How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [8]
“Well, yeah. Think about it. The prophecy says Greghart from Earth will slay Ruuan. What are the chances the portal opened on Earth in the exact spot where a hero named Greghart was standing, but that you’re not the right Greghart from the prophecy?”
Greg had to admit it didn’t seem likely, but if he agreed with Lucky, he was just one step away from volunteering to slay Ruuan. He felt the pressure of the world behind his eyeballs and debated if that might be where he misplaced the Earth yesterday. “I’m not a hero. And my name’s not Greghart. It’s Greg Hart.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
Lucky’s expression had not changed. “No need to yell. I think I’ll stick with Greghart anyway, okay? Believe in prophecies and they’ll never let you down, but start to doubt and—well, all chaos might break loose. If we go around saying you’re not Greghart, people may start believing you’re not a hero.”
“But I’m not!”
Lucky shushed him and leaned over to close the door. “That’s only because you haven’t rescued the princess yet. Give it time.”
“Princess?”
“Yes. Ruuan will have her for a quick snack if you don’t rescue her according to schedule, which is why we shouldn’t be dallying around here arguing. According to all the songs we’re to be on the trail ‘in the early morn.’”
Only then did Greg remember King Peter last night mentioning a second daughter, Priscilla, who couldn’t be with them. Now Greg
understood why. “Are you saying the dragon is going to eat King Peter’s daughter?”
“Of course not,” said Lucky. “You’re going to rescue her. But not if we don’t get out of here soon.” He held out the pile of fabric he’d draped across his forearm. “Here, I brought you a tunic and tights.”
“You can’t be serious,” Greg said, ignoring Lucky’s outstretched arm. But Lucky was serious, and object as he might, Greg soon realized the only way he’d ever get out of this room was to cooperate. This might have bothered him more if he had any intention of leaving the room.
“Come on, Greghart,” Lucky said, still holding out the clothing. “We need to get moving.”
Greg stared back for several long seconds. Finally, resigned to his fate, he reached out with trembling fingers. The tunic was so bright it glowed. He was almost afraid to touch it. “You expect me to wear this? Kind of loud, isn’t it?”
Lucky’s arm dropped, along with his jaw. “For a moment I forgot who I was dealing with. I thought you’d want something bright to scare away monsters, but if it’s drab colors you want, well . . .”
“On second thought, that outfit looks fine,” Greg said, grabbing for the pile.
But Lucky pulled it out of reach. “No, I wouldn’t think of it. I can get you something else. It’ll just take a minute.”
“No, really, I—”
“Say, where’s your sword?”
“What? I don’t have a sword.”
“How can you not have a sword? What kind of dragonslayer are you?”
“I keep telling you, I’m not a dragonslayer.”
“Cut it out, Greghart.” Lucky’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Let’s see, I’m going to need a drab tunic and a sword. Anything else?”
Greg stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Okay, be right back,” Lucky said, and darted out of the room.
This is not happening!
Greg realized he never heard the lock turn, but where could he go? And would he be safer inside or out? He took too long to decide.
“Here we go,” said Lucky, who was already back and holding out an outfit so drab, Greg nearly missed it. Greg didn’t see a sword either, but he decided not to say anything. If they really did encounter a dragon later, maybe he could use this as an excuse to run for the castle.
Reluctantly he changed into the tunic and tights and a pair of incredibly comfortable boots that Lucky just happened to guess the correct size for, and then he and Lucky were off, much like the evening before, twisting though endless passageways. Well, not exactly endless. They eventually reached a small isolated door that looked rarely used. Lucky pushed it open and stepped through, and Greg followed, squinting into the bright sunlight. At least that answered