The Temple of Elemental Evil

12

During the night, Shanhaevel had a dream. Burne came to him, the wizard’s face hovering insubstantially in front of the elf’s field of vision.

“Shanhaevel, you must remember this when you awaken. I can only assume that something terrible has befallen Melias, for I cannot reach his mind. If Elmo still lives, he will be able to explain further. It is time you and the others knew the full truth. The forces of the temple are on the rise again, and you must stop them from releasing a terrible evil, an evil we could not destroy ten years ago. I am sorry we kept this from you before. Melias and I felt it best not to reveal this until the time was right, but now, there can be no more delay.

“You must find a golden key and return it to me. I will have determined the means to destroy it by then. The key is in the form of a skull, missing its lower jaw. It contains four gems, one for each of the elements, set into the crown line at the compass points. You must infiltrate the temple ruins, discover the whereabouts of this key, and return it to me. Whatever happens, get the key. Many lives depend on your success.”

Burne’s face faded from view, and Shanhaevel’s dreams were troubled by looming golden skulls and demonic faces. When he awoke, the pink of dawn was just brightening on the horizon. Shivering, he sat up, remembering Burne’s dream message with perfect clarity. When the rest of the Alliance had awakened, the elf shared the message with them.

Elmo nodded when Shanhaevel finished. “This skull is known to me, at least somewhat. It was created during the initial rise of the temple, as an object of power. It must be the orb of gold mentioned in the poem. So we must do this. We must find this key, before it’s too late.”

“What does ‘too late’ mean?” Ahleage asked, worry on his face.

“‘Too late’ is when the temple leaders find this key and use it to release the demon.”

“What?” Ahleage choked. “No one said anything to me about demons last night! This is way over my head.”

“She was sealed there when the temple was defeated,” Elmo explained. “Burne, Lanithaine, and others rode with the prince to combat her at the Battle of Emridy Meadows. Their losses were heavy, and when the time came to destroy her, they were too weakened. Instead, they sealed her deep within her own lair, trapping her and making it impossible for anyone to reach her again. Except that she must have seen it coming, and somehow she attuned this object, this key, so it became the means to free her. She knew it would be only a matter of time before someone found it and unlocked the seals on her prison.”

“Boccob,” Shanhaevel breathed. “Melias knew this the whole time. He and Burne. And Lanithaine. Why didn’t they just tell us?”

“They felt that you would never agree to do this if you knew the full extent of the problem. I disagreed with their reasons, but it wasn’t my expedition, so I acquiesced.”

Despite Elmo’s eagerness to be underway, the group had to bury Melias. They knew they had no time to return to Hommlet for a proper ceremony, so they chose a quiet spot near their camp. Govin spoke a few words in honor of the man he had never met. The grave was flanked by two large maple trees that were just beginning to leaf out, their buds blazing crimson in the morning sun. It was a fine marker, Shanhaevel decided as they mounted up and set out toward Nulb.

Nulb was a dirty, seedy, dangerous place, and since they wanted to attract as little attention as possible, the Alliance left the road and went around the town to avoid the place entirely. Instead they headed directly for the temple, hoping to find a safe and hidden spot close to the ruined structure in which to rest for the night. With most of the day gone, the sky had grown overcast, and Shanhaevel could smell the threat of rain as they rode.

Shanhaevel looked over at Shirral. She had been pensive and quiet the whole day, despite several efforts on the wizards part to engage her in conversation. He had not yet found a good way to open up to her, to find out if Ahleage’s comments from the previous evening would hold true. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the small track along which Elmo was leading them.

The route to the temple was little more than a rutted trail. The dense forest pressed in on either side, but it was obvious that some amount of traffic had been using it recently, which set the entire group on edge. Shanhaevel found himself shuddering on more than one occasion, his skin crawling from the sensation of being watched. Pulling his hood up as it began to drizzle, he hunched down as if he were shying away from prying eyes.

After about an hour of riding through the waning cloud-filtered light of the late afternoon, they reached the edge of the tree line and saw it. Dismounting and leaving their horses in a small copse of trees near the road, the group stealthily approached the ruined temple on foot, leery of guards. There seemed to be none.

The vegetation surrounding the place was sickly and warped, with a profusion of nettles, briars, and burrs. Many of the trees were dead and skeletal, and the scrub growth at their bases was stunted and unnaturally colored, yellowish with disease. Here and there among the weeds gleamed the bleached white remains of countless dead, skulls half-buried in the soil and other bones scattered among the brown grass.

Surrounding the main structure were piles of gray rubble with the occasional intact section of wall. At the northeast corner of these outer walls stood the stump of a tower. There seemed to be no signs of life there other than a handful of ravens perching atop the structure.

The main building itself was intact, an impressive bastion of arched buttresses and hideous leering faces carved into the stone. Disgusting creepers and vines clung to the entire thing, as though clawing at the building in an attempt to get to the rich source of malevolence inside.

Shanhaevel shivered. The light, already diffused in the overcast sky, somehow seemed even weaker and more ineffectual here. More than once, he saw a darting movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his gaze in that direction, all he spotted was a shadow or a blackish bush, moving slightly in the breeze.

“By Cuthbert, this place exudes evil,” Govin said. “My mouth is sour with the taste of it.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ahleage, “and I keep seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Come on,” Govin said, loosening his sword in its scabbard. “Let’s have a look around.”

“Wait,” Shanhaevel said. “Why aren’t there any guards?”

“I’ve asked myself that question about a dozen times, now,” Ahleage added.

“My suspicion,” Govin responded, “is that the residual evil of the place is enough to discourage most would-be explorers, and there’s a certain logic to giving the appearance of being abandoned, rather than swarming with guards.”

“Well, even if we can’t see guards, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some hiding somewhere,” Shanhaevel warned. “Let’s get a little unobtrusive reconnaissance, first. I’ll call Ormiel to fly overhead and see what he can see.”

“Good idea,” nodded Shirral, her eyes wide. “Let’s make absolutely sure before we go in.”

Reaching out with his mind, Shanhaevel called to his hawk, summoning the bird. Ormiel swooped past and circled the ruined temple, but he peeled abruptly to the side and retreated to a nearby tree.

Ormiel, spy for me, Shanhaevel told him. Fly and look.

No, the hawk answered. Bad place.

“He won’t go near the place,” the wizard explained to everyone else. Shanhaevel sighed and shook his head. “He can sense the evil, too.”

“Then we’ll just have to trust our own wits and senses,” Govin said, starting toward the temple, “and our faith in goodness to see us through.”

“I was afraid he was going to say that,” Ahleage muttered.

At Elmo’s suggestion, they approached the ruined structure from the side. It would be wiser to avoid the main road, if possible. They soon discovered, though, that despite the fact that the walls were thrown down and ruined, the path was almost impassable. Everywhere the thorns, nettles, and creeping vines were too thick and high to move through.

“We could be out here all night, trying to hack through this,” Elmo grumbled as he wiped blood from yet another thorn scratch on the back of his hand. The skin already showed a swollen red welt. “As much as I hate to come knocking at the front door, we’re going to have to follow the road, I think. There’s no other way inside.”

Reluctantly, the companions made their way around to the south side, following the road until they were inside the barrier. Ahead of them, the great archway of the main doors loomed, casting dark shadows upon the portals themselves. Standing inside the destroyed walls set Shanhaevel’s teeth on edge. The entire place reeked of hatred and malevolence.

What the hell are we doing here? he wondered. This place must feed off our fears.

The drizzle that had been falling began to transform, becoming a slushy sleet that grew heavier by the moment. It rattled off every surface, crackling as it hit the stonework of the ruins and pelting the huddled figures as they drew cloaks and hoods more tightly around themselves.

The companions approached the front entrance in the fading light of early evening, studying the twin bronze doors before them, which towered more than twenty feet high and were nearly as wide. The doors were held fast by huge iron chains, and Shanhaevel could see that every crack and crevice in the thing had been sealed with soft iron. More importantly, though, a set of magical runes had been etched into the portal, each glowing with a silvery radiance. Shanhaevel could make out only a little of what the runes said, although their effect was clear enough. None of the companions could muster the will to approach the doors any closer than about ten feet. Beyond that, they found the deed impossible to carry out.

“They are binding sigils,” Shanhaevel said, turning away to escape the sense of opposition that washed over him when he tried to draw near. “They were put there by Burne, Lanithaine, and the others when the temple fell a decade ago. That must be how they sealed the demon inside.”

“So there’s no way to open them?” Govin asked.

“Not that I know of,” Shanhaevel replied, shuddering still at the proximity to the temple.

“Come on, then,” Govin suggested, heading around the side of the building. “There’s got to be another way inside, some secret passage that they are using.”

The rest of the companions followed the knight, who made his way carefully through the tall weeds and dead trees, following what seemed to be game trails crisscrossing through the bracken. As they approached the rear of the temple, Shanhaevel noted again the large number of ravens silhouetted against the steely gray sky atop the tower. Perching among the ruins of the upper floors, they made him shiver.

Ravens are never a good sign, he told himself, then rolled his eyes. That’s silly, he chastised himself. They’re just birds.

When the group got closer to the base of the tower, the ravens grew agitated, and fully a dozen or more of them arose from their perches. The birds swooped down upon the group, and as Shanhaevel watched, they appeared to grow larger in size.

“Look out!” Shanhaevel cried, bringing his staff up to swat at the first of the creatures that flew past him. It was huge, he realized, with a wingspan of nearly ten feet. It went soaring past, nearly knocking him down.

By now, the rest of the Alliance was aware of the attack, drawing weapons and crouching low as giant ravens swarmed and swooped all around. Elmo growled in pain as one of the beasts raked him with its claws, catching him across the back of one shoulder with a razor-sharp talon. Draga, Elmo, and Ahleage had their bows up and were firing arrows at the birds. Govin, Shirral, and Shanhaevel did their best to repel those giant ravens that swooped in to attack the bowmen.

At that moment, the group came under attack from arrow fire. One of the missiles tore through Shanhaevel’s cloak, barely missing his leg. Another caught Ahleage in the arm. He cried out and nearly dropped his bow.

“The tower!” yelled Govin, turning his shield to ward off any more shots aimed at him. “They’re firing from the arrow slits! Get into cover!”

The group managed to retreat from the tower and fend off the attacks of the ravens at the same time, moving into a grove of usks, short bushy trees usually prized for their sweet fruit. The pale blue, still-unripe fruit of these particular twisted, stunted specimens were tainted with angry red splotches, however.

From this protected spot, the battle continued in the sleet. At first, the ravens were everywhere, and Shanhaevel suffered several cuts on his arms and hands from the flyby attacks, but the bowmen soon took their toll on the birds, dropping them out of the sky one by one. Finally, when but one or two of the giant creatures remained aloft, they turned and flew away, leaving the Alliance crouched among the sickly trees, wet, bleeding, and panting. A handful of giant birds that had been shot were only wounded, flapping their wings haphazardly and struggling to move across the ground. Elmo stepped out to dispatch the injured ones with his axe and to retrieve intact arrows. Shirral tended to everyone’s wounds.

“Well, if they didn’t know we were coming before,” Ahleage snarled quietly in disgust, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder toward the tower behind him, “they sure as hells know now. There’s no way to get over there without being turned into a pincushion. I might be able to sneak up there, but what then? I’m not going in there by myself.”

Shanhaevel thought for a moment. A possibility occurred to him, but he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. What choice do we have? he asked himself. Sighing, he said, “I have an idea, but it isn’t terribly noble. It’ll kill them, hopefully all of them, in one blow. Before I agree to do this, though, I want to give them a fair warning.”

“I’ll go order them to surrender,” Govin said. “We’ll see what happens.”

The knight stood and walked out toward the tower. He approached the main door, his shield held before him. The rest of the group watched from cover.

“Hear me!” Govin called out. “In the name of Cuthbert and goodness, surrender! We offer you this one chance, or we will destroy you!”

In reply, several arrows hissed out from the arrow slits, causing the knight to flinch back behind his shield. Backing away hastily, Govin returned to the others.

“All right, I gave them a chance. Whether they think we’re bluffing or not, they want a fight. What do you have in mind, wizard?”

“Wait and watch,” Shanhaevel said, preparing to cast his magic. Taking a deep breath, he began an incantation to render himself invisible. As he finished the spell and faded from sight, Ahleage chuckled.

“I was hoping you’d do that,” the man said.

“Shhh,” Shanhaevel said quietly. “I’m almost ready. Govin, give me about two minutes, then come out and make that same demand again.”

“Yes, I like offering myself as an easy target,” the knight grumbled. “All right, two minutes.”

Shanhaevel stood. “The rest of you, sit tight. This shouldn’t take long.”

He made his way toward the tower, trying to disturb as little of the grass and weeds beneath his feet as possible. He crept along, using his staff for balance, checking to see if he was leaving easily discernable footprints in the mud. So far, so good, he told himself as he got to the base of the tower, near one of the arrow slits. Now, he only had to wait until Govin appeared again.

A moment later, the knight came out, his shield held in front of himself. When Govin reached the point where he had been previously, he called out again. “This is your last chance. Surrender now, or we will attack!”

Shanhaevel could hear a handful of snickers through the arrow slit, and then he heard movement from just on the other side of the opening. More arrows shot out at the knight, who was struck once in the arm and howled in pain as he backed away, eliciting more guffaws from inside the tower.

Grimly, Shanhaevel peeked inside the arrow slit and saw a scruffy looking bandit, a bow in hand, peering right at him. He had to fight the urge to jerk back away from the man, but it was obvious that the bandit did not see him. The man stepped away from the arrow slit, letting a piece of black canvas fall across the opening. Nodding and taking a deep breath to calm himself, Shanhaevel whispered his spell, bringing his staff up as he did so. When he neared the end of the incantation, he thrust his staff through the opening, forcing the canvas back out of the way, and pointed his finger inside.

There was a single surprised yelp from the other side of the arrow slit, but Shanhaevel, knowing that his spellcasting had negated the invisibility and that he was now visible again, had already ducked away, crouching low and pressing himself tightly to the base of the tower. A heartbeat later, there was a muffled but concussive thump as the elf’s spell went off. Tongues of flame shot out of each of the arrow slits like fiery breath from some beast, and then vanished. Nodding in grim satisfaction, the wizard motioned for his companions to join him.

The rest of the group moved out of hiding and came running toward the tower. There was no arrow fire this time. When they reached the base of the tower, Ahleage stared at Shanhaevel.

“What the hells did you do?” the man asked.

“Flung a little magic their way,” Shanhaevel replied.

“It looks like the whole inside of the tower exploded,” Elmo said. “I’ve heard of spells like that. You did that?”

Shanhaevel nodded, but he didn’t feel much like celebrating. “I did. I doubt anyone survived.” The thought made him grimace. “It’s a pretty brutal spell.”

Govin, his arm apparently healed by Shirral, had his sword out. “Let’s get out of the slush and see.”

The door turned out to be barred and chained on the outside, but it didn’t take Ahleage long to defeat the lock.

“That’s odd,” Shanhaevel observed. “They must come and go by a different route.”

“Perhaps they have a way to the temple inside,” Govin suggested.

Inside, the acrid smell of sulfurous smoke and burned flesh was strong. Entering cautiously, weapons at the ready, the Alliance crept inside the tower.

None of the bandits remained alive. From their positioning, it was obvious that they had been lying in wait, prepared to ambush anyone foolish enough to enter the tower through the main doors. Two low walls flanked the entrance, designed to funnel intruders toward a central point where ranks of spearmen and crossbowmen would annihilate them. The bodies were still in those spots. The fiery burst of magic had killed them instantly and dropped them where they had stood.

Guilt washed over Shanhaevel. They never knew what hit them, he thought. He tried not to imagine what it must have felt like, that instant of fiery death. They attacked us, he reminded himself, and they serve an evil so powerful that it’s palpable. He shook his head, refusing to grieve for these thugs.

The group wasted little time exploring the interior of the tower, lighting a couple of lanterns and beginning to explore. The main room, where the bandits had died, held little besides rude furniture and some old cloaks and blankets, as well as some sacks of foodstuffs. The remains of a half-eaten meal still rested on the tabletops, burned to a crisp, now. From the rafters hung various smoked meats and sausages, along with some bags of herbs and onions. Beneath an ascending staircase—blocked at its upper end by the collapse of the upper levels of the tower—were several barrels filled with water, beer, and sour-smelling wine.

Off of the main room were two smaller ones, apparently quarters for the officers of the bandit troops. Ahleage rooted around in an oak chest in the first chamber, but all he came up with was personal clothing and effects. In the other chamber, they found a second chest, this one sealed tight. Ahleage knelt down to pick the lock.

“Ow!” the young man howled, jerking his hand away from the lock and sticking his finger into his mouth. “Something pricked me!”

Shanhaevel moved beside Ahleage and peered down at the lock. A small needle protruded from it. “Look what was set inside the lock,” he observed, pointing.

“Whoa,” Ahleage said, suddenly falling back on his backside, “I don’t feel so good.”

He was pale and had broken out in a sweat.

Shanhaevel turned back to the chest and examined the needle in the lock more closely. Oh, Boccob, he thought, as he saw the substance coating the needle.

“What is it?” Elmo asked when he saw the elf’s stricken face.

“He’s been poisoned,” Shanhaevel said. “There’s poison on the needle.”

“Move out of my way. Now!” Shirral crossed from where she had been searching through some papers at a desk and crouched down beside Ahleage. “I need some room!”

Closing her eyes, Shirral prayed, placing her hands over Ahleage’s chest. Shanhaevel listened as the druid beseeched the forces of nature, calling upon the spirit of the land to aid her. When she was finished, she sat back, peering intently at the man’s face.

Ahleage lay with his eyes closed, not moving. His color seemed to be getting better to Shanhaevel’s eye, but the elf had no sense in these matters. His heart thumped in his chest as he waited to see if Ahleage would survive. Everyone hovered over the fallen man, waiting.

“Ahleage?” Shirral called. Her eyes filled with tears. “Ahleage, can you hear me?”

Ahleage opened one eye, looking first at the druid, then swiveling it around to peer at each of the other faces gathered around him where he lay. “Yyyeesss?” he asked, drawing the word out.

“Are you all right?” Shirral asked, frowning.

“Actually, no.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, then,” the druid said. “Whatever you need, if I can heal it, I will.”

“Oh, that,” Ahleage remarked dryly. “I’m fine, now. I’m just hungry. You don’t have any roasted chicken, do you?”

“Oh for the love of—” Shirral snarled, leaping to her feet. “I thought I was too late. Damn you, Ahleage! You scared me to death!”

She kicked him on the side of the leg.

“Ow!” Ahleage said, laughing and holding his sides as the druid stalked away. “You should have seen the looks on your faces! That was priceless!”

Shanhaevel rolled his eyes and sat back. “Damn, Ahleage. You know how sensitive she is after Melias. That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was,” he replied, tears streaming down his face. “At least, I thought it was.”

Shanhaevel stood and moved over to where Shirral stood at the other end of the room, her arms folded across her chest. The elf could tell she was fuming.

“Hey,” he said, “he’s just a jokester, that’s all. He—”

“Damn him!” Shirral said, and a single tear ran down her face. “I thought I was too late. I thought he was dying.”

“Shh,” Shanhaevel said, turning the druid to face him and then giving her a hug. To his pleasant surprise, she did not resist, melting into his embrace. “That’s just the way he is. You know he’s thankful for what you did, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I know,” Shirral replied. “It just scared me, that’s all.”

She buried her face in Shanhaevel’s chest for a moment, then, just as abruptly, she looked up at Shanhaevel. The elf stared back at her, wondering what she was thinking.

“You all right, now?” he asked, brushing away the tear.

She nodded and pulled free from his hug. By this time, Ahleage was on his feet again, having managed to get his laughter under control, but he was still smiling.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again!” Shirral punched Ahleage in the arm, but this time, Shanhaevel could hear a hint of laughter in the druid’s words. “Chicken,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Ahleage snickered and looked at the rest of the group. “See? She thinks it was funny.”

Govin sighed loudly, and Shanhaevel gave a wry grin.

“Let’s finish here and get moving,” the elf said.