How to Save a Kingdom

by Bill Allen

  “I said, ‘here we are again,’” the king repeated.

  “Oh, right,” said Greg. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Why so pensive, Greghart?” said Queen Pauline, who stood at her husband’s side. “You should be an old hand at this by now.”

  Greg attempted to match her smile, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  King Peter leaned close. “I’m afraid I have no amulet to give you this time, and Bart isn’t even here to send you off with a song.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Greg said. Bart was a traveling bard who enjoyed writing ghastly ballads, all of which involved Greg narrowly escaping mutilation in one fashion or another. He doubted the musician had written anything he’d want to hear at the best of times, let alone just before stepping into a forest where the trees were known to funnel travelers straight into the awaiting jaws of ogres, and worse. “Do we even know where we’re supposed to go this time?”

  King Peter frowned. “Sorry. All we’re certain of is that you will be starting off at this point. Beyond that, well . . . I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

  Greg matched King Peter’s frown. If he had to do this—and by the looks on everyone’s faces, it appeared he did—he’d at least like to have a plan. “We thought we’d start off by going to Marvin Greatheart’s to get his amulet.”

  “A splendid idea.” He offered Greg a wink. “You should probably bring back Marvin, too.”

  “Why? Is he mentioned in the prophecy?”

  “With Brandon’s writing, it’s hard to tell, but if we take a lesson from the past, well, those Greathearts always seem to have their role to play.”

  Princess Penelope stood at her mother’s side. She stepped forward now and offered her own frown. Greg probably wouldn’t have recognized her if she’d used any other expression. “Good luck,” she said, the way one might say, “Nice weather,” or, “Pass the catsup.”

  “What about you?” King Peter said to Priscilla, who also stood by her mother’s side. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to the boys?”

  “Oh, right.” Priscilla scurried forward and, after a quick wink at Greg, performed a melodramatic farewell that rivaled anything Greg had ever seen at the movies.

  King Peter eyed his daughter suspiciously. “Are you finished?”

  “Yes, yes. They can go now. If they must.”

  “Very well,” said the king hesitantly. “Then I suppose it’s time these men were off.”

  As Lucky and Greg moved closer to the edge of the Enchanted Forest, the leaves began to rustle and pull back, revealing a wide path that extended as far as the eye could see. Clearly the forest was anxious to lure them inside, and even though Greg had witnessed the sight before, he found it about as inviting as a quiet evening alone with Manny Malice.

  Lucky, however, was clearly eager to go. Boldly he stepped into the forest, prompting the crowd to clap and cheer. Greg followed, though perhaps less boldly. Still, the crowd’s reaction was no less exuberant. For the sake of those who’d come to honor him, Greg tried his best not to cringe as the trees slithered back across the entrance, cutting off his only avenue of escape.

  The first thing Greg did was scan the ground for a good walking stick. On his last visit to Myrth, he and Lucky had traveled with a mysterious man named Nathaniel Caine, who had used a staff as a focal point for his meditation. After returning to his own world, Greg had taken to carrying a stick with him wherever he went, though the teachers wouldn’t allow it at school, and his mother wasn’t too crazy about him bringing yard debris into the house. He spotted a branch about the right size and picked it up, but dropped it rather quickly when the wood snaked up his arm and slapped him across the cheek.

  “Ow,” Greg said, backing away. “It hit me.” He eyed the branch as it slithered away. “What do we do now?”

  “Sit and wait, I guess.” Lucky settled onto a nearby log. “Want a snack?”

  “We just had breakfast.”

  “What’s your point?”

  Greg shrugged. “What do you have?”

  Lucky dug through his pack. He found a large fruit pie, handed it to Greg and started looking for something for himself.

  “How long will we have to hang out here?” Greg asked. Rake peeked out from under Greg’s cloak to investigate the food, and Greg fed him a small bite of pie.

  “Just till everyone outside the castle goes home,” said Lucky. “Priscilla will let us know when the coast is clear.”

  “Well, I hope it’s not long. This place gives me the creeps.”

  Lucky happened across a second, larger pie within the folds of his pack and pulled it out, along with a gleaming sword that was easily four times longer than the bag that held it. He used the sword to cut a small slice of pie, which he then stuffed back into his pack along with the magic sword before he started gnawing on the rest.

  “Relax, Greg, we’re perfectly safe here. As long as we don’t make the mistake of following this trail deeper into the forest, we shouldn’t run into any trouble.”

  Greg would have liked to believe Lucky, but when a sudden roar echoed down the path, shaking the trees and rustling bushes, he started to have doubts. Rake abandoned his bite of pie and shot down inside Greg’s tunic, justifying his name with the series of claw marks he left across Greg’s chin.

  “What was that?” Greg asked.

  “Not sure,” said Lucky, “but don’t worry. I’m betting we’ll know soon enough.”

  Again a roar shook the air, so loud Greg thought the forest was crashing in on him. “Lucky, what should we do?”

  “This doesn’t change anything. We still have to wait.”

  Greg wasn’t content to sit idly by while anything that could make that much noise made its way closer. “Give me that sword.”

  With a sigh, Lucky retrieved the magic sword from his pack and handed it to Greg. “Good luck. Don’t go far with that thing. We might need it.”

  This time the roar toppled one of the smaller trees, nearly flattening the two boys. Thinking he was being attacked, Greg swatted at the trunk. The tree grunted and swatted back. Before the battle could build further, a boom sounded deep within the woods. Greg jumped at the sound.

  “Did you hear that? Sounds like something exploded.”

  Lucky shook his head. “Not an explosion, Greg. A footstep.”

  A second boom shook the forest, and Greg tried not to think about the foot that might cause such a sound. He tried not to think about the third and fourth explosions as well, but the next three were hard to ignore, as they were quickly growing closer, and each was accented by the reverberating boom of trees crashing to the ground.

  “Hmm,” said Lucky.

  “What?” Greg cried. “What is it?”

  “Nothing really. Just a giant.”

  “A giant. Lucky, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Relax, Greg, no giant’s going to notice us way down here . . . Of course, you might want to watch for falling trees.” At precisely that moment a three-hundred-foot-tall timber dropped from the sky with a boom. Its tip vibrated to a stop just inches from Lucky’s nose. Lucky offered Greg the briefest of smiles. “See what I mean?”

  Greg froze with his chin pointed at the sky. One thing that amazed him about Myrth, aside from Lucky’s annoyingly carefree attitude, was that the trees there grew three to four times taller than they did back home. Now, as he stared at the imposing figure hovering above him, it bothered him that anything could peer over those treetops without at least having to stand on tiptoes.

  He screamed then, louder than he’d ever screamed in his life. Luckily it wasn’t loud enough to capture the attention of a giant. The creature took two crashing steps forward and stopped just short of the edge of the forest.

  Greg exhaled shakily as he contemplated the two enormous toes
rising high on either side of him. Surely he’d have fainted dead away if the trees hadn’t pulled back at that instant, revealing a bright green patch of castle lawn.

  Princess Priscilla stood in the center of the gap. “What’s with all the racket?” she said, apparently too close to the giant to notice. “Come on. The coast is clear.”

  The Agreement

  Morning was already waning before Greg, Lucky and Priscilla reached the arena where Priscilla had asked Ruuan to wait. Greg recognized it as the spot where families had gathered for a celebration last time he was here. In front of him stood the dais where Princess Penelope, or at least an image of her, had waited for Ruuan to swing by and carry her off to his lair. Just behind the dais, Ruann—his scales shining brilliantly blue-and-gold—lay in the center of the arena. Most of him, anyway. His tail actually extended to the edge of the clearing, and then about another fifty feet into the surrounding forest.

  “ANY PROBLEMS?” Ruuan asked.

  “Nah,” answered Lucky.

  Greg would have disagreed, had he been able to find his voice.

  “THEN WE SHOULD GET MOVING BEFORE SOMEONE HAPPENS ALONG.”

  “Wait,” said Lucky, “you’re not going to fly in broad daylight, are you?”

  “I’M AFRAID I HAVE NO CHOICE.” Ruuan crawled to his feet and stretched his legs, towering high above the tallest trees. “WE DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME.”

  “But someone might see you.”

  “DO NOT WORRY. MY MAGIC SHOULD KEEP THEM FROM NOTICING, AND ONCE WE’RE IN THE AIR, I SHOULDN’T NEED EVEN THAT. IF I FLY AS HIGH AS I AM ABLE, I DOUBT ANYONE WILL BE CAPABLE OF SEEING. BESIDES, I MUST FINISH THIS AND BE BACK AT MY LAIR BY NOON.”

  Greg looked at the sky. “But,” he finally managed to say, “that can’t be long from now.”

  “Yeah,” said Lucky, “why so soon?”

  Ruuan looked somewhat annoyed over the question—not a good look on a dragon. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I HAVE A MEETING TO ATTEND.”

  “Who would want to go meet a dragon?” Priscilla asked, peeking up at Ruuan through the raised collar of her heavy cloak. The lime-green fabric was as gaudy as any Greg had ever seen, but he preferred it to the monster-colored fur she had worn last time they traveled together. “Oh, no offense, Ruuan,” Priscilla added.

  The dragon scowled. “I MUST NOT SAY, NOR AM I SURE WHAT THE MEETING IS ABOUT, JUST THAT ALL OF OUR FATES MAY DEPEND UPON IT.”

  “Then we better make sure you get back in time,” Greg said.

  Ruuan nodded. He stooped so the three of them could board, but even so, it was like expecting them to scale a fifty-foot rock wall. In the end he helped them each up in turn by wrapping his serpentine tongue around their waists and hauling them off their feet.

  “Yuck,” cried Priscilla at the stench.

  “You should be thankful he’s letting you ride up here instead of in his mouth,” Greg said, remembering the time Ruuan carried him down the long, spiraling tunnel out of the Infinite Spire.

  “And you should both be glad we’re riding on top rather than underneath,” Lucky added, obviously recalling how he’d barely survived being dragged out of the same tunnel while pinned beneath Ruuan’s belly.

  When everyone was in place between the golden spikes protruding from atop Ruuan’s neck, Ruuan took to the sky with a single flap of his giant, leathery wings. The dragon glanced over one scaly shoulder to see that he hadn’t lost anyone, then soared upward at blinding speed, rising higher and higher, until he shot into the clouds and out the other side. The only time Greg had been as high was when his family had flown to visit his grandmother in Florida. How much less intimidating it had seemed, being safely buckled inside a plane.

  “So Greg,” Lucky said, “what have you been up to since you left?”

  Greg felt Lucky had no right to sound calm under the circumstances, but talking might help take his mind off his troubles. He started by telling of his immediate encounter with Manny Malice and Kristin Wenslow when he reappeared in the woods behind his house.

  Lucky laughed when Greg described how he’d used his chikan training to sweep Manny’s legs out from under him. Priscilla, on the other hand, did not seem as pleased.

  “Who is this Kristin Wenslow?” she asked, the pitch of her voice far higher than usual.

  Greg’s face reddened. “Kristin? Oh, she’s . . . just a girl . . .”

  “I see,” said Priscilla. She took to brooding for several seconds. Then just when Greg thought it safe to return to his story, the princess surprised him by blurting out again. “I suppose this Kristin girl wears all sorts of frilly dresses and things and behaves like a proper lady.”

  “What? Oh . . . ah . . . sometimes, I guess.”

  “I see,” Priscilla repeated. She returned to brooding, and Greg was unsure whether to speak or not for fear of setting her off again.

  “WE’RE HERE,” Ruuan announced. He descended through the clouds as quickly as he’d risen, leaving Greg’s stomach several thousand feet in the air.

  “What?” said Lucky. “We just left.”

  “NONSENSE,” said the dragon, dropping through a break in the trees and alighting as softly as a feather. “IT HAS BEEN NEARLY A MINUTE.”

  Greg scanned the area. True to his word, Ruuan had set them down just in front of the run-down hovel where Marvin Greatheart and his family lived, clear on the other side of the Enchanted Forest from Pendegrass Castle.

  “I’LL JUST LIE FLAT AND HIDE WHILE YOU TALK TO THE ADVENTURER,” Ruuan said as Greg and the others hiked across his back and down his tail to the ground. “COME GET ME WHEN YOU ARE THROUGH. AND PLEASE DON’T DALLY.”

  Greg seriously doubted Ruuan could hide just by lying flat. He thought it unlikely anyone who glanced this way would overlook what appeared to be a new mountain range to the east. Even so, he knew better than to argue with a dragon.

  Luckily, both Marvin Greatheart, the greatest dragonslayer on Myrth, and his little brother, Melvin, already knew Ruuan hadn’t been slain by Greg. But their parents were a different matter. Greg suspected that neither Edna Greatheart nor her husband, Norman, would approve of the course that Simon’s first prophecy had taken.

  Then again, according to Priscilla, that prophecy had been completely accurate. Still, Greg suspected it would be difficult to get the Greathearts to agree.

  “Hullo,” Lucky called. “Anyone home?”

  Within seconds, Edna opened the door and stepped out onto the walk. Greg quickly sidled in front of her, as if he could possibly block her view of Ruuan.

  “Greghart. What are you doing here?” Before Greg could even say hello, the woman turned her back on him and shouted into the house. “Norman, come see who’s here.”

  Out from the shack wafted a deep, rumbling groan, which Greg recognized as the sound of Norman Greatheart struggling off the couch. Edna turned back to Greg. She clamped her hands over his cheeks and stared into his eyes, as if greeting her long-lost son, and then dragged him inside, leaving Lucky and Priscilla alone on the walkway. The two of them shrugged and followed.

  Inside, Norman Greatheart shuffled over to where his wife stood fawning over Greg. Although now retired, Norman had once been a great dragonslayer like his son, which explains why he wore a patch over one eye and walked as though each bone in his body were waging war with all the others to be the last to cross the room. His jaw popped loudly as his mouth drew itself into a smile.

  “Greghart, what brings you back to Myrth?”

  “Another prophecy,” Priscilla answered for him.

  “Princess Priscilla,” Edna said, as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, and Lucky Day, too.” She pointed at a threadbare sofa that took up half the room, even though it was the smallest sofa Greg had ever seen. “Welcome, both of you. Come, have a seat.”

  “Simon’s made anothe
r prophecy?” said Norman. He staggered back to the sofa and dropped into it much the way an old building eventually drops into a pile of rubble. “Why haven’t I heard?”

  “It’s rather new,” said Greg, moving nearer. While it looked as though he was trying to hear Mr. Greatheart better, he was really just making it possible for Lucky and Priscilla to come in out of the cold. The room was that small. “King Peter just found out about it a few days ago.”

  “Yes, well, news does travel a bit slowly this way, now that people quit traveling the Enchanted Forest so much.”

  “People used to travel through the Enchanted Forest?” Greg asked, amazed. He shuffled further forward, bumping into the couch so Mrs. Greatheart would have room to close the door.

  “Before it was enchanted, yes,” said Norman.

  “You mean it wasn’t always?” Priscilla said. “Daddy never mentioned that.”

  “Heavens no, child” said Norman. “Hazel just cast that spell of hers about twenty years ago.”

  “The witch, Hazel?” Lucky asked.

  Edna squeezed by him on her way to the kitchen. “Well, the only other Hazel I know is Hazel Biffington, and I can’t see her enchanting a forest.”

  “But why?” Greg asked.

  Edna laughed. “Why would she want to?”

  “Privacy,” said Norman. He blinked his good eye. “Hazel used to live at Pendegrass Castle until she had some sort of falling-out with the folks there. Not sure what happened, but she was madder than a wounded griffin when she left. Took up that spot of hers in the Sunshine Shrub and—”

  “You mean the Shrieking Scrub,” Greg corrected.

  “What? Oh, sure, now, but then . . . quite a pleasant place really, before Hazel took up residence there and started practicing her magic. Now she’s got her life, and the castle folk have theirs, and to be sure the two never mix she’s got her Enchanted Forest and the Molten Moor to keep things separate.”