“I’m willing to take advice,” Zeeto called after them. “Look, one arrow of warning and I heeded right up. I can be taught! Hey! We’re doing this for an elf lady frozen like a statue by Orc War-era magic!”
Sira shushed him. “Let them go. That old elf could—”
Luin paused and looked over his shoulder. “Frozen, you say? Was this woman tall as my chin with hair like a wheat field beneath the dawn’s light and azure eyes with flecks of emerald? Did she have a cheek that curved to the palm of a lover’s hand and lips the shade of a blossoming carnation?”
Zeeto shook his head. “No. She looked like a regular elf.”
Sira backhanded him. “You knew her?”
Luin turned and strode away, taking his young charge in tow. “I thought so, once.”
Gary’s heart nearly broke at the pain and sorrow walled up behind those simple words. A complex, nuanced, and tragic relationship had sprung from a single sentence of backstory casually scratched on a sheet of notebook paper.
“Come on,” Braeleigh said gruffly, rubbing the back of her hand across one eye. “We don’t need him. I can find the Temple of Twilight without any help.”
Gary noted that she emphasized the human name.
34
Zeeto perched atop his pack, biting off hunks of jerky as quick as he could chew and swallow them. They’d been waiting as the sun set over the forest clearing, watching the warm light retreat up the trees on the eastern side until only the topmost leaves hung onto the day.
“Is there some weird magic effect at work, or do all sunsets take this long?” the halfling demanded.
“Thou hast never watched the sunlight fade and wondered that thy love hath beheld the same golden rays from across the wide country betwixt?” Beldrak asked. “Such a sunset vanishes in a whispered breath that fingers cannot clutch onto.”
Zeeto shrugged. “Don’t see how mooning over tavern girls will speed things up, but I’m willing to give it a try.” With that, the rogue closed his eyes and licked his lips lewdly.
All the while, Sira paced the clearing’s edge. “This feels like a waste of time. We ought to feel it if there were some titanic magic at work, shouldn’t we? Those stupid dwarven vaults had a faint buzz in the air around them. A missing castle ought to have more than that.”
“Temple,” Beldrak corrected mildly.
“I know a little elven,” Sira snapped. “It’s not a literal translation.”
“It’s true,” Braeleigh said.
Beldrak looked Gary’s way. “Thou hast been silent of late. Dost thy mind hang heavy on the words of that elder elf?”
“Does yours?” Gary asked, and Beldrak recoiled as if bitten.
“I thinketh not,” the paladin shot back. Then, turning away, he hung his head. “Fie! Thou hast untied the riddle of mine own mind. Let ill omen wither on the vine unharvested, but sound counsel spilled from elder mouth dost deliver the rot to thine doorstoop. Yet nor may we in hale conscience leave aside our duty and our quest.”
“Quit being a baby,” Braeleigh scolded, taking her eyes momentarily from the site where she promised the temple would appear. “Maybe it won’t be puppy piles and fresh-baked peach pie in there, but we’re going to prove to that crusty old Luin that we’re real elves.”
Zeeto raised a hand. “I intend to prove no such thing.”
They settled into an uneasy silence after that. Everyone found their own ways to pass the time. Sira paced. Beldrak brooded. Braeleigh kept her vigil as Caspian sniffed around the surrounding woods and marked trees. Gary played checkers with Zeeto on a board scratched into the dirt with a dagger.
The sun sank lower.
Gary glanced into the clearing, heart quickening in lock step with the sky as it darkened shade by shade. He caught the others stealing glances as well.
When the last of the daylight crept below the horizon, only visible in the upper reaches of the clouds, Braeleigh began to sing. The words were in French as far as Gary’s ears were concerned, a language he recognized more from fancy restaurant dishes than anything. But his failure to understand the lyrics didn’t make the melody any less haunting. Her rendition gave Gary pause, wondering whether Katie could actually sing in real life or if this was like her archery skill: learned in game.
At the conclusion of the song, a structure faded into view.
Five stories tall and carved from alabaster, the Temple of Twilight had the look of a European castle from the age when style took precedence over crenellations and murder holes. The lowest two floors had no windows at all, and of the three uppermost floors, only a single window glowed with eldritch blue light.
As the others stared in awe and wonderment, Zeeto brushed forest grime from the shins of his pants and strode toward the temple. “You guys hang here. I’ll climb up the outside, grab the glowing water, and be back in a jiff.”
“What makes you think it’s the water making that glow?” Sira asked suspiciously. “What do you know about this place?”
“That I don’t want to go through the inside, presumably fighting guardians that Braeleigh wants to pretend will be any friendlier than that bastard old elf. That no one ever hides the good stuff in the foyer beside the cloak rack and the rug to leave your wet shoes. That I’d like to be in and out of this place before twilight passes and we’re stuck in there for a full day—if we’re lucky. Need I go on?”
“I was entertained,” Gary said. “Sure.”
Zeeto made an obscene hand gesture.
Braeleigh looked up the side of the temple. “I wouldn’t recommend climbing.”
They all followed her gaze.
Several snake-like creatures with stubby legs twisted their way along the rooftop. Judging the distance, they had to have been longer than a man’s height and as thick around as an arrow quiver. Gary knew them instantly.
Name: Decapede Hit Points: 20 Damage: 1d6+3 (poison)
Cross between a centipede and a monkey. Prehensile hands with sticky fingertips make them excellent climbers on any surface. Carnivorous. Poison check against fortitude or paralyzed for 1d6 combat turns.
“Decapedes,” Gary supplied helpfully. There was no need for Zeeto to go up there and get killed to find out how dangerous they were. The guardian beasts were meant to harry a hasty exit from the temple. The idea of climbing up past them was bold, daring, and potentially a shortcut to the entire adventure—if the reckless climber survived. “They’re sort of a cross between a caterpillar and monkey. Those legs end in prehensile hands. The tips of their tails are barbed with paralytic stingers. Oh, and they’re carnivorous. They’ll eat you alive while you’re helpless to move.”
“New plan,” Zeeto said hastily. “Let’s stick together and try the front door.”
Beldrak unsheathed his sword. He shared a glance with Braeleigh. “Nay. I cannot abide such creatures at our backs. Thy arrow, my lady?”
d20: 17 + (DEX -1) = 16
Gary was shocked to find that he would be going early in the combat turn. Braeleigh’s arrow whistled off into the twilight gloom, striking her target. Gary fumbled Hair Splitter into position and took hasty aim at the same decapede.
d20: 3 + (To Hit +2) + (DEX -1) + (Partial Darkness -2) = 2
The decapedes charged down the wall just as Gary’s shot sailed over the temple roof to land gods-knew-where. But distance had its privileges as well. The creatures only made it halfway down the temple before the others in the party had a chance to act.
Zeeto vanished into the shadows.
Beldrak took up a defensive stance guarding both Braeleigh and Gary.
Sira chanted beneath her breath and raised her holy symbol of Sevius. A ray of amber light pierced the umber and scalded one of the decapedes with a hiss of purified flesh. It lost its grip on the wall, fell heavily to the ground, and lay still.
Braeleigh took another shot over Beldrak’s shoulder, plunking another arrow into a decapede’s meaty torso.
Reaching around behind him, Gary couldn’t quite grab his lute, spi
nning a full circle like a dog chasing its tail before giving up and trying an a cappella version instead. “These itsy bitsy crawlers came down to wipe us out. Arrows she loosed and shot them in the snout. Dawn brings the sun and resets the terrain, and the itsy bitsy crawlers won’t bother us again.”
Inspire: +2 To Hit
The decapedes reached the ground in a frenzy. Either they weren’t music lovers, they’d been inspired by the death of their comrade, or they were just trained to defend the Temple of Twilight without regard for their own well-being.
Beldrak stepped into the path of the first of the creatures as it headed straight for Braeleigh. He swept the Shard of Pellar down in an overhead chop that connected with a sickening crunch of bone.
Critical hit? Gary wondered. For the millionth time, he wished he could see their dice rolls.
Without warning, one of the decapedes shrieked in agony. Zeeto appeared as if blinking into existence with his dagger in the creature’s spine. When the shrieking ceased, the decapede lay still.
Sira’s Purifying Light prayer struck again, searing another of the decapedes but not killing it.
With the 4 to 16 Holy damage per prayer, Gary wondered how many of the creatures would have converted to the worship of Sevius on the spot if they knew it would render the spell impotent against them. After all, Sevius wasn’t known for combat spells in the first place, let alone to damage his own flock.
Gary reprised his nursery rhyme to continue adding the bonus as he carefully aimed Hair Splitter at the singed decapede heading for Zeeto.
d20: 11 + (To Hit +2) + (DEX -1) + (Partial Darkness -2) + (Don’t All Snipers Sing? +2) = 12
Despite rolling much better than his initial shot, even a 12 wasn’t getting the job done. The crossbow bolt whistled past, nearly clipping the halfling in the head.
Zeeto squealed. The decapede that Gary had attempted to shoot had grabbed him in two pairs of hands. A barbed stinger sank into the rogue’s belly.
Braeleigh’s arrow finished off the monster, and Beldrak pulled the carcass off before its weight buried the now-paralyzed Zeeto beneath it.
“Is that all of them?” Sira asked, jogging over with her eyes still turned toward the temple walls.
Caspian barked once. “Yep,” Braeleigh said. “Unless more are hiding on the rooftop, we’ve got ‘em all. Well, I suppose more of anything could be hiding where we can’t see, hear, or smell them. But Caspie doesn’t smell anything else out here; do you, boy? Do you? Who’s a good widdle boy?” She took the wolf’s face in both hands, ruffling his fur.
Zeeto lay on the ground, motionless. Sira’s hands glowed as she prayed to Sevius in words that strained credulity. Something about the halfling deserving a chance to redeem himself, of them needing him, of Sira wishing with all her heart for his healthy recovery.
Gary was skeptical top to bottom of the whole litany.
With a gasp, Zeeto sat up. “Oh, my gods! That was horrible. It was like being passed out drunk but wide awake. Did that thing plant larvae in me? Please tell me your healing spell checked for larvae.”
“You’re fine,” Sira assured him dryly. Her pious pleadings had boiled away to leave the put-upon world weariness of Kim Tanaka in its place.
Gary declined to comment on either the biology of decapede egg-laying or Sira’s casual hypocrisy. If Sevius kept answering her prayers, that was good enough for Gary.
“We about ready to head inside?” Braeleigh asked. “Because Zeeto was right about one thing. I’m pretty sure if dawn comes and we’re still inside, we’re stuck until nightfall.”
The halfling was nearly to the temple door before any of them started moving. “You all coming or what? Let’s get this heap of stone looted. Oh, and that water thing.”
35
The doors to the Temple of Twilight had opened at their approach. Weapons drawn, the party had crept in expecting another ambush like the decapedes. Gary had taken up the rear, trying to keep his eyes from rolling at their paranoia. It was his fault, after all, but he couldn’t help knowing that the tests inside were for the brain, not the sword arm.
Once all of them were fully inside, the doors swung shut behind them.
“No!” Zeeto shouted. “We’re trapped.”
With a scowl, Gary marched over, gave the door handle a solid heave, and opened it wide enough for a cowardly halfling to flee if he so chose.
The rest of the party all fixed stern glares on Zeeto.
“What?” the halfling asked. “You all assumed the same. I was just making the dramatic pronouncement.”
When Gary let go of the handle, the door slowly closed once more. “If you want out, the temple’s gonna let you bail. We’re here for healing water. Or dispelling water. Curse-breaking water? I dunno, water of some sort. Either way, I’m sticking it out.”
“Me too,” Braeleigh said, though no one had ever questioned her resolve on the matter.
The foyer of the temple was a closed room with two doors aside from the one by which they’d entered. At the center of the room was a marble statue of a unicorn on a pedestal, all carved from the same marble as the temple itself.
“Makes you wonder,” Zeeto said as if speaking to himself. “What would all this be worth if we just snagged as much marble as we could carry off?”
“Mission,” Sira snapped. “Quit trying to larceny your way around doing your job.”
“Larceny is an adjunct function of my current position,” Zeeto said, using the corporate double-speak that Marty often slipped into when making fun of something that sounded too important for its own good. “Besides, I’m thinking sideways at our current problem. We scratch up enough currency, we can pay someone to unfreeze the elf woman.” He cleared his throat. “Can probably pay someone to undo the magic on Miriasa too.”
Braeleigh shot the halfling a scowl and stuck her tongue out at him.
“There be mischief at yon portal,” Beldrak said, pointing. “Methinks we shall find the doors unyielding to our entreaties until their riddles hath been satisfied.”
The left door leading out of the room bore an inscription in elven, complete with French accent marks. Gary pinched the bridge of his nose, grateful that he could read it as if it were plain English. Below the inscription was a pair of numbers:
REALMS OF THE LIGHT
0 7
Between the numbers was a stone dial the size of a dinner plate marked with arithmetic symbols: plus, minus, multiply, divide. At any time, just one of them could line up between the numbers; currently, the minus sign was aligned.
“How many realms of light are there?” Braeleigh asked.
“Mind just translating the inscription?” Sira asked. “Looks like we’re going to be doing math today, and that’s sort of my specialty. Except I don’t read elven.”
“Priestesses learn math?” Zeeto asked incredulously. “Plus, I mean, you’re a—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” Gary warned. Priestess or no priestess, Sira was still Kim Tanaka. She’d been their gaming group’s primary puzzle solver since they’d begun playing together. She could be a dockworker turned rogue or a pixie barbarian and she’d still be able to do matrix algebra in her head.
Braeleigh read the inscription aloud in human.
“Duh,” Sira said. “Unless the answer is a negative number or zero, the plus sign is the only way to go. This temple is starting us off on fluff riddles. But yes, there are seven celestial realms of light.”
Twisting the dial, Sira set it to the plus sign, and the door slid open softly. Silence lacked the gravitas of the rich, rumbling grind in the dwarven vaults, but this reverential pall suited the Temple of Twilight.
Beyond lay a short set of stairs that led to another, similar chamber.
“Forward, or see what’s behind the door on the other side of the room?” Sira asked.
Beldrak stepped past her and onto the first step leading up. “Breach not thine own redoubt. One path before and one behind and we might find ou
rselves betwixt hammer and anvil.”
“Right,” Zeeto said. “Er, correct, I mean. Let’s not go right until we find out what’s left. Then we can go back and open the door that’s left, which is the right door. Which isn’t the right door right now, of course. But when the right door is the right door, that’s where we’ll go. In the meantime, let’s do this the right way and go left.”
“Hast thou any notion of a ship’s command?” Beldrak asked in all seriousness. “We all might avail of port and starboard to untangle the natty knot of thy words.”
“Don’t get him started,” Sira said. “Zeeto did that on purpose.”
Gary took the lead, not needing to get caught up in the nonsense that so often plagued the gamers. Were they really like this? Was their table banter not just goofing around but a deeper character flaw endemic to the breed? If hardcore gamers couldn’t take a campaign world more seriously than this, how were they going to survive?
The next chamber contained a life-sized statue of a giant eagle with a wingspan wider than Gary’s outstretched arms.
Zeeto whistled as he circled it upon arriving. “Some sculpting work, huh? You think maybe some elf wizard gone bad turned this poor animal to marble?”
“No!” Braeleigh blurted. “Elf wizards weren’t like that.”
“For someone who last saw her own kind when you were younger than that girl in the forest, you sound awfully certain,” Sira said mildly.
“My mother was a wizard,” Braeleigh said. She looked over to the sealed door at the far end of the room and translated to change the subject. Including the numbers at the bottom, it read:
REALMS OF THE DARKNESS
6 3 7
This time, there were two dials breaking up the equation. With another metaphysical question, once more they all turned to Sira.
“The answer is nine,” the priestess said.
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