The Temple of Elemental Evil

18

“Damn!” Govin growled, flinging his sword through the space where the doorway had been a moment before. “Damn that wizard to the hells!”

The knight spun around, looking for something, anything, to attack. When he saw that there were no enemies, he sighed loudly, and his shoulder sagged.

“If I ever track that wizard down…” he swore, leaving the vow unfinished. “Shanhaevel, I don’t know if you know the spell he used on me, but don’t you ever make me cackle like that. Ever.”

Shanhaevel suppressed a smile. He could only imagine the indignation the knight must feel at having to endure such an ignoble thing. “I would never do that to you,” the elf said, his smile leaking through. “I promise.”

Govin glared at the wizard for a moment, then nodded curtly and pointed behind Shanhaevel. “What in the hells is that?”

Shanhaevel turned and saw that the knight was pointing to the dead imp.

“Exactly,” he answered. “It’s a thing from the hells themselves—an imp of some sort, perhaps a quasit. It was the wizard’s familiar, as Ormiel is mine. I discovered it watching us, and when I killed it, the wizard suffered accordingly. There is a strong bond between mage and familiar. When one suffers, the other suffers also.”

“That’s why he seemed suddenly in agony?” Govin asked. “Why his face seemed burned?”

Shanhaevel nodded. “I would suffer great injury, too, should anything happen to Ormiel.”

“Hmm, well, I guess I know how to get even then, should you ever cast that infernal laughing spell upon me.”

Shanhaevel raised one eyebrow, but the twinkle in Govin’s eye made it clear the knight was merely teasing.

“Let’s see how the others fared,” the knight said.

Shanhaevel turned to see Shirral and Elmo examining the body of the elf woman. Shirral pulled something off the woman’s face and suddenly straightened and stepped back, flinging the item away in disgust.

Govin stepped closer, and Shanhaevel and Draga followed. “What is it?” the bowman asked.

“She’s no elf,” Shirral replied, glaring at the body.

“What do you mean?” Govin asked.

“She was only disguised as an elf,” Elmo explained, his face grave.

“Well, then, at least we know one of our own wasn’t besmirching our good name,” Shanhaevel quipped, moving beside the druid to gaze down at the body. “So what’s bothering you?”

Shirral grimaced. “Oh, nothing, except that she looks like she’s got some orcish blood in her.”

“Oh, a half-breed, huh?” Govin said, nodding. “Figures.”

“What does that mean?” Shirral said, turning to face the knight, her eyes smoldering.

Shanhaevel winced, dreading what was to come.

Govin blinked a couple of times, a look of puzzlement on his face, then his eyes widened. “No! That’s—” he sputtered. “I mean, I—That’s not what I meant!” He took a deep breath. “I was trying to point out that I was surprised an elf would be here at all. Many half-orcs are angry with their lot in life, shunned by both of their lineages. It made more sense to me that a half-breed would have fallen in with the temple than an elf. That’s all I meant.”

Shirral’s glare didn’t lessen much. “It’s not just half-orcs that are shunned by both lineages. In most people’s eyes, a half-breed is a half-breed, regardless of the blood mixed together.”

Govin’s face grew very serious. “Shirral of the wood, daughter of the earth and sky, you have my solemn word as a servant of Saint Cuthbert that your lineage is of no concern to me. You are a steady and true companion. I respect your friendship and would never disparage your heritage.”

Shirral’s countenance softened. “All right, Govin. Thank you.”

“Well, regardless of her bloodlines,” Elmo said, standing, “we have a bigger problem on our hands.”

The huge axeman still looked shaken.

“What’s wrong?” Shanhaevel asked.

“It could have just been coincidence,” Elmo replied, shaking his head, “but she”—he pointed at the dead half-orc—“called him Falrinth.”

“So?” Shirral asked, removing a pair of earrings and a belt from the woman.

“Falrinth was the name of a wizard who rode with Thrommel ten years ago,” Elmo answered. “Burne told me once that Falrinth was a key to their efforts to destroy the demon. When he fell during the battle and was carried off by temple forces, the rest of them were forced to revise their plan, sealing the demon inside the temple rather than confronting and destroying her. They all grieved for the loss of their friend. Burne has presumed all these years that Falrinth was killed.”

“And now you think this might be him?” Shanhaevel asked. “The same Falrinth?”

“It’s quite possible,” Elmo replied, “They might have broken him instead of killing him, turned him to their cause. He may be one of the main resources the temple leaders are using to hunt for the key. His knowledge of the demon’s power was extensive.”

“Burne must know of this,” Shirral said. “We have to figure out a way to get him a message.”

“If we can get to the surface,” Draga cut in, “one of us could ride for Hommlet.”

“That’s a big if,” Elmo said. “First, we have to find a way past that army. Plus, we must see what can be done about Ahleage.”

Everyone turned, suddenly remembering their petrified friend. A wave of despair passed through them as they beheld Ahleage’s frozen form. It seemed as though the palpable evil of the temple weighed even more heavily upon them.

No, Shanhaevel insisted to himself. Don’t let it wear you down. Fight it!

“I don’t understand,” Govin said. “You told us the image was false. Why, then, is he cursed so? Would not the effects also be fake?”

Shanhaevel nodded. “Except that the image seemed real enough to him. He believed he was going to be petrified… and so he is—at least in his mind.” Shanhaevel considered. “If that’s true…”

Shanhaevel hurried over to where Ahleage stood, frozen in place. He examined the man carefully, studying the skin and clothing. To his surprise—or rather lack of it, now—Ahleage was not made of stone at all. The wan light cast from their lanterns had only made him look like stone. He was only totally and completely rigid.

“Of course!” Shanhaevel said. “He’s only petrified in his mind.”

“Then he can be saved!” Draga said, the relief evident in his voice.

“Well, maybe.” Shanhaevel frowned. “Actually, even had he truly been turned to stone, there are ways to reverse it, but it still requires special dispelling magic to do so. I know of such a spell, but I would have to spend some time studying before I cast it.”

“I could do it,” Shirral said quietly. The druid stepped forward as Shanhaevel turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “I think I can reverse the condition.”

“Your magic allows for dispellings?” the wizard asked.

Shirral nodded, closed her eyes, and prayed. Shanhaevel took a deep breath, hoping this would be the right course. As Shirral muttered her prayers, the rest of the group gathered around, waiting expectantly. After several long moments, Shirral placed a hand upon Ahleage’s rigid arm and murmured the final words of her prayer.

There was a faint blue flash that cascaded across Ahleage’s body, and in the next instant he was yelling and backing up, his shield still in front of him. He backed right into Draga, who caught hold of his companion and held him steady. Ahleage’s head whipped about when he realized his whole frame of reference had changed in what for him had been a mere instant.

“Wha—? What happened?” Ahleage asked, regaining his balance. “Where’s the, the thing?” He gestured in the direction where the basilisk had been.

Shanhaevel sighed in relief and joy—more joy than he thought he could feel in this accursed place. On impulse, he decided to tease Ahleage. “Thing? What thing? We heard you yell, we ran around the corner, and we found you like this.”

“No! There was a thing, a beast! I saw it!”

“Hmm,” Elmo said, playing along. “There’s nothing there. You must have been seeing things.”

“I was not!” Ahleage growled indignantly. “It was right there!”

“Easy, Ahleage,” Draga said, patting his friend on one shoulder. “It probably scurried under the door right before we got here.”

The bowman snickered, and Shirral covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

“Oh, I get it,” Ahleage said, turning from companion to companion, seeing the smiles on all their faces. “Just having a little fun with me, huh?”

At that, everyone grinned openly, born of both the humor and the relief that their companion was safe and recovered.

“You were affected by powerful magic,” Shanhaevel explained, still grinning. “You were tricked by an illusion to believe you had been petrified. Shirral returned you to normal.”

Ahleage blinked, looking around at the group, and finally settling on the druid. “Th-thanks,” he muttered at last.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome,” Shirral said sweetly. “It’s the least I could do for those friends of mine who pretend to be dying of poison.”

Everyone chuckled, but the oppressiveness of the temple caused the mirth to subside quickly, and the group returned to the business at hand. Ahleage accepted a magical weapon and armor obtained from the dead assassin.

As they were preparing to move on, Shanhaevel remembered the two vague forms standing near the flaming fountain. With a little study, the elf determined that they were magical constructs, invisible servants that wizards often summoned to perform menial labor. These two had worked together to light the oil in the fountain, which had lit the place upon Ahleage’s arrival.

“I’ll wager that the half-orc woman was Falrinth’s bodyguard,” Shanhaevel commented as they prepared to check the doors leading off the wide passage.

“Perhaps we’ll find out beyond these portals,” Govin said as he opened the first of the doors.

“Just go slowly,” Shanhaevel warned. “Both Shirral and I have burned off a lot of our spells. If we run into trouble, we’d better be ready to turn back fast.”

“Caution is the word,” Govin replied. “Falrinth may still be lurking around here.”

“Or some more of his pets,” Elmo added from the back of the group.

The first door they passed through led to what appeared to be the half-orc’s chamber. It was furnished with a simple cot, a table with a chair and bench, and a wardrobe. The walls, however, were decorated with various sorts of unusual weapons, mostly wicked-looking daggers—the tools of an assassin. The group spent some time poking around the place, turning up a few gems and small pieces of jewelry, as well as some vials of thick poison in the wardrobe.

Once they were done, they moved across the hall to the door through which the wizard had arrived. The chamber beyond was obviously Falrinth’s lair. The walls were lined with shelves, each of which was laden with books, scrolls, stuffed and mummified animals, and so forth. In addition, there was a small bed, a writing table, some cabinets, and a second door leading out. A cloak with many strange runes hung upon a peg near that second door, and next to it was a piece of parchment with more odd symbols. Attached to the far wall was another sheet of parchment, this one larger. It seemed to be a map of some sort. Of the wizard himself, there was no sign.

Govin led the way into the room, and Shanhaevel called softly, “Careful, Govin. Wizards are known for their fondness for magical traps. Don’t touch anything until I have a chance to examine it first.”

Nodding, the knight continued in, cautiously, followed by the rest of the group. Everyone fanned out, checking for signs of possible danger.

When they were certain that the wizard truly was gone, the members of the Alliance relaxed. Shanhaevel moved to examine the cloak and the parchment with the runes near the door. The cloak seemed plain enough, just elaborately decorated, so he moved over to the parchment.

As the elf read, he heard Govin say, “Remember, Ahleage, the wizard said not to touch—”

At that very instant, Shanhaevel’s eyes roamed over a symbol he immediately realized as magical. Unfortunately, the very act of reading the sigil triggered its effect.

A powerful explosion knocked Shanhaevel backward, engulfing him in a blast of searing flame as he fell to the floor. The explosion was over in an instant, but Shanhaevel was in agony, his face burned and his eyes blinded. He clawed at the burns and realized a heartbeat later that his throat was going hoarse from screaming.

Suddenly, there was cooling relief. The pain faded, and as he pulled his hands back from his eyes, Shanhaevel found that he could see again. The first sight that greeted him was Shirral’s face, creased with worry, looming over his own.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

Shanhaevel nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I didn’t do it,” Ahleage was saying, somewhere nearby. “I didn’t touch a thing.”

Shanhaevel smiled slightly as he tried to move up into a sitting position. Shirral gave him a hand and rocked back to give the wizard some room. “You didn’t do it, Ahleage,” he said. “I did it myself.”

“See!” Ahleage said adamantly. “I told you!”

“That may be,” Govin replied, “but I saw you about to—”

“All right, all right,” Elmo interrupted. “Shanhaevel seems fine, so let’s quit arguing over who actually triggered it.”

“Hey,” Shanhaevel said, standing. “I said it was me. And I didn’t touch it. Don’t read anything in here. That’s how it was triggered. Don’t even look at that map until I get a chance to check it for more runes.”

“Are you sure you’re whole again?” Govin asked.

“Yes,” Shanhaevel replied. “I’m all right.” He looked at Shirral, who smiled back, but her worry lines were still evident.

“That, however, was the last of my healing power,” Shirral said. “So we must stop and rest, soon, so I can meditate and pray.”

“We should at least check this other door,” Govin argued. “If Falrinth is still around, I’d rather face him now than when he’s had time to heal and regain his spells.”

“I agree,” Shanhaevel added, “and I do want to examine that map, first.”

“Are you kidding?” Ahleage said. “You almost had your head blown off from the last thing you examined.”

“I’ll be all right,” Shanhaevel responded. “I know what to look for, now. I’ll need a mirror. Look around and see if there’s one anywhere in here.”

The group searched the place, but no one could find a reflecting glass anywhere, so Shanhaevel reluctantly agreed to leave the map for later. “I hope it’s still here,” he said wistfully.

Leaving the map behind, the group turned its attention to the door. After allowing Ahleage a chance to examine it for possible traps, Govin opened it. Beyond the portal was a small workroom, obviously the wizards laboratory. Beakers, bottles, and tomes covered a table in the center of the room, while more shelves along the walls were filled with wands, staves, and rods of all sizes and shapes. Again, Falrinth himself was nowhere to be found.

Shanhaevel’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “Boccob!” he muttered, looking around the chamber. “Look at this horde!”

Elmo whistled. “Is all of this magical?” he asked, pointing to the various items on the walls.

Shanhaevel nodded, scarcely able to speak. “I imagine so,” he said, “but there’s no way to tell for sure without some divination, and I just don’t have any more of that spell left. Look around for Falrinth’s spellbooks. They might be here somewhere, too.” The elf’s face felt hot from his excitement. “Remember, just look. Don’t touch anything.”

“Maybe we can find a mirror in here,” Shirral suggested.

“Good idea,” Draga replied.

The group spread out and searched the place. Shanhaevel was almost giddy with excitement as he examined in detail the various devices on the shelves and worktable. What a mother lode, he thought. With this kind of magical power, I could be—

“Here’s one,” Ahleage said, pointing to an item on the other end of the table, careful not to touch it.

Shanhaevel hurried to see what he had found. It was a small polished mirror. The elf carefully picked it up, even as Ahleage practically dived under the table to get away from any impending blasts.

“Take it easy!” Shanhaevel chuckled. “No wizard is going to trap a mirror.”

“I don’t care,” Ahleage said as he rose, wide-eyed, from the floor. “Standing too close to you when you mess with things appears to be dangerous.”

Shanhaevel just smiled and pocketed the mirror.

“Why would a wizard keep all of his best magic stored away in here, rather than with him?” Elmo asked, looking around. “You’d think he’d want to use all of this stuff.”

Shanhaevel frowned, for the axeman’s words made sense. If this were mine, the elf thought, I wouldn’t keep it stored away. In fact, if I had been Falrinth, I would have had at least two or three of those wands with me out there in the hallway.

“Good point, Elmo. Very good point.”

“So, what are you saying?” Ahleage asked.

“This place seems to have been a little too easy to find,” Shanhaevel replied. “Maybe we were supposed to find it.” His heart was sinking. Of course Falrinth wouldn’t leave all of his prized possessions just sitting out like this. I’m a fool to think he would. His true treasure trove must be hidden somewhere else. “Come on, let’s at least get that map.”

Shanhaevel led everyone back out into the main room. Standing with his back to the map, he scanned its contents through the mirror, looking for more of the magical sigils that he knew would trigger an explosion. Sure enough, they were there.

Damn, the wizard thought. Falrinth was quite the protective fellow.

Shanhaevel put the mirror away, removed the map from the wall, and rolled it up. As he did so, an oddity in the stonework caught his attention. Looking more closely, he found a continuous crack running up the wall. Following it with his eye, Shanhaevel realized he was looking at another secret door.

“Hey!” he called to his companions, his voice filled with excitement again. “I think I found another hidden portal.”

“That figures,” Draga said as the companions all gathered around. “Shall we push?”

“Let Ahleage do his thing, first,” Govin advised, stepping aside to make room.

Rolling his eyes, Ahleage stepped to the wall and went over it carefully, looking, as usual, for any signs of danger. “Looks clean to me,” he said, stepping away again.

Together, Elmo, Govin, and Draga placed their shoulders against the wall and pushed. Nothing happened. The three men redoubled their efforts, but to no avail. The wall did not swing open.

“Gah!” Draga said at last, easing up from his exertions. “Must have just looked like a secret door, Shanhaevel. That’s nothing but solid wall.”

“Maybe,” Shanhaevel said thoughtfully. He frowned. “Maybe not. There might be some other way of opening it—a trigger of some kind. Look around and see if you can spot a switch, a lever, or something disguised as one of those things anywhere in the room.”

Somewhat reluctantly, the group spread out, checking every item of furniture, every square foot of wall, every last item in the room carefully. This went on for a number of minutes, until Ahleage sighed and knuckled his back.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Ahleage complained.

“I hate to admit it, but he’s right,” Shirral added. “I think we’ve found everything we’re going to find.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Shanhaevel pleaded. “If we leave, Falrinth could come back and clean the place out.”

“Besides,” Elmo said, “we may not have many other options. That thing that crawled out of Lareth might be waiting on the surface.”

“It’s possible that Falrinth is still around here somewhere,” Govin added. “We hurt him today. If we can catch up to him before he has a chance to seek healing and regain his strength and spells, so much the better.”

“Hey!” Draga said, standing next to a wall and holding a torch cresset in his hand. “Look at this!”

The bowman pulled the cresset free of the wall, but where a normal hole should have been, a tiny lever projected instead.

“How does that work?” Ahleage asked, puzzled, as everyone crowded around Draga’s discovery. Carefully, he reached out and touched the metal protrusion.

“Try to turn it,” Elmo suggested.

Ahleage twisted, pushed, pulled, and generally fussed with the metal rod for half a minute or so before giving up.

“If it’s supposed to do anything, it’s too hard for me to move.”

“Wait!” Shirral exclaimed. “Use the cresset!”

“Ah!” Shanhaevel said, nodding eagerly in agreement with the druid. “Put the cresset back on and then try it.”

Draga handed the cresset to Ahleage, who slipped the thing back on the rod. There was a tiny click, and then Ahleage twisted the device. It rotated easily this time, and behind them, the section of wall that had held fast before swung free.

“That did it,” Ahleage said.

“You were right, after all,” Draga told Shanhaevel as he drew his sword.

The space beyond the hidden portal turned out to be exactly what Shanhaevel had been hoping: a second laboratory. This one looked far more lived in, and there was an amazing amount of clutter everywhere. However, the thing that drew everyone’s attention was a small iron box sitting in the middle of the table. It made all the companions uneasy, and Govin refused to touch the thing. Carefully, Ahleage examined it from the outside, and when he found nothing to indicate mundane traps, Shanhaevel took a turn. Satisfied that nothing untoward would happen, the elf flipped the lid open.

Inside was a small golden skull with no jaw. It had four empty sockets at the compass points of the crown line that appeared to be designed to hold gems.

“Boccob!” Shanhaevel breathed. “The key. We have the key!”

“Don’t touch it!” Govin hissed, jerking the elf away from the box. “I can feel its wickedness from here.”

Shanhaevel nodded, carefully shutting the lid once more and picking up the box.

“Let’s get out of here,” Govin pleaded. “I am suddenly overwhelmed with dread at the thought of staying.”

“The knight is right,” Ahleage added as the group began to depart. “We have what we came for. It’s long past time to go.”

The Alliance made its way out of the wizard’s chambers and back into the T-shaped intersection. Just as they were about to head back out through the tunnel that led to the tower and well, a forlorn keening faintly drifted down from that direction.

Shanhaevel shivered at the sound.

“It’s Lareth,” Ahleage breathed, “or the thing he has become.”