The Temple of Elemental Evil

by Thomas M. Reid

  The vulture creature shot past Shanhaevel rather than attacking him, seeming to prefer to toy with him. It landed to block his path, near the huge hole in the floor where the Alliance had descended what seemed like an eternity ago. It spread its wings wide and screeched triumphantly, a sound that made the elf cringe as he drew up short, breathing heavily. Behind him, the other creatures howled, sending shivers down Shanhaevel’s spine, as they did battle with Govin and Ahleage. Shanhaevel glanced around desperately, looking for some means of escape.

  He has Shirral! a part of him screamed. Hurry! There might still be enough time to save her. You must try! If you don’t reach her—

  He couldn’t make himself think of what might happen to the druid if he didn’t reach her. But it won’t matter, he told himself, for Zuggtmoy will be freed, and we’ll all suffer the same fate. Panting, he wiped his sleeve across his eyes. His vision blurred with the sickening weight of the temple’s evil pressing in on him.

  It’s the temple that makes you lose hope, he reminded himself. Focus! Don’t let it win!

  Shanhaevel cleared his thoughts. The vulture-thing was closing with him, now, clacking its beak and screeching in delight. The wizard kept his staff in front of him, holding it in a defensive stance, waiting to see if he might get a chance to dart around the beast and reach the throne. No opportunity presented itself, though, and the wizard grew more and more frustrated as time slipped away.

  There was a blur of motion in the corner of the wizard’s eye, and Draga slammed into the creature, driving it backward.

  “Save the druid!” he roared as he stepped back, his sword in his hand. “Go, wizard! Go!”

  The demon screamed at the newcomer before it, and when Shanhaevel darted forward, trying to slip past the two combatants, the fiend tried to cut the wizard off. Draga lunged again, sword up, slamming himself full force into the creature and driving his weapon into the vulture-thing’s chest. His momentum cracked the thin, hollow bones of one wing as he drove it back. The fiend stumbled, crying from the pain inflicted by the warrior and slashing at Draga with its talons and beak. It gouged Draga’s flesh in a spray of blood.

  In one terrible instant, Shanhaevel realized that both friend and foe were about to tumble over the edge of the great pit. The planar beast was overbalanced. Tumbling backward, it flailed with its one good wing, trying to right itself as Draga continued to push it, drive it, oblivious to his own danger.

  “Draga!” Shanhaevel cried out, taking a faltering step forward, hoping to catch his companion before both he and the abomination went over the edge. But the elf was much too far away and as his friend took that final step, the embraced combatants seemed to hang in empty space for a heartbeat before slipping down and away, lost.

  Shanhaevel could only stare in horror at the dark pit. The final wail of the maimed monstrosity echoed as it fell to its death.

  “Draga!” the elf shouted, devastated. Make it count! the wizard chided himself, shutting his mind off from the horror he had just witnessed. Make his sacrifice worth something! Move!

  Shanhaevel shook off his despair and ran toward the dais once more. He brought into being a spell that he had never tried before, another of the potent magicks he had gleaned from studying Lanithaine’s tomes. Weaving the magical energies, the elf transformed, changing from the familiar form of an elf into the very odd and unfamiliar form of an owl. His heart pounded as he transformed, fearing he might lose his mind to the process, becoming an owl in thought as well as in body. But it did not happen. When the spell was complete, he was still Shanhaevel.

  Spreading his arms wide, Shanhaevel discovered they were now feathered wings, and instinctually he took flight, rising swiftly. He soared toward the now-concealed throne. The elf prayed that some means of ingress was still available. He spotted a square hole where the throne had been and made directly for it, beating his wings furiously before the shaft could close.

  Shanhaevel did not contemplate the consequences of his actions. He did not consider that he was flying straight toward a bloated, horrifying demon or the angry, vengeful high priest who was trying to free her. All he could think about was the deaths of his friends, retrieving the golden key, and rescuing Shirral. As he dived into the hole and winged his way down that black shaft, his mind burned with fury for Hedrack, and the hatred seemed to give him strength.

  The shaft descended a fair distance. The bottom was faintly lit with unsettling purple, green, and sickly yellow light. Shanhaevel could see the throne resting on the floor directly below him. The seat was now empty. He wondered if Hedrack lay in wait at the bottom, ready to attack anything that appeared from above, or if, in the high priest’s pride, he assumed the abyssal creatures he had summoned would suffice to stave off any further interruptions. Regardless, Shanhaevel thought, Hedrack would not be expecting an owl to spring forth, and the elf hoped that would provide him with enough surprise that he could steal away the golden skull before Hedrack knew what had happened.

  As the transformed wizard dropped out of the shaft and into the wider chamber at its bottom, he drew up from his plunge and banked to one side, darting away from the entrance to the place.

  He found himself in another strange throne room, but this one faced at right angles to the one above, and unlike the chamber overhead with its harsh reds, browns, and greens, this one was inky black, with strange, glowing gray runes inscribed along the walls. The bizarre writing seemed to twist and writhe at the edge of Shanhaevel’s vision as he scanned the place. The only light issued from flickering torches set in cressets all about the perimeter of the room.

  At the near end of the long chamber, close to the shaft opening through which he had dropped down, a broad set of stairs led up into another chamber, currently unlit. At the far end, just before the throne, Hedrack knelt with his back to Shanhaevel, working at something on the floor before him. Sitting upon the throne was a horrid crone, a frightful woman whose gaze seemed glazed and distant.

  Uncertain of how to proceed, Shanhaevel swooped in closer on silent wings, hoping to gain a better view of what the high priest was doing. As the transformed elf circled overhead, he saw that Hedrack knelt at the edge of a great symbol inscribed in the floor—a hexagon inside a circle. The tips of the hexagon, radiating out past the circle, glowed in the colors of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo—while the center of the device pulsed with a faint purple light. The various hues somehow seemed sickly and wrong, but the wizard gave it little thought, for Shirral was lying on her back in the center of the device. She had been stripped bare, and Hedrack was attaching iron manacles to her ankles and wrists, obviously preparing her for some sacrifice. The druid seemed sluggish, her eyes only half open and her jaw slack as she stared vacantly up toward the ceiling. Resting on the floor between Hedrack’s knees as he leaned out over the druid was the golden skull.

  Shanhaevel banked again, preparing to dart in and steal the golden key out from under Hedrack’s nose. The transformed elf had been swift and silent to this point, and the high priest had not noticed him at all. Hedrack secured both of Shirral’s ankles and began to work on her left wrist. It would be such a simple matter to fly in, grab the key, and soar to the far side of the room before the high priest knew what had happened. Shanhaevel came around low and fast. He was approaching his target when the crone sitting upon the throne shrieked and pointed.

  Shanhaevel’s heart sank as Hedrack’s head whipped around and spotted the owl even as he snatched up the key and clutched it close. Shanhaevel tried to pull up and fly out of reach of the high priest, but he had built up too much momentum, and it was an easy thing for Hedrack to swing out with his mailed fist and strike the wizard hard.

  The blow sent Shanhaevel sprawling across black marble the floor. He came to rest against the wall a good distance away, his vision blurred red with pain and anger at his own failure. One wing was broken. Wide-eyed, he triggered the magical effect that would cancel the spell, and he felt himself shapes
hift back into his normal form. His arm hung uselessly at his side, his staff at his feet.

  Hedrack stood, facing the wizard, an unpleasant smile on his face.

  “That was daring,” the priest said, grinning. “I applaud your efforts. Since you managed to come down here, you can at least watch as I send your companion screaming into the abyss. My Lady Zuggtmoy will enjoy entertaining her, I’m sure.”

  At this, the crone cackled with crazed glee.

  Shanhaevel clenched his fists and immediately regretted it, for pain shot through his injured arm. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “Save your mocking for someone who cares to listen to you, you bastard. I came down here to put an end to this.”

  The wizard drew a deep breath and prepared a spell.

  Hedrack laughed, seeming to find the elf’s words genuinely funny. Shanhaevel paused in his casting, taken aback by the high priest’s unexpected display. Hedrack chuckled softly at first, openly amazed, but he was soon bent halfway over, howling with amusement, gasping for air. Tears of mirth ran down his face. Shanhaevel could only watch, dumbfounded.

  “You honestly still think you have a chance!” the high priest gasped between fits of laughter. “You think you might still be able to stop me! Oh, that is rich!” Finally regaining control, Hedrack continued. “Don’t you understand? It’s over! You’ve lost! The moment I gained control of the key”—he held up the small golden skull to emphasize his words—“victory was mine. What do you expect to accomplish now? How do you expect to stop me, when I can do this?”

  The high priest gestured, and a scintillating coalescence swirled in the air near where he stood. The disturbance grew and solidified until it was a whirlwind, hovering beside the high priest. The thing of air seemed alive, shifting and spinning, sending a cascade of dust through the room. It towered almost to the ceiling. Shanhaevel swallowed and took an involuntary step back, thinking desperately through the magic he had left, trying to come up with something he could use to defeat the air being.

  Hedrack gestured again, and another disturbance appeared, swirling into the form of a huge pile of earth and stone, vaguely manlike in shape. It swayed on its feet. Two massive arms that ended in great, rocky fists hung at its sides.

  Obviously enjoying his grandiose demonstration of power, Hedrack made a third, and then a fourth gesture, bringing into existence two more elemental creatures, one of fire and one of water. The two new beings danced with energy, seeming to lean forward against the forces that bound them, eager to scurry forward and strike at the awed elf standing on the opposite side of the chamber. Behind Hedrack, the crone cackled in mad glee, delighted with the summonings the high priest had performed.

  Gloating and proud, Hedrack lowered his arms. “So tell me, wizard, did you honestly think you had a chance? Did you really believe you could defeat the temple in its finest hour? I will give you credit. You are amusing.” He gestured once more, and as one, the four elemental creatures lurched toward Shanhaevel. “Destroy him. Now.”

  As Hedrack watched, standing casually, with one arm folded across his chest and the other hanging easily at his side, his four new pets made for Shanhaevel unerringly, moving to consume him in their essence, to freeze, crush, burn, and drown him utterly.

  The air elemental spun crazily, whipping about the room, gliding rapidly along one wall until it was behind the elf, trapping him and preventing escape. The creatures of fire and water moved to flank Shanhaevel, their bodies a sheet of flickering flame and a trembling, surging wave. The creature of earth came last, making the hall shake with its slow, deliberate footfalls.

  Shanhaevel had nowhere to go. He was trapped between the four elemental forces, surrounded by the powers of nature and doomed to suffer their effects. Desperately, the elf looked at Hedrack, hoping beyond hope that there might be some reprieve from the high priest, some sudden notion from the man that death like this was beyond even his desire, but Shanhaevel knew in his heart that Hedrack delighted in this. Shirral would die, and Zuggtmoy, strong in her own plane, though she had manifested as a cackling crone here on Oerth, would be freed to ruin the lands around the temple.

  “Now, you will die.” Hedrack gloated, still watching the destruction he was visiting on his foe. “As soon as my men destroy the last of the doors, my Lady Zuggtmoy will be free, and this lovely sacrifice will be sent to an abyssal plane to await the demoness’s attentions there.”

  Shanhaevel felt a familiar lump grow in his throat, felt the overwhelming sense of sadness that produced it. He thought of Lanithaine, grieving again for his teacher and friend. The wizard’s sense of sorrow seemed bottomless as he contemplated his own failings. He had been unable to save his mentor, he could not now save his love, and in the end, he would not be able to save even himself. Shanhaevel hung his head even as he felt the forces of the four creatures closing in. He sank down to one knee, his wounded arm still limp at his side, and bowed his head, surrendering to the inevitable at last.

  Hedrack’s gasp of surprise forced the elf to look up in the high priest’s direction. The golden skull was skittering across the floor toward Shanhaevel, knocked free of Hedrack’s grasp. Shirral had done it. With one arm still free of the shackles, she had managed to reach up and knock the key loose, sending it clattering in the direction of the elf. The golden skull bounced a couple of times as it rolled across the floor, sliding between the massive foot of the earth elemental and the roaring flames of the living fire creature. The small bejewelled orb rolled to a stop at Shanhaevel’s foot even as Zuggtmoy screeched in horror and anger from her chair.

  Hedrack snarled and backhanded Shirral, knocking her back with an audible thunk that Shanhaevel could hear even over the roar of wind and fire around him. The druid slumped back with a pitiful cry and lay still. Spinning, Hedrack looked to see where his treasure had rolled to a stop. When he saw the object of his desire resting near the toe of Shanhaevel’s boot, the high priest’s eyes grew wide.

  Rage, still smoldering in the elf’s heart, now flamed. Snatching up the golden skull with his good arm, Shanhaevel stood up. The four creatures surrounding him were now no more than a couple of paces away. Each of them stopped, however, as their quarry rose before them, holding aloft the source of their summoning and the icon of their subservience. Presenting the skull, Shanhaevel felt the link of command to the four elemental creatures, and he knew that they were under his influence and would obey his commands.

  For a moment, Shanhaevel considered sending the elemental beasts to attack Hedrack, to drive him against a wall and to destroy him as he had intended to destroy the wizard, but he realized it would be fruitless and would most likely harm Shirral in the process. The only way to defeat Hedrack was to destroy the key before Zuggtmoy could be freed—except that he needed Shirral’s aid to do that. Even if Shanhaevel could manage to free his companion, Hedrack would slay the druid before he would allow her to participate in such a ritual. Even with the orb in his grasp, defeat still seemed imminent to the wizard.

  Unless there is another way … the elf thought. Going quickly through the steps of the process Burne had explained before, he realized he might have an alternate way to perform the rites of destruction. Wind and earth, then fire and water. It could be done. Maybe.

  Hedrack spun on his heel, pulling a knife from his boot and kneeling down next to Shirral, who still seemed groggy. Her head was bruised, and blood leaked from a wicked gash on her temple. Hedrack squatted so that Shanhaevel could see him clearly, could witness what he was about to do. Shanhaevel had seen it coming, had braced himself for it, yet he still felt the panic rise in him as the high priest grasped the druid by the hair and pressed the blade against her throat.

  “Give me the skull or she dies right now!” Hedrack commanded.

  Fighting the urge to comply with the high priest, Shanhaevel responded, “You will kill her anyway, but”—the wizard held the golden skull aloft, so that Hedrack could see it—“do you realize what will happen if I do this?”

 
; Shanhaevel plunged his arm into the center of the creature of air, his grasp on the magical key making him immune to the effects of its buffeting winds.

  Hedrack’s eyes widened a second time, suddenly aware of what Shanhaevel was thinking. Releasing the druid’s hair, he raised his arm and pointed beseechingly.

  “No! Do not! You must not!”

  Hedrack leaped to his feet and charged the distance between them.

  Quickly, Shanhaevel spun on his feet and darted across to the creature of earth, commanding the beast to strike at the key with one of its rocky, powerful stone fists. The monster brought its thick hand down hard, almost knocking the orb out of the elf’s grasp, but Shanhaevel managed to hang on with his one good arm. There was an intense clanging sound from the blow.

  “Stop him!” Zuggtmoy shrieked. “Stop him, you fool!”

  Hedrack was closer now, no more than a dozen long strides away, though he was walled off from reaching Shanhaevel by the creature of earth and stone. Wasting no time watching the high priest, Shanhaevel spun away and thrust his arm into the heart of the hot, licking flames of the creature of fire. He held the orb in its center, though he himself was not burned because of his hold on the key. As the blood pounded in his ears and the stones beneath his feet trembled, Shanhaevel felt the gold grow hot in his palm and heard a scream of agony from Zuggtmoy.

  Hedrack was but a couple of paces away, now, pushing past the creatures that blocked his way, squeezing between the earth elemental and its flaming counterpart, ignoring the scorching flames that licked at him and singed his hair. The high priest lunged for Shanhaevel, trying to grab the elf, but he was not fast enough. The wizard darted away, launching himself at the last creature in the sequence, plunging his fist, still holding the orb, deep into the murky recesses of the water beast.

  “No!” Hedrack screamed, and the roaring in Shanhaevel’s ears intensified. He felt the orb crack in his hand, shattering into a dozen jagged pieces of gold. The gems around the skull’s crown slipped free and shattered. In the distance, Zuggtmoy screamed once more, but it was not the cry of the old crone, but rather the pained roar of the great bulbous demon—her true form. Shanhaevel’s momentum carried him into the depths of the creature of water, and as the golden key cracked, he felt its magical protection over him slip away. He felt the intense cold of the water.