How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [87]
“Oh, there it is,” Marvin said, spotting the chain around Greg’s neck.
Greg had no choice but to drop Hazel’s amulet into Marvin’s outstretched hand. “Now, watch closely while I show that dragon why they call me the greatest dragonslayer Myrth has ever known.”
The Mighty Greatheart straightened impressively as if posing for a portrait. Greg admired him for several seconds before he realized the man’s stoic expression had frozen in place. The dragonslayer’s eyes lost focus and he toppled forward, landing on the hard rock with a dull thud. Behind him, Priscilla stood panting, a large bone from the stack in the corner dangling from one hand. She dropped the bone to the floor with a hollow clatter, retrieved the amulet and the dragonslayer’s sword, and held them out to Greg.
“Okay, you should get going, before he wakes up.”
“What did you do?” Greg screamed.
Even in the dim light he could see Priscilla roll her eyes. “He was about to go out and fight Ruuan. I had to stop him.”
“Stop him? That’s just what we wanted him to do.”
“No,” Priscilla corrected, “that’s what we want you to do. You’re the one in the prophecy, remember?”
“What? I thought you didn’t believe in the prophecy.”
“That was before I saw how far you’ve come. Now get out there and slay the dragon,” she said, slipping the chain over his head and around his neck.
“But—”
“She’s right, Greg,” said Lucky. Then as an aside he added, “though I think I’d have tried discussing the matter with Marvin before I clubbed him over the head.”
“This is crazy.” Greg paced toward the entrance, spun back to face the others and pointed behind him through the crack in the wall. “Greatheart was the only chance we had. Now he’s out cold, and we’ve still got an angry dragon over there.”
He stopped when he noticed both Lucky and Priscilla backing away, their eyes wide with horror.
“NO, YOU HAVE AN ANGRY DRAGON RIGHT HERE.”
The Dragon Ruuan
Greg tried to jump away, but a tongue the size of a Slip-N-Slide caught him around the waist and yanked him off his feet. It was as wet as a Slip-N-Slide, too, but not in a fun way.
Greg felt a momentary blast of heat as the spirelings’ amulet adjusted to the new surroundings. Then everything went cool again as Ruuan tossed him roughly on the white-hot floor of his lair. Then again, the amulet was meant to be used in the passageway. Its magic might not be strong enough to save him here at the source of the fire. That would mean the dragon was protecting him from the heat with its own magic. For what reason Greg didn’t know, but he was struck by a sudden image of Rake playing with a field mouse just before chomping it up and swallowing it.
He leapt to his feet and turned, but Ruuan cut off his escape with a scalding blast of steam. Bart’s haunting voice popped into Greg’s head. He’d face any sensation, laugh at decapitation. Even incineration, or worse.
Greg spun and fled the other way, but a well-placed jet of fire had him sliding to a stop in that direction as well. He gaped up at the dragon, petrified, dreading to see what Ruuan would do next.
In a coordinated effort of contracting and expanding muscles, Ruuan rose to his full height. If the dragon had looked enormous before, now he seemed nearly as tall as the Infinite Spire itself. His underbelly glowed like polished gold, gradually melding into brilliant scales of blue that covered his back and sides. Under different circumstances Greg might have described him as beautiful, but at the moment all he could think about was the sound of crunching bones.
“WHY ARE YOU TRESPASSING INSIDE MY SPIRE?”
“Sorry.” Greg cleared his throat and tried to keep his knees from knocking. “I was, uh, just trying to stay warm. It’s quite chilly tonight. Have you been outside? Of course you have, that’s where we met.”
“SILENCE.”
Greg shut up instantly. His knees threatened to give out, but he somehow managed to remain standing under the dragon’s scrutinizing glare.
“DO NOT LIE TO ME.”
“No, of course not,” stammered Greg. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
“YOU’RE