How to Save a Kingdom

by Bill Allen

  “Don’t tell me Hazel’s responsible for the Molten Moor, too?” Priscilla asked.

  “You mean the Miracle Marsh,” Edna called from the kitchen. “That used to be such a lovely place, too.”

  “Still is,” said Lucky.

  Greg groaned. Only Lucky could enjoy negotiating the sea of molten rock that surrounded the Shrieking Scrub where Hazel lived. Greg was sure he wouldn’t have liked the place even if the paths between lava pools hadn’t shifted positions while he was trying to cross them.

  “So, tell us about this new prophecy,” Norman said to Greg. “Are you going to slay another dragon? I didn’t think there were any left.”

  From the back room stepped Norman’s eldest son, Marvin, dressed in a loincloth and carrying a battle-worn sword. His bronzed muscles rippled like a sail sheeting in a heavy wind, even after he stopped to regard the company. That, along with his curly blond hair, crystal-blue eyes and square jaw, caused Priscilla to release a quiet whimper. He gave a curt nod and called toward the kitchen.

  “Mum, have you seen my amulet?”

  “It’s in the cabinet where it always is,” Edna replied.

  “No, it’s not. I checked twice and looked everywhere else, too. It’s not here.”

  Greg, Priscilla and Lucky all exchanged concerned glances. “Your amulet is missing too?” Greg said.

  “Why too?” asked Norman, his neck crackling like a string of firecrackers as he craned his head toward Greg.

  “Daddy’s amulet disappeared a few days ago,” Priscilla said. “He thinks someone stole it.”

  “You mean that other amulet Greghart had with him last time we met?” Norman’s head pivoted back with a chorus of creaks and pops to meet her two eyes with his one. “Why would anyone want that?”

  Priscilla skillfully transformed a grimace into a smile. “We don’t know.”

  “Well, I must say, that is quite a coincidence.”

  “Now, before you go jumping to conclusions . . .” said Edna. She drifted over to the rickety old cabinet along the far wall, pulled open the drawer and rummaged inside for several seconds. “It’s gone.”

  “Told you so,” said Marvin.

  “Not so fast. Melvin,” Edna called.

  Greatheart’s little brother trudged into the room. Though no less than two years younger than Greg, Melvin already stood as tall. He was too young to possess Marvin’s muscular physique, but he sported the same blond hair and blue eyes, and his jaw, while slightly rounded, showed a lot of promise. He was deep in thought until he spotted Greg.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “Hush, boy,” said Norman. “Greghart’s our guest.”

  “Have you been playing with your brother’s amulet again?” Edna asked.

  “Haven’t seen it,” Melvin answered. He glowered at Greg. “Maybe he took it.”

  “Melvin,” Edna scolded. “We’ll have none of that.”

  Marvin placed his hands on his hips. “Mum, I need that amulet.”

  “Well, don’t blame me. I wasn’t the one who lost it. Okay, we’ll all just have to pitch in and look. I’m sure it’s around here someplace.”

  But try as they might, they could not locate the amulet anywhere. Exhausted, Greg plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs, which just happened to also be one of the living-room chairs. Though grateful for the break, he was struck by a sudden thought.

  “Ruuan.”

  “Ah,” said Norman, “still having nightmares about your battle with the dragon, are you? Well, don’t worry.” He rubbed his patched eye. “The bad dreams will go away in ten or twenty years.”

  “No,” said Greg, “it’s not that . . . it’s just . . . oh, never mind. Could you excuse me? I need to go outside a minute.”

  “Is something wrong, dear?” said Edna. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” Greg assured her. He looked to Priscilla for help.

  “Oh,” she said, struggling for an excuse to help him slip away. “Ah . . . weren’t you supposed to bring in my backpack?”

  “You’re wearing your backpack,” Melvin observed.

  “What? Oh, no, that’s Lucky’s backpack.”

  “He has one on too.”

  “Did I say Lucky?” Priscilla chuckled nervously. “I meant Greg. He’s got mine and I’ve got his.”

  Greg took advantage of the distraction to slip out and run to where Ruuan lay as flat as possible in the field outside, nearly blocking out the midday sun.

  “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” the dragon scolded. “I NEED TO GET BACK.”

  “Sorry,” said Greg. “We’ve been looking for Greatheart’s amulet. I think it’s lost, too.”

  “THREE AMULETS MISSING? THIS DOES NOT BODE WELL.”

  “Not if you’re going to suggest we go ask Witch Hazel for hers.”

  “THE WITCH WOULD NEVER GIVE HERS UP FREELY. AND EVEN MY MAGIC IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO TAKE IT FROM HER IN HER OWN LAIR. I KNOW NOT WHAT WE CAN DO, BUT THIS WILL HAVE TO WAIT. I HAVE MY MEETING TO ATTEND. I SHOULDN’T BE GONE LONG. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD KEEP LOOKING. I’LL TRY TO RETURN FOR YOU ONCE MY BUSINESS HAS CONCLUDED.”

  “Okay,” said Greg. “You should probably go before someone notices you.” He glanced at the Greathearts’ shack to see if anyone was watching, then turned back to say good-bye, but Ruuan had already leapt to the sky. “Good-bye then,” Greg mumbled, just before the rush of air knocked him off his feet.

  “Where’s Priscilla’s knapsack?” Edna asked when Greg made his way back inside.

  “What? Oh. Uh, she must have left it back at the castle.”

  “Sorry,” Priscilla jumped in, “I could have sworn I brought it with me.”

  “Maybe that’s because you have one on your back,” Melvin pointed out helpfully.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Mum,” cried Marvin, “I’ve got to go. What am I going to do about my amulet?” In his desperation he searched the same areas everyone had covered earlier.

  “Well, don’t yell at your mother,” Norman scolded. “Maybe next time you’ll be more careful with your things.”

  “Where are you going?” Greg asked Marvin.

  The dragonslayer paused in his search and met Greg’s eye. “To the southern border of the kingdom. We’ve had reports of trolls amassing out that way.”

  “And you’re going anyway?”

  Marvin laughed. “That’s why I’m going. Someone needs to rout them out, send them back under their bridges where they belong.”

  “Didn’t King Peter say he sent Ryder and his troops down south to clear up those trolls?” Lucky asked Greg.

  Marvin grunted. “Well, last I heard, Ryder Hawkins commanded only five hundred men. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it if I go down there and handle things for them. Hey, maybe I lost the amulet when I wrestled that wyvern last week. I’ll bet I dropped it on the trail.”

  Greg shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ll bet this all has to do with the prophecy.”

  “There’s been another prophecy?” Marvin said. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  “It just happened,” said Priscilla. “Besides, I don’t think it mentions you at all. It just talks about Greg here.”

  “No,” Greg corrected, “it talks about the Hero who slayed Ruuan.”

  “But no one slay—” Marvin said before his little brother had the foresight to kick him. Though the tactic worked, Melvin paid dearly for the effort. He screamed so loudly, dust drifted down from the ceiling. Tears welled in his eyes as he grabbed his toes and rubbed them.

  “What’d you do that for, you little brat?” Marvin snapped, and for emphasis punched Melvin’s shoulder, launching him across the shack.

  “Boys,” Edna shouted.

  “What are y
ou talking about, Greghart?” said Norman. “You are the Hero who slayed Ruuan.”

  “Of course I am,” Greg said, forcing a chuckle. “I just meant it didn’t mention me by name. And it also doesn’t say I’m going to work alone. King Peter thinks I should bring Marvin along.”

  “I’ll bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” said Melvin.

  “Now, Melvin,” his mother scolded, “that’s not polite.”

  “No, he’s right,” said Greg. “They say there’s no one on Myrth who knows more about fighting than Marvin.”

  The dragonslayer shoved the sideboard closed and abandoned his search. “What is it you’re supposed to do?”

  “He’s going to fight the spirelings,” Lucky answered.

  “Oh? That could be fun.”

  “And my dad’s army is going to help,” Priscilla added.

  Edna stepped over to the counter to stir a huge steaming pot. “That should even up the odds a bit,” she called over her shoulder.

  Norman started to laugh, but then stopped abruptly and held his ribs, a pained expression on his face. “I wouldn’t count on it. There’s never been a kingdom army that could stand a chance against the spirelings. We’ve got no more than a couple thousand men against hundreds of thousands of them. And I’d guess we’d have a battle on our hands even if the odds were reversed.”

  Greg felt his stomach twist. “Then how am I supposed to survive?”

  “Does the prophecy actually say you’ll survive?”

  “Melvin . . .” Mrs. Greatheart warned.

  “I didn’t say it, Marvin did.”

  Greg gulped and looked to Priscilla, who shrugged. Melvin crawled to his feet, noticed Greg’s expression and snickered quietly enough that his mother didn’t hear.

  “Oh my. Maybe you should help him, Marvin,” Edna suggested.

  The dragonslayer nodded. “I suppose I could. But I still need to rout out those trolls first. Say, I’ll tell you what, Greghart. If you want to come along and help me with the trolls, I’ll help you with the spirelings when I’m done, okay?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We need to get back.”

  Priscilla stood staring at the dragonslayer with a glazed-over expression. “Hang on, Greg. Just how long would this little side trip take?” she asked Marvin.

  He thought a moment. “Would you want to go the quick way or the safe way?”

  “The safe way,” said Greg.

  “The quick way,” Lucky said, drowning him out.

  Greg scowled at Lucky. “We’re not that pressed for time. King Peter said he didn’t expect the spirelings to attack for at least a few weeks.”

  “Well, the safe way’s out, then,” said Marvin. “Do you still have that eternal torch you got from Witch Hazel last fall?”

  Lucky checked his pack and verified he had remembered the torch.

  “Great. The quick way it is.”

  “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” said Greg. “We should head back. We never got Marvin’s amulet, and we still need time to come up with a plan.”

  “We can do that on the trail, can’t we?” suggested Priscilla. “We could really use Marvin’s help. Even King Peter said so.”

  “I suppose,” said Greg. He turned back to Marvin. “But I don’t know anything about routing out trolls.”

  “What’s to know?” said Marvin. “They swing a club at your head. You duck. Anyone with half a mind knows that.”

  Melvin snorted. “Anyone who doesn’t might end up with half a head.”

  “Melvin,” his mother scolded, “I’m not going to warn you again.”

  “So, what do you say, Greghart?” Marvin asked. “We got a deal?”

  Greg really felt he had no choice. It was a feeling he’d come to expect on Myrth. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Marvin smiled, and with none of the face crackling Greg had come to associate with the dragonslayer’s father. “We best get going. Amulet or not, I shouldn’t be dallying around here.”

  “Nonsense,” said Edna. “It’s noon now. You’ll eat first. Then you can go.”

  “But Mum—”

  “Uhp,” she said, cutting him off in an instant. “You have weeks to finish your little errand. Sit yourself down. I’ll have lunch on the table in a minute.”

  Clearly the Mighty Greatheart knew better than to argue with his mother. He and the others moved to the table, and true to her word, Edna had a meal in front of them in a minute. It just wasn’t the minute immediately following her promise. Still she was a great cook, and Greg finished off everything she placed before him, except one small portion he squirreled away for Rake. Soon the food was gone, and it was time to hit the trail.

  “I want to go too,” whined Melvin.

  His mother dismissed the notion with a wave. “You’re too young to be out fighting trolls.”

  “But Mawwwm . . .”

  “It’s okay, Mum,” said Marvin. “I’ll watch after him.”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

  “Pleeeeease?” said Melvin.

  “You won’t let him out of your sight?” Edna said, staring into her eldest son’s eyes.

  Marvin shook his head and winked at his younger brother. “Not for a minute.”

  “Very well. I suppose it’ll be okay,” Edna said, though her face indicated she clearly didn’t think it would be.

  “Yeah!” Melvin shot Greg a smug look, as if he’d just won some sort of duel. Odd, because while Melvin had once set out to kill Greg to stop him from interfering in the last prophecy, the younger boy had eventually given up his plotting, so Greg no longer found him nearly as annoying. He really didn’t care if the boy came along or not.

  “Well, gather your things,” said Marvin. “We need to hit the trail.”

  Melvin beamed even brighter than the sunlight that peeked in through the many holes scattered about the ceiling. “This is great. I can’t wait to see the Mighty Greghart go up against his first band of trolls.”

  “You pay attention, son,” advised Norman. “It’s not every day you get the chance to see a true hero at work.”

  Melvin caught Greg’s eye and tried not to let his parents witness his smirk. “No, no, I can’t argue with you there.”

  Trolling for Trolls

  Edna made everyone wait while she threw a few things into a sack for Melvin. Then Norman escorted them to the door, though the entire way Greg had serious doubts as to whether the retired dragonslayer would survive the full distance. He thought he understood now why Norman and his wife were willing to live in such a tiny shack. Norman would never have been able to negotiate a larger room.

  The good-byes lasted longer than Greg would have liked. If he had been on his own world, Greg wouldn’t have been surprised to see Edna rush inside to get her camera, but on Myrth she was forced to settle for a long gaze into the faces of each of her boys—not a bad idea when he considered they might come back looking like their one-eyed father.

  Greg studied Marvin’s attire, or lack thereof. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  Marvin looked down at his bare chest and loincloth. “This is what I always wear.”

  “But it’s freezing outside.”

  Marvin scoffed at the notion. “And you call yourself a dragonslayer.” He picked up his sword and shield and stormed out of the house.

  “Actually, I don’t,” Greg called after him, but Marvin didn’t seem to hear.

  At last the five were on the trail. Before long they stopped so each could pick out a suitable walking stick. Greg used extra caution, but this time his stick did not fight back. Then they headed south, taking advantage of the quiet to discuss their options for the upcoming battle.

  “We don’t have any,” said Lucky. “You heard the prophecy, Greg. The battle must be fo
ught.”

  “We have one,” Greg argued. “We can get Witch Hazel’s amulet and give it to the spirelings.”

  “Ha.” Melvin could barely talk, he was smiling so widely. “You think Hazel’s going to give you her amulet? She’s furious with you for messing up her plans with the last prophecy.”

  “He’s right,” said Lucky. “She tried to kill you, remember?”

  Of course, Greg remembered. He could think of nothing else since he’d started considering the witch as a serious option.

  “But she gave Greg her amulet when he needed it last time,” said Priscilla. “Even Hazel won’t stand against a prophecy.”

  “But that’s just it,” said Greg. “Last time the prophecy said I needed the amulet to defeat Ruuan. This time it just says I’m going to battle the spirelings. She’s never going to give me an amulet that could stop the fight.”

  “Told you so,” said Lucky.

  All morning they tossed out ideas for how to proceed once they got back to the castle, but no one came up with an idea that didn’t deserve to be tossed out. Marvin had said nothing for a while. Greg looked up at the mighty dragonslayer’s face and discovered why. Even he would have been hard pressed to talk with his teeth chattering so violently.

  “Starting to reconsider the outfit?” Greg asked.

  “Nonsense.”

  Ten minutes later Greg caught Marvin scooping up a handful of leaves and stuffing them down his loincloth.

  “Sure you’re not cold?”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “You starting a scrapbook, then?”

  Marvin tried to flash a carefree smile, but had to stop when his teeth started chattering again. “Fine. So I’m a bit chilly. It’s not my fault. Normally my amulet protects me from the elements.”

  “But didn’t you notice the moment you stepped outside?”

  “Sure, but I guess I just figured I must be getting soft, sitting around the house all morning.”

  Marvin may have been getting soft, but he still marched on in only his loincloth for another hour before admitting he was ill prepared for the trip. Actually he didn’t so much admit it as stow his sword and shield in Lucky’s pack and chase down a small bear he draped over his shoulders.