Temple of the Dragonslayer (30 page)

Raedon dwelled in a darkness that was at once both like and unlike sleep. He had no idea how long he had been in this nonplace, but he thought it had probably been a while; hours certainly, perhaps even days. It wasn’t such a bad place, really. For one thing, it was quiet. For another, he didn’t feel anything except for a pleasant numbness.

No, all in all, he could have spent a great deal more time here—perhaps even the rest of his life. But then he heard a woman’s voice calling him by his true dragon name.

Tarkemelhion
.

He tried to ignore the voice, but he heard it again, and with it came a powerful feeling; the little one called Nearra needed him.

He said a reluctant goodbye to the soothing darkness and opened his eyes. He regretted it at once. Pain flooded through his body as awareness returned—more pain than he’d ever known in his life, so much that he was surprised he wasn’t dead.

He wanted to close his eyes and return to the darkness, but he knew he couldn’t. He forced himself to wake up even more and tried to determine where he was.

Leaves surrounded him and thick branches supported his body. He was in a tree. He ached all over, but his worst pains were in his head and his right wing. His wing felt as if the membrane had been torn somehow, but he didn’t …

And then it came back to him. Flying to check on his lair, encountering Slean, talking with her, Slean diving, clawing at
his wing as she passed, and then he had fallen, spinning and tumbling out of control.

He understood then what had happened. He’d landed in this tree, struck his head, and had passed out into the deep, dark sleep of the seriously wounded. He might never have woken if it hadn’t been for Nearra’s summons.

He needed to get down from this tree—now. Moving as quickly as his sore, battered body would allow, Raedon gingerly lifted himself off the branches and began to crawl downward, gripping the bark with his claws so he wouldn’t slip.

His head pounded so hard he thought he might pass out before he made it to the ground. Once on the forest floor, he lay still for several moments, breathing deeply and trying not to think about how much he hurt all over.

He was in a heavily wooded section of the forest, one that he didn’t recognize. It couldn’t be far from where Slean had attacked him. He then moved his head, neck, legs, tail, and wings. Although his limbs were stiff and sore, none felt as if they were broken.

He turned in the direction he felt Nearra calling from—the direction in which the Temple of the Holy Orders of the Stars lay. Spreading his wings and coiling his powerful but aching leg muscles, he launched himself into the sky.

Immediately he crashed back to the ground. His wing was too badly damaged to keep him aloft. But if he couldn’t fly, how could he reach Nearra in time?

He lied to me! Davyn thought. My own father lied to me!

He ran out of the temple’s main entrance and joined Jax and Catriona, who were already standing in the courtyard. The sun had just started to come up, and while the rest of the sky was still purple and a scattering of stars remained visible, the eastern horizon was tinted pink and orange.

Slean crouched by the main gate—or rather, where the gate
had been. That section of the wall was now empty, and the gate, twisted and mangled, lay on the ground below a newly-made hole in the temple. Slean had torn the gate from the wall and hurled it at the temple building. It had been the sound of the gate’s impact that had wakened everyone.

Davyn had no idea how Slean had gotten past the temple’s mystic barrier. He had triple-checked last night to make sure he’d locked the gate when he’d returned. He started to wonder if Maddoc had managed to find a way to neutralize the protective spell.

Then he thought of Gifre. Last night, Oddvar wouldn’t say where the goblin was. When Davyn had left the gate unlocked to go outside and meet Maddoc, Gifre must have sneaked in.

How could I have been so blind, thought Davyn. His father hadn’t really wanted to speak to him last night, he’d merely wanted to lure him into leaving the gate open so that Gifre could enter the temple. Maddoc had not only lied to him about the attack, he’d used Davyn as if he were merely another pawn in the wizard’s grand scheme.

As angry as Davyn felt, he was also strangely relieved. Now he knew for certain what to do. He pulled the scroll out of his pocket, struck a spark off his flint, and dropped the parchment as it burned. Stamping out the ashes, he resolved that whatever happened, he wasn’t going to be a pawn any longer. He had to do everything he could to protect Nearra.

Slean reared up on her hind legs, spread her wings wide, and roared.

“Bring me the girl!”

Elidor and Sindri came running outside then, followed by the four clerics. The kender grinned upon seeing the dragon again, but the clerics paled. Davyn understood why an instant later.

Dragonfear crashed into him. He began to tremble and he thought he would drop his bow and run back inside the temple and hide. But then Feandan, Nysse, Pedar, and Gunna began chanting prayers. Davyn felt the dragonfear diminish slowly.
It didn’t go away entirely, but it decreased to the point where he could handle it.

He looked to his companions and saw expressions of relief and surprise on their faces—all save for Sindri, since the kender had felt no fear in the first place.

“We have just asked the gods to grant us all strength to resist the dragonfear,” Feandan explained.

Davyn was impressed. He’d had no idea that clerics could do more than heal the sick and injured.

“I wonder how Slean got through the barrier,” Sindri said. “Shall we go ask her?”

But before the kender could take a step toward the green dragon, Slean shot a blast of chlorine gas straight up into the air.

“Bring me the girl now, or I shall destroy this temple and kill you all!”

Even though Slean hadn’t released her gas toward them, the acrid smell stung the back of Davyn’s throat and made his eyes water.

Elidor put his hand over his nose and mouth as he turned to the clerics. “I don’t suppose you can use your holy powers to turn chlorine into something more pleasant, like the scent of horse manure?”

“I’m sorry,” Nysse said. “We don’t know a prayer for that.”

Gunna stepped forward. “Stay back now, children, and let the four of us handle this.”

“Children!” Catriona and Jax said at the same time, but the clerics ignored them as they stepped forward to confront the dragon that had invaded the temple’s courtyard.

“What are they doing?”

Davyn turned to see that Nearra had joined them. He was mildly surprised to see that she was armed with her dagger. “They’re going to try to stop Slean, I think,” he said.

“Can they?”

Davyn shrugged. “Elethia stopped Kiernan the Crimson, didn’t she?”

The clerics, standing side by side and wearing looks of grim determination on their faces, approached Slean until they were within twenty feet of the green dragon.

“What do you want here, foul beast?” Feandan demanded.

Slean eyed the clerics with amusement. “Are you deaf? I said it twice already. Bring me the girl!”

“I assume you speak of either Catriona or Nearra,” Nysse said. “Regardless, we will not grant your request. All within these walls are under the protection of the gods we serve.”

Slean snorted. “I care not for your gods. But I do care for that one.” She nodded toward Nearra. “The blond human in the dress. Give her to me and I shall depart in peace.”

“Why do you want her?” Pedar asked.

“That is my concern, not yours,” Slean said. “I’m starting to lose my patience. Quit stalling and give her to me.”

Gunna stepped forward. “Never!” Around her neck the cleric wore a pendant in the shape of a rose—the holy symbol of the god Majere. She clasped the rose in her hand and whispered a prayer.

The barren ground around Slean suddenly burst into life as grass and weeds sprouted from the earth. They grew with lightning speed and wrapped themselves around Slean’s limbs, twisting and entwining until the dragon was tightly bound.

“What are you doing?” Slean roared. “I cannot move!”

But then Gifre, garbed in a black cloak, came rushing up from the other side of the temple, holding a good-sized rock in his hand. When he was close enough to the clerics, he drew back his arm and prepared to throw the stone.

“Gunna, beware!” Catriona shouted, but it was too late. Gifre hurled the rock and struck Gunna on the side of the head. The cleric groaned and slumped to the ground.

Gifre giggled and clapped his hands.

Slean had managed to keep her mouth free of the entangling plants and she now used her teeth to tear at the greenery that
bound her. The plant tendrils shredded in her jaws until Slean was able to break loose.

“I’m free!” the dragon shouted, flapping her wings and whipping her tail about as if to emphasize her point.

“Foul goblin!” Jax roared and took off running toward Gifre, battle-axe held high.

The goblin screamed in terror at the sight of a furious minotaur coming at him in full battle-rage. Gifre turned and ran toward the open gateway. Unfortunately, that was where Slean stood. The dragon’s thrashing tail clipped the goblin on the side of the head and sent him crashing into the stone wall. Gifre hit the wall with a nasty thud, then lay still.

Seeing there was no longer any need to attack the goblin, Jax changed his course and ran toward Slean. Nysse was kneeling next to Gunna, her hands on the older cleric’s head, no doubt attempting to heal the wound she had sustained.

“The rest of you stay here!” Catriona said. “I’m going to help get Gunna to safety!” The redheaded warrior took a deep breath, then dashed across the courtyard toward the clerics.

“Stay? She’s got to be joking!” Sindri started to run forward, but Davyn grabbed the kender’s arm and stopped him.

“Hold back a moment, Sindri,” Davyn said. “We need to keep your magic in reserve, just in case the clerics fail.”

“I’d listen to him, Sindri, if I were you,” Elidor said, glancing at Davyn. “I’ve a feeling our ranger knows more about magic than you’d expect.”

There was something almost accusatory in the elf’s tone, but Davyn didn’t have time to worry about what he meant.

“I suppose you’re right.” Sindri didn’t sound happy about this, but when Davyn let go of his cape, the kender stayed put.

Slean turned to meet Jax’s approach, inhaling deeply in preparation for releasing another deadly blast of chlorine, this one aimed straight at the charging minotaur.

But before she could breathe out, Jax—still running—hurled his axe at the green dragon. The weapon tumbled end over end
to lodge in Slean’s open mouth. The dragon roared in pain as blood gushed from her wounds, then she coughed and choked as she swallowed her own chlorine.

Though he no longer had a weapon, Jax continued running toward the dragon.

“Sindri!” Nearra said. “Use your magic to send my dagger to Jax!” She pressed the blade into the kender’s hand. “He needs it far more than I do.”

“I’m not really sure …” Sindri began, but then Davyn concentrated and activated his magic ring. The dagger flew out of Sindri’s hand and streaked across the courtyard toward the minotaur.

“Jax!” Nearra yelled.

The minotaur flicked a glance toward Nearra, saw the dagger flying toward him, caught it, and launched himself into the air. He landed on Slean’s back and began stabbing at her with the dagger. But her scales were too hard and the blade caused no damage.

Meanwhile, Catriona and Nysse had pulled Gunna back to the temple entrance. Nysse continued to tend to her wounded friend, while Catriona ran back toward Slean.

Feandan and Pedar were in the process of performing another miracle. Beams of light were shooting out of their hands to strike Slean in the face. The dragon roared, sounding more angry than hurt, and spun around, sweeping her tail at the two clerics. The dragon’s tail slammed into them with all the force of a green-scaled battering ram. Feandan and Pedar flew through the air and landed in a heap, unconscious or worse.

“We can’t just stand here!” Nearra said. “We have to do something!”

Davyn looked at her with concern. She hadn’t been present when the clerics had cast their blessing of calmness on the companions. If she continued to be worried and afraid, there was an excellent chance the Emergence would be triggered—which of course was exactly what Maddoc wanted. Davyn had to think
of some way to get Nearra away from here.

Jax was now attempting to climb up Slean’s neck, obviously hoping to get at her vulnerable eyes. But Slean thrashed her head back and forth, and it was all the minotaur could do to hold on.

Catriona had reached the dragon and was hacking away at the beast’s underbelly with her sword, but like Jax before her, she was having no success.

“Slean’s hide is too tough,” Davyn said.

“Too bad we don’t have a blessed arrow like Elethia did,” Sindri said.

Davyn, Nearra, and Elidor turned to look at the kender.

“What, did I say something wrong?”

“No, my small friend,” Elidor said. “You said something very right.”