Temple of the Dragonslayer (10 page)

There was one thing he hadn’t planned for, though: the traveling companions the girl had accumulated. Davyn knew he was supposed to prevent others from joining him and Nearra.

“Davyn is not performing well, my friend.” The Beast growled again, louder this time. Maddoc reached over with his left hand and scratched the monstrous creature on its head between its four horns. The Beast rumbled its satisfaction and settled down. “Still, it is too late to relieve him of his duties. I’ll just have to let events proceed from this point on and do my best to control how they play out. One way or another, I will succeed.”

Maddoc folded his hands over his stomach and gazed up at the tapestry hanging over the fireplace. It was an ancient, elaborately detailed piece of craftsmanship ten feet tall and four feet wide. The weaving remained tight and the colors vibrant, as if the tapestry had been finished yesterday instead of centuries ago.

The tapestry portrayed a woman with a narrow face and long, raven-black hair. She wore a dark green dress trimmed with red fur. Her complexion was ivory-white, though Maddoc didn’t know if that was an accurate representation or merely artistic license on the part of the weaver. Her eyes were a striking shade of violet. They reminded Maddoc of the way a predator’s eyes gleamed just before sinking teeth into its prey.

The woman in the tapestry wore a sun-shaped medallion around her neck, and lying on the ground in front of her feet
sat a silver sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt. Maddoc had researched the woman in the tapestry for many years, trying to discover what had become of the two artifacts, but in all his studies, he had never found so much as a single reference to the location of either one.

Asvoria—or rather, her image—stood before a wall of gray stone covered with strands of climbing ivy. Maddoc had once believed the wall she stood in front of was the outer wall of this very keep. After all, hundreds of years ago, this keep had once been Asvoria’s home. But after living here himself for nearly two decades and finding no sign of either the medallion or the sword, he was no longer so sure of that. Still, it was early in the game, and Maddoc had every confidence he would ultimately triumph.

He smiled at the image of Asvoria. He was looking forward to finally meeting her.

N
earra was lost in a world of endless darkness … a world where there was no form, no substance. She had no body in this placeless place. She was a being of pure thought, a wandering spirit trapped in eternal nothingness …

And she wanted out.

Nearra opened her eyes and sat up. Sunlight came through the open window, its illumination a welcome sight after the endless nothingness in her dream. Just a dream, she thought. But such a strange one …

Then the events of the day before came flooding back to her. Her heart pounded as she glanced quickly around the room. She let out a deep breath. No goblins, no dragon.

Catriona was already up and dressed, her bedroll put away in her pack. She stood before the open window. The sunlight made her red hair seem to blaze with its own internal flame. The warrior’s eyes were closed, and her lips moved as she whispered some sort of morning devotion. Nearra wondered if this could be a ritual of the Solamnic Knights, but given how sensitive Catriona was about her past, Nearra knew better than to ask.

After a moment, Catriona opened her eyes and turned around to face Nearra.

“Did you sleep well?” the warrior asked.

Nearra thought about the world of darkness in her dream. “More or less,” she answered. “But I will say this: waking up in a bed at an inn definitely beats waking up surrounded by goblins.”

Catriona laughed.

The five companions walked down the long path toward the northern edge of town. Each carried a traveler’s pack filled with food, water, and other supplies.

Sindri looked up at the sun, which had only just started to clear the rooftops of Tresvka’s buildings. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“You may not find it so after you’ve marched beneath its warming rays for a few hours,” Elidor said.

The kender ignored the elf. “The sun is very important to my family, you know. It’s the reason for our surname: Suncatcher. Human mages draw their power from the three moons: white-robed wizards from Solinari, red robes from Lunitari, and black robes from Nuitari. But we kender know that the strongest magic lies with the power of the sun. Long ago, it was prophesied that a member of my family would one day become a great wizard and be the first to tap the sun’s magic. My family has been known as the Suncatchers ever since.”

Catriona seemed to be paying no attention to the kender’s story. Probably because she’s heard it before, Nearra thought. Given how much Sindri loved to talk, Catriona had doubtless heard the tale numerous times.

“And I suppose you think you’ll be the one to fulfill the grand prophecy,” Davyn said with a hint of mockery in his voice.

Nearra frowned. She liked Davyn, but she didn’t always like the way he treated Sindri. But if the kender noticed Davyn’s tone, he didn’t react to it.

“Maybe. After all, someone in my family has to be the one. Why not me?”

Elidor smiled, amused. “Why not indeed?”

“You know, there’s something I never understood about that story,” Catriona said, surprising Nearra. So the warrior had been listening after all. “You mention a third moon, the one where evil mages get their power. But there are only two moons in the night sky.”

Sindri opened his mouth to explain, but before he could speak, Nearra said, “That’s because Nuitari is visible only to the eyes of those who wear the black robe.” She frowned, then looked at the others. “How did I know that?”

They all looked at Nearra, then at each other, clearly at a loss. Finally, Davyn shrugged. “I suppose it’s just one more of your memories returning.” He paused, then quickly added, “Assuming it’s true, of course.”

“Oh, it is,” Sindri said. “I try to learn as much about magic as I can at every opportunity, so that I will be ready when it’s my time to take the Test of High Sorcery at the Tower of Wayreth.”

“While I am no mage, I too have learned something about magic in my travels,” Elidor said. “From what I understand, those who wish to join one of the orders of wizardry begin studying with an archmage during childhood. When they are ready to take the Test of High Sorcery, they must first declare allegiance to a particular order.” The elf smiled. “I do not believe the mages have an Order of the Sun.”

Sindri scowled. “Then perhaps it’s high time somebody started one!”

Elidor explained the route he had planned as they walked.

“Tresvka is more of a way station along the trading routes than anything else,” the elf said. “The main routes go east and west across the plains, and these are the ways most traders travel. But there are always folk who for one reason or another need to travel through the forests. There is a main path—not
really wide enough to be called a road—that runs the length of the southern forest.”

“That’s where I woke up,” Nearra said.

Elidor nodded. “There is a similar path through the northern forest and out into the plains, but unfortunately, it begins to curve eastward long before reaching the temple you seek. So while we shall be able to make use of this path for part of the journey, eventually we shall be forced to leave the path and forge our own trail.”

Nearra wasn’t worried about traveling through the known sections of the northern forest, not with her new friends accompanying her. But the idea of leaving the path and traveling through wild territory did frighten her. Yesterday in the southern forest, she had encountered goblin raiders and a green dragon. What new dangers might await her?

Their footsteps thumped as they crossed the wooden bridge over the Vingaard River. Though it was early, the bridge was already busy with travelers entering the town. A woodcutter pushed a wheelbarrow full of firewood in from the woods. Behind him, a farmer drove a wagon filled with vegetables headed for the market at the center of town. Neither one gave the travelers a second glance as they passed.

On the other side of the bridge, the road cut through a field of tall grass. In the distance, Nearra could just make out a stand of trees: the northern forest.

Bees buzzed lazily above the tall grass on either side of the road and birds flew about, singing to one another. Blue sky, fluffy white clouds—a perfect day for traveling.

But as they walked along, Nearra became increasingly uncomfortable. The straps of her pack dug into her shoulders, and her new boots were stiff and beginning to make her feet ache. And to top it all off, though it wasn’t even midmorning yet, it was warming up quickly. It appeared the day was going to be a hot one.

Nearra wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her
hand. “Somehow I didn’t expect adventuring to start out so uncomfortably.”

Elidor laughed. “I’m not sure I’d call a simple trip like this an adventure, but even so, you know the old saying about adventures, don’t you?”

“She doesn’t know much of anything,” Sindri said. “She’s lost her memory.”

Nearra knew the kender was only trying to be helpful, but she wished he’d chosen his words more carefully.

Elidor acknowledged the kender’s statement with a nod, then turned once more to Nearra. “The saying goes like this: an adventure is someone else having a very difficult time a thousand miles away.”

Nearra frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“What he means,” Catriona said, “is that often the idea of adventuring is much more fun than the reality.”

There was a hard edge to Catriona’s voice, and Nearra knew her friend spoke from bitter experience.

“Especially when the reality includes something like that!” Elidor pointed skyward, and they all looked up to see a large, winged reptilian form circling high above.

It was Slean.

Sindri clapped his hands in glee. “A dragon! I’ve finally seen a dragon! Do you think she’ll come closer? I hope she does. Maybe I should yell for her to come down.” Before Sindri could do so, Catriona clamped her hand tight over the kender’s mouth and spoke softly in his ear.

“I know this will be hard to get into that one-track kender mind of yours, but just because the dragon is interesting to look at doesn’t mean she won’t kill us if she gets the chance.” Catriona slowly removed her hand.

“So I shouldn’t say anything?” Sindri asked, clearly confused.

Before Catriona could reply, Elidor said, “We’re too easy to spot here on the road—get in the grass and stay down as low
as you can!” Without waiting to see if the others would follow, Elidor ran off the road and dove into the tall grass.

Catriona grabbed Sindri’s hand and hauled him off the road while the kender stared up at Slean with a grin of delight. Davyn took Nearra’s upper arm and the two of them followed after the others. The grass was two feet tall at the most, and they quickly discovered it provided minimal cover.

“Everyone curl up into a ball,” Davyn said, “and make yourselves as small as you can. With any luck, the color of our clothes and packs will help camouflage us.”

Most of the party was dressed in browns and greens, but Sindri wore his purple mage’s cape, and Nearra had on her bright turquoise dress. Catriona had tried to talk her into putting on a tunic and leggings before they left town, but Nearra declined. The dress was the only link she had to whatever life she’d lived before losing her memory. To her, that was reason enough to keep it. Now, however, she wished she had listened to Catriona: the color of her dress stood out too much against the green of the grass.