How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [77]
Greg frowned. “You want to go up there?”
“Well, sure. Don’t you?”
Greg shook his head, remembering what Nathan had said about Lucky’s good fortune one day running out.
The back wall of the cave stood no more than fifty feet away and veered sharply to the left, beginning a tunnel that wound its way up the inner circumference of the spire. Greg stepped closer and peered inside, only to be met by a blast of heat.
“Whoa, that’s hot!”
“No kidding, Greg,” said Lucky. “A fire-breathing dragon’s lived in there for centuries.”
“Yeah, I know, but—” He knew he would need a fireproofing spell at some point within the spire, but he never thought he’d have to use it to take his first step inside.
Quickly he removed the two vials Hazel had given him and pulled the stopper from the one she’d claimed was dragon spit. He had no reason to doubt her. It smelled putrid and decayed, exactly like Greg imagined the mouth of a dragon would. With very little enthusiasm, he and Lucky dripped the sticky substance over the soles of their boots and walked around experimentally. With each step his boot first stuck to the ground and then popped loose with a slight tug. It was an odd feeling, but one Greg got used to after a little practice.
He then removed the red vial Hazel gave him.
“That’s not the fire-proofing spell, is it?” Lucky asked.
Greg didn’t especially like his tone. “Yeah. Why?”
“It’s just that fireproofing spells are usually blue. That looks more like a fire-inducing spell. Are you sure Hazel heard you right?”
Greg held the vial at arm’s length, as if it had sprouted teeth. “She knew why I wanted it, and she had no reason to trick me.” Except she’s a witch, Greg’s mind screamed. “Um . . . here, try it.”
“Me?” said Lucky. “You should go first. That way we’ll be sure it’s the right potion. After all, you certainly couldn’t fulfill the prophecy if you burst into flames at this point.”
Greg felt a twinge of panic. “Yeah . . . on the other hand, you’re the lucky one. If you drank the wrong potion and exploded . . . well, that wouldn’t be lucky at all, would it?”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Lucky admitted. “Which is why they’ll say I had the good fortune to have you sample the potion first.”
Greg was running short on arguments. “I’m not really thirsty,” he tried, but he knew there was no point. No matter how much he hated going on from here, it was Priscilla’s only chance. He took one last fleeting look at the bubbling red potion, raised it to his lips and downed half in a single swallow. An icy chill surged through his body, so cold he had to toss the remaining potion to Lucky and race into the cave mouth or catch his death of cold.
Lucky gulped down his half of the potion and quickly followed.
“F-f-f-freezing!” Greg said once Lucky joined him inside the tunnel.
Lucky hopped about with his arms wrapped around his chest, shivering uncontrollably. “En-n-n-njoy it while you c-c-c-can. You’ll be p-p-p-plenty warm soon enough. Now, let’s get moving.”
Greg turned and headed up the tunnel, then stopped abruptly after just a few steps. “The sleigh.”
Having been holding his head down low as he negotiated the steep climb, Lucky bumped right into him. “Hey, w-why’d you stop?”
“I think I’m supposed to take the spirelings’ sleigh with me.”
“What for? W-we’ve got everything we need in my pack.”
“Yeah, I know, but Nathan told me the fireproofing spell won’t last, and that I may need to get out of here quickly.”
Lucky studied the slope ahead of them. “We might be able to use it to get out quickly, but it’s sure not going to be a quick trip up, dragging that thing behind us.”
“Yes, but Nathan said something else, too. A bit of preparation may save me a lot of trouble in the end. I think this may be what he meant.”
Lucky shrugged. “It’s your destiny.”
The two boys ran back out of the tunnel into the freezing air. Greg hopped about behind the sleigh while