CHAPTER SEVEN
Well, at that moment, a whole lot of things happened at once. I'll try to keep them straight for you, but it was all pretty confusing and I may put some things not in quite the right order.
Owen Glendower stared at me and said, 'What?'
Fizban glared at me and snapped, 'You fool kender! Keep your mouth shut!'
The draconian probably would have stared at me if it could have seen me through the wall of snow and it said, 'I heard that!'
The dragon shifted its big body around (we could hear it scraping against the walls) and said, 'So did I! And I smell warm blood! Spies! You, draco! Go warn the others! I'll deal with these!'
Wham!
That was the dragon's head, butting the ice wall that separated us. (Apparently, the wall was much thicker and stronger than I'd first supposed. For which we were all grateful.) The mountain shook and more snow fell down on top of us. The hole at the top grew larger — not that this was much help at the moment, since we couldn't get up there.
Owen Glendower was holding the dragonlance and staring at me. 'What do you mean — the lances don't work!'
I looked helplessly at Fizban, who scowled at me so fiercely that I was afraid his eyebrows would slide right off his face and down his nose.
Wham!
That was the dragon's head again.
'I have to tell him, Fizban!' I wailed. And I spoke as quickly as I could because I could see that I wasn't going to have time to go into a lot of detail. 'We overheard Theros Ironfeld say to Flint that the lances aren't special or magical or anything — they're plain ordinary steel and when Theros threw one against the wall it broke — I saw it!'
I stopped to suck in a big breath, having used up the one I'd taken to get all that out.
And then I used the next breath to shout, 'Fizban! There's your hat!'
The dragon's head-whamming had knocked over a snow bank and there lay Fizban's hat, looking sort of dirty and crumpled and nibbled on and not at all magical. I made a dive for it, brought it up and waved it at him.
'Here it is! Now we can escape! C'mon, Owen!' And I tugged on the knight's arm.
Wham! Wham! That was the dragon's head twice.
Owen looked from the shaking wall (We could hear the dragon shrieking 'Spies!' on the other side.) to me, to the lance, to Fizban.
'What do you know about this, Wizard?' he asked, and he was pale and breathing kind of funny.
'Maybe the lance is ordinary. Maybe it is blessed. Maybe it is flawed. Maybe you are the one with the flaw!' Fizban jabbed a finger at Owen.
The knight flushed deeply, and put his hand to his shaven moustaches.
Wham! A crack shivered up the wall and part of a huge dragon snout that was white as bleached bone shoved through the crack. But the dragon couldn't get its whole mouth through and so it left off and started butting the ice again. (That ice was much, much stronger than I'd first thought. Very odd.)
Owen stood holding the dragonlance and staring at it, hard, as if he was trying to find cracks in it. Well, I could have told him there wouldn't be any, because Theros was a master blacksmith, even if he was working with ordinary steel, but there wasn't time. I shoved Fizban's hat into the wizard's hand.
'Quick!' I cried. 'Let's go! C'mon, Owen! Please!'
'Well, Sir Knight?' said Fizban, taking his hat. 'Are you coming with us?'
Owen dropped the dragonlance. He drew his sword. 'You go,' he said. 'Take the kender. I will stay.'
'You, ninny!' Fizban snorted. 'You can't fight a dragon with a sword!'
'Run, Wizard!' Owen snarled. 'Leave while you still can!' He looked at me and his eyes shimmered. 'You have the painting,' he said softly. 'Take it to them. Tell them — '
Well, I never found out what I was supposed to tell them because at that moment the dragon's head punched right smack through the ice wall.
The cave we were trapped in was smallish compared to the dragon, and the wyrm could only get its head inside. Its chin scraped along the floor and its snaky eyes glared at us horribly. It was so huge and awful and wonderful that I'm afraid I forgot all about its not being conducive to long life and mine would have ended then and there except Fizban grabbed hold of me by the collar and dragged me against the far wall.
Owen staggered backward, sword in hand, leaving the dragonlances in the snow. I could tell that the knight was fairly well floored at the immensity and sheer terribleness of the dragon. It must have been obvious to him right then that what Fizban said was right. You can't fight a dragon with a sword.
'Work some magic, Wizard!' Owen shouted. 'Distract it!'
'Distract it! Right!' Fizban muttered and, with a great deal of courage, I thought, the old wizard leaned out from around me (I was in front of him again) and waved his hat in the dragon's general direction.
'Shoo!' he said.
I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but dragons don't shoo. In fact, being shooed seems to have an irritating effect on them. This one's eyes blazed until the snow started melting around my shoes. It began to suck in a deep, deep, deep breath and I knew that when it let that breath out we'd all be permanently frozen statues down here beneath the mountain forever and ever.
The wind whistled and snow whirled around us from the dragon's sucking up all the air. And then, suddenly, the dragon went 'Ulp!' and got an extremely startled and amazed look in it eyes.
It had sucked up Fizban's hat.
Fizban had been waving his hat at the dragon, you see, and when the dragon started sucking up air it sucked the hat right out of Fizban's hand. The hat whipped through the air and in between the dragon's fangs and the 'Ulp!' was the hat getting stuck in the dragon's throat.
'My hat!' wailed Fizban, and he swelled up until I thought he was going to burst.
The dragon was tossing its head around, choking and wheezing and coughing and trying to dislodge the hat. Owen dashed forward, not bothering to take the time to give the knight's salute to an enemy, which I thought was sensible of him, and stuck his sword (or tried to stick it) in the dragon's throat.
The sword's blade shivered and then shattered. The dragon lashed out at Owen, but it couldn't do much except try to thump him on the head since it was still trying to breathe around the hat. Owen stumbled away and slipped and fell in the snow. His hand landed on the dragonlance.
It was the only weapon we had except for my hoopak, and I would have offered him the hoopak at the time only I forgot I had it. This was all so thrilling.
'Save my hat!' Fizban was shrieking and hopping up and down. 'Save my hat!'
Phuey!
The dragon spit out the hat. It flew across the cave and hit Fizban in the face and flattened him but good. Owen leapt to his feet. He was shaking all over, his armor rattled, but he lifted the dragonlance and threw with all his might.
The dragonlance struck the dragon's scaly hide and broke into about a million pieces.
The dragon was sucking in its breath again. Owen slumped. He looked all defeated and hurting. He knew he was going to die, but I could tell that didn't matter to him. It was the thought that his wife and little boy and maybe all those villagers too were going to die that was like a spear in his heart.
And then it seemed to me that I heard a voice. It was Flint's voice, and it sounded so close that I looked all around, more than half-expecting to see him come dashing at me, all red in the face and bellowing.
'You doorknob of a kender 1 Didn't you hear anything I said? Tell him what I told Theros!'
I tried to remember it and then I did remember it and I began to babble, 'When you throw the lance, it will be the strength of your faith and the power of your arm and the vision of your eye that will guide the lances into the evil dragon's dark heart. That's what Flint said, sort of, Owen, except I changed it a little. Maybe I was wrong!' I
