How to Save a Kingdom

by Bill Allen

  A series of deafening screeches announced the next attack. The sounds pressed in from the west and from the east. The wyverns must be hunting in pairs, and Greg wasn’t sure which way to swing. He tried to sense their presence but swept his stick through nothing but air. To his surprise the noise cut off with a horrifying thud.

  For a moment Greg thought the two wyverns must have collided. He strained to see, hoping to find both creatures laid out in front of him. That’s when the screeching took up again. Ahead were not two wyverns but three: one badly shaken and having trouble regaining its feet, the other two locked in battle. The fight was fierce but short. Within seconds the third wyvern had chased off the other two, and the original attackers were fleeing with their tails between their legs.

  Greg raised his walking stick. One wyvern may be only half as bad as two, but that was still worse than most things he could imagine. Then he noticed the bright gold ovals outlining the wyvern’s eyes, and the iridescent scales streaking down each of its brilliant teal sides. He had seen this wyvern before. It was the same one he’d encountered outside the Infinite Spire when their trip began.

  Suddenly Greg understood. When it looked as if this wyvern were about to lose its battle against the spirelings, Greg had stepped in to save its life. Now the wyvern was repaying the favor. Who says wyverns were just mindless beasts? Maybe a ride wasn’t out of the question. Blinded by enthusiasm, he lowered his walking stick and waved to capture the creature’s attention.

  The wyvern, having been about to offer an unfavorable critique of Bart’s ballad, spun its long neck Greg’s way. Its eyes flashed with an excitement equal to Greg’s own.

  Greg froze, questioning his decision.

  Another screech broke out, so close, Greg dove for cover. At the same instant, the teal wyvern took to the air, its talons passing straight through the spot Greg’s head had occupied a moment before. Greg jumped to his feet and spun to fend off this new threat, but then realized the latest screech had not come from a wyvern, but from Rake. The tiny shadowcat stood with his back arched and his blue-black fur raised in warning. The wyvern, already hundreds of yards away and soaring noiselessly through the moonlit darkness, didn’t likely notice.

  “Rake, you saved my life.” Then Greg remembered the excitement he’d felt moments before, and he watched his hopes disappear along with the fleeing wyvern.

  Priscilla quit fussing over Nathan and ran over to check on Greg. “What’s wrong?”

  “That was our last chance,” Greg said, dropping his head. “I thought that wyvern was protecting me. I was going to ask it to give us a ride to the border.”

  “Give us a ride? We told you before you can’t reason with a wyvern. You’re as crazy as Bart, standing there like wyvern bait, playing that silly lute of his.”

  Melvin came striding up. “Quite a competition, if you ask me.”

  Lucky joined them, holding his hand over a bad scrape. Melvin, who’d survived the battle without a scratch, paused to tell the older boy how lucky he was he hadn’t been more seriously hurt, to which Lucky smiled in spite of the pain.

  Daniel stumbled up as well, mumbling something about stewed cabbages and party hats, after which Ryder asked him to lie down so he could check the tracker over.

  Nathan limped over, nursing one shoulder. “That wyvern wasn’t protecting you, Greg. It was staking a claim, showing those others this was its territory. In the future I suggest you keep that in mind.”

  “You knew those wyverns were going to attack,” said Greg.

  Nathan inspected the scrape on Lucky’s arm. “I knew, yes. But don’t expect me to tell you anything more. I truly don’t know how we can meet General Talbout in time. I don’t mind telling you, as of this moment, the extent of my knowledge of future events has been exhausted . . . except for one point, which I will only share if—I mean after the prophecy has been fulfilled.”

  “But how can the prophecy possibly be fulfilled?” Greg asked. “That wyvern was our last hope to get back before the spirelings storm the castle.”

  “No,” corrected Melvin, “the slide down the mountain was our last hope. The wyvern was just a good chance to get ourselves killed.”

  “Like the slide down the mountain wasn’t,” Greg grumbled.

  “Greg, you’re bleeding,” said Bart.

  Nathan stepped up to inspect the reddening slash in Greg’s cloak. He offered a reassuring nod and placed a palm over Greg’s shoulder, turning so the spirelings couldn’t see. Greg felt a cool sensation spread outward from the wound, and soon the pain subsided.

  “It’s not serious,” Nathan told him, winking, “but you should keep it wrapped up good and tight anyway.”

  “Uh-huh,” Greg muttered, “I sure will.”

  He wanted to ask why Nathan hadn’t healed him last time he was here, when his shoulder had been scratched by a bollywomp. After all, Greg had nearly been killed. But he knew he didn’t dare ask in front of the spirelings, or even behind.

  Gnaw limped up and asked if anyone was hurt.

  “We’ll be fine,” Nathan assured him. “How’s Gnash?”

  “He will be okay. No limbs were severed. After seeing that shadowcat, I doubt those wyverns will be returning anytime soon. I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity to get some rest. We will want to be on the trail again at sunrise.”

  Greg doubted the wyverns shared the same fear of Rake as the spirelings, and after the attack, the last thing he wanted to do was close his eyes again, but Nathan assured him it would be all right, and Greg had an idea the man knew what he was talking about.

  Rake tried to comfort Greg, but even the shadowcat had trouble sleeping—not because of the recent attack but because of a comment Gnaw made at dinner about not really hating shadowcats. In fact, he said, before the incident outside the Infinite Spire, he thought they were quite tasty.

  Shortly after the group set out the next morning, Daniel pointed at the ground and started jumping with excitement. “What are those?”

  Greg saw nothing aside from Gnash’s footprints leading off to the north through the snow. “What are what?”

  “Right there in front of your face. Look.”

  “You mean Gnash’s tracks?” Lucky asked.

  “Those aren’t spireling tracks,” said Daniel. “They’re much deeper. Spirelings weigh twenty, thirty pounds at most. Whatever made those tracks must weigh close to ten times that.”

  Gnaw strode forward and, in lieu of a lot of unnecessary words, stepped on Daniel’s foot, to which Daniel screamed appropriately.

  “You are mistaken,” Gnaw told him needlessly. “We spirelings are built much more solidly than humans. Normally we leave shallow tracks because our feet are not on the ground long enough to sink in, but recently we have been forced to drag along so you humans can keep up.”

  “You’re kidding?” Daniel gasped.

  “Spirelings do not kid.”

  By the time darkness fell that night, the group was one day closer to their destination, no more, no less, as was the case with each day that followed. Hopes were waning, even with Bart continually offering to boost everyone’s spirits with a song and Melvin sharing more of his jokes. Finally the day came for Queen Gnarla to leave for the castle.

  “It’s time,” Greg announced once the sun reached its peak. “We missed our deadline. You can use your magic now, Nathan. We have nothing to lose.”

  “We do. Queen Gnarla has not yet reached the castle.”

  But two days later Gnash announced that the spireling army had indeed arrived.

  “Nathan,” Priscilla insisted. “It’s now or never.”

  But Nathan was being most stubborn.

  “What are they doing?” Priscilla asked. She was barely moping along now, resigned to the fact that no amount of hurrying was going to help.

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nbsp; Gnaw regarded her with what Greg thought might have been sympathy. “They have not moved on the castle yet, if that is what you are asking. The attack will not come until noon. For now they are busy sharpening their axes.”

  “Can’t you do something?” Greg asked. “They can share your thoughts, right? Why don’t you ask them for more time?”

  “Believe me, we have tried,” Gnash told him. “Gnaw and I do not want our races to fight any more than you do. We know you all will be suffering for the actions of only one of your kind, which is not right, and we believe you have done your best to help us, even if it has not been enough.”

  “But still there is nothing we can do,” said Gnaw. He lowered his voice. “We will let you know when the battle begins.”

  “Nathan,” Greg urged. “You’ve got to do something. It’s the only way.” The words had barely left his mouth before he was knocked off his feet by a powerful wind. Fortunately Melvin was there to break his fall.

  A booming voice drifted down from high above the treetops. “I CAN THINK OF ONE OTHER.”

  The Hero Who Slayed Ruuan

  Greg strained his neck upward to regard the immense dragon’s head hovering high above him, but his view was blocked by the even larger dragon body holding it up. Still it was hard to mistake the voice.

  “Ruuan!”

  “YOU WERE EXPECTING SOMEONE ELSE?”

  “No. We weren’t even expecting you.”

  Priscilla ran up and tried to hug the dragon’s toe, but she was about eight feet too short, and it would have been hard to get a decent hold even if she could reach.

  Ryder seemed unsurprised to see the dragon. He collapsed onto a comfortable-looking stump and took up a conversation with Bart and Daniel. A few steps away Gnash and Gnaw were busy talking too, oblivious of the dragon’s presence.

  Melvin squirmed out from under Greg and jumped to his feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Greg. “Ruuan caught me off guard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Greg observed Melvin’s blank expression and suddenly realized Ruuan must be using his magic again to selectively reveal his presence. “Oh . . . nothing. Sorry.”

  Nathan bent his neck backward to look up at the dragon. “I must say, Ruuan, your timing couldn’t be better.”

  Greg glanced at Melvin, who seemed unaware even of Nathan speaking to the dragon.

  Ruuan settled onto the trail, knocking down some of the closest trees, as this section was barely fifty feet wide and therefore a tight fit.

  Bart jumped back from a falling tree. “Whoa . . . You don’t see that often.”

  “I CAME AS SOON AS I COULD. I HOPE YOU WEREN’T WORRIED.”

  “Did you get the amulets?” Greg asked.

  Ruuan dropped his head to offer a disapproving glare, causing Greg’s knees to give out. Luckily Melvin was still there to break his fall.

  “Cut it out,” said Melvin.

  “Sorry.”

  “WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF MY REASONS FOR LEAVING?” Ruuan asked.

  “I told the boy what he needed to know, nothing more,” Nathan assured the dragon.

  Ruuan glared at Greg doubtfully, and Greg found the fact the dragon trusted him to carry out the last prophecy but was wary of him now spoke strongly of the importance of the artifacts Ruuan had recovered. Ruuan’s head swung around to face Nathan again, nearly plowing down Melvin, who couldn’t see it coming.

  “HAVE YOU MANAGED TO RECOVER THE SPIRELINGS’ AMULET?”

  “Did you say something, Nathan?” asked Ryder.

  Nathan shook his head and didn’t speak again until after the captain turned away. “Still working on it,” he told Ruuan.

  Ruuan nodded, causing Greg’s stomach to pitch. “YOU’LL BE HAPPY TO KNOW I ACCOMPLISHED MY GOAL. WHEN WILL WE BE MEETING THE WITCH?”

  “We won’t,” Nathan said. His eyes sought out Greg briefly, then turned away again.

  Greg didn’t know what the two of them were talking about, but he didn’t like any conversation that included the witch, especially after the way Nathan just looked at him.

  “I UNDERSTAND,” said the dragon. He curled his long neck around and dug between his scales. When his head spun back around, his forked tongue shot forward. Lying on each of the tips was a glittering object. Nathan snatched them away before Greg could focus.

  “VERY WELL,” Ruuan said with a sigh. “DID I HEAR SOMEONE SAY THAT YOU NEEDED A WAY TO THE CASTLE?”

  “The battle is still an hour or so off,” said Nathan. “It is imperative we first find General Talbout. He’s supposed to be on the trail somewhere along the northern border.”

  “THAT SHOULD BE NO PROBLEM. WHAT ABOUT THEM?” Ruuan asked, indicating the others with a single roll of his eyes. Even with the dragon’s deceptive magic, it was hard to believe they could miss such a motion.

  “You don’t need to hide yourself from Melvin,” said Greg. “He already knows you’re not dead.”

  No sooner had the words left Greg’s mouth than Melvin screamed. “Dragon!” He backed up so quickly he tripped over his own feet and landed bottom-first in the snow, then scuttled backward a good distance (though after his countless swinging-dragon’s-tail jokes, he should have known to cover a few hundred more feet). There he remained, eyes wide, making no attempt to rise. Greg had to suppress a chuckle. Of course Melvin had been startled, but Greg had to wonder if after all his talk the boy had ever been this close to a dragon in his life.

  “Something wrong with the Greatheart boy?” asked Ryder.

  “Yeah, Melvin,” said Bart, “you okay?”

  “He’s just resting,” said Nathan, “as should you. We’ll be leaving soon.” He turned back to Ruuan. “General Hawkins can be trusted too. I have trusted him with my life on many an occasion, and he’s never let me down.”

  Now it was Ryder who screamed. He adopted the same look he’d used when the others were about to hurl him off the mountain, and drew his sword, though Greg did notice he’d backed himself against a tree and looked prepared to dart behind it if the dragon so much as looked his way.

  Bart glanced at Ryder curiously but continued talking as though nothing were wrong.

  “I DO NOT THINK IT WISE TO TELL THE BARD.”

  “Agreed,” said Nathan. “The man holds a strong voice in this kingdom. His music is known throughout the land. He couldn’t possibly be the same performer if he had to hide this knowledge from the world.”

  “STILL HE WILL PROBABLY FIND OUT IN TIME.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll discuss it with him in depth when we’re not in such a hurry. It’s not a subject I want to rush. The same goes for the tracker.”

  “What about them?” Lucky asked, pointing at Gnash and Gnaw.

  “Now those two I’m not sure of,” said Nathan.

  “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN,” said Ruuan. “IF I REVEAL MYSELF TO THEM, I’LL BE LETTING THE ENTIRE CANARAZA RACE SEE ME. AND WITH HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS KNOWING OF MY EXISTENCE, IT JUST WOULDN’T SEEM LIKE MUCH OF A SECRET ANYMORE.”

  “But surely the spirelings know you’re not dead,” said Priscilla. “They live with you in the Infinite Spire.”

  “YES, BUT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, WE’VE ALWAYS HAD AN UNSPOKEN AGREEMENT. THEY GUARD THE PASSAGEWAY OF SHIFTED DIMENSIONS, MAKE SURE NO ONE EVER COMES INTO MY LAIR AND STAY OUT OF MY AFFAIRS . . . AND I, IN TURN, DO NOT INCINERATE THEM.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Greg. “You still have to go in and out to eat, and I’ve heard you come down the tunnel. There’s no way the spirelings could miss a pin drop, let alone a noise like that.”

  “THEY CAN IF I USE MY MAGIC TO CONCEAL MY PRESENCE,” said Ruuan, “AND I’VE BEEN VERY CAREFUL SINCE OUR LAST MEETING. I DON’T WISH TO JEOPARDIZE ANY PROPHECIES.”

 
“But you can’t keep that up forever, can you?” asked Priscilla.

  “FOREVER, NO. BUT I SHOULDN’T NEED TO. I’M MUCH OLDER THAN I LOOK. I PROBABLY WON’T LIVE MORE THAN ANOTHER CENTURY OR TWO.”

  “That’s still a long time to go skulking about, hiding from the spirelings,” said Lucky.

  Ruuan’s eyes flared. “WE DRAGONS DO NOT SKULK. BESIDES, A COUPLE OF CENTURIES IS HARDLY A DROP IN THE BUCKET.”

  “Still, wouldn’t it be better if you let the spirelings in on the secret?” suggested Ryder, who was just now stepping away from the safety of his tree. Even though the general could see the others carrying on a normal conversation, he looked uncertain about the situation himself. All eyes turned toward him, including Ruuan’s, which explained why he took a quick step back and stood with most of his weight resting on his rear foot, his toes pointed down the path away from the dragon.

  “Did you say something, Ryder?” asked Bart.

  “BUT WHAT OF THE LAST PROPHECY?” said Ruuan, ignoring them both.

  “What about it?” said Lucky. “According to Priscilla, everything Simon predicted occurred just as written. Why shouldn’t the spirelings know the truth?”

  “HOW DO YOU MEAN?”

  Priscilla told Ruuan what she’d read, explaining how Brandon had actually written that Greg would sleigh the dragon, not slay him, and how technically nothing happened inside Ruuan’s lair that violated the prophecy as written.

  “HMMM,” said Ruuan, reaching up to scratch his chin with a six-foot-long talon. “THIS IS AN INTERESTING DEV­ELOPMENT. ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT WE WERE STRETCHING THE TRUTH TO SUIT OUR OWN NEEDS, WHEN REALLY OUR INTERPRETATION WAS CORRECT.”

  “So you’ll reveal yourself to Gnash and Gnaw then?” said Greg.

  He barely had time to get the words out before Gnash and Gnaw were both screaming hysterically and forming balls of red energy in their fists.

  “The dragon lives!” Gnash screamed, jumping as high as his short legs would carry him.