The Temple of Elemental Evil

Epilogue

The taproom at the Inn of the Welcome Wench was boisterous this evening. The five companions sat around a table piled with platters of food. Steaming meat pies, roasted chicken, huge hunks of cheese, cold milk, fresh bread, eggs prepared several different ways, potatoes, and assorted fruit covered the surface, and the members of the Alliance were heartily consuming the delicious food.

It had been three days since the fall of the temple, and everyone was healed and refreshed after recuperating from their exploits. Shirral snuggled next to Shanhaevel as they ate, feeding him bites of cheese between the occasional kiss. Paida and Leah joined them, Leah sitting with Ahleage and Paida relaxing between Draga and Govin.

Glora Gundigoot continued to bring fresh dishes of her wonderful cooking out to replace what was already consumed. Around them all, the local inhabitants of Hommlet, including the members of the council, drank, sang, and celebrated the Alliances victory.

Only Hroth did not participate in the festivities, sitting off to one side, nursing a cold mug and staring into the large fireplace. When Shirral spotted the captain of the militia, she slipped from the table and moved to the man’s side. Shanhaevel watched as the druid sat next to the captain and whispered something to him. She reached out a hand and took the older man’s in her own. Hroth smiled at her, and she leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder. He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, then, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Finally, Shirral pulled away and stood, saying one last thing to Hroth. The man smiled and nodded, patting her hand before letting her leave his side and return to the table. When she sat down next to Shanhaevel once more, the wizard looked at her questioningly, and she leaned close and kissed him on the cheek.

“He’s a very sad man who will miss his son very much. I just told him Elmo had honored him with his bravery, and he should be proud.”

Shanhaevel nodded and took her hand in his own. He turned his attention back to the table, where Govin now stood, preparing to speak.

“By the grace of my god, Saint Cuthbert, we successfully saw our way to the end of this monumental victory. For the first time in a long while, I don’t really know what lies before me. I do know, however, that there are no finer people than the four of you I would rather be with when I follow that unknown path. I—”

The banging of the front door cut the knight off in mid-sentence. A young man was standing there, dressed in the finery of court. He wore a tunic of blue and red, and the coat of arms of Furyondy was embroidered upon his right breast. He swept into the room, muddy boots and all, and bowed low to no one in particular.

“I bear a message for certain distinguished members of an alliance—including one Sir Govin Dahna, loyal knight of Saint Cuthbert, and his companions, Shantirel Galanhaevel, Shirral, Ahleage, Draga, and Elmo—from his lordship, marshal of Furyondy, Prince Thrommel. Can anyone direct me to these individuals?”

For a long moment, there was perfect silence. Everyone in the room stared at the liveried courier, unable to speak. At last, Govin recovered his wits and stepped around the table toward the young man.

“I am Sir Govin,” he said with a bow, “and the others you speak of, with the exception of Elmo—may his spirit find peace—dine with me here.” He gestured to his friends. “What is the message?”

The courier handed Govin a scroll case, saluted the knight, turned on his heel, and strolled out the door and into the evening. Staring after the courier for a moment, Govin held the scroll case until Ahleage coughed loudly.

“Uh, knight, you can open it any time you’d like,” Ahleage suggested, tapping his fingers on the table.

Shaking his head, Govin turned his attention back to the others and cracked the seal on the case. Pulling the curled parchment free, he unrolled it and read. When he finished, he let his hands fall to his sides, staring off in wonder.

“Well, what does it say?” Shirral insisted, reaching for the message.

Govin let her take it from him, and Shanhaevel looked over the druid’s shoulder as she read aloud.

“‘My good and faithful subjects and friends, I trust this message finds you all in good health and successful in your efforts to dispatch the elemental temple. I have returned home in triumph and have been received gratefully by both my father’s court and my beloved, Jolene, princess of Veluna. Unfortunately, civil war in her nation threatens our impending marriage. Several in her father’s court challenge my claim to her hand and would see our union destroyed.

“‘I require your assistance. If this notice has reached you, I must assume that you have achieved victory over our mutual enemies. Come with all due haste to Chendl. I have a special task that requires your unique talents. Further explanations will have to wait until your arrival. Thrommel.’”

Shanhaevel looked up and saw everyone around the table staring wide-eyed at Shirral.

“By Cuthbert,” Govin said, that look of amazement still on his face, “what a great honor this is, serving the prince. Tomorrow, it seems, we ride for Chendl.”

Shanhaevel shook his head, realizing he had already made up his mind to go, to ride with his companions, his friends, the Alliance.

“What was it you were saying about unknown paths, Govin?” he asked, a smile appearing on his face.