How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [86]
They strode to the front of the cell and peered through the crack in the rock at the dragon. He lay upon a large pile of treasure, his eyes closed, as if asleep.
“What if he wakes up?” Priscilla asked.
Greg realized he had given away the magic sword. Even his stick was lost somewhere down at the bottom of the spire. “We need a weapon.”
He peered outside again at the pile of treasure. Hard to get a good look, what with the three-hundred-foot-long dragon curled up on top of it, but Greg was sure the treasure must be magically protected from the heat, for amidst the pile of sparkling gems he was able to distinguish a broken wooden bucket, the rusty head of a double-edged axe, and a short plank with a half-moon cutout that looked like it might have once been part of an outhouse. Apparently Ruuan wasn’t particular about the treasures he collected.
But nowhere did Greg see anything that he might use to fight a dragon, as if such a thing existed. He’d just convinced himself the situation was hopeless when Lucky nearly jumped through the crack, pointing and somehow shouting without making much of a sound.
“Look!” Lucky gasped.
“What?” said Greg. “You see a sword?”
“No, better,” Lucky said, hopping up and down excitedly. “Look.”
Greg sighted along Lucky’s finger toward the opposite side of the lair, where a huge, blond man, clad in nothing but a loincloth and worn, leather sandals, tiptoed stealthily past the sleeping dragon. In one hand he held a shield woven from the scales of a dragon, in the other a long, battle-worn sword. His broad shoulders and bare chest rippled all the way to his trim waist, and each of his legs bulged as broad as Greg himself.
“Greatheart!” Priscilla cried. “What’s he doing here?”
“Who cares?” said Lucky. “We’re going to be rescued.”
Greg had to catch himself from crying out. Suddenly everything made sense. The prophecy was true after all, but just as he’d always suspected, it was never about him. One glance was all it took to see that this man was a real dragonslayer, and Greg couldn’t be happier to hand over the title. He’d never wanted to be a hero anyway. Okay, maybe he did, back when he was on Earth writing in his journal, safe in the knowledge that dragons didn’t exist. Now he’d give anything to be just another twelve-year-old boy.
But then something horrible happened. Ruuan’s eyes popped open, and his enormous head lifted high into the air. The Mighty Greatheart’s eyes widened too. He wisely abandoned his covert approach and made a mad dash for the cell.
“Watch out!” Greg shouted as Marvin dove for cover, floating slow-motion through the air. Then time caught up. The dragonslayer soared through the crack in the rock an instant ahead of a jet of searing flames. Greg, Lucky and Priscilla jerked back, barely avoiding incineration.
“You okay, Marvin?” Lucky screamed as the would-be hero rolled to a stop.
The Mighty Greatheart jumped up quickly and adjusted his loincloth. While the others were now used to the dim lighting, he was not. He peered about, squinting, until he spotted the source of the sound.
“Fine, I’m fine,” he boasted, though Greg did notice a tremor in his voice. “Just caught me a bit by surprise, he did. I’ll have another go at him in a moment.” He turned and squinted at Greg. “I suppose you’re that Greghart fellow Mum told me about. Where’s the princess?”
Greg glanced around, but Princess Priscilla had disappeared into the dim recesses of the cell.
“I guess that blast scared her off. Say, are you sure you can do this? I mean, that was a close call just then.”
Greatheart scoffed at him. “You call that a close call? Why I’ve had closer calls going to the loo in the morning. I’ll show that dragon a close call. Where’s my sword?”
Greg thought he sounded a lot like his little brother, Melvin. He picked up the dragonslayer’s sword and handed it back to him, and Lucky handed him his shield.
“Oh, and Mum said you had my amulet.”
“Um,” Greg said. He didn’t want to tell Marvin that he really had Hazel’s amulet, and that the one Mrs. Greatheart