Temple of the Dragonslayer (25 page)

She lifted her hands high and turned her face toward Nuitari. Cold horror washed over her soul as she saw not a dark moon, but rather a huge ebon eye glaring down upon her with fury and hatred.

She tried to begin the spell, but instead of words of magic, all that came out of her mouth was a terrified scream.

“Nearra, wake up!”

The voice seemed to come from a great distance away, but she latched onto it as a drowning person would to a rope and used the sound to pull her out of the darkness.

She opened her eyes and saw Davyn’s concerned face looking down at her.

She grew quiet and gave Davyn a sheepish smile. “Let me guess. I was having a nightmare.” Slowly, her confusion began to give way to memory. She lay in a bedroll upon the soft grass of the field where they had made camp for the night. The silver light of the two-thirds full Solinari painted the clearing with gentle illumination, more than enough to see Davyn’s face—as well as those of the others, who were all awake and looking at her with concern.

“I’m sorry I woke you all,” Nearra said.

Catriona was on her feet, sword in hand, and Nearra knew that the warrior had armed herself the instant she’d heard her friend scream. Jax had grabbed his battle-axe, and Elidor was balancing a throwing knife on the tip of his index finger.

Catriona lowered her sword, but she didn’t sheathe it. “That must have been quite a dream,” she said.

“I suppose,” Nearra said. “I don’t remember much of it.” She
wasn’t sure why she said this, for she remembered the dream in vivid detail. But some instinct told her not to say anything more about it. Besides, it was just a bad dream. And it wasn’t as if it was about her. The woman in the dream was older and had long black hair.

Davyn was kneeling next to Nearra, holding her hand. The contact felt nice, especially after that awful dream.

Nearra shivered, as much from the cool night air as from the memory of her dream. “I wish we could build a fire,” she said.

“Me, too!” Sindri agreed. “Then we could all sit around it and tell ghost stories.”

“I’ve heard it said that speaking of ghosts summons them from their shadowy realm,” Elidor said. He tossed a throwing knife into the air, caught it, and slid it back into its boot sheath.

“Really?” Sindri said, excited. “Let’s try it!”

The idea of being visited by spirits disturbed Nearra. “I’d really rather not, Sindri,” she said.

The kender looked disappointed, but he nodded.

“We didn’t build a fire because we didn’t wish to alert anyone or anything to our presence,” Catriona said. “Especially Oddvar and the goblin raiders—assuming that they were able to dig their way out of Underfell.”

“Nearra screamed so loudly, I doubt there’s anyone in Solamnia who isn’t aware of us now,” Elidor said.

“The elf speaks true,” Jax rumbled. “If you wish to build a fire, I shall keep watch.” The minotaur glanced up at the night sky. “Dawn is not far off, and my people can go without sleep when we need to.”

“Thank you,” Nearra said, “but I’ll be fine in a bit. One bad dream isn’t enough reason to risk a fire when we have enemies about.”

Jax nodded. “Then I shall return to sleep. Wake me if I am needed.” The minotaur lay down on his bedroll, put his axe on the ground next to him, and rolled over on his side.

Nearra envied the minotaur. She wished she could go back to sleep so easily.

“Since I’m awake, I think I’ll go off and explore a bit,” Sindri said. “I imagine there must be all sorts of strange and interesting things about.” Before anyone could stop him, the kender scampered off into the trees and disappeared.

Catriona let out a sigh of frustration. “I hate it when he does that.”

“Should we go after him?” Nearra asked, worried about Sindri’s safety in the night.

“There’s no need,” Elidor said. “He’s a kender. They’re harder to kill than cockroaches. I’m sure he’ll return by morning, safe and sound.” And with that, the elf lay down on his bedroll and closed his eyes.

“Elidor is right,” Catriona said. “You’d think the way kender eagerly throw themselves into dangerous situations, they wouldn’t live long, but somehow they always manage to survive.” She smiled. “Sometimes I think the gods gave their kind extra luck just to keep them alive. I shall stand watch, though, just in case. I suggest you try to go back to sleep.” She gave Davyn a distrustful look. “Both of you. Dawn will come soon, and you’ll need your rest for tomorrow’s trek to the temple. You are still certain that you want to go?”

“I know it may be dangerous,” Nearra said. “There’s no way of knowing whether or not it’s another trap. But it’s the only hope I have to regain my memory. We have to try.”

Catriona nodded in silent agreement, then moved off a dozen yards. She squatted on her haunches and held her sword in front of her. Both of her hands rested on the hilt, with the sword’s point touching the ground. She stared in the direction Sindri had run off. Nearra knew Catriona wouldn’t move before sunrise.

Nearra and Davyn were now alone, more or less. Davyn didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t try to take it away.

“It’s funny,” he said in a low voice.

“What?”

“How devoted Catriona is to Sindri. They don’t seem to have anything in common, and the kender drives her crazy. Yet I believe she would give her life for him without a moment’s thought.”

“It’s not so strange,” Nearra said. “Catriona made a vow to take care of Sindri, and she’ll do everything she can to fulfill that promise. Isn’t that what friends do? Take care of each other?”

Davyn looked away. “I … I never really had friends before. I’m not sure what they do.”

Nearra smiled. “It’s never too late to learn, you know. Look at me. When you and Maddoc found me, I was alone. Now I have five good friends.”

Davyn looked back at her and smiled. “That’s because you’re a kind, caring person, Nearra.”

“I don’t know what sort of person I am. Or was. Who knows what I was like before I lost my memory? I might have been perfectly horrid.”

“You weren’t,” Davyn said.

Nearra laughed. “How could you know?”

Davyn looked uncomfortable. “I,
uh
, believe that a person is more than the sum of his or her memories. A person has an inner spirit that doesn’t change. And you have a very beautiful spirit.”

Nearra looked into Davyn’s eyes for a long moment, but eventually the ranger looked away, clearly embarrassed. She decided to change the subject. “I wish I could understand why Maddoc is doing all this. You told me that he was looking for me in the forest. Was he there to help me or hurt me? Does he know who I really am? Could he be my father … or a friend of my family? What does he
want
from me?”

Davyn jerked his hand away from Nearra and jumped to his feet. “I wish I had answers for you, but I’ve told you all I know. I should let you get back to sleep.” He walked over to his bedroll and lay down.

Nearra lay back herself and drew the cover of her bedroll up to her chin. She looked over at Davyn. She knew he was deeply troubled by something, but she had no idea what it might be. She wished that he would confide in her. If he did, perhaps she could help him.

She decided she would just have to wait until he was ready to tell her what was wrong. She just hoped that if and when he did, it wouldn’t be too late.

“Stop scratching, Sindri,” Catriona said.

“I can’t help it! It itches like mad!”

As Elidor had predicted, Sindri had returned to the camp by sunrise. Unfortunately, he had brought with him a bad case of poison ivy.

“Why not use your magic to stop the itch?” Jax asked.

“Magic doesn’t work like that,” Sindri said as he vigorously scratched the strawberry-colored rash on the side of his neck. “I don’t know any anti-itch spells.” He frowned. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

“I know a number of plants that can be used to make a medicine for such a rash,” Davyn said.

“Really?” Sindri asked hopefully.

“However, they are rare this far north,” Davyn answered. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for them since we broke camp this morning, but I haven’t seen any.”

Sindri groaned in disappointment and scratched all the harder.

“We should arrive at the temple by afternoon. Perhaps the clerics will have a supply of such plants,” Elidor said. “After all, they are supposed to be skilled in healing.”

“These clerics are supposed to use their holy powers to heal people,” Sindri said. “They don’t need medicine.”

Elidor shrugged. “So? What does it matter how your discomfort is relieved, as long as it is? Besides, though I have heard
stories that healing magic returned to Krynn after the War of the Lance, I have not observed such magic at work, and I doubt the stories are true.”

“Let’s hope they are,” Catriona said. “For Nearra’s sake.”

They continued walking in silence after that. Nearra was puzzled. Though Davyn was a ranger and thus well-versed in plant lore, he had said on several occasions that he was unfamiliar with the north. But if he truly didn’t know anything about this area, how did he know that the plants he needed to help Sindri were rare here?

Perhaps it was merely a detail he’d noticed while they’d traveled, she told herself. Or maybe he really did know these parts and for some reason had lied about it.

She sighed. Once you began doubting someone, it was hard to trust again.

They were forced to climb over one of the hills since Heaven’s Pass was still blocked. As they mounted the hill’s peak, the temple came into view. It was nestled within a small valley, surrounded by green fields and white birch trees. The valley possessed an atmosphere of quiet calm, and Nearra knew this was a place of safety and tranquility. She couldn’t imagine a more appropriate setting for a temple of healing.

The temple was dome-shaped and constructed from large blocks of white stone. A circular wall thirty feet high ran around the outside of the main building. The only way to enter, at least that they could see, was an iron gate set into one section of the wall.

They started to descend the hill but after a few steps, Catriona put up her hand. “Hold a moment,” she said. “Jax and I should go first to check for any danger.”

Nearra shivered in spite of the warm sun.

Jax nodded and heaved his battle-axe over his shoulder. Without another word, he and Catriona padded their way down the
hillside, weaving back and forth among the birch trees. The others crouched low, watching from the hilltop. When the warriors came to the temple, they circled the wall. Then Catriona waved her arm above her head, motioning for the group to join them.

“All clear!” she shouted.

Nearra jumped up and bounded down the hill, her friends close behind. It won’t be long now! she thought.

As they drew closer, they could see that the temple’s outer wall was riddled with cracks. Large chunks of stone had fallen to the ground. Nevertheless, the wall appeared intact, if only just. While the noonday sun shining on the stone’s surface had made it appear white from a distance, up close the stone looked a shade closer to dingy yellow-gray. The iron gate was shedding flakes of rust, and the courtyard visible between its bars, was nothing but dry, cracked earth.