Return of the Sorceress (5 page)

“Wow!” Sindri said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before!”

The skeletal griffin circled over the Pit. It opened its beak and produced an eerie, high-pitched shriek. The unnatural cry made Davyn shudder.

“What’s that thing doing here?” Catriona asked.

“Maddoc sent it,” Davyn said. “He must’ve sensed whatever magic Nearra used against the lizard-boar. If we can destroy the griffin’s wings, it won’t be able to fly. Then we can work on severing the straps that hold the bones together.”

Davyn drew an arrow and nocked it. Elidor reached for a pair of throwing knives.

“Let me have your dagger,” Sindri said to Ayanti. “I’ll use my magic to send it flying at the griffin.”

Ayanti looked at Davyn and raised a questioning eyebrow. There was no way Davyn could explain to Ayanti that Sindri’s “magic” came from the enchanted ring Maddoc had given him long ago—a ring that Sindri now wore on one of his fingers. Even Sindri didn’t know his ability to levitate things came from the ring; he truly believed he was a wizard. In the end, all Davyn could do was nod.

Evidently, it was good enough, for Ayanti bent down and handed her dagger to Sindri.

“I’ll take the left wing,” Davyn said.

“Then I’ll take the right.” Elidor nodded.

“I’ll try to sever the skull from the neck,” Sindri said. “Maybe it won’t be able to function without its head.”

“All right,” Davyn said. “On the count of three. One, two—”

But before any of them could fire, the bone-griffin suddenly shrieked and dove into the Pit.

“Nearra, look out!” Davyn shouted.

    N
earra flattened herself against the wall, but there was nowhere in the Pit to go. The bone-griffin reached out with its front legs, which ended in eagle talons, and grabbed her by the shoulders. Nearra struggled to break free, but the undead creature’s grip was too strong. The bone-griffin flapped its leather wings furiously and lifted Nearra into the air.

“Don’t attack!” Catriona shouted to her friends. “You might injure Nearra!”

And then the bone-griffin ascended into the sky and began carrying its prize toward its master’s keep.

“Come on!” Davyn shouted. “We have to go after Nearra!” He started to run, but Catriona grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Of course we will,” Catriona said. “But we can’t simply walk up to Maddoc’s front door and knock. If we could, we wouldn’t have come to Ravenscar in the first place.”

Davyn knew his friend was right, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Maddoc getting hold of Nearra. The wizard had already caused the deaths of Davyn’s parents. Davyn didn’t want to lose Nearra too.

Elidor put a hand on Davyn’s shoulder. “We won’t abandon Nearra. You know that.”

Davyn shrugged off the elf’s hand and glared at him. “This is
your
fault! If you hadn’t bribed those two barbarians with counterfeit coins, they wouldn’t have come after us, Sindri wouldn’t have been forced to use his magic, and Maddoc wouldn’t have become aware that we’re in Ravenscar. The wizard wouldn’t have sent his bone-griffin and most of all, Nearra would still be with us!” Davyn was almost screaming by the time he reached the end of his tirade.

Elidor took a step back, as if Davyn’s words had dealt him a physical blow. “I didn’t intend—”

“That’s the problem!” Davyn interrupted. “You never
intend
anything, other than indulging your own need for excitement and riches, that is! They say that there’s no honor among thieves. After getting to know you, I believe it!”

Davyn didn’t wait for the elf to respond. He turned and walked away from the Pit in the direction of Maddoc’s keep.

“Whoever wants to save Nearra, come with me,” Davyn said. “We can think of a plan along the way.”

But before Davyn could walk more than a few feet, Elidor said, “No honor? You have the gall to speak to me of honor? You, who lied to us about your relationship to Maddoc and who aided the wizard in his plan to restore Asvoria to life? If anyone here is responsible for Nearra’s plight, it is you, my deceptive friend!”

Davyn stopped. He was so filled with fury that he started to reach for an arrow, but he didn’t. He knew that Elidor was right, and the anger he felt wasn’t directed at the elf but rather at himself.

He let out a long breath, and his anger drained away. He didn’t start walking again, but neither did he turn around to face his friends. He couldn’t bear to look into their eyes just then.

He heard soft hoof-falls as Ayanti walked up to him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you and your companions, Davyn, but I do know one thing. You’re a good person at heart, and I’ve always been proud to call you my friend.”

Davyn looked at her smiling face and he smiled back.

“Now we should go somewhere safe,” Ayanti continued. “You can fill me in on what’s happening and maybe we can find a way to help Nearra. All right?”

Davyn nodded. He turned to look at Elidor. The elf was scowling, arms folded across his chest. But finally he nodded as well. “But only for Nearra’s sake,” he said.

Davyn knew he should apologize to Elidor, but he was too ashamed. “For Nearra,” he agreed.

Davyn caught the concerned glance that Catriona gave Sindri but chose to ignore it. “Let’s go,” he said to Ayanti.

“Follow me, everyone,” the centaur said, and then set off at a trot away from the Pit and toward the forest.

After helping Kuruk to the edge of the forest where he’d be safe, Shiriki returned to retrieve Bolthor. She dragged the unconscious bandit king to the dilapidated hut that served as his home and tossed him onto his straw-filled pallet. She then went back to Kuruk and brought her cousin to Bolthor’s hut where she tended to his wounds while their employer slept.

Shirki was worried about her cousin. He’d taken an arrow in the shoulder and a sword blow to the left leg. His leather armor had prevented the arrow from penetrating too deeply, but his leg wound had bled quite a bit, and Kuruk’s face was pale, especially for the normally swarthy-skinned Wilder Elves.

Shiriki treated his wounds as he lay on the floor of the hut. She removed the arrow from his shoulder, poured some of Bolthor’s
wine over the wound to clean it, and then bound it with a clean cloth. She then did the same for his leg wound. Kuruk hissed in pain.

“Hush,” she said. “Don’t be such an infant.”

Kuruk gritted his teeth as she wrapped a bandage around his leg. When Shiriki was finished, she examined her work, then nodded in satisfaction. “They’ll do.”

“It’s your turn, then.” Kuruk attempted to sit up, but Shiriki pushed him back down.

“Lie still, my cousin. You lost more blood than I. I can tend to my own wound.”

She tore the sleeve of her tunic to reveal the wound to her arm. She cleansed it then bound it in cloth. She flexed her arm and grimaced.

“Good enough,” she pronounced.

“How’s Bolthor?” Kuruk asked.

Shiriki glanced over at the pallet where their employer lay. “He’ll live, but it’s hard to say how long he shall remain unconscious.”

“I can’t believe those brats were able to wound both of us,” Kuruk said bitterly. “And without so much as getting a scratch themselves!”

“It’s that attitude which caused you to be wounded in the first place,” Shiriki said. “You underestimated them just because they were young. Even the elf hasn’t seen his first century yet.”

Kuruk sneered. “The half-breed, you mean.”

“Yes. But just because his blood is impure doesn’t mean he is incapable of fighting.”

Kuruk nodded at her bandaged arm. “It appears I’m not the only one who underestimated them.”

“True,” she agreed. “We were both overconfident. It is a common enough failing in our people.” Elves, no matter what kind, were much longer lived than humans, had superior strength
and speed, and the ability to see in the dark. It was difficult for elves to remember that other races had strengths and skills of their own.

“We shall not be so foolish when we next encounter them,” she said.

Kuruk smiled. “Does my beloved cousin have vengeance on her mind?”

Shiriki smiled back. “Of course. But even if I didn’t, Bolthor is sure to send us after them.”

Kuruk snorted. “Bolthor is scarcely more intelligent than the beasts he sends to their deaths in his loathsome Pit. If we had anywhere else to go we’d never have started working for him in the first place.”

Shiriki glanced at Bolthor to see if he’d heard her cousin, but the bandit chieftain was still dead to the world.

Kuruk sighed. “If only the Dark Queen had succeeded.”

“But she didn’t,” Shiriki said. “And because we served in her army, our own people shun us, and we are equally unwelcome in human lands. Only bandits like Bolthor and his ilk will have anything to do with us.”

“We could always go into the wilderness,” Kuruk said, “and live off the land, just the two of us.”

“I’ve told you at least a dozen times before that if we are to continue to do Takhisis’s work, to help prepare Krynn for the day of her return, we cannot isolate ourselves. We must continue to spread our Queen’s darkness throughout Ansalon, even in our own small way.”

Bolthor stirred on his pallet and sat up groggily. He put his hand to his head and winced in pain.

“I want to find those children,” he growled. “Now!”

Shiriki nodded. “As you command, Bolthor.” She held out a hand to Kuruk. “Rise, my cousin. The hunt begins.”

Kuruk grinned as he took Shriki’s hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “We’ll find them quickly, then kill them slowly.”

Shriki grinned back. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

    N
earra saw trees with new green leaves pass beneath her as the bone-griffin bore her away from Ravenscar. Her shoulders ached from where the undead creature’s claws gripped her, but she didn’t think the monster’s talons had penetrated her flesh.

Nearra felt a surge of panic at being so high above the ground, but she fought it. She knew she would have to keep a calm head if she had any hope of survival. Her hands were free and she struggled to reach her dagger. But no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t get her fingers on the blade. Not that it mattered; she doubted the weapon would do her any good. The bone-griffin was already dead and beyond pain. And even if she could’ve wounded it somehow and forced it to release her, she would fall to her death. All she could do was try to keep from surrendering to despair and let the griffin carry her where it would.

Before long, the forest thinned and a castle-like structure came into view. She didn’t need Davyn to tell her that this was Cairngorn Keep. The main structure was a great stone tower that rose toward the sky. The tower ended not in a pointed spire but rather a flat surface surrounded by crenelations. Several smaller
buildings were clustered around the central tower. The courtyard was covered with brick, as if whoever had built the keep had desired to seal it off completely from the rest of the world, including the earth upon which it was constructed. A twenty-foot wall surrounded the courtyard, but as this place was home to a wizard, Nearra doubted the wall was the only defense the keep possessed.