The Temple of Elemental Evil

15

Hedrack smiled, pleased with what he was about to reveal to his master, Iuz.

“Your beloved grows more aware every day. Without knowing it, she has begun to affect the elements around the temple. I believe that I can focus her power and bring it to bear in a useful manner. She is not at full strength, to be sure, but she grows stronger.”

That is fortuitous news. Iuz beamed, his malevolent pleasure washing over Hedrack. It was a welcome sensation. You will harness this power, turn it against those damned interlopers that the mustached fop sent. Do not kill them, though. Bring them here, to the temple. I want them sacrificed to me.

“I hear and obey, my lord.”

Hedrack bowed, knowing the delight he would shower upon his lord should he manage to do such a thing. But Iuz was already gone.

Hedrack left the inner temple and visited the cell of his prisoner. Lareth stared at nothing, his eyes glazed. The burn marks on his face would never go away, disfiguring the once-handsome priest of the moathouse. As Hedrack had suspected, Lareth had been too wrapped up in his own beauty, too immersed in his own glory. Hedrack had made sure that would never be a problem again, and now, Lareth’s feverish mind churned with hatred for those infidels who had cost him his glory. He would be good for little else anymore, but for what Hedrack now had in mind, Lareth was the perfect instrument.

“I have duties for you,” the high priest said, signaling for the guards to release the prisoner.

Lareth’s appearance was ragged, but there now burned a fire in the man’s eyes that had not been there moments before.

Hedrack drew close and spoke softly. “They’re out there, you know.”

Lareth blinked and looked into Hedrack’s eyes.

“They’re close, too. And you remember what they did to you.”

Lareth nodded slowly, his nostrils flaring. “Yes….”

“The plans you had… the promises… They ruined all of that.”

“Yesss. I hate them.”

“The humiliation of defeat,” Hedrack reminded him. “I know you want to right that wrong, don’t you?”

“Yes. Please let me destroy them.”

“No.” Hedrack’s tone was firm. “Not destroy. Capture. I have an army above. It is yours. You will take command, as you were meant to. You will lead them. You know where the enemy is. Lead that army, and exact your just revenge. Bring your enemies to me, so that they may be cast to the elements and properly sacrificed to Iuz.”

Lareth’s head was nodding vigorously, now, saliva flecking his lips as he breathed heavily, the hatred overwhelming him. He was a near-mindless machine, and he was ready to throw his life away for the privilege of capturing the six who were hiding in the abandoned farmhouse. He strained where he stood, eager to move forward, to begin his last, greatest quest, but he was unwilling to take his leave without permission from the one who had instructed him so effectively—with pain, horrible, horrible pain—about the error of his ways.

Hedrack knew that a small, rational part of Lareth’s mind still clung to the notion that his own mistress, that spider bitch Lolth, would save him, would take him and make him whole and beautiful again. The high priest knew that the broken man before him still believed he was destined for greater things in her service and that he would gain the chance to exact revenge. In a way, Hedrack pitied Lareth for his false hopes. If there was one thing he was certain of, if there was one constant in the universe he believed above all else, it was the pettiness of gods.

Lolth would have nothing to do with a man such as Lareth, of that Hedrack was convinced. She would see the failures that tainted his damned soul, and she would not mend his ruined face. She might ignore him—or worse, betray him at the point when his belief was strongest. That was the way of Lolth, Iuz, and all of the masters. They did not accept failure, for it reflected badly on them. It was much better, Hedrack knew, for a deity to turn away, to find another champion. It saved face.

Still, Hedrack would exploit Lareth’s faint hope. He would temper it, mold it, and forge it into something useful, if only for a brief while. He smiled and waved his hand, softly casting a spell as he did so. He would use his magic to transform the broken, defeated man and rid himself of a pest that had gone too long unchecked. Lolth, too-proud Lolth, would see her own meddling in the temple warped. Her power over this man would be tainted, transformed, and used in a way she never intended. Hedrack smiled as he thought of the spider bitch’s displeasure at being thwarted. He almost wished he could see her face. Almost.

“Now, go, my friend,” Hedrack said to Lareth at last. “Go mount your steed and command the army. Bring the hated ones back to me in chains, then you can help me punish them for all of their transgressions.”

Hedrack gave Lareth a gentle shove, and the man who had once been beautiful almost stumbled in his eagerness to carry out the high priest’s orders.

Hedrack left the cell shortly afterward, making his way back to the main temple. He passed through the writhing purple curtain and passed the three small altars of the private temple. He descended the stairs to the chamber of gems where the shaft of pearly white light softly illuminated the throne in the center.

Seating himself in the gem-encrusted chair, Hedrack reached out with his mind, seeking her. Awaken, my lady. Your servants need your help.

Why do you disturb my rest? she replied, less sluggish than before. I am weary from answering your questions. Why do you not free me?

Patience, mistress. Lord Iuz and I have a plan that will bring you to us very soon, I promise. But first, I have need of your services.

There was hope in the other mind, now, eagerness to be free. What? How can I aid you, trapped as I am?

Call on your power, my lady. Call on the forces of the elements.

But that is not my realm! I am the lady of fungi. The elements were his notion.

Hedrack frowned, having known this would surface sooner or later. In his mind, it did not matter who sat at the bottom of the temple, bound in that pit beyond his reach. In the end, what he desired had more to do with focusing the temples than the realms of power behind the energy. But eventually, the discrepancies between her love of all things fungal and the elemental bent of the temple would come to a head.

He cleared his mind of those thoughts and projected, It does not matter; my lady. Funnel your energy into the temple around you. We will take care of the rest.

He felt it: the hum in the walls, the vibration of energy. Yes, he thought, it’s working.

Very good, my lady. Pour yourself into it. We will free you soon, I promise. Very soon.

Hedrack arose from the throne and hurried from the room. He was very pleased.

Shanhaevel woke shivering. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Shirral huddled next to him, shivering as well. She had the majority of the blanket wrapped about her, leaving only her neck and shoulders bare. Suddenly his mind cleared and he sat bolt upright.

“Why in the hells is it so cold?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but something’s wrong. Can’t you feel it? In the air?”

Shanhaevel rubbed his eyes and scrambled off the pallet.

“Boccob! It’s freezing!” he muttered in the darkness. There was more to it than that, he realized. Shirral was right. Something was wrong. He could feel it. The elf hurried out of the room.

In the main living area, Draga was trying to stoke the fire higher, and Govin was pacing back and forth, half-dressed, rubbing his hands together and muttering. As Shanhaevel entered the room, Elmo came out of the other spare room, rubbing his arms. Upon seeing the wizard, Govin stopped pacing.

“This isn’t natural,” Govin exclaimed. “It’s springtime, not winter! And that’s not all—I can smell evil in the air.”

Shanhaevel merely nodded and crossed the room toward the fire. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost dawn,” Draga answered. “I just came in from my post, about ready to wake Elmo for his turn at watch, but Govin was already up. Now Elmo is, too.”

Elmo joined the rest of them by the fire. “Who can sleep with this chill in the air?” he muttered. “Where in the hells did this weather come from?”

“You know where,” Govin growled, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the temple. “You can feel it.”

No one denied it.

“How long has it been getting cold?” Elmo said.

Draga snorted. “Only about half an hour. And there’s no wind either, like when a norther comes in. It was calm and quiet.”

“We need to get back out there on watch,” Shanhaevel said. “We’d be easily trapped in here.”

“I can go back out,” Draga replied, “but I have to get a warm cloak first.”

Shirral, the blanket wrapped around her, entered the room, but instead of moving close to the fire she crossed to the door, a grim look on her face. She flung it wide and stepped onto the porch.

Shanhaevel followed, sensing her extreme unease. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugging her against him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Instead of answering him, she pointed. He turned to look into the small yard. It had begun to snow again, more heavily than he had seen in his life.

“By Cuthbert!” Govin growled, following the two of them out. “They’ve awakened something.”

“Yes,” Shirral said quietly. “The demon. And she’s powerful enough to thwart the Mother herself.”

“All right,” Elmo said, stumbling out onto the porch as he pulled on his boots. “Draga and I’ll get out there and keep watch while the rest of you get ready. Shanhaevel, join us as soon as you can. We may need your eyes.”

Nodding, Shanhaevel turned and headed back into the smaller room to gather his things. Everyone else began scurried about, dressing and preparing for whatever might come. Shanhaevel stifled a yawn as he grabbed his cloak and staff. As he was leaving the room, slinging his cloak about his shoulders, Shirral stopped him with a touch on his arm.

“Be careful,” she said, and she leaned in to kiss him once, softly, on the lips. “I can feel something wicked stirring.”

“I know. Everyone can feel it. I will be wary.” He squeezed her hand and said, “You watch yourself, too.”

Shanhaevel turned away and headed out of the room, but he turned back and drew Shirral to him, hugging her tightly. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and the warmth of her body against him made his heart race. Prying himself free, he left her to don her armor and hurried out the door to join Elmo and Draga.

Once outside, Shanhaevel hugged his cloak about his body, shivering in the cold. The snow was falling steadily, and the ground was already beginning to disappear beneath a blanket of white. The wizard shook his head in wonder and dread at the notion that such heavy snow would come so late in the season.

“Nice night for a little vigil, eh?” Elmo said with a smile, but the worry in his eyes belied his humor.

Shanhaevel snorted. “Whatever’s going on, it has everyone spooked.”

“Something’s going to happen,” Draga said, “and soon, too. I can feel it.”

“Yes,” Elmo replied. “We all sense an attack, and I can’t explain that, which worries me. In battle, I like to base my planning on knowing where the enemy is, how strong he is, and what he’s doing, not on malign feelings hovering in the air. This snowfall isn’t going to help. Everything feels wrong. I don’t like it.”

“Elmo, you sound like a veteran who’s been on many field campaigns,” the elf said, a slight smile on his face. “Another little secret of yours no one knew about before now?”

Elmo laughed. “I told you, I am a member of the Knights of the Hart in Furyondy. I have received some training in martial tactics, you know.”

“Hey,” Draga cut them off, crouching low and whispering. “Do you see that?”

Shanhaevel and Elmo ducked down beside the bowman, gazing out across the snowy clearing into the woods beyond. Even with the elf’s vision, the woods seemed gloomy through the falling snow. In the distance, threading their way through the trees, were figures—many figures. They were crouched low and coming toward the stronghold—men and other things, big things like ogres and trolls.

“Oh, gods.” Shanhaevel’s heart leaped into his throat. He tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath. “Boccob, Draga! You don’t need me to help you keep watch. Your sight is almost as good as mine out here. There’s an army of them, coming this way.”

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to tell me,” Elmo said. “Draga, check that side. See what’s coming from that direction.”

Draga obeyed, while Elmo moved to the other corner of the farmhouse to have a look at the back side of the farmhouse.

Shanhaevel turned back to watch the advancing force, sweeping his gaze in either direction, tracking them. In his estimation, there were possibly a hundred or more, plus maybe a total of two dozen ogres, trolls, and even what looked like a giant. He tried to squelch the panic that was rising in his chest. A giant!

Draga returned from the side of the house, shaking his head. “It’s no use. They’ve surrounded us.”

“It’s the same on this side,” Elmo said. “We defend the house, then. Back inside.”

The three of them retreated inside, and Elmo quickly explained the situation to the rest of the group.

“We’re trapped,” Ahleage muttered, flicking his wrists and producing two daggers. “What do we do, now?”

“We pray that the gods give us strength to hold them back,” Elmo whispered. “Everyone, take a window. Keep the shutters closed except for a crack.”

The members of the Alliance moved to various windows, taking up defensive positions and watching.

“Shanhaevel, do you have some of those spells of magical light ready?” Elmo asked from his vantage point by the front door.

“Yes,” Shanhaevel replied. “Two of them.”

“Get ready to light up the night, then, because I think they’re about to charge.”

As if on cue, a shout arose from outside, and the army surged forward.

“Light, now!” Elmo said, swinging the door open, an arrow nocked.

All around the farmhouse there began a howling from the advancing force, a war cry to begin the charge. From all sides they came, jogging forward with weapons in hand. Hurriedly, Shanhaevel muttered the words of his spell, aiming the effect into the air some thirty paces directly over the heads of the men charging on this side.

Elmo’s bow sang as he sent arrows at the approaching hordes, dropping men as fast as he could. For every one he dropped, though, three more moved ahead, drawing closer.

As soon as his spell went off, Shanhaevel turned and darted across the room to a window on the other side. There, Draga and Ahleage were using their bows in much the same way Elmo was, though neither of them could see the oncoming enemy as well. Shanhaevel cast his second spell, illuminating the landscape for the bowmen.

“That’s more like it!” Draga said, working his bow as fast as he could with deadly accuracy. Ahleage joined in, and soon, they were mowing down the front ranks of the onrushing attackers.

Shirral had positioned herself in one of the bedrooms, in a window facing the barn, and was using her sling to attempt to hold back the oncoming forces. Govin paced in the center of the main room, ready to take up a position anywhere a breach was imminent.

After a couple of furious rounds of bowfire, the first wave fell back, retreating back into the trees. Shanhaevel moved back next to Elmo, for that appeared to be the weakest spot in the defenses and the place where the most enemy troops were amassed.

“That was just a feint,” Elmo said. “They just wanted to see how we’d react. They’re going to regroup and come at us again where they think we’re weakest.”

Shanhaevel looked around, trying to determine what he thought was their weakest point. His gaze settled.

“There,” he said, pointing toward Shirral, huddled by herself in the other room, her sling in hand.

Elmo looked and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “that’s where I would come, too. Of course, they haven’t shown their true strength yet, so when they do come…”

“What haven’t we seen?” the elf asked.

“Bowmen and magic,” Elmo replied.

Shanhaevel nodded. “We should move around to keep them guessing.”

“That’s a fine idea.” Elmo grinned and moved past Govin, motioning the knight to take his place.

As Govin approached, Shanhaevel explained, “We’re mixing it up, hoping to catch them off guard a bit.”

Govin nodded. “Hold back on the rest of your magic until they get really close.”

“You know that magical light isn’t going to stay too much longer. When it winks out, we’re in trouble.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that for too much longer,” Govin said, pointing. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, although it was hard to see because of the snowfall, which was growing steadily heavier.

Shanhaevel realized he could barely make out the line of trees through the white curtain, which was falling in huge, thick clumps.

“It’s like goose down,” he said, wishing the circumstances were different so he could enjoy it.

A shout arose from the tree line, and again the horde advanced. This time, as Elmo had predicted, bowfire accompanied the onrush of troops, forcing the members of the Alliance to crouch low behind their defenses.

“What can you throw at them?” Govin asked, peering through the crack of the doorway at the oncoming men and beasts.

Shanhaevel risked a glance as an arrow whizzed close and a second one thunked into the wall a few inches to one side of the door frame. The elf ducked back in and said, “I have plenty, if I can get enough time to cast.”

“I’d buy you time, if I could, wizard, but they’re almost to the porch. Better do something quick.”

Shanhaevel began. He drew on the magic from other planes, focusing the energy, then poked his head out long enough to spot a large contingent of men clumped together. He aimed his spell, and a single glowing cinder shot forth from his fingertip directly at the foemen. When it landed, it detonated, and a ball of flame blossomed, engulfing the troops in searing heat. The men caught in the inferno screamed, briefly, before dropping onto the scorched earth.

“Perfect!” Govin said. “There’re more coming on the left.”

Shanhaevel started casting anew, forming other magical energies and bringing them together. He hurled his new spell and ducked back inside.

Govin watched, but when there was no bright burst of flame, he turned to the elf and shouted, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Shanhaevel replied. “I just conjured a cloud of foul vapors and positioned it in a line about ten paces out, directly along this side of the house. Nothing will want to come through it for a few moments, at the very least.”

“Hmph.” The knight frowned. “Fighting with smell. You wizards …”

Shanhaevel smiled. “I’m going to see if anyone else needs me.”

Govin nodded, and Shanhaevel shot across the room toward Shirral, who was standing with Draga while the bowman fired arrow after arrow. When she turned and saw him, she waved him away and pointed to Elmo and Ahleage. He turned to see the two of them trying to repel a substantial force that had managed to get to a window and were struggling to get inside. Elmo was using his axe to keep them at bay while Ahleage stayed clear of the wide arc of the wicked axe, his bow in hand.

Shanhaevel cast, and when the magic materialized, five of the figures slumped down, deeply asleep. That tipped the balance back in Elmo and Ahleage’s favor, and they repelled the last few remaining enemies.

A shout from behind made Shanhaevel turn again, and what he saw made his heart skip a beat. A giant was approaching the front door with a fist full of burning logs and was preparing to fling the firebrands at the house.

Damn! The elf fumed. I forgot they would be too tall for the cloud of vapors. Govin seemed on the verge of charging out to confront the giant, but the immensity of the creature gave the knight pause.

“Govin, hold!” the wizard shouted. “Open the door and give me room!”

The knight nodded, flung the door wide, and leaped away.

Shanhaevel wasted no time, aiming the lightning bolt at the huge creature, but he wasn’t as fast enough. The bolt that flashed across his field of vision was true, crackling all about the giant’s body, but when the massive humanoid cried out in agony and tumbled forward, its momentum carried it into the front of the house. The ground shook, and the air exploded in shards and splinters of wood as the giant collapsed across the front porch and destroyed the front wall of the house.

Both Shanhaevel and Govin leaped away from the destruction, scrambling to avoid the jagged beams that had been ripped free by the impact. Already, the fire from the creatures burning timbers was spreading, igniting the dry wood of the farmhouse. Smoke filled the rest of the ruined structure. Nothing else seemed to be attacking them for the moment, so Shanhaevel sank down to the floor, coughing and gasping from the smoke.

“Unless you can put out this fire, we have to get out of here!” Elmo moved beside him, helping the elf to his feet. “Everyone! Gather outside before they charge again!”

Shanhaevel scrambled through the hole that was once the front wall, keeping himself pressed well back from the flames, which were quickly growing to a roaring inferno.

Too fast, Shanhaevel considered in a daze as he watched the tongues of fire leap from spot to spot, licking the wood. It’s burning too fast. Elementals! he realized as he made it out into the snow of the yard. Creatures of flame were jumping round the ruin of the house, burning whatever they could. Dawn had broken, but the daylight was still weak and gray. Looking back, Shanhaevel watched as the rest of the companions fled the fiery farmhouse, which would be consumed in a matter of moments.

“Listen!” Elmo said, his voice loud in the early morning. The snow had stopped falling, at last, though now it was at mid-thigh on most of the group. In a softer voice, Elmo continued, “We make a stand here, right in the middle. Bow and sling fire first, and then we give them everything we’ve got left once they are in reach.”

“It’s no good,” Shirral panted. “All I have left are some healing spells and a couple of other things not useful in battle. Nothing I can do to them.”

“Then be ready with healing,” Elmo instructed. “Shanhaevel, whatever spells you still have, use them wisely.”

Everyone nodded and prepared for the final assault. Even though the snow had ceased falling, the smoke from the fire made the battleground just as hazy and difficult to see through as before. There was a guttural shout from in the distance, but it was not the order to attack. It was an angry sound, full of despair, hatred, and fury.

“Boccob! What was that?” Shanhaevel breathed, steeling himself for what was about to come, expecting some huge beast or thing summoned from the lower planes.

The first figure to appear through the thick, drifting smoke was not a terrible creature, however. It was a man upon a horse.

It was Lareth.