Terror At The Temple (Book 3)

by Craig Halloran

  “A changeling! They're Evil; Burn him!” A woman shouted.

  “He’s a Demon! No one has gold eyes like that!”

  “Hold him still!” Tormac said, rolling the sleeves up on his bulging arms.

  “Tormac,” I said. “you don’t want to do—ooof!”

  The belly blow lifted me off my feet. I groaned.

  “That…”

  “Hit him once for me, Tormac!”

  This can’t be happening.

  Whop!

  I couldn’t speak or breathe, and I swore my stomach was screaming from the other side of my back.

  “Let’s see if we can’t take care of that smart mouth of yours.”

  He swung at me.

  I jerked back, letting Tormac’s fist hit one of the goons in the face.

  “Watch it!” the goon said.

  “Don’t hit him in the face; he’s too handsome!” one lady said, standing on a table wearing a helmet of lit candles on her head.

  “Thank you!”

  “No, hit him in the face!” one of the bowmen said.

  “What is wrong with you people!”

  Whop!

  Tormac belted me in the stomach again, draining my strength from my head to my toes. I tried to fight, but the goons held me tight. They were like two pythons around my arms.

  Whop! Whop!

  Tormac laughed. “I told you you’d leave in pieces. Pow!

  My teeth clattered in my face. I have no business being here without Brenwar. I’d settled for Ben the Lilly Pad, instead.

  “Get him out of here!”

  My body was moving, but not by a will of its own. I could hear the jeers as my knees were dragged across the floor.

  “One!”

  I felt the wind rushing past my ears.

  “Two!”

  My stomach was teetering inside my belly.

  “Three!”

  I was flying.

  Crash!

  Through a window I went, skipping over the cobblestone road. Struggling, I rolled onto my elbows, groaning at I touched my bleeding lip.

  Everyone else spilled out of the doors or were gawping out the broken window.

  I waved, saying, “Never let it be said the Ettin’s Toe isn’t full of charming hospitality.”

  Someone grabbed me by my shoulders and began pulling me up to my feet.

  “Come on, Dragon.”

  Thankfully, it was Ben.

  “Ah look, Bug Eyes has come to help his Demon friend.”

  “I’m not a Demon!” I said, grabbing my saddle. My leg wobbled in the stirrup as Ben shoved me up into the saddle.

  It sounded like the entire city burst into laughter.

  “Soldiers!” someone said, pointing.

  “Tell them we’ve found a demon!”

  I’d had enough already. I wasn’t about to spend the night in jail. Even worse, I didn’t need to be accused of being a demon by soldiers.

  “Follow me, Ben!” I said, snapping my reigns.

  Tormac waved and laughed as we galloped away.

  From one side of the city to the other we'd gone when I came to a stop. Tired, aching and weary, I slid from my saddle and took a seat on a stone bench in a long-forgotten park. It was the Garrows. An old part of the city: quiet, discreet, creepy.

  “I don’t like this place,” Ben said, eyes flitting around.

  “It’s not so bad in the daytime. See,” I pointed.

  Statues, fountains and gardens were everywhere, but shaded in grey and black, leaving an eerie feeling in the air.

  “Come on, I’ve a friend I was going to check on anyway. Now’s as good a time as any,” I said, clutching my side.

  “You alright?”

  “Just a couple of broken ribs,” I said through my teeth. They hurt. How many more beatings was I going to take over Ben? Everywhere he was came trouble.

  “Sorry, Dragon. I know it’s my fault. I should have stayed in the country.”

  Yes! Yes, you should have!

  I didn’t say it, however. It was his life. He had the right to do what he wanted. But I think he’d start to think first more often if his ribs got busted, not mine.

  “This is it,” I said, wrapping my reigns around a lantern post.

  A single building, no wider than ten feet, stood in stark contrast to the larger buildings at its sides. There were no windows, only an open doorway with stairs leading up.

  “You first,” I said.

  “What about the horses? We can’t leave them here.”

  “Do you see any people?”

  He looked around and shook his head.

  “No.”

  “They’ll be fine then. Trust me.”

  Standing at the bottom and looking up, a stairwell lit with small gemstone lights led to a doorway at the top.

  “Is that?” Ben squinted, leaning forward, “a door?”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks like it’s a hundred yards away, more maybe.”

  “Then we better get started.”

  “But?”

  I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him forward, saying, “Trust your feet, not your eyes this time.”

  Up the steps we went. One flight. Two Flights. Three Flights. Ten flights. My body ached with every step. Ben was huffing in front of me, eyes wide as saucers as he kept staring back.

  “Keep going.”

  Twenty flights. Thirty flights. Ben stopped, hands on his knees, scrawny chest heaving, looking back.

  “Dragon, what is going on? We aren’t going anywhere!”

  I cast a look over my shoulder. We were only one flight up from where we started, and I could see the tail of one horse swaying at the bottom.

  I smiled. “We’re almost there, Ben. Keep going.”

  Forty Flights.

  “You did good back there, Ben.”

  “I did? How?” he said, wheezing.

  I took a breath.

  “You got the horses as you were told. You got out of harm’s way like I said. If you hadn't, you might be dead, but you’d have been beaten up pretty bad still.”

  “But you got hurt.”

  “True, but I’m used to it.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Up. We’re almost there.”

  Fifty Flights.

  Sweating like orcs, we both let out sighs of relief as we placed our feet on the landing at the top. It was marble, checkered in red and green, with the pattern of a mage on the bottom.

  Both of us looked back. We still weren’t any farther than when we started.

  “I don’t understand,” Ben said, blinking.

  “And you probably never will.”

  I reached past him and grabbed the ring of a gargoyle faced knocker.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  It echoed like thunder.

  Ben stuck his fingers inside his ears.

  “Who lives here?” he asked.

  “Bay—ulp!”

  The marble floor disappeared beneath our feet, and into the black we went.

  CHAPTER 27

  Brenwar inspected the horn he had strapped around his shoulders. It was a horn carved from bone and gilded with brass and iron. It had two purposes. One was to make noise that was privy to dwarven ears. The other was to listen.

  He took the small end and held it in his ear.

  From a hilltop, he looked down on a small village. A few hundred residents lived there, and he knew that they, like most small towns, weren’t welcoming to dwarves. He could hear voices, talking, laughter, all of it as clear as a bell. After an hour of listening, he huffed. There were not sounds nor any talk of Nath Dragon. He slung the Dwarven Horn back over his shoulder.

  “Two-Hundred years old and he still acts like a boy." He huffed. "And to think: he might live another thousand years.”

  Steady through the night he went, down the hill, through the trees. The sun and the rain and the days without sleep did not slow him. His brethren had been scattered towards all of the major cities, seeking for signs, yet none of them ha
d sent word. The Dwarven Horn could send a sound over the air that only the dwarves with other horns could hear. It was dwarven magic, rare and ancient, more pertaining to their craft. One horn linked to another, forming a network of dwarven logic and mystic bounds. Normally, they were used in times of war.

  “We should have found him by now,” he muttered under his beard.

  He knew Nath would be looking for Dragons. His friend could be anywhere in the world. But it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack if that’s what Nath wanted.

  He combed his stubby fingers through his black beard, eyeing it.

  “There better not be any pixies in there,” he warned. “Hmmm… perhaps my thinking is wrong. Should I be searching for Nath, or searching for Dragons?” One would certainly lead to the other. “Perhaps the Clerics of Barnabus?”

  What if the clerics had already trapped the man? Nath’s father had said, “Keep him from the hands of Barnabus.”

  Many of the people in Nalzambor thought the clerics protected people from the Dragons, unaware it was the other way around. But the clerics were a devious lot. Doing good deeds in the day and dark things in the night. Many were fooled by that, and many were not. Barnabus had been a great warrior who fought alongside the Dragons long ago, but now his memory had been turned into something else. No longer a Dragon warrior, as the seers said, but a Dragon hunter.

  Just thinking about it made Brenwar want to pull his beard out.

  “If men were as honest as dwarves, we’d never have all these problems.”

  Miles from the next settlement, he put the horn to his ear and listened hour after hour in the pouring rain.

  “Nothing,” he grumbled, then traveled on.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Baaaaaaaaaaaaay-Zog!” I screamed as I fell. I couldn’t even see Ben, but I could hear him in the darkness.

  “HEEEEELP MEEEEEEEE!”

  There was light.

  Thud!

  Pain.

  Thud!

  And Ben landing on top of me. Whatever hadn't hurt before hurt now, and everything else was worse. I pushed Ben’s groaning body off of me and rose to my feet.

  The room was filled with brilliant lights, colorful cushions and silk drapes. The incense was so strong I could almost taste it.

  “Whew! What is that?” Ben said, fanning his face.

  I jerked him up to his feet.

  “Just relax, Ben. He’ll be offended if you don’t.”

  “Who?” he said, pinching his nose.

  Shuffling towards the center of the room, I said, “Bayzog, I know you wish to greet, else I would have landed on a harder floor.”

  “How big is this place?” Ben said, spinning around. “It was just a tiny building.”

  It was a huge room, like the ballrooms in the castles. A large sphere of square cut crystals twinkled above. The floor was hardwood, the room a rectangle, with a fireplace of burning logs in every corner. Huge cushions were scattered all over the room, and in the middle was a large square table, waist high and no chairs. Bayzog stood there, staring down into a book the size of ten. He turned and spoke in a strong dark voice.

  “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have left a pillow out… maybe.” He bowed. “Unwelcome, Nath Dragon.”

  “Not glad to be here,” I replied.

  Bayzog was black-haired, small-framed, but sturdy. He wore a red wizard's tunic embroidered with arcane signs and symbols. Everything was impeccable about his character, and his violet eyes were bright, deep, probing. He was part-elven, rich and full of mystery.

  I extended my Dragon hand.

  “My, how eerie are those? He grabbed my arm and started needling it with his fingers. “Nath, I’ve never seen black Dragon scales before. But I’ve heard about them.”

  “You have?”

  He grabbed a clear glass lens the size of a fist off of his table and took a closer look.

  “Certainly.”

  “Sorry, of course you have.” I said. “What can you tell me about them?”

  “Hold on,” he said, glancing over Ben. “Hmmm… I see you’ve replaced Brenwar… obviously a good choice.” He grabbed Ben’s hand, blinking.

  “Nath,” Ben said, pulling away, but Bayzog held him fast, “what is he doing?”

  “Just be still, Ben. If he wanted to harm you, you’d know already.”

  Studying Ben though, Bayzog said, “My, this one’s nothing but trouble, isn’t he?”

  “Er… what do you mean? I’m not trouble.” Ben looked at me. “Am I?”

  I shrugged.

  Ben tried to pull away again, but Bayzog closed his eyes and held him fast.

  “Hmmm… could be good… could be bad.” He released Ben. “He needs more time, Dragon.” Opening his eyes, Bayzog said, “And some polishing up will do. Sasha!”

  A lovely woman, all human, appeared in white robes.

  “Sasha,” I said, unable to contain my smile, “It’s been too long.”

  She brushed her auburn locks of hair from her blue eyes and said, “It’s good to see you, too, Dragon.” She took Ben by the hand and said, “Come along.”

  Ben, stupefied, said nothing as she led him, smiling, out of the room. I felt like a boulder had rolled off my chest.

  “Unthank you, Bayzog.”

  “Unwelcome, and don’t worry; she’ll find suitable stitchings, but you’ll have to do the rest,” Bayzog said.

  “I’m not doing anything. I agreed to bring him to the city. Promised him a meal and good rest. He’s off to the Legionnaires after this.”

  “No he isn’t,” Bayzog said, thumbing through the book's huge pages.

  “Yes he is,” I objected. “And if you like him so much, he can stay with you.”

  “Did you come here to argue with me, or did you come for my help?”

  I came to get answers. When it came to Dragons, Bayzog could deliver. He knew almost as much about Dragons as I did.

  “Alright, what’s in that big book of yours?”

  Somehow, Bayzog had everything he ever learned in one book. The Book of Many Pages. It was one big book, or tome rather, on one big table, accompanied with magic ink and quill.

  “You know, I have many things in this book. Stories, legends, maps, spells, histories. Everything I’ve ever learned or heard is right here.”

  “How do you add more pages?”

  His cheerless face brightened a little.

  “It can add as many as I need. That’s why I made the book.”

  Looking at it, I said, “That’s a lot of pages. How do you know where to look for something? Where do you start?”

  “Book, black Dragon scales.”

  The pages came to life, stirring the air, ruffling my hair before they came to a stop.

  “Impressive.” I squinted. The words would shift and move as I read. I leaned away, pinching the bridge of my nose, and stepped back. “How do you read that? It hurts my eyes.”

  He showed a wry smile.

  “Right. I understand, Wizard. So, what does it say?”

  “The color of scales on black Dragons,” he said, running his finger down the page. “Rare. No black Dragons seen since the last Dragon war.”

  He closed the book and stepped away.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “Nath, tell me what happened. How did you get that arm? You’re supposed to get scales, but black ones?”

  I’d been friends with Bayzog over a hundred years, and he knew my story and who my father was. He was fascinated by Dragons, but in a good way. So, I told him about the people I killed in Orcen Hold and the last conversation I had with my father.

  “But,” I showed him the white spot on my hand, “I think I’m turning things around. I even saved a Steel Dragon and found a Thunderstone.”

  Bayzog’s eyes lit up.

  “Do you still have it?”

  “No, the Steel Dragon swallowed it.”

  Pacing back and forth, Bayzog said, “That’s a shame.”

&
nbsp; “Losing the Thunderstone?”

  “Yes to that. No,” Bayzog frowned, “ to never going home again. I know how that feels.”

  The brief moment of emptiness in his eyes left me feeling empty again as well.

  “So, Dragon, what is your plan?”

  “I want to rescue Dragons. Many of them at once. That will do it! I know the more I free, the more I can be cured. I know you can help me find them. I need to find a flock of Dragons!” I grabbed his shoulder. “You have to help me, Bayzog.”

  “Ahem.”

  Sasha, now wearing loose fitting robes, re-entered the room with a pleasant smile on her face.

  “Where’s Ben?” I asked.

  “He’s taking a nap,” she said, drifting to Bayzog's side.

  “A Nap?”

  “The young man is tired, Dragon.” Her blue eyes flared at me. “And you should do the same.”

  Suddenly, my lids became heavy, and I couldn’t fight the yawn.

  “Ah Sasha,” Bayzog wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled, ”always trying to comfort her guests.”

  Covering my yawn, I fought back and said, “ No, not this time, Sasha. Last time, you put me down for two days. I appreciate your concern, but your efforts won’t work on me this time. I’m ready.”

  “Ah Dragon, you know she can’t help herself. She knows what’s best for you, you know. And you look tired. I’ve never seen a tired Dragon before.”

  I felt tired. My jaw ached, and my face felt swollen. And with every little movement I felt my cracked ribs inside. And I remember the last time I took a long nap and what happened when I woke up.

  “Come on, Dragon,” Sasha pleaded.

  A chair slid across the room and stopped beside me.

  Magi didn’t get guests very often, so when you came, they expected you to stay awhile.

  “I’ll sit, but you, Bayzog, need to tell me what you know. I saw that look in your eyes before your book closed.”

  Sasha looked at him and said, “What is it, Bayzog? You can’t keep secrets from our friend.”

  “Please, Dear,” he said. “It’s a delicate matter. “

  She pulled away, fists dropping to her hips.

  “Too delicate for my ears?”

  Bayzog's hand recoiled to his chest as he pleaded.

  “Certainly not, My Love.”