Return of the Sorceress (8 page)

The “lake” was even smaller than Davyn remembered. It was so small, he wasn’t sure it even deserved to be called a pond. “Hole in the ground with some water in it” seemed more fitting. Even so, Elidor stood a couple feet off shore, leggings rolled up to his knees. He held a tree limb that he’d turned into a spear by sharpening an end with one of his throwing knives. The elf scanned the water for fish, trying to procure lunch “in the manner of my father’s people,” as he’d put it.

The others had similar ideas, it seemed. Sindri sat at the pond’s edge, dangling his bare feet in the water while he watched Elidor. Catriona was busy sharpening her dragon claws with a whetstone. Every now and then she’d look off toward the east, in the direction of Cairngorn Keep, with a worried frown.

Davyn stood talking with Ayanti.

“I can’t believe we used to climb three steep hills and go through a rock-filled ravine to get here,” Ayanti said.

“Traveling here was part of the fun,” Davyn said. “The trip made coming here seem more like an adventure.”

“From what you told me, you’re adventuring for real these days.”

“If you can call it that,” Davyn said. He looked at the Bottomless Lake just as Elidor stabbed his spear into the water. But when he lifted the spear tip to inspect it, there was nothing there.

“Did you see a fish?” Sindri asked, excited.

“Of course I did,” Elidor said, sounding offended that Sindri would even ask such a question. He returned to standing still.

“Is he …” Ayanti began.

“Crazy? Sometimes I think so.” Davyn sighed. “I didn’t really mean that. Elidor just isn’t good at sitting around and doing nothing—especially when one of his friends is in danger.”

“From the tone of your voice, it sounds as if you’re used to being in danger.”

“Unfortunately.” Davyn sighed. “And it’s all to do with Maddoc, of course. If he’d never discovered that Asvoria had transferred her spirit to that tapestry.”

“But he did,” Ayanti said. “I don’t know your father … excuse me, I mean
the wizard
well, but I know that, like all his kind—even those who wear robes or white or robes of red—he cannot resist an opportunity to increase his power. All that has happened to Nearra and the rest of you has been his doing, Davyn. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

Davyn smiled. “What makes you think I’m blaming myself?”

Ayanti returned his smile. “Because I know you. You always take too much upon yourself. You blamed yourself for being unable to master the magical skills Maddoc tried to teach you. Now you’re blaming yourself for what has happened to your … friend.”

Davyn didn’t fail to notice the pause Ayanti placed before the word
friend.

“But I
am
responsible—at least in part. I started off helping Maddoc with his scheme to revive Asvoria.”

“Yes, but now you seek to stop him. And from what I can see, your friends do not hold your earlier actions against you.”

Davyn looked at Elidor, Sindri, and Catriona. They’d all been through so much together that they were more than just friends. They were family.

“That’s true,” he admitted.

“And what of Nearra? Does she still blame you?”

“No. She has such a kind and forgiving nature that she’s incapable of holding a grudge. Even when perhaps she should.”

Ayanti looked at him for a moment, her gaze penetrating, as if she were trying to see into his mind, or perhaps his heart.

“You care for her very much, don’t you?” Ayanti asked softly.

Davyn nodded.

Ayanti smiled. “Then we will have to do everything we can to help her, won’t we?”

Elidor made another stab at the water, again without luck.

“Are you sure you’re doing that right?” Sindri said. He stood and waded into the pond to help his friend. As the elf and the kender began to argue about the proper technique to spear fish, Catriona watched them, shaking her head, an amused grin on her face.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Davyn began. “I’ve really messed things up for you, haven’t I?”

“Hush. Don’t blame yourself because I no longer have a job. I’ve been meaning to leave Ravenscar for a while now. I told myself that I stayed because of the animals, but the truth is I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She smiled. “Now I do. And believe me, I am
not
going to miss working for Bolthor.”

Catriona finished sharpening the dragon claws, put away her whetstone, and tucked the claws into her belt. She then joined Davyn and Ayanti. “So, what next, boss?” she said.

Davyn scowled and Ayanti gave him a questioning look, but he ignored it.

“We can’t go with our original plan,” he said, “and we can hardly make a frontal assault on Cairngorn Keep.”

“Not unless one of you is hiding an army in his or her backpack,” Ayanti said.

“I wish,” Davyn replied. “We need to find a way into the keep that won’t immediately alert Maddoc to our presence.”

“Maybe you could disguise yourselves,” Ayanti offered. “Dress up like servants or something.”

Davyn shook his head. “Too risky. Not only does Maddoc know we’re already in the area, the other servants would betray us to him rather than risk his wrath.”

“Elidor should be able to unlock any door and disarm any traps,” Catriona said.

“Physical traps, yes,” Davyn admitted. “But not magical ones. Maddoc has placed wardspells on every possible entrance.”

Ayanti nodded toward Sindri. The kender had taken hold of Elidor’s fishing spear and was trying to pull it out of the elf’s hands.

“Let me have a turn!” Sindri shouted.

“What about him?” Ayanti asked. “He’s some sort of wizard, isn’t he? Maybe he can nullify Maddoc’s wards.”

Davyn and Catriona exchanged looks.

“Let’s just say he’s not the right sort of wizard for the job,” Davyn said.

Ayanti shrugged. “Then I’m out of ideas—unless you want to go through the tunnels underneath the keep.”

Elidor and Sindri stopped fighting and turned to look at the centaur. Davyn and Catriona both stared at her.

“What did I say?”

Davyn grew thoughtful. “I’d forgotten all about those tunnels.”

Sindri and Elidor left the pond and came over to join their companions. Both of them still held onto the spear.

“Are you serious?” Elidor asked. “Are there really tunnels beneath Cairngorn Keep?”

“When we were kids, we were playing near the keep’s outer wall one day,” Davyn explained. “The ground collapsed beneath Ayanti’s forelegs.”

“I was lucky I didn’t break one,” she added.

“We examined the hole she’d made and widened it some more. We kept at it and eventually we got it large enough that it began to look like the entrance to a tunnel. Before long it got dark and we had to stop digging. We agreed to continue our excavation the next morning, but that night Maddoc came to the kitchen where
I was eating my dinner. He often took his meals in his study or one of his work rooms, so I was surprised to see him. But he hadn’t come to eat. Instead, he told me that he was aware that Ayanti and I had found a ‘subsidence,’ as he called it. He said that he was going to have it filled in and that I was to stay away from it from now on, and that I should do no more digging on or near the keep grounds.

“He said that Cairngorn Keep was more than just the tower, the buildings, the courtyard, and the wall. He said that a labyrinth of caves and tunnels extended far beneath the keep. This labyrinth was so complex and dangerous that Maddoc himself had explored only a small portion of it. He made me promise never to go near the tunnels, no matter what, and like the dutiful son I was, I obeyed. Even when I later learned that Maddoc was secretly repairing and extending the tunnels.”

“Do you think we might be able to get into the keep through this labyrinth?” Catriona asked.

“Perhaps,” Davyn said. “If so, it won’t be easy.”

“Of course it won’t,” Elidor said. “People don’t normally use the word
labyrinth
to describe a simple basement.”

“But if it’s the only way we can have a chance of reaching Nearra, then we have to try it,” Sindri said. Then he smiled. “Besides, it sounds like fun!”

“Are we all agreed?” Davyn asked, and everyone nodded.

“It’s too bad you two didn’t catch any fish,” Catriona said. “We could’ve used a good meal to build up our strength before we set out.”

“Well, if we don’t have time to catch them the fun way …” Sindri stretched his hand toward the pond and a beam of sunlight struck his silver ring in such a way that for an instant, it shone with the multicolored light of a rainbow. Then the surface of the water began to bubble in a half dozen places and then six medium
sized fish rose into the air. One by one, the fish floated over to the companions and landed flopping at their feet.

When he was finished, Sindri lowered his hand. His brow was beaded with sweat and he was breathing more heavily than normal, as if he’d just ran a fast sprint.

“Could one of you start a cooking fire?” the kender asked. “I haven’t quite mastered flame spells yet.”

    I
see my daughter finally managed to drag herself out of bed.”

Nearra sat on a stool in front of the cottage, peeling potatoes for stew. She looked up to see a horse-drawn wagon approaching across the grassy field, its wheels traveling along well-worn ruts. Sitting in the front and holding the reins was a black-haired man with a curly beard. Next to him sat a thin young girl with shoulder-length black hair.

Though she had no memory of seeing either of them before, she still knew who they were: her father and younger sister, returned from delivering wood to Ravenscar. Her father was a tall, broad-shouldered man with thick arms and large hands that were perfect for chopping wood. Her sister was shorter than she, and slighter of build, and her hands were thin, with long delicate fingers. They were more the hands of a musician or an artist, Nearra thought.

Her father gently pulled back on the reins and the piebald mare pulling the wagon—whose name was Grania, Nearra suddenly recalled—slowed to a stop.

“Here, Jirah.” Father handed the reins to his daughter. “Take
the wagon around back and unhitch Grania. Rub her down and give her food and water.”

He climbed down from the wagon and Jirah, grinning from ear to ear, gave the reins a flick and Grania began plodding forward.

Father doesn’t usually allow Jirah to take the reins, Nearra thought. So this is something special for her.

“You could’ve driven the wagon to Ravenscar and back if you’d gotten up in time,” Father said as he walked toward Nearra.

Nearra dropped a peeled potato into the wooden bowl at her feet. She stood, laid the paring knife on the stool, then wiped her hands on the rag tucked beneath her belt.

“That’s all right. I’d rather stay home and help Mother anyway.”

Her father frowned. “I understand when you asked not to ride along to Cairngorn Keep anymore, but now you won’t even go to Ravenscar.”

“Leave the girl alone, Eric.” Mother stepped out of the cottage, a stern expression on her face. “You can’t blame her for not wanting to go to either of those godsforsaken places.”

Eric sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Lanni.” He stepped to his wife’s side, put an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I just want Nearra and Jirah to learn the trade. We won’t always be around to provide for them, you know. And if Nearra won’t ride along—”

Fear bordering on panic suddenly gripped Nearra. “Don’t say that!”

Both Eric and Lanni turned to look at her, concerned.

“Don’t say what?” Eric asked.

“That you won’t be around someday!” Tears blurred her vision. “It’s an awful, horrible thing to say!” She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t help it.

Eric came over and hugged Nearra. “Hush, child. Everything is all right. Your mother and I might not be youngsters anymore, but I’ll wager we still have quite a few good years left in us. If you don’t want to travel to Ravenscar, you don’t have to, and that’s that.”

Her father’s voice was kind and soothing, but there was also a core of strength in it that always reassured her as nothing else could. When her father told her that everything would be all right, she believed it. Though she felt safe and protected in her father’s arms and would’ve liked nothing better than to remain standing like this for the rest of her life, she pulled free from Eric’s embrace and took a step back.

“Father, Mother, I need to talk with you about something.”

Her parents exchanged a quick glance.

“You sound so serious,” her mother said. “Is something wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Nearra couldn’t help laughing. “Sometimes it seems as if trouble is all I’ve ever known.” She took a deep breath. “Almost a year ago, Maddoc cast a spell on me. He—”

An ear-splitting roar cut through the air, drowning out the rest of Nearra’s words. A shadow fell over the cottage, and Nearra and her parents looked skyward. Descending toward them, wings spread wide, sunlight glittering off its iridescent scales, was a blue dragon.

Terror slammed into Nearra, so strong and intense that it was almost a physical force. Dragonfear, she realized, and though she’d experienced it before, it was all she could do to keep from screaming.