by Bill Allen
But Nathan’s back was turned when the last of the beasts raised its club. Greg screamed and charged, his walking stick held high, and while the troll chuckled over the threat, Nathan took him out from behind.
The sixth troll had barely hit the ground before Gnash turned and swept Priscilla off her feet again. Her screams did nothing to dissuade the spireling. He sprinted off so quickly, those watching disagreed as to whether he ever took her to begin with. The only reason Greg witnessed any of it was because after Gnash picked up Priscilla, Gnaw swept Greg off his feet and followed.
Greg hadn’t moved this quickly since Ruuan carried him to the Greathearts’ shack, and while not even the spirelings could match the dragon’s speed, the trip seemed equally fast, what with the ground rushing by scant inches beneath Greg’s head.
After what felt like miles, the spirelings dropped Greg and the princess on their feet, handed them each an axe and ran back toward the others. The ground felt unnaturally still, and Greg seemed to have forgotten how to use his feet. He watched the spirelings go, astounded by their speed. No more than a few seconds passed before they rushed toward him again, this time carrying Lucky and Melvin over their shoulders.
“Put me down. Put me DOWN,” screamed Melvin.
Gnaw did as Melvin asked. As fast as he was, he barely managed to release the boy without getting struck by Melvin’s flailing feet.
“Ha, that was a close one,” Gnash said as he set Lucky down, and while Greg at first thought the spireling was talking about Gnaw’s daring release of Melvin, he soon realized Gnash had been talking about the rescue.
Melvin brushed himself off. “I could have walked, you know.”
“Sorry,” said Gnash. “It looked to me like you were falling behind.”
“Naw, I was just worried about Lucky.”
“Me? If anyone was falling behind it was—”
Greg jumped when he heard a rustling from the north. To his relief, Nathan emerged from the trees at a dead run, followed by Ryder and a panting Brandon.
“Go!” Brandon screamed. “Go!”
Gnash didn’t move. “We need not worry. The trolls are heading north, as that is the direction we took when we fled their campsite, hoping to throw them off our trail. The only reason we were followed is because we circled back so quickly, some of the beasts had not yet managed to react to our initial passage.”
“You’re kidding?” said Greg, but soon he realized no one was listening. Lucky had loosened Marvin’s bonds and removed the bedroll tied to his chest, but still the dragonslayer lay unmoving in the dirt.
Nathan knelt and put an ear to Marvin’s mouth. “He’s alive,” he announced after a long pause, “but his breath is very shallow.”
Priscilla dropped to the fallen dragonslayer’s side. “Oh my. He’s out cold.”
“Yes, literally,” said Ryder. “The poor man’s been strapped to that pike for over a full day now. He must be freezing.”
Marvin groaned, a welcome sound, as it proved Nathan was right when he determined the dragonslayer to be alive. Priscilla hugged him, supposedly to warm him up, though Greg had his doubts. While the princess had eventually become annoyed by Marvin’s boisterous attitude yesterday, her admiration for the bronzed hero before then had been clear. Greg scowled at the pathetic display. But then he witnessed Marvin’s blue lips and grayish skin, and he understood Priscilla’s concern.
Gnaw closed his eyes and weaved his hands together until a low blue flame erupted on his palms. Slowly he waved his hands over Marvin’s muscular frame, gingerly nudging Priscilla out of the way, and warmed the man until Marvin’s eyes dropped open and he began to stir.
“W—what happened?” Marvin asked groggily, and Greg knew Gnaw must have used a powerful magic to aid in the healing.
“Corporal Widget?” Gnaw asked.
“Ask him about our amulet,” said Gnash.
“This is Marvin Greatheart,” Nathan informed them both, “the famous dragonslayer.”
A loud rumbling erupted from somewhere deep within Gnaw, the sort of noise that would have left a bear envious. The spireling picked up his axe and spun toward Nathan.
“This is your trickery, Magician. You have sought to mislead us all along.”
“I assure you I have not.” Nathan looked far less uneasy than Greg felt the situation deserved. Ryder and Brandon, on the other hand, mirrored Greg’s concerns. They were apparently no more comfortable around agitated spireling warriors than Greg was, for they scuttled backward what they must have foolishly thought was a safe distance.
“Nathan never said it was Widget we were rescuing,” said Greg. “We’ve been talking about rescuing Marvin ever since we left the Infinite Spire.”
“Yes,” said Gnaw, “but we thought you were smart enough to realize where your priorities should lie. Naturally we assumed since you were expending your energies performing a rescue, it must be Widget who needed your help.”
“I don’t believe my priorities are misplaced,” said Nathan. “We’ll still help you find your amulet, but surely you can see from all we’ve learned that we have more important issues at stake. The future of the entire kingdom is at peril.”
“Nothing is more important than the return of our amulet,” Gnaw said with a hiss.
For a moment it looked as if the argument might come to blows, but then the two spirelings grew hesitant, and finally Gnash lowered his axe. “Queen Gnarla agrees with you about the importance of the battle,” he said, “to a degree. She does admit it is worthy of concern . . . just not quite as much concern as the fate of our amulet. Now, we must get back to our true purpose.”
“What’s all this about the spirelings’ amulet?” said Ryder. “I’ve heard about such a thing, but I always thought you Canarazas kept it under heavy guard inside some sort of magical passageway high up in Ruuan’s spire.”
“Normally they do,” said Nathan, “but it appears someone stole it after we fulfilled the last prophecy. Our sources tell us that your man Widget may have some knowledge of its whereabouts.”
Ryder shrugged. “I’ve heard nothing of this. But as I said before, we weren’t together long before we parted company.”
“Corporal Widget is not among us?” said Gnash.
“Sorry,” said Nathan, and then to Ryder added, “and if I guess correctly, even if Widget did have the amulet when he left you, I doubt he knew.”
“You think someone planted it on him?” said Greg. “Like Mordred, maybe?”
Nathan regarded Greg with a neutral expression. “That is a possibility, yes.”
“Then where is he?” asked Gnaw, still focused on Widget.
Priscilla, who had been rubbing the Mighty Greatheart’s biceps under the pretense of warming his skin, paused in her efforts and looked up at the others. “Why would Mordred want to plant the amulet on poor Corporal Widget?”
“Because he’s evil,” Lucky said. “Why else?”
Gnash growled in a manner that suggested he did not appreciate being ignored.
Nathan raised a hand to appease him. “Mordred is no more evil than I am,” he said, a statement that shook Greg as much as reassured him. “If I had to guess, I’d say he knew that Widget would be switching to General Talbout’s division. The new prophecy says that Ryder and Talbout will be side by side in the upcoming battle. What better way to get them together than to mislead us into seeking out both?”
“But we already knew we needed them,” said Lucky. “Why trick us like this?”
“Maybe Mordred just wanted to be sure we didn’t count on Ryder making it back on his own,” said Greg.
“Perhaps,” said Nathan. “Obviously he’ll get back a lot quicker with us than he would have leading home his troops.”
“But don’t we need his troops too?” Greg was quick to point out.
Greg felt an involuntary shudder. What about the rest of the army? And while he liked the thought of Ryder joining them, he hadn’t failed to notice how Nathan had implied the prophecy could yet be wrong. That might have been a good thing under the right circumstances, but from the look on the two spirelings’ faces, it didn’t look as if the prophecy had any chance of being wrong about Greg having to fight the Canarazas.
“I’ve already given my men their orders,” said Ryder. “They won’t wait for my return. If we got separated they were to head directly to the castle for the upcoming battle. It’s imperative the king be informed of the trouble brewing.”
“Dad already knows about the prophecy,” said Priscilla.
“I was speaking of the trolls.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Marvin, looking annoyed as he tore his arm from Priscilla’s grip. His joints crackled slightly under the strain, making him greatly resemble his father, but his color was beginning to return.
“It seems your brother and Mr. Day here overheard two trolls talking,” Ryder told him. “All across the kingdom the entire troll race is banding together to war against us. They’ve heard of the upcoming battle between kingdom soldiers and spirelings and plan to launch a major offensive against us after both sides have been weakened.”
“That’s incredible,” said Marvin. He struggled to stand, but made it only halfway before falling back to the ground, nearly crushing Priscilla. “Two trolls talking. Who would have thought?”
The spirelings grumbled to each other for a moment before Gnash stormed up to Nathan, weighing his axe equally between his two clawed hands. “Time is passing, Magician.”
Nathan removed his cloak and draped it over Marvin, who accepted it gratefully. He then regarded the axe the spireling carried. “I agree. We’ll leave at once.” The spireling did not seem satisfied with this response. “Is there a problem?” Nathan asked.
“My partner and I have been discussing if you truly intend to return our amulet.”
Nathan nodded. “And what have you decided?”
“When we fought the wyvern on the ridge outside our home, we were very nearly defeated. Much as the trolls seek to defeat your army while it is weakened, you could have struck out against us when the wyvern was about to best us. Instead you directed your attack against the beast, allowing us the opportunity to gain the upper hand.”
Nathan remained silent.
“Then later when you showed us the secret portal to the Styx, you might have tried using the shift in dimension to catch us off guard, or for that matter you might have distracted us so you could sneak off through the nearby escape route without us knowing where you went. Instead you showed us where it was and waited for us to follow. No, if you wanted to deceive us, you have had your opportunities. We believe you are an honorable man who truly wants to help.”
Gnaw stepped forward and studied Nathan closely. “Plus we suspect that you are a much more powerful magician than you have let on. We would not be surprised if you could have escaped anytime you wanted.”
Nathan’s face remained a mask of stone. He nodded again.
“Queen Gnarla has asked us to bring you back to the spire now. She wishes to speak to you about your intentions, and about this supposed upcoming battle.”
“Very well,” said Nathan, after which the spirelings returned to more silent communication between themselves. Ryder eased up to Nathan’s side.
“What’s this about a secret portal?” he asked.
“Well, not so much a secret anymore,” Nathan sighed. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Return
Darkness was already closing in before Greg and the others made it back to the River Styx. With each step, the air grew more frigid. Even though it wasn’t safe to hike at night, they pressed on, knowing that a few miles away the warmth of the Styx awaited. Whether because of Lucky’s influence on the Fates or just coincidence, they managed to reach the bridge without incident and crossed about an hour after sunset. After a brief pause to remove their cloaks, they hurried back to Mrs. Alexander’s home in the dark.
“But Mother’s retirement village doesn’t allow overnight guests,” Brandon called out to them.
“Marvin must sleep in a warm bed tonight,” Nathan insisted.
Overnight-guest rules or not, Mrs. Alexander would have never said no to Greg. She seemed quite impressed by Marvin, too, fawning over him as he finished his third bowl of stew. She would have probably fed him all night if both Princess Priscilla and Greg hadn’t insisted Mrs. Alexander allow Marvin to get his much-needed rest. Truth was, they could all use the rest, with the possible exception of the spirelings.
In the morning, Gnash and Gnaw woke the others early so they could eat before daybreak. Mrs. Alexander was happy to whip up what looked like oatmeal, and the spirelings were only mildly irritated that she saw fit to dole theirs and Rake’s out into cat bowls.
While they ate, she resumed her pampering of the dragonslayer.
At first Marvin seemed pleased by the attention. “Thousands of the beasts,” he told her, “clawing at me and gnawing on my shins, and me totally helpless, with nothing but two tiny bedrolls to protect me from the elements.”
But by breakfast’s end, after Mrs. Alexander practically force-fed him three heaping bowls of mystery meal, Marvin gave up complaining and turned all his efforts toward convincing Mrs. Alexander he was good as new. Still she insisted on massaging his shoulders and refilling his bowl.
Marvin finally looked to Nathan and Ryder with pleading eyes. “Tell her I’m fine.”
“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” Nathan told him. “It wouldn’t be wise to travel until you’re fully recovered.”
“You call that a terrible ordeal?” Marvin cried. “Why, I’ve run into worse difficulties scaring up breakfast in the morning. Please, take me with you.”
But Nathan shook his head, and Ryder agreed.
“Didn’t you say he might play a part in the prophecy?” Priscilla reminded Nathan.
“Yes,” pleaded Marvin. “Listen to the maiden. For once she’s making sense.”
Priscilla’s face turned the same shade of red it held out on the blustery trail. “What did you say?”
“Tell them, maiden. You were speaking of the prophecy. Go on, make yourself useful. Tell them.”
Greg and Lucky both took cautious steps backward. Obviously torn between alliances, Melvin hesitated at first, but then wisely backed up as well. Priscilla planted herself before the dragonslayer and somehow managed to stare him down, even though, seated, he still towered over her by a full foot.
“Oh my, I hadn’t noticed that,” she said.
“What?” Marvin’s eyes spun about in opposite directions as he tried to examine his own face. “What are you looking at?”
“Your eyes . . . oh, and your complexion. You know, perhaps you should be lying down.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Alexander. She, too, stepped up to peer at the dragonslayer’s face, though she had to stop when he slid back his chair and jumped to his feet. Her elderly vision could reach only so far. “You know, Highness, I think you’re right. That’s it, no more arguments. Mighty dragonslayer or not, you need to get back to bed right this instant.”
“But—” said Marvin.
“Auhp. I said no arguments, remember?”
Marvin may have been skilled at fighting dragons, but he was no match for Brandon’s mom. She reached up on tiptoes to grab him by the ear and dragged him to the spare bedroom, and aside from a lot of ows and buts, the Mighty Greatheart had little to say about it.
�
��What if he does have a part to play in the prophecy?” Greg asked Nathan.
“He doesn’t,” Brandon answered.
“But Nathan said he did,” Greg argued. “Just because Simon didn’t mention him doesn’t mean Marvin can’t have something important to do. Does it Nathan?”
The magician placed a reassuring hand on Greg’s shoulder. “In his current condition, I’m afraid he would only slow us down, and then we all would fail. He must stay here for now. Later, if he has a part to play, he will play it. We shouldn’t be trying to second-guess the future by manipulating his fate.”
Greg’s attention was drawn to the doorway of the guest room, where Marvin suddenly appeared wearing one of Mrs. Alexander’s robes. About fifty sizes too small, it would have barely covered his loincloth, even if he could have closed it.
“Oh, good, you’re still here. Tell her I’m looking better . . . and that you need me with you. She’ll believe it if you tell her, maiden.”
Priscilla’s gaze locked on Marvin and her nostrils flared. “Mrs. Alexander.”
Brandon’s mother’s face appeared from behind Marvin’s waist and pivoted upward. “Oh my. What are you doing out of bed?” She latched onto his ear again and dragged him back out of sight.
“Wait,” Marvin shouted from the other room. “Take me with you.”
Mrs. Alexander reappeared a few minutes later, a length of rope in her hand. “It was great meeting you all,” she said happily. “I do hope you’ll come back and visit when you have more time.”
“Yes, we sure will,” Greg told her, though secretly he wondered if he’d ever be that hungry again.
Everyone thanked her for her hospitality and said their farewells. Shouted them, actually, trying to be heard over Marvin’s cries. Outside on the stone walk they could still hear the dragonslayer pleading. Then Greg heard something else, too: a repetitious puffing sound, like an old steam locomotive laboring up a steep climb. From the north ran a lean man dressed in a bright fuchsia tunic. He didn’t slow until he’d covered the full distance to their party. There he stopped and stood doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting and wheezing, unable to catch his breath.