How to Slay a Dragon by Bill Allen Read Free Book Online

behind it as it came, cutting off any chance of sneaking by.
    “Yep,” said Lucky, “it’s an ogre.”
    “Well don’t just stand there!” Greg screamed.
    Lucky nodded, and Greg watched helplessly as the boy rummaged through his pack and the ogre moved closer.
    “Hurry!” Greg insisted.
    “Here it is,” said Lucky. Without so much as a “Ta da!” he pulled the magic sword from the tiny bag and held it out to Greg.
    Greg stared back at him. “What are you giving it to me for?”
    “Well, I’ve never killed an ogre.”
    “You think I have?”
    Lucky thrust the sword into Greg’s hand and spun him around, and willing or not Greg held the weapon up in front of his body. The blade was nearly as tall as he was, and so heavy, Greg could barely lift it. He knew if he let the tip drift even an inch or two out of vertical, he’d never be able to hold on, and if he tried and failed, he might be catapulted from the forest. In a moment of hysteria he wondered if this might be a means of escape he’d overlooked.
    The ogre grew closer. And, unbelievably, taller. In a flash Greg relived the countless times his storybook Greg had defeated creatures just like this. But those had been stories. This was a real ogre with a real taste for human flesh, and Greg would have given anything not to be the human whose flesh was about to be tasted. “Lucky!”
    He didn’t know what he expected Lucky to do, but certainly it wasn’t anything like what the boy did. With no apparent concern for himself, Lucky jumped into the path of the approaching monster, threw up his arms and roared.
    The ogre stopped short, insomuch as is possible for a fifteen-foot tall monster, and eyed Lucky with suspicion.
    Lucky eyed it back.
    Not to be outdone, the ogre eyed him a second time, or maybe it just forgot it had eyed him once already. Oddly, it stepped aside, perhaps afraid of the bright orange tunic Lucky wore. Then it spotted Greg and growled. Lucky had been right. Greg should have stuck with the brighter outfit.
    Greg tried to will himself invisible, but no such luck. The ogre charged, and just as in Greg’s story about the giant, the ground trembled under its every step. Greg trembled more. He raised his sword high and tried his best to appear menacing.
    Surprisingly the ogre slowed, as if it recognized the power Greg wielded. Coincidence, more likely. As proof, it howled and resumed its charge.
    Greg turned to run, but a tree grabbed his arm, spun him around, prodded him toward the ogre. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, tried to judge when to begin his swing. The ogre closed to twenty feet . . . fifteen . . . ten.
    Five.
    Greg was so concerned about timing he forgot to swing at all. At the last second he lowered the sword, ducked under the ogre’s outstretched arms, and scrambled between its massive legs. The dim-witted ogre stared at the ground between its feet and scratched its head. Greg rose behind it.
    Too late, the ogre turned. Greg gathered all his courage and lashed out at a thigh.
    With a howl the creature swatted the air. Greg felt the sword tear from his grip and heard Lucky scream. The blade had lodged into the trunk of a tree, pinning Lucky by the fabric of his tunic.
    Greg looked for only an instant. His mind raced wildly, but didn’t like any of the thoughts it came up with. Even with the help of a magic sword he hadn’t been able to defeat the ogre. Now here he was, unarmed, facing the heightened rage of an injured monster. Lucky screamed a warning, and the ogre lashed out with a crushing blow that nearly flattened Greg’s skull.
    Greg ducked and rolled and scuttled backwards, beyond the ogre’s reach, and then he was up and moving, racing to the tree where Lucky was pinned. He grabbed the hilt of the sword, put his weight behind it.
    The ogre lumbered closer. Surely Lucky would have screamed another warning if Greg hadn’t planted a hand over his mouth for leverage. With a pop the blade pulled free, and Greg