Temple of the Dragonslayer (13 page)

Catriona was not cheered by the kender’s comment.

“We were fortunate to escape with our lives,” Elidor said, “and we wouldn’t have been able to if it hadn’t been for Sindri’s magic.”

The kender grinned.

Jax snarled. “The same magic he used to steal my money pouch, I’ll wager!”

“I don’t have to steal!” Sindri protested. “I can conjure whatever I need!”

“Stop it, all of you!” Nearra said. “If we’re all going to travel together, we can’t keep arguing like this! That is, if Jax intends to continue traveling with us.”

Everyone looked at the minotaur and waited for him to answer.

Jax grunted.

“Obviously you want something, or you wouldn’t have accompanied us after the fight with Slean,” Nearra said. “So what do you want from us?”

“It’s not what I want from you,” Jax said in his deep, rumbling voice. “It’s what I want from him.” He pointed at Sindri.

Nearra looked at the kender. Sindri didn’t appear frightened, of course, but he did look confused. “I gave you your money,” he said to Jax. “What else do you want?”

“My money disappeared once more, after the … incident at the tavern.”

Sindri sighed. “I suppose you want me to conjure some more for you.”

The minotaur shook his head. “I believe my purse was stolen by someone who took advantage of the confusion when I was in the tavern.”

“Then what else do you want?” Catriona said.

“My honor restored,” Jax said. “Twice now you have humiliated me. Honor means everything to my people, and I cannot allow such insults as what the kender did to me to go unanswered.”

“Oh,” Sindri said. “Well, I’m not sure what I’ve done, but I don’t want to insult anyone. So if I’ve done so, I most sincerely apologize.”

The minotaur looked at Sindri for a long moment before finally nodding. “I accept your apology.”

The companions waited to see if Jax would say anything more, but he remained silent.

“That’s it?” Davyn said. “All you wanted was for Sindri to tell you he was sorry?”

“Yes,” Jax said.

“No offense, but it seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through just for an apology,” Davyn said.

“That’s because you are not a minotaur and do not fully understand the importance of honor,” Jax said.

Nearra feared that Davyn would take that as an insult, but before he could respond, Catriona stepped in.

“The Knights of Solamnia have an oath they live by,” the warrior said.
“Est Sularus oth Mithas
. It means ‘My honor is my life.’”

Jax looked at Catriona and inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words.

Davyn opened his mouth as if he intended to reply, but he said nothing. Instead he looked thoughtful, considering what both Jax and Catriona had said.

“So what will you do now that you have what you came for?” Elidor asked.

Jax thought for a moment before answering. “As I said, the five of you demonstrated great bravery against the dragon.” He glanced at Sindri. “And the kender used his magic to save us all—myself included—from the beast’s poison gas. I would accompany you on your journey and provide assistance should you encounter any more difficulties.”

“Don’t look at me,” Elidor said. “I’m just a guide the others hired. You’ll have to ask them.”

Catriona and Sindri looked at Nearra.

“We travel for your sake,” Catriona said. “The decision should be yours.”

Nearra turned to Davyn, but he seemed to purposefully avoid looking at her, as if he didn’t want to influence her decision one way or another.

Nearra smiled at Jax. “I would be honored to have you travel with us.”

Jax opened his mouth and bared his teeth in what Nearra hoped was a smile. “Then I shall.”

No one else said anything, but Nearra sensed the tension among the companions ease a bit, and she knew she’d done the right thing.

“I’m curious, Sindri,” Elidor said. “I confess that I know little about wizardry, but I thought that mages carried spellbooks with them and needed to read and memorize their spells anew each time after casting them.”

“That’s how human wizards do it,” Sindri said. “And elf and dwarf mages as well. But I don’t have to memorize written spells and gather special ingredients to work my magic. I guess I’m what you’d call a natural wizard. My spells just happen. For quite a while, all I could do was conjure small objects, but then yesterday—when Jax first confronted me, as a matter of fact—I was suddenly able to perform feats of telekinesis. Since then I’ve been levitating objects all over the place!”

Davyn grimaced as if he’d just bitten into a piece of rotten fruit.

Elidor arched an eyebrow. “Really? And that was the time when you and Catriona first met Davyn and Nearra?”

Sindri nodded.

Elidor’s eyes narrowed. “How interesting,” the elf said.

“Perhaps you can now satisfy
my
curiosity,” Catriona said to Elidor. “The way you sneaked up on Slean was most impressive, as was your skill with throwing daggers. I’m surprised that a simple guide would possess such abilities.”

Elidor smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “I’m a sort
of jack-of-all-trades. Guiding travelers is only one of the things I do to make a living. But as for the skills you ask about, they are common enough for my people. Elves are known for our grace and stealth. In addition, we tend to possess talent for weapons that require aim and accuracy, such as bows and arrows, as well as throwing knives.”

Catriona looked skeptical, but she said nothing more.

Elidor rose to his feet, signaling that the conversation—and the rest break—was over.

“Shall we resume our journey?” he said.

O
ddvar crouched behind a fallen log a few yards off the main trail through the northern woods. Though there was plenty of shade here, he wore his cloak with the hood up. Sundown was still too many hours away to suit him.

The Theiwar had a perfect vantage point from which to observe Davyn and the others as they walked by. He was surprised to see that, in addition to the elf, a minotaur now accompanied them. It seemed that Davyn was more of a threat to Maddoc’s plans than Oddvar had thought.

Oddvar hunkered down behind the log and held his breath as the companions passed. The Theiwar was so quiet and still, and his gray cloak so closely matched the color of the log, that even if one of the youths had walked right up to him, they still would have had a difficult time detecting the dwarf’s presence.

When the companions had gone by, Oddvar stood up, but he still didn’t lower his hood.

Where are those goblins? he wondered. After Slean’s performance had failed to cause the Emergence, Maddoc had ordered Oddvar to contact a band of goblin mercenaries that lived underground and arrange for them to ambush Davyn and the others. Oddvar had given the job to Drefan, Fyren, and Gifre since they
were goblins themselves. He told them to meet him right here on this log after they had met with the mercenaries. The three goblins should have been back by—

Oddvar’s thoughts were interrupted by a rustling in the underbrush on the other side of the trail. An instant later, Drefan, Fyren, and Gifre poked their heads out of the greenery and looked around, frowning in confusion.

Oddvar should have expected this, the three goblins had found the right section of the forest, but they were on the wrong side of the trail.

He hoisted his stumpy legs over the log and walked to the edge of the trail.

Drefan was the first to see the Theiwar, and the goblin leader raised his hand in acknowledgement and opened his mouth to speak.

Oddvar quickly made a slashing gesture across his throat to indicate the goblin should keep quiet.

The crimson skin of Drefan’s face turned light pink—the goblin version of going pale. Fyren and Gifre took one look at Oddvar and their faces paled to pink, too.

Oddvar instantly understood what had happened. The stupid goblins thought he meant that he wanted to cut their throats!

He shook his head to let them know they’d misinterpreted, but the goblins paid no attention. They turned and fled in terror, crashing noisily through the forest.

Oddvar sighed. At least they hadn’t screamed.

He chanced looking down the trail in the direction Davyn and the others had gone. He was relieved to see that none of them had turned around. Perhaps they hadn’t heard the goblins’ flight, or if they had, perhaps they’d assumed some forest animal had made the noise. Since none of the youths were looking, Oddvar risked dashing across the trail in pursuit of the three goblins.

And when he finally caught up with the fools, perhaps he really would slit their throats.

“How long does it take for a new pair of boots to become broken in?” Nearra asked no one in particular.

They had entered the forest hours ago. Walking on the uneven path was taking its toll on Nearra’s feet.

“It depends on how much you walk in them,” Catriona said. “A few days, perhaps longer.”

“A few days? By then there won’t be anything left of my feet! They’ll be worn down to nubs!”

Catriona, Davyn, and Elidor laughed, but Jax remained silent. Nearra wondered if the minotaur had a sense of humor. If so, she’d seen no sign of it so far.

“It’s a good thing we’re taking you to a temple full of clerics, then,” Sindri said. “Maybe they’ll be able to heal your feet.”

“Clerics?” Jax said.

Nearra realized that no one had informed the minotaur of the purpose for their journey, so she told him all that had happened to her since waking up on the trail of the southern forest yesterday morning.

When she was done speaking, Jax said, “It is a strange story. One that is difficult to believe.”

The minotaur walked at the rear of the group, and Catriona—who was up front with Elidor—had to look over her shoulder to address the man-bull.

“Are you saying Nearra is lying?” the warrior said, a challenge in her tone.

“No,” the minotaur said evenly. “But humans have a tendency of being … over-imaginative.”

Before Catriona could get into an argument with Jax, Nearra said, “Nevertheless, it’s true. On my honor.”

Jax opened his mouth as if he intended to dispute the story further, but then thought better of it. He accepted Nearra’s statement with a nod.

The six companions continued walking, and Nearra thought
the matter was settled. At length Jax said, “My people tell stories of a time when priests and priestesses could perform miracles in the name of our god Sargas, the Great Horned One. But these days, very few minotaurs believe the tales were true.”

“People used to believe that dragons were only myths,” Elidor said, “but the great beasts have returned to the world. Who’s to say that miracles haven’t returned as well?”

Jax thought on this for a time. Eventually, he said, “I would have to see such a miracle to believe it. Some of my ancestors were priests, but when they could no longer fulfill their promises of healing, my people came to believe the priests had lost the favor of Sargas, and they were disgraced. Since then, no one in my family has entered the priesthood.” Jax paused, and when he continued, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I would very much like to see a miracle, even a small one. It would restore my ancestors’ honor—in my eyes, if in no one else’s.”

“Not to criticize your abilities as a guide, Elidor,” Davyn said. “But shouldn’t we have left the trail by now?”

“Wondering why you bothered hiring me in the first place, eh?” Elidor said. “After all, who needs a guide to travel such a simple, well-defined trail as this? Believe me, I understand completely. But I’ll start earning my keep soon enough. We should reach the point where we’ll need to leave the trail right around nightfall. We should probably start looking for a good campsite now, and then tomorrow—”

Elidor broke off. He stopped walking and cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something.

Everyone gathered around the elf, concerned.

“What is it?” Catriona asked as she drew her sword.

Elidor frowned as he listened, though Nearra couldn’t hear anything. Did elves possess better hearing than humans? She didn’t know.