The ghostly hand, moving as Hennet's own hand moved, grabbed a loose drape of silk, one of the sheets torn by the ogre's entrance.
What's he up to? she wondered.
With a flip and a shake, the hand flicked the silk over the head of the ogre. The ogre roared and groped for the edge of the cloth. Ember saw Nebin skip forward. The gnome's hand was still charged with icy cold. He reached out and up, touching the creature in the middle of its chest. The ogre stiffened, its head wrapped in the silk.
It gasped, "Mistress Sosfane, help me! Nerull, preserve me."
Then it fell. Its heart was frozen.
Something occluded Ember's view. Kairoth! She flinched back as he reached toward her.
"Ember, a magical compulsion held me. I am so, so sorry. Please, let me help you."
He held her hand, and she allowed him to help her stand. Ember groaned. Once she was on her feet, her head cleared quickly.
With a hand on her mentor's shoulder, she said, "It was only your teaching, Kairoth, that allowed me to evade your attacks for as long as I did. And your last blow, I believe, would have killed anyone not trained by you."
Kairoth sighed and said, "A blackness fell over me. Something other than my own will directed my actions."
Ember nodded and vowed silently to keep one eye on the elder. His situation was a topic that required discussion, but it could wait.
Nebin remained where he stood before the unmoving ogre, breathing hard through his mouth. Ember presumed he was dazed or surprised at his own foolhardiness.
Hennet pulled a vial from his pouch and went to the dwarf's side. The sorcerer put the vial to the dwarf's lips, forcing him to drink. A gulp, a cough, and Brek Gorunn's eyes popped open.
Seeing Hennet, he asked, "We are the victors, then?"
Hennet nodded wearily.
Vobod and Cestra both lay unconscious. Neither showed any sign of coming around, but they continued to breathe shallowly. After a search of all the defeated cultists and their equipment, the group considered the fruits of their victory. They had collected several mundane rings and amulets bearing Nerull's sign, a few vials of magical liquid that Nebin promised to "keep safe" for later identification, and a single rolled parchment containing a message to Vobod. The message was inked in Common:
Dearest Vobod,
Administer the Oath to Elder Cestra. Her unwitting cooperation has been useful, but the time has come to bring her fully into the fold. Our secret is in danger of spilling out. Kairoth has resurfaced. I blame you for leaving him to his own devices in the Old Temple. He should have been brought to me, in the Revived Temple, as I commanded. You will receive your punishment in due course for this lapse. But for now, tend to Cestra. Things come to a head. Nerull's umbral glory is about to shine forth from the flaming pit. Let all fall before the Reaper of Flesh!
– S.
" 'S' eh?" wondered Nebin.
"Perhaps 'S' stands for Sosfane," said Ember. "When we spoke with Elder Vobod earlier, he mentioned someone named Sosfane. He claimed she had been slain, but it's obvious he lied about many things. Assuming 'S' and Sosfane are one and the same, what does she have against the Order of the Enabled Hand? I asked Vobod that question earlier, but he wouldn't answer."
"It could be that she is simply exploiting a weakness to further her cause," Hennet mused. "Maybe the Order of the Enabled Hand is only involved because Vobod, or some other elder, proved weak?"
"Hard to say," Kairoth responded. "We have few facts, and speculation won't lead us to the truth."
Nebin nudged Hennet in the ribs with a grin.
"Where is this 'Revived Temple' the note speaks of?" wondered Ember.
Kairoth shook his head and said, "If anywhere, it is below the city. The duke would never accept a temple to Nerull operating openly on the streets."
Hennet asked, "Do you suppose it is near where we rescued you, Elder Kairoth?"
"It may be, though this letter suggests that they are not near each other. Lucky for me, it seems," said the elder with unaccustomed irony.
"What is our next move? Despite all we have done here, this letter makes clear that we have not rooted out the source of the evil afflicting the order," Ember said, looking to Kairoth for direction.
"Find the Revived Temple," Kairoth replied. "Then we eliminate it, just as they attempted to eliminate us. We must fight or perish, that much is clear."
Ember considered. "I concur, except for one thing. I mean no offense, Elder Kairoth, but you have become vulnerable to them, and your vulnerability places all of us in great danger. You could be turned against us again, should you accompany us on our search for the Revived Temple. The same is true of Cestra, and potentially any other monk of the Enabled Hand. As far as I know, I am the only one who hasn't had contact with the Order before a few days ago. The task falls on me."
"Ember, you can count on me to help," declared Hennet.
"By the beard of my father, she can count on all of us, of course," agreed Brek Gorunn.
Nebin nodded. "Right. But lest we forget, tomorrow Hennet and I have one final obligation to fulfill in the coliseum."
Ember smiled. "Don't worry, wizard. It will take a day or longer to track down the whereabouts of this Revived Temple. Brek has other contacts in town, at the Temple of Moradin. Perhaps they can tell him where to start looking."
Ember turned to the dwarf, who said, "I will pay a visit to the Dwarffather's temple tomorrow morning, first thing. If there is any activity below the city, temple or not, my kindred here should know of it."
"Very well," concluded the elder. "I and Cestra will restore order in the Motherhouse as much as we are able. We will also question Vobod when he wakes-under strict guard, of course. Perhaps we can persuade him to tell us where the Revived Temple is located."
"Revived Temple of Nerull," Nebin pondered aloud. "I don't believe I like the sound of that."
11
It was good to be back in the coliseum. Screaming and cheering spectators crammed the stands. They "oohed" and "aahed" at flashy exhibition spells cast by the College of Wizardry staffers to entertain between events. The duel had gone on during Nebin and Hennet's absence, though not for novice casters. The intermediate, name, and grandmaster casters competed, and the stories from some of the individual duels were extraordinary. In fact, Nebin and Hennet arrived in time to watch the final round of the Grandmaster class.
Nebin sidled up to a judge and asked, "Who's dueling?"
Without moving her eyes away from the duel, the woman responded, "It's Incanus versus Ronassic. Incanus is a pyromancer from around here. Everyone knows he's started more fires than he's admitted to. Now, they say Ronassic is from a place so far away that miles can't be used as a measure-a fancy way of saying 'extraplanar,' I suppose."
Nebin nodded, suitably impressed. He turned his eyes to the duel, watching as Incanus hurled three balls of roaring fire at Ronassic. The fury of his attack lapped out of the dueling area, starting secondary fires. Nebin and Hennet were pushed back as the ready crowd shuffled backward several feet.
Ronassic stood unharmed and apparently unconcerned. Incanus growled out an oath, then called burning magma like rain from the sky. The magma sent the crowd scuffling back even farther, but Ronassic only smiled as the fiery gobs of burning earth splattered down, always missing him. Ronassic screamed in apoplectic fury. A flurry of words poured from his mouth, and where he had been standing now stood a twenty-foot-tall creature of roaring flame!