Quietly ascending the marble steps that surrounded the temple each of the three stood behind a column and peered into the smoky dimness beyond.
The favor of Malar has shone upon the Hunt!" a majestic voice echoed from inside the dome.
Artek's dark eyes gradually adjusted to the murk, and he bit his lip to keep from swearing at what he saw. In the center of the temple was a hideous statue wrought of black metal. The priests apparently created more than just masks and maces in their foul smithy. The statue had been crudely forged in the shape of a grotesque, gigantic wolf. Bloody light flickered in its slanted eyes, and rancid smoke poured from its gaping maw, as if some terrible fire burned in the pit of its belly.
A dozen priests stood around the idol. Huddled at the statue's feet were two bound prisoners. Their faces were covered by bronze masks molded into expressions of terror. One of them was a man whose ragged clothes and scraggly hair recalled Solthar. The other was a slender man with long golden hair. Artek clenched his hands into fists-it was Corin.
The priest who had spoken before wore a mask with a haughty expression. He gestured to the two prisoners. "Behold! I, M’kar, bring not one, but two beasts as gifts for the jaws of our lord, Malar!"
The gathered priests murmured in appreciation. All, that is, except for one who stood slightly apart from the others. Somehow, his bronze mask seemed to frown. Artek guessed that had to be M'tureth- M'kar's rival.
"Let the feeding begin!" M'kar thundered.
Two priests gripped the bedraggled man. He struggled against them, but his bonds held his arms and legs fast It was no use. Together, the two priests lifted the man into the open jaws of the statue. There he lay, eyes wide with terror behind his mask, wondering what was to come. He did not have long to wait.
"Is Malar hungry?" M'kar asked in a sinister voice. "Is he pleased with the gift?"
One of the other priests reached into a bronze basin and drew out a handful of slimy, ropelike strands. With a queasy grimace, Artek recognized what they were- animal entrails. The priest flung the entrails onto the stone floor, then studied the patterns they formed. After a moment, he nodded. "The augury speaks dearly. Malar is pleased. Let the feeding begin!"
With his clawed mace, M'kar tapped the statue's brow. A rumbling almost like a growl emanated from the statue, along with a hiss of steam, and then the jaws began to close. The prisoner screamed, straining against his bonds in vain. His screams were cut short as the wolf's iron jaws clamped shut. A moment later, the beast's maw opened slowly once more. The jaws were empty, save for foul smoke. The sacrifice had been accepted. Now all eyes turned to the other prisoner before the statue.
Artek quickly backed away. They had only seconds to rescue Corin. He had an idea, but whether it would work or not was another matter.
"Beckla, I could use that dead vole trick of yours now," he whispered.
She stared at him in confusion. "The teleport spell, you mean?"
"Yes. Only we need something for you to teleport. An animal of some sort. It doesn't have to be alive. In fact, it really shouldn't be."
Guss let out a dejected sigh. "I found this a little way back. I was saving it for my lunch, but as long as it's an emergency…" He pulled a very dead rat from beneath his cloak, its limbs curled with rigor mortis.
"That was going to be your lunch?" Beckla gagged, staring at the rat.
"This is not the time to discuss gargoyle eating habits," Artek hissed in annoyance. "Now here's my plan. Listen close, Muragh. Fm going to need your help."
Moments later, Artek boldly strode into the temple, leaving the others outside. The priests looked up at him in surprise. Corin lay within the jaws of the wolf, his blue eyes nearly mad with fear behind his mask. The augur held a handful of dripping entrails, ready to cast them onto the floor.
"What is the meaning of this?" M'kar demanded. "You are not of the Inner Circle. I should have you fed to Malar for this insolence!"
"It is no insolence," Artek said in a deep voice from behind his mask. He gestured to Muragh, who hung from his belt. "Malar has spoken to me through this skull. He does not care for you or your gifts, M'kar."
Fury blazed in M'kar's eyes. However, behind M'tureth's mask, interest flickered in the cool gaze of the rival priest.
Artek did not give M'kar a chance to respond. He lifted his hands above his head. "Give us a sign, Malar! Tell us what you think of M'kar's desire to rule us all!"
A small object dropped out of the shadows above, landing with a plop on the stones-Guss's dead rat. Beckla had been right on cue.
"Malar has spoken," the skull intoned in an eerie voice. "Heed the sign! Malar has spoken!"
The priests gaped in horror at the skull. "Behold, it is a rat," Artek intoned while he had their rapt attention. "So that is what Malar thinks of you, M'kar."
Murmurs of shock rose from the gathered priests, while wicked chuckles issued from M'tureth's bronze mask. M'kar glared at the laughing priest. "Did you arrange this little travesty, M'tureth?" he demanded in rage.
"No, M'kar," M'tureth crooned. "It seems Malar has found a way to ridicule you himself. Clearly, your gifts have won you no favor."
"We shall see," M'kar spat.
The priest moved faster than Artek had thought possible. Before Artek could spring away, M'kar swung his clawed mace and roughly knocked aside Artek's mask. The mask clattered to the floor, spinning away. The priests stared at Artek in astonishment.
"An impostor!" M'kar cried.
"Now!" Artek shouted.
At that signal, a winged form flew between two columns, crimson cloak fluttering, snatching Corin from the jaws of the wolf. Guss flew back out while the priests stared in confusion.
"Kill him!" M'kar screamed in rage.
His words propelled the priests into action. As one, they lunged for Artek. In desperation, he grabbed the bronze vessel filled with entrails and heaved it toward the feet of the oncoming priests, spilling the contents of the bowl across the floor. The priests skidded upon the slimy entrails and went down in a tangled heap.
Artek did not waste the chance. He ran out of the temple, and the others met him on the steps. Guss slashed Corin’s bonds with his sharp talons.
"That was fun!" Muragh giggled. "Hike being a prophet of Malar."
"You're going to be a snack of Malar if we don't get out of here," Beckla said breathlessly.
"May I suggest that we run for it?" Guss proposed.
"You may," Corin agreed weakly.
A deafening noise rose from the temple. Someone was beating a gong of alarm. "Come on!" Artek yelled.
They dashed in the direction of the gate but were brought up short by a dozen priests who had answered the alarm. Hastily they turned and ran in the other direction with the disciples of Malar on their heels. They careened into the smoke-filled foundry and abruptly came to a halt. On the far side of the square stood a score of priests, all gripping clawed maces. Behind them the other priests approached at a run. They were surrounded.
"There's nowhere left to go!" Beckla cried.
Artek's eyes locked on something in the center of the smithy. "Yes, there is!" he shouted. Grabbing the others, he lunged for the open garbage pit. The priests swung their clawed maces, but the weapons only whistled through empty air. Artek leapt into the hole, pulling the others along with him. He could only hope that the pit was as deep as he had thought it was. As it turned out, it was deeper.