Free How to Stop a Witch by Bill Allen

secretive lot.”
    “I’m not a magician,” Greg objected.
    “Wouldn’t know it to listen to you. I’ve been waiting all my life for proof that Myrth exists. Now here you are, and I can’t pry a word from you.”
    “Can you at least tell us something about it?” asked Nate.
    “Um . . .” said Greg. He at least had to tell Nate about the first two prophecies, or they might never come true—er, have come true—either way, he had to tell him.
    “We’ll give you dinner,” Mr. Caine bargained, and Greg’s expression must have changed, because the man banged the table again. “I knew it. Don’t tell me I don’t know how a young boy thinks.”
    Nate stood and walked to a counter in what might have passed for a kitchen. He removed a loaf of bread from a dented canister, returned to the table, and tore off one piece for Greg and another for his father.
    “Er, thanks,” said Greg. In his mind he ran through every moment he’d ever spent with Nathan. How much did the man already know about the future when he met Greg, and how much did he learn along the way? Well, he at least knew about the existence of the first two prophecies. Greg started out by telling them how he once set out to slay a dragon.
    Nate and his father listened with awe as Greg discussed meeting a strange man in white among the shifting pools of lava within the Molten Moor, but he made sure to mention being alone when he set out to confront Witch Hazel, remembering how Nathan had refused to step foot across Black Blood Creek.
    Soon he was describing how he and Lucky hauled a large sled up the winding tunnel through the Infinite Spire, and of his confrontation with the dragon, Ruuan. But he skipped the part about running into the Army of the Crown along the way. Nathan seemed just as surprised by that chance encounter as Greg was. Likewise he didn’t mention the bollywomp attack, or the stampeding falchions in Fey Field.
    “This is incredible,” said Nate. “You’re making it up.”
    “No,” said Greg, “I’m not.”
    “Of course he’s not,” said Mr. Caine. “You don’t lie to magicians.”
    “Dad, we’re not magicians,” said Nate.
    “No, but the people in Greg’s world are. You don’t just go breaking habits overnight.” He returned to coughing then, and Nate and Greg exchanged worried glances as he fought to catch his breath.
    “You okay, Dad?”
    “I’m fine,” Mr. Caine insisted. “Tell us more,” he said to Greg, his voice little more than a gasp.
    “Uh, okay.” Greg thought hard about how much advance knowledge Nathan had of the second prophecy. His memories were getting all mixed up. It seemed as if Nathan knew very little about Greg’s last trip to Myrth beyond the fact that Greg exchanged the key piece of the Amulet of Tehrer for the missing pieces of Ruuan’s amulet. But Greg wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t help but worry as he relayed even this much.
    He made sure to hint that it wouldn’t take the witch long to restore the amulet, so Nathan would know to be there when they needed him, but he was careful not to mention a third prophecy at all. Unfortunately there was not much more he could reveal.
    Nate looked disappointed. “But you hardly told us anything about the battle.”
    “There’s not much to tell. We were surrounded by trolls, and a lot of good men died. I might have too, if not for my skill in chikan.”
    “Lucky you’re so good,” said Nate.
    “Not luck. I worked hard to learn.”
    Mr. Caine shot his son a look. “See?”
    “You could be just as good if you wanted,” Greg told Nate.
    “Who says I’m not?”
    Greg laughed. “I thought we settled that earlier.”
    “Who are you kidding, boy?” said Nate’s father. “You’ll never be as good as you could. All you’re interested in is the mechanics. You never listen when I tell you about the important things.”
    “Aw, Dad.”
    “No, he’s right,” Greg said.
    “What would you know about it?”
    “Chikan is more than just