Terror At The Temple (Book 3) (13 page)

CHAPTER 3
2

Brenwar’s stomach growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so hungry. His horse bent its neck towards the stream water and began to drink. His stomach growled again.

“Ah, be quiet, will you?” he said, reaching into his pack and withdrawing peppers and bread. He took a bite. “That might hold you, until we find Dragon, that is.”

He hadn’t eaten since he left, or slept either. He rubbed his mount's neck, watching the trout swimming upstream. He’d like to fish, but he didn’t have time.

“It’s a shame you horses don’t eat fish,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

The horse nickered, raising its neck. Brenwar got a sour apple from his saddle bag and fed the horse. At some point, the horse would need rest; he knew. And stopping in the next village might be in order.

“I hate stopping,” he grumbled.

“Me too,” a deep voice responded from the nearby trees.

Brenwar jumped from his horse and rolled over the ground, rising up with his war hammer ready.

“Who said that?”

The woods were tall, green and quiet. Only the wind and rippling waters hit his ears.

“Easy, Dwarf,” a tall figure said, stepping from behind the trees. “Remember me?”

Brenwar squinted his eyes beneath his bushy black brows.

“Bah! You’re one of those fat bellied elves.”

“And you’re one of those short-legged orcs,” the Wilder Elf replied.

“I see you’ve got a death wish, don’t ya?” Brenwar said, pointing his weapon. “Come then, I’ll make a fine grave for you!”

Eyes twinkling in the light, Shum laughed, like a man laughs at a child. With the grace of the elves and girth of a large man, he approached, swords silent on his hips. He clasped his hands over his belly and said, “I mean you no harm, Dwarf.”

“That may well be, but I can’t say the same.”

Brenwar moved in, taking a chop at Shum of the Roving Rangers's legs.

The elf sprang away.

“Stop!” Shum held out his arms. “I’m not here to fight, as much as I’d like to teach you a lesson.”

“A lesson!” Brenwar rushed.

Shum jumped back, Brenwar’s axe clipping his cloak.

Brenwar would fight anyone, any place, any time. Especially an Elf. They bothered him. Not so much as orcs and giants, but still, they were elves. Dwarves and Elves: both on the side of good, but unable to get along since the days their races were young.

“You would strike me down when I’m not even defending myself,” Shum said, aghast.

Brenwar swung.

Shum dived.

“I would.”

He chopped.

Shum rolled.

Brenwar kept coming, swinging, chopping.

Shum was off balance as he waded into the waters.

“Stop it, Dwarf! I apologize,” he said, holding his arms out.

Brenwar swung his war-axe into water-laden log where Shum’s toe had been.

“For what!”

“Calling you a ‘short-legged’ orc?”

Brenwar stopped and pointed at him.

“No one calls a dwarf an orc and lives.”

“Well, you shouldn’t call me a fat bellied elf.”

Brenwar’s black eyebrows cocked over his eyes.

“But you
are
a fat-bellied elf.”

Shum huffed, dragging himself out of the water, towering over Brenwar, and replied, “And proud of it.” He extended his arm. “Can you talk, Brenwar?”

They bumped forearms, outside, then inside.

“Aye,” Brenwar said, “what is it you want?”

“Nath Dragon.”

Brenwar walked over to his horse and fed it another apple.

“Why?”

Shum’s jaw tightened.

“I think we need his help finding our King again.”

Brenwar pulled himself up onto his horse.

“I don’t know where he is.”

“But you’re looking for him; I know. I’ve been following you since you left Morgdon. I was waiting for him, but he never came, only you. I’ve been trying to figure out what was going on, but I didn’t realize you’d lost him until now.”

Brenwar stiffened in his saddle, saying, “What do you mean, days? I got attacked by brigands, and you didn’t help!”

“And you handled them quite well. I respect your skills, Brenwar, and I’d have aided if needed.”

“Hrumph! What makes you think Dragon can help you find your King? You’re the best trackers in the land, aren’t you? Why would you need Nath?”

Shum ran his long finger back and forth on his chin and said, “It’s just a theory really, but we think they are linked. They have the same needs.”

“Pah,” Brenwar started leading his horse away. “They aren’t linked. He’s an elf or an ape, and Dragon is a man, or a Dragon. He shall tend to his affairs, the Dragons; you attend to yours, the elves or… er the apes.”

“We’re all linked whether we admit it or not. Dragon has a curse. My King is cursed. It’s a common evil they share.”

“It’s your king, not mine, not his. And, Nath is not evil, and I can’t say the same for your king.” Brenwar waved as he galloped off. “Goodbye, Fat Bellied Elf!”

Shum shook his head, watching him go as he said, “I can walk faster than that little horse can run.” He took off at a trot. “You’re getting my help whether you want it or not, Dwarf. Too many lives depend on it.”

CHAPTER 3
3

“Dragon!”

I whirled, knocking a man over. It was Ben. Despite the bewildered look on his face, I could have killed him.

“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed under my breath, lifting him up and with haste guiding him away.

“Bayzog—”

“Keep it down, you idiot,” I hissed through my teeth.

Every eye in the sanctuary was looking.

“Sorry, Drag—”

I squeezed his arm.

“Quiet, will you?”

“Ow,” he whined as I dragged him to where my horse was, as discreetly as I could.

His horse was next to mine.

“How did you do that?” I said, grabbing the reigns and getting out of The Sanctuary.

“Bayzog did it, how I don’t know. I was talking to him, and he said you’d be here, and I said, ‘Where?’ and poof, here I was. He said you needed to come back, that he had some information for you that could help.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, Dragon, did I do wrong again?”

“Get on your horse,” I ordered.

I was angry. If Ben had shown up seconds earlier, it could have ruined everything, and I wasn’t so sure it hadn't. When I glanced back, all the bald heads and purple robes were gone.

“Great.”

I led; Ben followed.

“Are we going back to Bayzog’s?”

“No.”

“He said you’d say that, but he also said, um…” he looked up into the sky, “It’s your burial, not mine.”

“Figures.”
Lousy Wizard!
“Listen Ben, you didn’t do wrong, but you aren’t coming along, either. I’m taking you to the Legionnaires to be with your uncle.”

Ben shook his head.

“No! I don’t want to go. Please, I want to stay with you! I’m ready, see?” He pulled his cloak open, revealing a well-fitted tunic of leather armor. A nice sword and dagger were belted at his sides. I could tell by the pommels they were elven made. He even had boots to go with it.

“So, you think if you get some armor that fits and sharp and shiny blades that makes you a soldier? You haven’t even had any training, Ben. You almost died once on the way up here, and now I’m heading into the mouth of danger. You think you’re ready for that? Do you?”

Biting his lip, he fingered the pommel on his sword.

“We’ll just go back and see what Bayzog says. It was important.”

“No, Ben. I’m on my own from here. Now don’t follow me anymore.”

Good luck or bad luck Ben was, according to Bayzog. The part-elven wizard had a way of reading people.

“Bayzog said I should come, no matter what.”

I stopped my mount.

“Really Ben, how well do you know Bayzog? You barely spent a minute with him in there.”

“Well, it’s not him so much as,” he smiled, “Sasha. Oooh… She is so beautiful.”

“And troublesome, Ben.” I got closer and checked his blades. “Fine steel for a wizard to keep. What else did they give you?” I reached into his belt pouch. Two potion vials were within. “What do these do?”

“He said I’d know when to take them.”

I slapped Ben upside the head.

“Ow!”

“You don’t know when to do anything!”

I’d had enough and headed for the wall. It was time to make way for the Crane's Neck, and I didn’t care whether or not Ben followed.

“So be it, Ben. It’s only your life.”

***

The trip was long. Not because it was far, but because my tongue was tired from trying to convince Ben not to go. He wouldn’t have any part of it, however.

“It’s my life; I’ll do what I want with it,” he’d decided, saying it over and over, with his chin up.

Oddly, he was starting to remind me of Brenwar―aside from his shivering in the rain.

The Crane's Neck wasn’t hard to find. It was a valley of enormous rocks, some of which looked to be left over from a battle between the giants. I followed a faint trail over the brush and climbed up a rocky cleft tha
t overlooked the Crane's Neck. It was a rock, stretching fifty feet in height, shaped like a long flowing neck. The setting sun peeked from behind the dark clouds, shining on the beak-like peak at the top.

“Lie down. Be quiet. Don’t move.” I said to Ben, lying down myself.

Ben did. I actually wanted to thank him. It wasn’t very often that he did what I said.

“It’ll be a few hours before dusk, so we’ll just lie low for now. Got anything to eat?”

Ben shook his head.

“Great. I’m surprised Bayzog didn’t prepare you better. Are you sure one of those vials isn’t a bottle of Tasty Wonders?”

He scrunched up his face, shook his head and said, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Those are pretty good, and they can hold you over for days. Stupid wizard. You’d think he’d have better prepared you.” I looked at him. “Right?”

He nodded, his eyes focused on the Crane's Neck, lying on his belly sopping wet. The rain would start and stop, between drizzle and heavy drops. He shivered, even though it wasn’t that cold. At least he was quiet. At least he obeyed for once, and that was a comforting thought.

Rain pelting my face, I sat alongside him thinking. How many Dragons did the clerics have? They'd spoken of at least three, but there could be more. I rubbed my Dragon arm, imagining if my scales might turn white after I freed them. I could go home then. I wanted to see my father more now than ever, and I couldn’t remember ever wanting to see his giant Dragon's head so much before. I pulled my hood over my head, sat down, and waited.

A few paths led past the Crane's Neck, some narrow and some wide, between the rocks and ridges. There wasn’t much else in the valley, either, just a small variety of trees and bushes, enough to be hospitable to the critters. Another hour had passed when I heard Ben’s stomach growl.

“Still glad you came?”

He didn’t say anything.

It was getting annoying.

“Alright Ben, you’ve made your point: you can be quiet.”

He rolled over and smiled, saying, “See, I told you I could be a good soldier.”

“Indeed,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Well, there’s no sense in having your ravenous stomach give us away. It could wake up a drunk bugbear. Run down to the horses and fetch the rations hanging from my saddle.”

He quickly ambled over the rocks, down and out of sight. I had to admit: I was hungry, too. I rubbed my ribs. Tormac had given me a good walloping, and my jaw still felt loose. It was a shame; he’d be a good ally if he wasn’t such a bad man. The world was full of men like him, but there was always something
worse. The orcs. The ogres. The goblins. The Bugbears and Gnolls. You’d think men would act better than them, but often―too many times―they disappointed me. Their short lives made them particularly greedy.

Ben shuffled back over the rocks and fell to his k
nees.

“Here you go, Dragon,” he said, holding out a small sack.

“Eat, Ben.”

He reached in the bag and dug in. I grabbed a bite as well.

Ben shook a canteen in my face.

I took it and drank, handed it back, and said, “Drink, that dwarven bread is hard to get down sometimes.”

“Kind of bitter,” he said, talking a swallow. “But I feel full already.”

“Brenwar would kill me if he knew what I was doing.”

“Who?” Ben said, looking up at me.

“Oh, sorry Ben, just a friend of mine, a dwarf. He’s usually with me on days like this, telling me what I can and cannot do. Or what I should, or should not do.”

“Kind of like you do me, huh?”

I felt like I'd swallowed a bug. I was nothing like Brenwar.

“Just eat.”

Down in the valley, about an hour later, I noticed a small group of figures coming from behind the Crane's Nest.

“Get down, Ben!”

From our bellies, we could see the Clerics of Barnabus, five of them in all, and a small cage. I had a pretty good idea who was in that cage, too. A Dragon. Two broader figures emerged with spears and armor. Lizard Men. I could feel Ben tense up at my side.

“It’ll be alright. Don’t move, Ben. Don’t make a sound.”

The five Clerics faced the path leading from the east. The Lizard Men began searching the nooks and crevices in the area. The rain became a steady pour, and I lost sight of the Lizard Men.

“Not good, Ben. Not good.”