the moon was already visible over the mountaintops to the east. It looked as big and full as could be. “Then it happens tonight.”
“No, tomorrow,” said Ryder, but then he looked at the moon himself and appeared less certain. “Full moon’s tomorrow night, right men?”
“Um, I think so,” came a host of replies, although no one seemed particularly certain.
Greg noticed two soldiers out of formation. They approached carrying something large between them.
“Agni!”
The soldiers laid the magician down as delicately as possible at Greg’s feet. Greg knelt at the man’s side and nearly shrieked when he saw Agni’s face.
The magician was conscious, but just barely. He peered at Greg from tired eyes sunken amidst the wrinkled, ashen face of an old man. “I did my part. Now you do yours.”
Greg swallowed hard. “I guess you’re not strong enough to send me the rest of the way?”
Agni struggled for breath. “I—I couldn’t anyway. I must be able to picture the place, and I have never been inside the spire.” His eyes closed then, and he went still.
At first Greg thought the worst. Then he observed the shallow rise and fall of the man’s chest.
“We better camp here,” Ryder said, taking one last look at the valley below. “My men need plenty of rest if they’re going to face that lot tomorrow.” He barked out a command that seemed to hang in the air forever, and as one, the men broke formation and began setting up camp.
That night there was no evening celebration. Instead, an air of impending doom settled over the camp as the soldiers sat in silence, contemplating their fates. After all, nothing in the prophecy defined which of them would live or die tomorrow, and Greg couldn’t understand how any could hope to survive when they were clearly outnumbered a thousand to one.
The moon shone nearly as bright as day, but even if it had been dark, Greg wouldn’t have stood a chance of sleeping. Rake wasn’t there to help either. The shadowcat must have felt the disquiet as much as Greg did, because it had faded into the shadows long ago and had not been back since.
Nathan crouched next to the boys’ bedrolls. Please don’t try to console me, Greg thought.
“You okay, Greghart?”
“Been better.”
“You’ll be fine. Just remember to use your head.”
Greg cringed. With his luck the soldiers were eavesdropping, and tomorrow they’d all be singing about how Greghart was going to lose his head.
“Here,” said Nathan, holding out his staff, “I want you to take this.”
“I have my own, thanks.”
“No, you should use mine. It’s . . . special.”
Greg didn’t stop to ask what Nathan meant. He grabbed the staff and hugged it tightly to his chest.
“One other thing,” said Nathan. “As with anything in life, a little preparation tonight could save you a lot of trouble in the end.”
“Okay . . .”
“The fireproofing spell Hazel gave you will not last indefinitely. You will want to finish your business in the spire and return as quickly as possible.”
“Believe me, I won’t stay up there one second longer than I need to.”
Nathan nodded. He reached out to the staff in Greg’s hand and moved it into sensen position. “Remember your center. Only from a position of peace can you achieve power. Now, sleep well, my young friend, for you will want to be well-rested when you meet the dragon.”
Before Greg could utter another word, Nathan rose and stalked off into the night. Greg’s heart pounded so hard he couldn’t think of sleeping now. What was Nathan trying to tell him? And why was he being so cryptic? Greg knew he would get no answers to these questions. He tried to push them from his mind, but they kept drifting back, demanding to be heard. Exhausted, yet wide-awake, he fell back on the one thing that had always given him solace. He pulled