Temple of the Dragonslayer (29 page)

What an interesting turn of events, he thought. He then jumped out the window, landing cat-silent, and jogged after Davyn, determined to learn what the ranger was up to.

So far, the temple had proven to be a disappointment for Elidor: books that couldn’t be removed from their library, and a repository full of worthless holy relics, not one made of anything valuable, like diamond or steel. But sometimes information could be the most valuable thing of all—depending on what it was, and more importantly, how it could be used.

He continued moving through the night, just one more shadow among all the others.

Who knows? he thought. I might actually be able to make a profit from this little adventure after all.

D
avyn unlocked the gate as he had watched Feandan do and opened it enough so he could step through. He knew that he had deactivated the temple’s defensive barrier, but he wasn’t concerned about the possibility of an attack. Maddoc just wanted to talk.

Davyn didn’t have far to walk. The falcon was waiting for him on a birch branch, just a few feet from the temple’s exterior wall.

Davyn’s throat felt dry as dirt, his stomach like a solid block of ice. Now that he was actually about to confront his father and try to talk him out of his plan to attack the temple, he wasn’t certain he could go through with it. But he knew he had to—for Nearra’s sake.

Beneath the tree stood Oddvar and two of the goblin bandits, Drefan and Fyren. Fyren looked worse than he had the last time Davyn had seen him, and he guessed the goblin had been severely wounded when Ugo knocked down the columns in Underfell. Both of Fyren’s arms and one of his legs were bound in splints, and he was wrapped in so many cloth bandages that he could barely move. Now that it was night, Oddvar wore the hood of his cloak down, and the Theiwar’s eyes seemed as large as an owl’s.

“I see you managed to survive the cave-in,” Davyn said, making sure to keep his voice low. He looked at Fyren. “Though some fared better than others, it appears. Ugo?”

“Dead,” Oddvar said without emotion.

“Several tons of rock falling on your head will do that,” Davyn said. “Gifre, too?”

“That’s none of your concern, boy.”

“All right, be secretive,” Davyn said. “See if I care.” He looked up at the falcon, knowing that by doing so, he was also looking at his father. “What do you wish of me?”

The falcon relayed a telepathic message from Maddoc.

Davyn was astonished. “Do you mean it? You’re really not going to go through with your plan to attack the temple?” In the event that Nearra reached the temple, Maddoc had planned to have Slean lay siege to it. But now it seemed that wasn’t going to happen.

“Maddoc believes the situation has become too complicated,” Oddvar said. “In addition to the companions Nearra has acquired on her journey, she is now protected by four clerics. To make matters worse, a mystic barrier guards the temple. Given all these factors, the odds are slim that an attack would succeed in causing the Emergence to take place.”

Davyn felt a wave of relief. His father was a reasonable man after all. He decided to press the matter further.

“I … I don’t think we should keep trying to make the Emergence happen anymore. Nearra … she’s so kind. She doesn’t deserve this. I want her to stay the way she is.”

The falcon gazed at Davyn intensely then, and the young ranger heard his father’s voice whisper in his mind.

You’re a love-addled fool, boy! Haven’t I taught you that sacrifices are unavoidable along the path to ultimate power? Such sentimentality, such weakness disgusts me
.

Davyn’s face burned with shame and anger, but he didn’t reply.

Oddvar reached into his tunic pocket and brought forth
a scroll bound by a black ribbon. “Maddoc believes that the clerics, having failed to heal Nearra on their own, will search for a wizardly solution. This document tells of an enclave of wizards in the Vingaard Mountains who are especially skilled at removing curses. Maddoc wants you to place this scroll in the archive for the clerics to find. With any luck, they will believe the scroll to be one of the temple’s documents, and they will advise Nearra to seek out the mages in the mountains. Once you have reached this new destination, we shall again attempt to force the Emergence.”

Davyn took the scroll and placed it in one of his own pockets. He looked at the falcon’s eyes, and he thought he could sense his father, miles away, sitting in his favorite chair before the fireplace, gauging the level of his son’s sincerity. Finally, the ebon falcon nodded once, then took to the sky, quickly melting into the night.

“Maddoc wants to give you one last chance to redeem yourself, boy,” Oddvar sneered. “But I disagree with him. I think you’ve come to care too much about that girl and can no longer be trusted. For his sake, I hope you prove me wrong.”

With that, the dark dwarf turned and began walking away. The two goblins followed, Fyren leaning on Drefan for support.

Davyn turned and headed back for the temple. He didn’t see Elidor—who had been listening from behind the wall—hurry back to get to the temple door before Davyn came through the gate.

Elidor had learned a great deal about the ranger this night. Now he had to figure out a way to use this knowledge to his best advantage.

Oddvar and the goblins continued walking through the valley away from the temple until they came to a birch tree that had one branch broken off. They found it without any trouble. After
all, Drefan had been the one who’d broken it. They stopped there and waited.

“Do you think he fell for it?” Fyren asked. His voice was garbled due to his swollen lips and a number of missing teeth.

“Of course,” Oddvar replied. “Davyn believed it because it was what he wanted to hear. Humans are like that.”

Drefan chuckled. “Humans are such fools.”

Oddvar looked at the goblin leader. He was about to tell him that goblins were ten times the fools that human were. But before he could speak, the black falcon landed on the protruding stub of the broken branch, just as they’d planned.

The falcon relayed a message from its master.

“I’ll try,” the Theiwar said. “But once the attack begins, it will be difficult if not impossible to ensure Davyn’s safety. If it comes down to a choice between the Emergence taking place or Davyn getting hurt, what do you want us to do?”

The bird passed on another message.

The Emergence is more important than anything
.

“Even more important than your son?” Oddvar asked.

Anything
.

There weren’t any good places to hide in the courtyard—no trees, no large rocks—and the temple’s dome shape didn’t offer any convenient nooks and crannies to conceal one’s self in. Gifre was glad that Oddvar had insisted he wear one of the Theiwar’s dark cloaks. It now provided his only camouflage. But he had taken other precautions against being seen. He lay on the ground as flat as he could, covered by the black cloak. He’d also chosen a spot close to the temple, but far away from the main gate and any windows. He was confident that no one would detect his presence before sunrise, and by then it would be far too late.

He had sneaked into the courtyard when Davyn had left the gate unlocked and the mystic barrier deactivated. He knew the barrier would start functioning again the instant Davyn
returned, closed the gate, and locked it. But that didn’t matter now that Gifre had managed to make it inside the wall. Gifre would spend the rest of the night on this side of the barrier. When the sun began to rise tomorrow morning, he would go to the gate, throw open the lock, and the magic barrier would fall. And once that happened, there would be nothing to prevent the rest of the plan from falling into place.

Gifre almost giggled at the thought, but he clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. Oddvar was always telling him and the other two goblins how stupid they were. Well, tonight he’d show that slug-skinned tunnel dweller that goblins weren’t so dumb after all. He’d lie here still and silent until morning and then he’d do his job.

And after that, the fun would truly begin.

N
earra awoke to the sound of a loud crash. “What was that?” she said as she sat up. Catriona was already dressed and putting on her boots. “I believe we are under attack.”

Nearra felt a stab of fear. She threw her blanket aside and reached for her own boots.

Catriona stood and buckled on her sword belt. “Stay here, Nearra, and shut and bar the window. Whatever is happening, you’ll be safer inside.” Without waiting for Nearra to reply, Catriona opened the door of their room and dashed into the hallway.

Nearra could hear the sounds of yelling and of feet pounding down the corridors as people ran. She could make out various voices: Davyn’s, Sindri’s, Jax’s, and Elidor’s, as well as those of the clerics. Everyone was rushing to see what the trouble was and to do something about it. Everyone except her.

Whatever was happening, she felt sure it had something to do with her. And she couldn’t just sit here while the others might well be putting themselves in danger’s way on her account, no matter how afraid she might be.

She finished putting on her boots and then rummaged through Catriona’s pack until she found a dagger. Nearra had
lost her own weapon along with everything else back at Underfell. She knew Catriona wouldn’t mind if she used her dagger. It might not have been much of a weapon, but it was all she had.

As she dashed into the hallway and ran after her friends, she couldn’t help thinking it was a shame that Raedon had left them to go check on his lair. She had a feeling they could use the copper dragon’s help right now.