Temple of the Dragonslayer (8 page)

E
lidor had said they could reach the temple in only a couple of days if they traveled by horseback. But since there wasn’t enough of Maddoc’s money left to buy horses for them all in addition to the supplies they needed, they would have to walk. That meant the trip would take four days, perhaps five depending on how often and long they needed to rest.

To prepare, they purchased dried beef from the butcher and rye bread from the baker. Then they stopped at a cobbler to get sturdy walking boots for Nearra. At the market, they bought a traveler’s pack for Nearra as well as water skins and rain cloaks for the entire group.

“We’ll be traveling through the forest north of Tresvka at first,” Elidor said. “But when we reach the plains, we’ll need to protect ourselves from the sun’s rays. We can wear our rain cloaks with the hoods up, and if they get too hot, I can weave us some simple but serviceable hats from rushes, leaves, and twigs.”

“You can?” Sindri asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Elidor laughed. “Of course, my small friend. I am Kagonesti.”

The companions knew there was an excellent chance the minotaur was still searching for Sindri since the kender had now humiliated him twice. So they’d taken precautions. While
the others had been buying supplies, Davyn and Catriona had visited several taverns and spread the word that the kender wizard called Sindri Suncatcher had departed Tresvka on a special mission to the south.

Catriona and Sindri had been staying at a small but respectable inn, and they decided that the others should join them there for the night. The five companions would set off on their journey at dawn.

While the purse of coins that Maddoc had given Davyn was significantly lighter after shopping, there was still enough left for the five of them to eat dinner. Davyn felt it would be safer to leave Sindri behind while the rest of them ate, but Catriona refused to leave Sindri alone. The companions gathered in Sindri’s room to decide what to do.

“I need to eat,” Catriona said. “Tomorrow we start out on a long journey.”

“Of course you need to eat,” Davyn said, sounding irritated. “But if we want to keep the minotaur from finding Sindri, we can’t have him sitting in the common room with the rest of us. An elf can always brush his hair over his ears, sit in a dark corner, and with luck, pass for human.”

“Not that he’d want to,” Elidor said, smiling to show that he was only joking.

“But it’s not so easy to disguise a kender,” Davyn finished.

“If we keep arguing, there won’t be any food left downstairs,” Catriona said.

“And I haven’t had a decent meal in …” Nearra paused. “Well, I don’t remember when. But I’m starving! Let’s just go downstairs and eat. What are the odds that the minotaur will come to this particular inn looking for Sindri?”

“He could always eat here in his room,” Davyn said.

“What?” Sindri yelped. “And miss all the fun downstairs? I’d rather have the minotaur catch me! Why don’t I go find that beast and settle this once and for all.” He grabbed his cape and headed for the door.

“No!” they shouted. Catriona snatched him by the hood and pulled him back.

They all started arguing at once then.

Catriona yelled, “Be silent!” The warrior lifted the hood of Sindri’s cape and smiled slowly, a twinkle in her eye. “I think I have a better idea.”

It was busy in the common room that night. The thick stone walls made for a welcome respite from the heat outside, and almost every table was full of men and women eating and talking. Many were citizens of Tresvka who’d just come here for a good meal and to be entertained by the bard strumming his lyre in the corner. Servers ran back and forth bringing ale from the bar and steaming mutton stew or venison roast from the kitchen. Overseeing it all from the doorway, the huge innkeeper stood, his arms crossed and his face contorted into a permanent scowl.

Davyn, Nearra, and Elidor took a table in a dark alcove as far from the entrance as they could get. Catriona arrived several moments later carrying a wooden crate.

“Where did you find that?” Davyn asked.

“In the kitchen.” Catriona set the crate on the bench and out popped Sindri, wearing Catriona’s rain cloak.

“This crate used to hold potatoes,” Sindri said. Catriona turned the crate over and gestured for Sindri to climb up.

The kender scampered onto the top of the crate with the ease and agility of a squirrel. He grinned as he looked around. “So this is what the world looks like to you big folk!” He laughed. “Your heads are up so high, I’m surprised you ever notice anything beneath your noses.”

“Shh, Sindri!” Catriona said. “Try not to draw attention to yourself!” She adjusted the rain cloak to cover the crate and pulled the hood up, concealing Sindri’s pointed ears.

Davyn snorted. “He doesn’t look human. His head’s still kender-sized.”

Catriona frowned. “Maybe so, but he looks good enough to pass for human at a distance.”

“A very long distance,” Davyn muttered. “Say ten or twenty miles.”

When the serving woman brought their food, she gave Sindri a strange look. But she set their dinners onto the table without a word. They had all ordered the same thing: mutton stew with onions, peas, and beans served in trenchers of bowl-shaped dark bread. As they ate, Nearra turned to Elidor.

“I’m afraid I don’t recall much about elves,” she said. “Perhaps you could refresh my memory?”

The elf laughed. “There’s so much to tell, I hardly know where to begin!” He thought for a moment. “Well, for one thing, though I appear to be a teenager, just like the rest of you, I am in fact sixty-three years old. Since my people typically live to be over five hundred, even a Kagonesti isn’t considered a full-fledged adult until the age of eighty.”

“What does Kagonesti mean?” Nearra said.

Elidor’s eyebrows lifted. “You really don’t remember much, do you?” He took in a deep breath then continued, “There are several different races of elves. Silvanesti claim to be the first elves of Krynn. The Qualinesti are smaller and darker than their Silvanesti cousins. Dimernesti and Dargonesti are sea elves. The Kagonesti are known as wild elves. I happen to be part Kagonesti and part Silvanesti.”

Sindri tore off a hunk of bread from his trencher and spoke as he chewed. “I’ve heard that Silvanesti elves don’t approve of having children with other types of elves. If that’s true, how could you be half Silvanesti and half Kagonesti?”

Elidor glared at the kender, and a tense silence fell over the table.

Sindri, who had been in the process of taking a bite of stew, stopped, the spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Elidor gave the kender a smile that seemed forced. “The
matter is a sensitive one among elves, and we do not usually discuss it with those of other races.”

“Oh,” Sindri said. Then he shrugged and returned to eating as if nothing had happened.

Nearra hastened to change the subject. “Elidor, what can you tell me of the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars?”

Elidor cleared his throat. “Well—”

“Oh, let me tell the story!” Sindri said. “One of the things I love most—besides magic, of course—is collecting stories, especially stories that deal with magic. That’s why I’m so excited about going to the temple. I learned all about it from a wizard named Fizban at the Inn of the Last Home.” Elidor nodded and Sindri continued, his voice taking on the tone of a practiced storyteller.

“These events took place before the Cataclysm, so it’s difficult to tell how much of the story is fact and how much is legend. But according to the tale, the temple was founded by a cleric named Elethia. It was her dream to create a place where priests and priestesses of all the gods could live and work together. Clerics from all over Ansalon came to be part of Elethia’s dream, and her temple grew in size, beauty, and power. But one day a fierce red dragon called Kiernan the Crimson decided to claim the lands surrounding Tresvka as his own.”

Nearra couldn’t help shuddering as Sindri said the word dragon. Once again she saw Slean’s eyes, heard her harsh voice, saw her mouth opening to display twin rows of sharp teeth …

Sindri continued. “Kiernan began attacking the trading caravans, demanding they pay him tribute if they wished to live to complete their journeys. The caravan masters had no choice but to give Kiernan whatever valuables he desired for his treasure hoard. The dragon, of course, was too clever to go anywhere near the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars, but word of Kiernan’s harassment reached the clerics nevertheless. It was Elethia herself who chose to leave the temple and confront Kiernan.

“By this time the red dragon had grown much bolder, and the beast began flying over Tresvka, threatening to burn the town to ashes if the citizens didn’t pay him tribute. The people of Tresvka decided to pay. But just as Kiernan was about to fly away with the valuables he had forced the townsfolk to gather for him, Elethia arrived.

“She demanded that Kiernan leave the tribute, depart Tresvka and the surrounding lands, and never return. Kiernan, however, was an evil, proud dragon and refused. He attacked Elethia. Wielding the holy power granted to her by the gods, she fought back. Ultimately, Elethia placed a blessing upon an arrow and fired it at the raging dragon flying high above. The holy arrow flew straight and true and struck the beast in the eye. Kiernan crashed to the ground, dead, a threat no more.”

When Sindri’s tale ended, everyone was silent for a moment, then the kender grinned sheepishly. “I hope I told the tale well enough. I’ve only heard it told once, and I’m not sure I did the story justice.”

“You did a fine job, Sindri,” Catriona said, her tone gentle for a change.

“Indeed,” Nearra said. “It seems you are also a wizard with words when you wish to be.”

Sindri blushed, then his gaze immediately darted around the room like an impatient hummingbird. He nodded his head in time to the bard’s music. Nearra agreed with Davyn. Sindri’s disguise wasn’t an especially effective one, but it made her smile to see the kender enjoying his masquerade so much.

“’Ere now, wot’s yer problem?” Nearra looked up and saw a bald-headed man with a nose ring and a scar running down the middle of his face from crown to chin. The man was glaring straight at Sindri. The kender looked around to see if he was addressing anyone else. Finally, Sindri said, “Do you mean me?”

“Yeah, I mean you! I been wash … wash … watching you
for a while now. And I got a question for you. What in the name of Paladine is wrong with yer head?”

Nearra could tell by the way the man slurred his speech—not to mention his blood-shot eyes—that he’d partaken of too much ale this evening. And he was obviously the type who was made belligerent by drink.

“Why, whatever do you mean, my good man?” Sindri then blinked several times to feign puzzlement.

Nearra had to keep from rolling her eyes. The kender might be a wizard, but he certainly wasn’t an actor.

“I mean yer bloody head!” the drunk said in exasperation. “It’s too small for yer body! I’ve heard tell that some savages who inhabit distant lands shrink the heads of their enemies. Is that wot happened to you?”

“So our friend has a small head. What is it to you? Go back to your table and leave us in peace.” Davyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure there’s a mug full of ale somewhere that’s calling your name.”

The man scowled. “Are you calling me a drunk?”

“No,” Davyn said. “I’m saying you are drunk, and I’m asking you to go bother someone else.”

The man made a sound low in his throat that was nearly a growl. He reached beneath the belt of his tunic for his iron mace. His fingers fumbled clumsily as he struggled to draw the weapon.

“Take that back, boy, or I’m gonna bath … bath … bash yer head in!”

Sindri sighed. “This was fun at first, but it’s beginning to grow tiresome. If you don’t do as my friend asks, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to cast a spell on you.”

“Not now, Sindri!” Catriona hissed.

“A shh … a shh … a shpell? Wot, you some kinda wizard?” He laughed. “Well, that would ’splain the size of yer head. You musta shrunk it when one of yer spells went wrong!” He roared with laughter.

Sindri frowned. “Very well. You leave me no choice.” He lifted his arm and rolled up the sleeve of Catriona’s cloak until his small hand was visible.

“You’ve got teeny arms, too!” This set the drunk off into fresh peals of laughter.

Sindri concentrated and wiggled his fingers.

At first, nothing happened, which only made the man laugh harder. Nearra feared that whatever magic the kender possessed was going to fail him.

But then the bald man’s nose ring began to quiver, and he stopped laughing. His eyes crossed as he tried to look at the ring.

“What the—?”

He started to reach for the ring, but before he could get his hand on it, the ring suddenly flew across the room. Unfortunately, the man remained standing where he was. He screamed and clapped his hands to his face in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

While he was howling in pain, Catriona got up, removed the mace from the man’s belt, and clonked him over the head with it. The man stopped yelling and fell to the floor.