“No, don’t linger,” Shanhaevel said, moving to her side. “Look at me. Look at me!”
She finally pulled her gaze away from the altar and stared, wide-eyed, at the elf.
“You must block it out, Shirral. If you let it get to you, you will not survive.”
“I—” she said, at last, nodding. “All right.”
To either side of the altar were two wings of the chamber, projecting out at an angle back toward the front of the building. Both of the wings held an altar, and each was decorated in a different color scheme. The wing to the left was in greens, and the one to the right was all browns and blacks.
“The colors of the elements …” Shanhaevel remarked, peering more closely at the wing to his right. He spotted a door against the far wall. Curious about the symmetry of the place, he walked back across to his left and looked in that direction. There was an identical portal there. “Everyone, look! There are doors in these wings.”
“Let’s keep to this main area for now,” Govin said, having moved ahead of the central altar to a large circular pit in the floor. “We want to find that staircase the prince mentioned.” The knight stood on the edge of the pit and was peering down into its depths. “If that doesn’t work out, or if he isn’t remembering correctly, we can consider taking alternate routes down.”
Beyond the pit, the group came to a wide staircase leading down. It was perhaps twenty feet wide, and each step was both broad and tall, made of a gray stone flecked with white, blue, red, green, and black.
“This is what we’re looking for,” Shirral whispered, peering down into the darkness below.
Govin shuddered. “My senses are overwhelmed with the taint of the evil once wrought here. I can still feel the suffering of those who were sacrificed to these elements. It seeps from the very stones.”
“Easy, knight,” Elmo said. “We all feel it. Keep your wits about you.”
Beyond the staircase was a railing, and beyond the railing was what might have been the high altar of the temple. The entire area beyond the railing was decorated in reds, oranges, and golds, and scenes of fiery torture abounded. In the middle of the place was a large bronze pot, perhaps eight feet wide. Hanging down from the ceiling directly over the vessel was a long chain.
“The temple of fire,” Shanhaevel breathed, looking around as his companions stayed close together. “They revered the flames above all other elements, I presume.”
“I don’t care what they revered,” Govin said, shuddering again. “This place should be blasted from the face of the lands.”
“Look,” Ahleage said, crossing the distance from where the group stood to the farthest region of the temple. “Look at this throne.”
The rest of the group joined him, spying at last what he had seen. A great throne sat upon a high dais, which was made of four different colors of stone—the shades of the elements. The dais, in the shape of a semicircle, was actually set into the northernmost wall of the temple farthest from the blasted entrance at the other end. Inscribed in tall, bold letters across the back wall were words that made the hair on the back of Shanhaevel’s neck stand out:
The Power of Elemental Death
Brings Mortals Low
But Raises The Nameless One
High
“This is the throne from my vision,” Shanhaevel said, flinching in memory of the vile hallucination. “With the four gems in place, the key will take you directly down. To her.”
“The nameless one …” Draga gasped.
“I pray to Saint Cuthbert that no one ever manages to free her,” Govin said, “but should we meet her, we have the strength to prevail.” Spinning away from the throne and walking toward the back of the temple, he said, “The staircase down. It’s time.”
They descended the staircase into the depths of the temple once more, still seeking Falrinth, hoping to catch the wizard before he could destroy a third door.
Shanhaevel swallowed nervously. Ahead of him, Ahleage moved along, following the stairs, while behind the wizard, Elmo held a lantern high, helping everyone to see.
As the group, moving single file, reached the end of the stairs, Shanhaevel saw that a second opening had been blasted in the structure of the temple. He could easily imagine that a second set of doors, also sealed with magical sigils, had been placed at the foot of the stairs, but now there was only a gaping hole.
“The second door,” the elf said quietly, “or what once was.”
“We only felt two blasts,” Elmo said.
“Then the third must not be far beyond,” Govin said, motioning for Ahleage to push on.
Beyond the blasted remains of the second portal was a patch of earthen floor—what once might have been a large area. Now a large portion of the room had collapsed, and a great wall of rubble blocked their way.
“Damnation!” cursed Govin, smacking his hands together.
“So, now what?” Shirral asked. “One of those other ways down?”
Govin, his mouth twisted in a snarl of frustration, nodded and headed back up the stairs as the rest of the group followed him. He stopped at the pit he had been examining earlier. “We try this next. We must find another way down, get to the next door, and stop them. Look there, about fifteen feet down. There is a ledge and, if I’m not seeing things, a set of stairs that spirals down from it.” The knight pointed down into the shaft.
Ahleage, who had lain down on his stomach to peer over the edge of the pit, turned his head sideways and stared at Govin. “You just got through saying that you hope we never meet this ‘Nameless One,’ and now you want to go straight down a gaping shaft that probably leads to one of the nine hells itself.”
“I think I can see light from the very bottom,” Shirral said, hunched over and peering down, herself. “It’s just a faint white glow, but I’m almost certain something is lit down there.”
“I could be in Hommlet right now,” Ahleage muttered, even as he uncoiled some rope and tied one end to a post of the railing. He tossed the other end over the side of the pit and continued his tirade. “Leah could be on my lap. I could be eating some of Glora’s fine roast chicken, but nooooo, I’m here, about to go down a hole with a crazy knight and you four, all insane enough to follow him.”
“Are you finished?” Elmo asked.
Ahleage pursed his lips, as if thinking. Finally, he replied, “For now. Give me a few moments though.…”
“Well then,” Govin said as he sheathed his sword. “Let’s get moving.”
“Let me go first,” Ahleage suggested. “I can check to make sure the ledge is solid and safe enough to stand on. Hold tight until I get down there.”
Ahleage sat down and dangled his legs over the side. He took hold of the rope, twisted around, and lowered his body so that he was hanging freely in the shaft with only his head above the surface of the floor.
“Don’t wait too long, though. If some demon tries to grab me, I sure want the rest of you to be there, too.”
With that, Ahleage lowered himself.
Once he had determined the safety of the ledge, the rest of the group descended into the shaft. Shanhaevel swallowed nervously as he peered between his feet over the edge of the narrow ledge. The drop made him sweat. Far, far below, he could see the faint glow of light that told him how far he would fall, should he slip. Ahead, Ahleage moved along, following the ledge around to the stairs that descended lower into that shaft. Behind the wizard, Elmo held a lantern high, helping everyone to see.
As the group descended the stairs, moving single file, Shanhaevel used his staff to make sure his footing was sound. The steps spiraled downward, but fortunately, they seemed to be stout and intact. The group took a couple of turns around the perimeter of the shaft, and then the steps just ended at a small platform hanging from the side.
“Great,” Ahleage said. “Good idea, Govin. Let’s head back up and try those doors, I guess.”
It was then that Shanhaevel felt a strange, cool breeze against his cheek. “
Hold a minute!” the elf said just as everyone was about to reverse direction. “I think there’s something here.”
“What? Did you find another secret passage?” Ahleage asked, having turned to face Shanhaevel as the elf examined the wall.
“Actually,” the wizard replied as he pushed a section of wall so that it suddenly slid downward, “yes.”
“Istus’s mother!” Ahleage breathed. “You give me the creeps, the way you always find those things. Elmo, shine your light down in here.”
The huge man held the lantern forward as Ahleage squeezed past Shanhaevel and moved through the portal opening. He stopped halfway through.
“What is it?” Shanhaevel asked, peering past the man into the area beyond. The floor immediately before Ahleage was covered in bones. Skulls mingled with femurs, and rib cages tumbled together with fibulas in a jumble of remains. Many of the skeletons were roughly intact, still wearing armor of some sort in several cases.
“A great battle was fought here,” Shanhaevel surmised. “Maybe when the temple fell.”
“So that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Ahleage said, still frozen in his spot. “I don’t want to go in there.”
“Wait a moment,” Shanhaevel said, then turned and looked back along the line of companions strung out on the stairs. “We’ve found a secret way into some tunnels, but it’s full of bones.”
“What’s beyond the bones?” Shirral asked.
“It looks like a hallway, but I can’t tell for sure.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Govin said. “Keep moving.”
“All right,” Shanhaevel said, then turned back and relayed the answer to Ahleage.
“Did you tell them about the bones?” Ahleage asked testily.
“Yes.”
“Lots of bones?”
“Yes.”
“Was this Sir Govin Dahna’s, Sir We-must-stop-them-at-all-cost idea?”
“Ahleage,” Shanhaevel replied, sounding each word slowly and distinctly to drive home his urgency. “Go inside the door. Now.”
Ahleage sighed and skulked into the chamber. Shanhaevel followed close behind. The area was indeed a hallway, or rather, a T-shaped junction of two hallways, each several paces wide. The covering of bones stretched beyond the lantern light in both directions. The passageway straight ahead went about that distance before it ended, a door to either side.
As the last of the members of the Alliance filed through the secret door, it abruptly slid upward, closing. Ahleage lunged at the portal, trying to stop it from completely sealing shut, but he was not quite in time. With a solid thunk, the door slammed shut.
The echo of the door had scarcely faded when there was a clattering at each end of the hallway. In horror, the companions watched as several intact skeletons arose from the heaps. Wearing armor from their days among the living and brandishing weapons in their bony fingers, a half dozen or more of the undead charged the group from both sides.
“This way!” yelled Elmo as he cut across the corridor into the central part of the intersection. The others followed him, all except Ahleage, who was clawing frantically at the door. When he realized that his friends had left him there, he turned and sprinted into the safety of the side hall.
Elmo, his axe held ready, motioned for Shanhaevel and Shirral to get behind him and the more battle-capable members of the group. Draga, Govin, and finally Ahleage took up positions across the mouth of the hall, ready for the onslaught. The first of the animated horrors turned the corner, their bony grins silently laughing as they clattered down the hall toward the waiting defenders.
It was at that moment that the door beside Shanhaevel and Govin opened. An ogre stood there, a club raised in its hand, ready to bring its weapon down upon the head of some enemy. Behind it, a second ogre waited with a feral grin on its ugly, wart-covered face.
Shanhaevel was too surprised to move when the ogre’s club came crashing down on him. The elf was only able to twist his body out of the way enough to avoid being brained. The weapon caught him across the back of the neck and shoulder and drove him straight to the ground. All of the elf’s extremities went numb, and he could scarcely breathe. He lay on the floor, his mind unable to register what had happened. The ogre stepped into the corridor where the members of the Alliance were already battling a line of skeletons. The creature raised its weapon to strike the wizard again, and behind it, the second ogre waited eagerly to get into the fray.
As Shanhaevel watched the huge wooden weapon loom over him, its face set with sharp stones, he found himself suddenly thinking of Lanithaine. His old mentor’s face seemed to hover in the elf’s field of vision, smiling down on him, and Shanhaevel wondered if Lanithaine would be proud of him, of what he had been a part of. I came and served, the wizard thought. I honored his name and helped to protect the people of Hommlet from harm … at least for a little while.
Shanhaevel smiled back at Lanithaine, hoping his teacher was proud of him, and then the vision dissolved, and it was the ogre again, about to kill him. But the beast never got the chance. Govin was suddenly there, jumping between the huge creature and the fallen wizard, warding off the intended blow with his shield and driving his sword deep into the ogre’s midsection. At the same moment, Shirral dragged Shanhaevel away, giving Govin room to fight.
Shanhaevel tried to twist his head around, to smile at the druid as she pulled him to safety, but he could not move his head the way he wanted to. He heard the scream of the ogre as the knight’s sword eviscerated it, and out of the corner of his vision, he saw Elmo bull-rush a skeleton, shattering the undead with his shield while he swung his axe around to strike at another. Shanhaevel’s vision blurred as a jolt of pain shot through his neck and down his back. Agony coursed up and down his spine, so much so that he could not even scream. The searing pain faded to a dull throbbing, and he could feel his fingers and toes again.
“Shhh,” Shirral told him, trying to press her hands against the back of his neck. “Hold still!”
The liquid fire that coursed down every nerve in his body immolated him, forcing him to cry out with the little strength he could find, only a hoarse croak. Suddenly, there was blessed coolness. He felt it radiate through him like a frozen stream melting in the spring sun. Shirral’s fingertips gently caressed his skin, sending quiet ripples of healing magic through him until the pain from the ogre’s blow was reduced to a vague throbbing in his neck and shoulder muscles.
Shirral sat back, looking at Shanhaevel, who blinked and realized he could sit up.
“Thank you,” he said, not knowing what else he could say.
Without a word, she leaned forward, grabbed him roughly by the collar of his cloak, and kissed him, pulling him to her lips and holding him tightly. He blinked in surprise and then kissed her back.
Just as suddenly, Shirral pulled away from him and uttered a few words of prayer so that her flaming scimitar ignited in her hand. Raising her weapon high, she leaped in beside Draga, who was being pushed back by no less than three skeletal warriors, their spears coming dangerously close to the bowman’s flesh time and time again.
Shaking his head to clear his senses, Shanhaevel rolled to his feet, noting that there was still some stiffness where he had been struck.
Govin was locked in a battle with the second ogre, while the rest of the companions fought skeletons. Now that Shirral stood with Draga, it looked as if Ahleage was bearing the worst of the fight, with three of the skeletons surrounding him. The man danced and feinted, trying to keep from getting pinned, but he was tiring.
Shanhaevel moved up behind Ahleage and said, “Keep them busy for just a moment more!” Then, he began a spell, drawing the magical energy and directing it outward as a sheet of flame from his spread fingers. He caught two of the skeletons in his magical fire. The scorching flame crackled and licked over the bones of the skeletons, igniting them like dry wood. When the jet of fire finally dissipated a moment later, the skeletons were nothing but a heap of smoldering bones.
“Thanks, wizard,” Elmo grunted, using the broad, flat blade of his axe to smash skeletons now, shattering them with his ferocious blows.
Ahleage said nothing, but he did take the offensive again, battering the lone skeleton still facing him with the flat of his own sword. Shanhaevel assisted with his staff where he could, swinging the stout weapon about and cracking bones when he saw a clean shot. After Elmo knocked the last skeleton backward to shatter against the wall, Shanhaevel turned to see Govin, his shield arm hanging awkwardly at his side, standing over the second ogre. Blood dripped from his blade.
Shirral was already moving to the knight’s aid, preparing to use her magical healing powers to mend his arm. Despite his injury, the fire in Govin’s eyes told Shanhaevel that the holy warrior was ready for more. Leaning on his staff to catch his breath, the elf looked around at the rest of his companions. Each of them had wounds, some worse than others. Draga had a nasty gash across the side of his face that had barely missed his eye. Elmo had a gaping rent in his armor across the ribs on his left side, and he was bleeding. Even Shirral walked with a slight limp. Yet none of them seemed cowed or subdued. Instead, he sensed an eagerness about the group, despite the oppressive feel of the temple, as though they felt they were close. Even Shanhaevel felt the excitement coursing through his limbs.
When Shirral finished her healing work, the companions turned their attention to their surroundings, trying to determine which way to go. At either end of the great hallway were other passages, and, of course, there was the room from which the ogre had come. They were just beginning to debate which way to go when Ahleage held his hand up for silence, his head cocked. In the distance, Shanhaevel could make out muffled sounds, a discussion it seemed, accompanied by footsteps. Motioning for the rest of the group to follow him, Ahleage padded forward, in the direction of the sounds.
“My lord Hedrack, we are almost ready to destroy the third door,” a man in the distance was saying. It sounded as though the voice carried from just a bit beyond where they were, around a bend in the passage.
The Temple of Elemental Evil Page 22