How to Stop a Witch (24 page)

“We do not care about the loss of one of Our kind,” she yelled. “We are more concerned that you have been so careless in preparing for Our arrival. We are, after all, your only hope of survival in this newest development. We believe you should be more grateful for Our willingness to help.”

Melvin, who had twice before been in the presence of the spireling queen, should have known to keep his mouth shut, but no. “It’s Greg who’s going to defeat Hazel, not you. Simon’s latest prophecy says so.”

“Why is this child speaking in Our presence?” Queen Gnarla demanded.

“I’m not a child. Has everyone forgotten my role in the last prophecy?”

“Ah, he is the Mighty Greghart. Forgive Us. We did not realize.”

“Greatheart, not Greghart! Melvin, remember? I slayed the dragon Ruuan.”

If Queen Gnarla was at all embarrassed, it was impossible to tell. She continued to address King Peter when she spoke. “By making the dragon laugh. Yes, We remember him now. You must understand all you humans look the same to Us. But We are still confused. Why is this child speaking in Our presence?”

“I’m very sorry, Majesty,” said King Peter. “The boy fails to understand the intricacies of events to come.”

“I understand enough to know Greg’s going to be the hero,” said Melvin. “Personally I think it should have been me or Marvin, but . . . well, we can’t argue with Simon.”

“That’s enough, son,” King Peter told him. “Queen Gnarla and I were talking.”

Melvin was about to say more when Princess Priscilla clasped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away. Her father offered her a grateful nod and returned his attention to the spireling queen.

“Was he talking about the hero Greghart?” Queen Gnarla asked. King Peter acknowledged he was. “So it is true, what the dark magician said? He has been named in another prophecy?”

“I’m afraid so.” The king leaned in close, so he could speak to her without being overheard, but Greg had a pretty good idea what he’d said after every spireling in sight gasped, turned to stare at him and muttered, “Demise?”

The closest spirelings pressed forward for a better look, and Greg could hear the murmur from hundreds of thousands more lined up to the east. Queen Gnarla pushed past King Peter to see for herself. She looked first at Lucky and then, to Greg’s annoyance, Kristin and Priscilla, before zeroing in on Greg. She studied him up and down, took a second, longer look at Kristin, and finally met Greg’s eye. “This is highly upsetting.”

While Greg would be the first to admit King Peter’s words were upsetting, staring eye to eye with Queen Gnarla seemed nearly as bad.

“You are the Mighty Greghart, are you not?” she asked him.

Greg nodded. A murmur throughout the crowd revealed that the others were impressed by her attention to detail. Queen Gnarla basked in the praise for a moment before issuing a wordless command for silence.

“You have become a living legend to Us,” she told Greg, “as your many heroic deeds are beyond even Our measure. We know you will fight bravely in the coming trial, and We will be honored to fight by your side. Rest assured that after you die, your name will carry on for generations to come. Our ancestors will know that We fought with the greatest warrior the land of Myrth has ever known.”

“Great,” said Greg.

“Why the wyverns?” King Peter asked the queen.

“We heard that We would be fighting the dragon Ruuan. As skilled as We warriors are, We find Ourselves at a serious disadvantage when it comes to attacks from the sky. The wyverns should even up the sides a bit. We have always recognized what magnificent fighting beasts they are, but not until recently have We tried to control them. Under the right hand they can make most formidable steeds.”

Just then one of the wyverns threw back its head and wailed to shake the trees. The eight warriors who maintained a death-grip on the chains about its neck were lofted high into the air. Annoyed by their weight, the beast shrugged, swinging the spirelings into the ground with eight sickening thumps. When the wyvern raised its head again, there were two empty spots on one of the chains. Two more spirelings dove in to take the fallen warriors’ places.

“I guess none of them had the right hand,” observed Melvin.

“Quiet, son.” King Peter dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief. “Yes,” he told Queen Gnarla, “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble controlling them.”

Kristin leaned over to whisper in Melvin’s ear again, and Greg thought it was more than coincidence that Melvin’s cheek moved suddenly into the path of her lips.

“Ow!”

“Oops, sorry,” said Melvin. “Were you about to tell me something?”

Kristin put a hand to her lips and checked for blood. “I was just thinking that those hideous dragons are going to get somebody killed. They’ll help Hazel’s side more than ours.”

“They’re not dragons. They’re wyverns,” Melvin corrected. “Hey, did I ever tell you how Greghart and I once—?” He noticed the concern in her eye and dropped the sentence in mid-thought. “Yeah, I think you may be right.”

King Peter continued
to appease the queen for what seemed an eternity. Finally Queen Gnarla gave orders for her warriors to stake down the wyverns in the eastern section of the yard. It looked to be a lengthy procedure, so the kids tagged along behind Nathan while he took Tehrer around back.

Nathan knew no restraints would be able to hold the dragon. He raised his amulet for Tehrer to see. “You will not snack on the wyverns before morning—or any more spirelings—or people.” The dragon seemed a little too thoughtful over his wording. “Let’s make it, you will not snack on, or stomp on, or flame, or harm in any way,
anything
before morning, or
in
the morning, or after noon, or anytime at all. If Hazel doesn’t attack before long, I’ll bring something suitable to eat.”

The dragon agreed, no doubt because Nathan was commanding him with the amulet, and he really had no choice.

Instead of returning the way they had come, Nathan led them behind the castle, where no less than fifty men in black robes stood huddled on the castle lawn. The king’s magicians had their part to play in the upcoming battle, and they too needed to prepare. Nathan stopped and talked to Mordred for a time, the two of them nodding and pointing at the surrounding treetops, but try as he might, Greg was unable to hear any of the conversation.

To the west, the lawn was mostly hidden beneath the many blue uniforms of the Army of the Crown. Greg had traveled with Ryder Hawkins and his five hundred or so troops on his first visit to Myrth, and then with General Talbout and his thousand men on his second visit. Now it looked as if all those men had joined with another thousand or more to practice for the upcoming battle. The entire western perimeter had been lined with practice targets, and the men had divided into no less than a hundred lines, where they each stood awaiting their turn with a bow and arrow.

“I didn’t know King Peter’s men were archers,” Greg said to Nathan as they ambled past. “They all carried swords when we were on the trail together.”

“Most of them aren’t,” said Nathan, “but they will need to be soon. You don’t want to get close enough to use a sword against a beast like Ruuan.”

Or a bow and arrow
, Greg thought. In truth he hated to use any weapon against Ruuan. It wasn’t the dragon’s fault Hazel was controlling him.

Greg spotted General Hawkins giving personal instructions to one of his men. He called and waved, and Ryder stopped long enough to offer him a salute before returning to his teachings. Ahead General Talbout was consulting a third man in officer’s attire, who Greg had to assume was General Stephanopolis, the only other general in King Peter’s army.

“Why so many?” Greg asked. “I mean, it’s not like the Dragon Wars, when there were lots of dragons to worry about. Now there’re just two.”

Nathan grimaced. “The Dragon Wars were fought two dragons at a time, as well. I don’t know about you, but two dragons is more of a fight than I want to be around.”

“But you’re a magician. The Greathearts have been slaying dragons for centuries, and you have way more abilities than they do.”

“Hey,” said Melvin.

“Maybe so,” Nathan said, “but what you don’t realize is, there’s only one way to slay a dragon. Catch it while it’s sleeping. No mortal has ever stood a chance against one of the beasts when it was awake. And believe me, when Ruuan comes, he’ll be awake. To answer your question, the rest of us are here to make it possible for this to be a two dragon fight.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. Anyway, we’ll do what we can, but I’m afraid the outcome will be up to you. Either you will win and the kingdom will survive, or . . . you will lose.”

“Oh,” said Greg. “Well, no pressure.”

The children watched the practice until dark, then retired to the castle for a meal and on to their chambers for an early night’s rest. Priscilla had shared her room with Kristin while Greg was in Gyrth and continued to do so now. She arranged for the boys to sleep in the quarters adjoining hers, so they would be close during the tense hours that followed. For all they knew, Hazel would attack at any moment, and from what Greg knew of Ruuan, he could imagine the entire castle being burned to the ground before the sentries outside could so much as shout out a warning.

He plopped down on the edge of the bed he would be sharing with Melvin. Earlier they’d drawn straws to see who got the second bed for himself, although Greg didn’t know why they had bothered. Lucky hid a smirk as he shooed Rake off his pillow and pulled back the covers to his own bed.

How will it happen?
Greg wondered about his upcoming demise. He eyed Melvin while he fluffed up his pillow. Not that long ago the boy had tried to kill Greg. The thought was still playing in Greg’s mind when a knock sounded upon the door.

“It’s us,” Greg heard Priscilla say. “Open up.”

Melvin walked over and unlatched the door. Priscilla entered, pushing Kristin along ahead of her. While annoyed over the manhandling, Kristin put up little fight, though her cheeks did redden slightly when Priscilla tipped her over onto the bed next to Greg.

“You have to go home now,” the princess told the two of them.

“What?” said Greg. “But we haven’t done anything yet.”

“What are you talking about? You figured out why Nathan was missing when you first got here, didn’t you? And you went back in time to make sure he came here years ago from Gyrth and again now with the amulet. Now you’ve even gone and rescued him from the Netherworld. Well, I say you’re done. Everything is as it should be. Time for you to go home.”

“But we haven’t fought Witch Hazel yet.”

“Of course not,” said Priscilla. “If you fight Hazel, you’re going to die.”

Greg didn’t need to be reminded of the obvious. He glanced at Kristin. She looked as if she wanted to hug him but was too embarrassed.

“But if you believe the prophecy, then you know I can’t go home,” Greg said. “I’m supposed to ride Tehrer when Hazel attacks. It’s the only way she can be defeated.”

“Who says it’s the only way?” said Kristin. She was sitting so close he could feel her breath on his ear. In spite of the severity of his situation, he couldn’t say he was displeased by the sensation. “If the prophecy is broken, couldn’t Hazel be defeated some other way? Couldn’t Nathan ride the dragon alone? Aside from that one incident with the spireling, he seems to be controlling it fairly well.”

“You can’t change a prophecy,” Lucky called out from the other bed, where he lay snug beneath his covers. “Greg ought to know that by now. Oh, sorry, Greg. I don’t like it any better than you do, but you know I’m right.”

“Who says?” said Priscilla. “Just because no prophecy has ever been changed before doesn’t mean we can’t change one now.”

Melvin walked over to his own bed and squeezed under the covers, nudging Kristin closer to Greg, to which she reddened further still. “Lucky’s right. Even if you could change a prophecy, you wouldn’t want to. People would stop believing in them, and then what good would they be?”

Priscilla looked nearly as flustered as Kristin. “But Greg’s going to die if we don’t change this one.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Melvin. “That’s tough luck.” He nudged Greg with his foot from beneath the covers. “And I mean that, Greg. I really do.”

Greg didn’t answer. He was thinking about what Priscilla had said. Could he change the prophecy? Or were Melvin and Lucky right? Did he have to go along with it as written, even if he could find a way to change it?

“I think Priscilla’s right,” said Kristin. “You’ve done enough. More than enough. We should go home now, before you get hurt.”

“No,” said Greg, “I think I need to at least ride the dragon. It says so in the prophecy, and it sounds like that part is crucial to us defeating Witch Hazel.”

“But the part about you dying is in there too,” Priscilla reminded him, “and I can’t think of a better way to get killed than by riding Tehrer in a fight against Witch Hazel.”

The others agreed, and Greg knew they were right. But he could think of no other options.

“Look, if we’re going to break the prophecy at some point, I don’t think it matters when we do it,” Priscilla told him. “I say we let Nathan ride Tehrer against Hazel. After all, he’s the most powerful magician I know. Who better to fight a witch?”

“She’s got a point, Greg,” said Kristin.

Lucky nodded, though with little conviction, and Melvin wasn’t talking, as he was clearly not happy with the idea of breaking a prophecy under any circumstances.

“You don’t even have to go home,” said Priscilla. “You can stay and watch the fight. If Nathan can’t handle it . . . well, maybe then you can step in and do what you think is best. But if the prophecy is unchangeable, as you seem to believe, waiting won’t be an issue.”

Greg’s mind raced. He remembered Nathan telling him that the reason prophecies always came true is because the heroes in them were not the type to let them fail. Somehow, waiting at a distance to see how things turned out didn’t seem overly heroic.

Still, this was his life they were talking about. Why discard any options?