Hedrack moved to the center of the chamber and passed into the column of light. Inside, he found himself facing a silvery throne covered with more of the gems. This throne was completely bathed in the milky glow. Moving toward the throne, Hedrack took a deep breath and seated himself.
Instantly, the high priest felt the presence of her mind within his own. It was similar to the manner in which his own master visited him, but in some ways quite different. Where Iuz was aware and penetrating, she seemed sluggish, comatose. Hedrack tried to awaken her, to get her attention. She reacted slowly, as if she were engulfed in a sea of molasses, but she did respond.
You are back, she said, recognizing him from before. That pleased him.
Yes. I seek you. Your whereabouts. The Lord Iuz and I come to free you.
I am here. In this place.
But you must help me. You must remember how you got there.
It is difficult. I see… men coming. My beloved tells me to run. I flee… where? I can’t remember. But there is something… golden… a key? Yes! A key! You must find the key!
A key? What key? What is this key? What does it do?
It will free me. You must find it!
Yes, I will. But where? Where is the key, and where is the lock?
A golden… it… is… key.
The contact with her shattered. She was too drained to continue with the struggle to remember, to stay conscious. Pursing his lips in a slight frown, Hedrack stood and left the column of light.
A golden key, Hedrack thought And she remembered me. Perhaps there is progress. He smiled, feeling pleased. As he headed out of the gem-encrusted chamber, he considered whether he should order Barkinar, commander of the temple troops, to begin exploratory digging in an attempt to find her. No, he decided. Soon, but not yet. Still the temples rail against each other. I must force them to accept one another before I free her, then nothing will stand against us. Not this time. In the meantime, I will simply find out about this golden key.
Still smiling, Hedrack returned to his chambers, where his lovely Mika and Astelle lay waiting for him.
1
Ragged clouds hung low among the easternmost Kron Hills, drifting damply and obscuring the tree-lined ridges like the hoary, tattered wisps of Rao’s beard, as the though the god of peace were passing there. The drizzle-laden sky had deepened into the purple of dusk, and only a steely gray glow in the west still resisted the coming of night. Amid the rain-soaked oak and ipp trees lining the valley between those hills, two horses bearing riders plodded through the endless puddles of a deeply rutted road.
The rear rider, a stout staff of iron-shod wood tied across the saddle in front of him, shivered as rivulets of chill rain seeped through the heavy, oiled cloak he wore, trickling under the edge of his oversized hood and slithering maddeningly down his neck. For the hundredth time, he tugged the hood forward and hunched more tightly into himself, slumping further down into the saddle and trying to hide from the soft rain that had been pummeling him and his companion since midmorning. He sighed, saddle-weary after three days riding through the westernmost part of the Gnarley Forest, and clicked his tongue to his mount, signaling a sense of urgency that his posture belied. The horse snorted once and ignored the command for haste, its hoofs splashing incessantly through the shallow, muddy water.
“Lanithaine, please tell me were going to reach this village tonight,” the rider said to the figure ahead of him. “Tell me we’re almost to this Hommlet.” He shook the rain free of his hood once more.
“Yes, Shanhaevel,” the man in front of him said over his shoulder. “We should reach Hommlet in another hour, at most.” Then Lanithaine laughed. “You know, you’ve always told me elves have the patience to sit and watch a tree grow. You seem awfully eager to be where we’re going. Yesterday, you were complaining that we should never have left the Gnarley.”
“I just need a warm hearth and a dry bed,” Shanhaevel muttered. “Of course, I’d much prefer if it were my bed.”
Lanithaine laughed again, a rich, warm chuckle that glowed with genuine affection. “What? You don’t want to spend another night huddled on the cold ground in the rain?”
“Oh, Boccob!” Shanhaevel snorted. “Don’t be silly. Why be back home, warm and dry, when we can be out here, who knows where, traveling to a wide place in the road that isn’t even on most maps?” He sighed again, thinking of home.
“Hmm, a roof over our heads would do me good,” Lanithaine replied, his voice low and muffled now. “This weather seems to seep into my bones.”
Shanhaevel could hear the weariness in his teacher’s voice. “You still haven’t explained to me why we’re traveling to this place.”
Lanithaine sighed. “Some tales are best left untold, you know.”
Shanhaevel frowned, puzzled by his mentor’s words. “What tale? What are you talking about?”
Lanithaine sighed again. “Something I had fervently hoped I would never have to talk about again, not with anyone….” The older man paused for a moment, as if considering. “There is a wizard in Hommlet, an old friend of mine. Burne and I were very close, once. We survived a war together.”
“A war? What war?”
“You might remember it. It wasn’t so long ago, at least it would not seem so to you, I’d wager. A powerful temple—a walled fortress, really—bad risen. It was a dark and horrific place dedicated to worship of the elements—and to foul demons, too. I left you for a time and told you to watch over the village while I was gone.”
“I remember,” Shanhaevel replied. “I heard the stories that came back with the traders. The army of the temple was soundly defeated, if I recall, and the temple razed. It was only a decade ago. I never realized you were a part of it. You never spoke of it.”
“Yes. Well, it wasn’t something I liked to think about, much less talk to others about. Not even to you. I hope you never have to experience such a thing.
“But I digress,” the older man continued. “Burne and I rode together, serving the marshal of Furyondy himself, Prince Thrommel, who was in command of the army marching to oppose the temple. We were part of a special company, his personal retinue, in a manner of speaking. We had a special and very dangerous job. We were needed to counter the dark magic of the temple leaders and the fiends they served. As awful as it was, it was a glorious time, too.” Lanithaine seemed lost in his memories. His voice was far away, in a younger day. “All the members of that company grew close under the prince. War made us more than just comrades. We became friends. Some of those friends of mine died that day.” His voice grew dark and troubled. “But that’s neither here nor now.”
“But this is more than a social visit, isn’t it?” Shanhaevel said. “You have some other reason for going to see this Burne.”
“Yes. He needs my help with something we didn’t finish during that battle, and it’s time to finish it now. It’s Burne’s tale to tell, though. You’ll see in good time.”
“I hope his tale is worth sleeping on the wet ground,” Shanhaevel grumbled, dissatisfied with his mentor’s abrupt ending to the story.
“I’d rather be sleeping in my own bed tonight, too, but I made a promise, and I’m going to see the promise fulfilled.” The older man sounded weary.
The elf looked at Lanithaine’s back, hunched low in the saddle. The older man seemed even more stooped than he remembered. We should both be at home, Shanhaevel told himself, not out here in this mess. In his mind’s eye, Shanhaevel saw Lanithaine, walking through the forest village of home with a stoop and a slight limp, smiling to everyone he met along the way. When did you grow so old? Where did those years go?