Shanhaevel looked over at Shirral. She had been pensive and quiet the whole day, despite several efforts on the wizards part to engage her in conversation. He had not yet found a good way to open up to her, to find out if Ahleage’s comments from the previous evening would hold true. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the small track along which Elmo was leading them.
The route to the temple was little more than a rutted trail. The dense forest pressed in on either side, but it was obvious that some amount of traffic had been using it recently, which set the entire group on edge. Shanhaevel found himself shuddering on more than one occasion, his skin crawling from the sensation of being watched. Pulling his hood up as it began to drizzle, he hunched down as if he were shying away from prying eyes.
After about an hour of riding through the waning cloud-filtered light of the late afternoon, they reached the edge of the tree line and saw it. Dismounting and leaving their horses in a small copse of trees near the road, the group stealthily approached the ruined temple on foot, leery of guards. There seemed to be none.
The vegetation surrounding the place was sickly and warped, with a profusion of nettles, briars, and burrs. Many of the trees were dead and skeletal, and the scrub growth at their bases was stunted and unnaturally colored, yellowish with disease. Here and there among the weeds gleamed the bleached white remains of countless dead, skulls half-buried in the soil and other bones scattered among the brown grass.
Surrounding the main structure were piles of gray rubble with the occasional intact section of wall. At the northeast corner of these outer walls stood the stump of a tower. There seemed to be no signs of life there other than a handful of ravens perching atop the structure.
The main building itself was intact, an impressive bastion of arched buttresses and hideous leering faces carved into the stone. Disgusting creepers and vines clung to the entire thing, as though clawing at the building in an attempt to get to the rich source of malevolence inside.
Shanhaevel shivered. The light, already diffused in the overcast sky, somehow seemed even weaker and more ineffectual here. More than once, he saw a darting movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his gaze in that direction, all he spotted was a shadow or a blackish bush, moving slightly in the breeze.
“By Cuthbert, this place exudes evil,” Govin said. “My mouth is sour with the taste of it.”
“Yeah,” agreed Ahleage, “and I keep seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Come on,” Govin said, loosening his sword in its scabbard. “Let’s have a look around.”
“Wait,” Shanhaevel said. “Why aren’t there any guards?”
“I’ve asked myself that question about a dozen times, now,” Ahleage added.
“My suspicion,” Govin responded, “is that the residual evil of the place is enough to discourage most would-be explorers, and there’s a certain logic to giving the appearance of being abandoned, rather than swarming with guards.”
“Well, even if we can’t see guards, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some hiding somewhere,” Shanhaevel warned. “Let’s get a little unobtrusive reconnaissance, first. I’ll call Ormiel to fly overhead and see what he can see.”
“Good idea,” nodded Shirral, her eyes wide. “Let’s make absolutely sure before we go in.”
Reaching out with his mind, Shanhaevel called to his hawk, summoning the bird. Ormiel swooped past and circled the ruined temple, but he peeled abruptly to the side and retreated to a nearby tree.
Ormiel, spy for me, Shanhaevel told him. Fly and look.
No, the hawk answered. Bad place.
“He won’t go near the place,” the wizard explained to everyone else. Shanhaevel sighed and shook his head. “He can sense the evil, too.”
“Then we’ll just have to trust our own wits and senses,” Govin said, starting toward the temple, “and our faith in goodness to see us through.”
“I was afraid he was going to say that,” Ahleage muttered.
At Elmo’s suggestion, they approached the ruined structure from the side. It would be wiser to avoid the main road, if possible. They soon discovered, though, that despite the fact that the walls were thrown down and ruined, the path was almost impassable. Everywhere the thorns, nettles, and creeping vines were too thick and high to move through.
“We could be out here all night, trying to hack through this,” Elmo grumbled as he wiped blood from yet another thorn scratch on the back of his hand. The skin already showed a swollen red welt. “As much as I hate to come knocking at the front door, we’re going to have to follow the road, I think. There’s no other way inside.”
Reluctantly, the companions made their way around to the south side, following the road until they were inside the barrier. Ahead of them, the great archway of the main doors loomed, casting dark shadows upon the portals themselves. Standing inside the destroyed walls set Shanhaevel’s teeth on edge. The entire place reeked of hatred and malevolence.
What the hell are we doing here? he wondered. This place must feed off our fears.
The drizzle that had been falling began to transform, becoming a slushy sleet that grew heavier by the moment. It rattled off every surface, crackling as it hit the stonework of the ruins and pelting the huddled figures as they drew cloaks and hoods more tightly around themselves.
The companions approached the front entrance in the fading light of early evening, studying the twin bronze doors before them, which towered more than twenty feet high and were nearly as wide. The doors were held fast by huge iron chains, and Shanhaevel could see that every crack and crevice in the thing had been sealed with soft iron. More importantly, though, a set of magical runes had been etched into the portal, each glowing with a silvery radiance. Shanhaevel could make out only a little of what the runes said, although their effect was clear enough. None of the companions could muster the will to approach the doors any closer than about ten feet. Beyond that, they found the deed impossible to carry out.
“They are binding sigils,” Shanhaevel said, turning away to escape the sense of opposition that washed over him when he tried to draw near. “They were put there by Burne, Lanithaine, and the others when the temple fell a decade ago. That must be how they sealed the demon inside.”
“So there’s no way to open them?” Govin asked.
“Not that I know of,” Shanhaevel replied, shuddering still at the proximity to the temple.
“Come on, then,” Govin suggested, heading around the side of the building. “There’s got to be another way inside, some secret passage that they are using.”
The rest of the companions followed the knight, who made his way carefully through the tall weeds and dead trees, following what seemed to be game trails crisscrossing through the bracken. As they approached the rear of the temple, Shanhaevel noted again the large number of ravens silhouetted against the steely gray sky atop the tower. Perching among the ruins of the upper floors, they made him shiver.
Ravens are never a good sign, he told himself, then rolled his eyes. That’s silly, he chastised himself. They’re just birds.
When the group got closer to the base of the tower, the ravens grew agitated, and fully a dozen or more of them arose from their perches. The birds swooped down upon the group, and as Shanhaevel watched, they appeared to grow larger in size.
“Look out!” Shanhaevel cried, bringing his staff up to swat at the first of the creatures that flew past him. It was huge, he realized, with a wingspan of nearly ten feet. It went soaring past, nearly knocking him down.
By now, the rest of the Alliance was aware of the attack, drawing weapons and crouching low as giant ravens swarmed and swooped all around. Elmo growled in pain as one of the beasts raked him with its claws, catching him across the back of one shoulder with a razor-sharp talon. Draga, Elmo, and Ahleage had their bows up and were firing arrows at the birds. Govin, Shirral, and Shanhaevel did their best to repel those giant ravens that swooped in to attack the bowmen.