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Off of the main room were two smaller ones, apparently quarters for the officers of the bandit troops. Ahleage rooted around in an oak chest in the first chamber, but all he came up with was personal clothing and effects. In the other chamber, they found a second chest, this one sealed tight. Ahleage knelt down to pick the lock.

“Ow!” the young man howled, jerking his hand away from the lock and sticking his finger into his mouth. “Something pricked me!”

Shanhaevel moved beside Ahleage and peered down at the lock. A small needle protruded from it. “Look what was set inside the lock,” he observed, pointing.

“Whoa,” Ahleage said, suddenly falling back on his backside, “I don’t feel so good.”

He was pale and had broken out in a sweat.

Shanhaevel turned back to the chest and examined the needle in the lock more closely. Oh, Boccob, he thought, as he saw the substance coating the needle.

“What is it?” Elmo asked when he saw the elf’s stricken face.

“He’s been poisoned,” Shanhaevel said. “There’s poison on the needle.”

“Move out of my way. Now!” Shirral crossed from where she had been searching through some papers at a desk and crouched down beside Ahleage. “I need some room!”

Closing her eyes, Shirral prayed, placing her hands over Ahleage’s chest. Shanhaevel listened as the druid beseeched the forces of nature, calling upon the spirit of the land to aid her. When she was finished, she sat back, peering intently at the man’s face.

Ahleage lay with his eyes closed, not moving. His color seemed to be getting better to Shanhaevel’s eye, but the elf had no sense in these matters. His heart thumped in his chest as he waited to see if Ahleage would survive. Everyone hovered over the fallen man, waiting.

“Ahleage?” Shirral called. Her eyes filled with tears. “Ahleage, can you hear me?”

Ahleage opened one eye, looking first at the druid, then swiveling it around to peer at each of the other faces gathered around him where he lay. “Yyyeesss?” he asked, drawing the word out.

“Are you all right?” Shirral asked, frowning.

“Actually, no.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, then,” the druid said. “Whatever you need, if I can heal it, I will.”

“Oh, that,” Ahleage remarked dryly. “I’m fine, now. I’m just hungry. You don’t have any roasted chicken, do you?”

“Oh for the love of—” Shirral snarled, leaping to her feet. “I thought I was too late. Damn you, Ahleage! You scared me to death!”

She kicked him on the side of the leg.

“Ow!” Ahleage said, laughing and holding his sides as the druid stalked away. “You should have seen the looks on your faces! That was priceless!”

Shanhaevel rolled his eyes and sat back. “Damn, Ahleage. You know how sensitive she is after Melias. That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was,” he replied, tears streaming down his face. “At least, I thought it was.”

Shanhaevel stood and moved over to where Shirral stood at the other end of the room, her arms folded across her chest. The elf could tell she was fuming.

“Hey,” he said, “he’s just a jokester, that’s all. He—”

“Damn him!” Shirral said, and a single tear ran down her face. “I thought I was too late. I thought he was dying.”

“Shh,” Shanhaevel said, turning the druid to face him and then giving her a hug. To his pleasant surprise, she did not resist, melting into his embrace. “That’s just the way he is. You know he’s thankful for what you did, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I know,” Shirral replied. “It just scared me, that’s all.”

She buried her face in Shanhaevel’s chest for a moment, then, just as abruptly, she looked up at Shanhaevel. The elf stared back at her, wondering what she was thinking.

“You all right, now?” he asked, brushing away the tear.

She nodded and pulled free from his hug. By this time, Ahleage was on his feet again, having managed to get his laughter under control, but he was still smiling.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again!” Shirral punched Ahleage in the arm, but this time, Shanhaevel could hear a hint of laughter in the druid’s words. “Chicken,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Ahleage snickered and looked at the rest of the group. “See? She thinks it was funny.”

Govin sighed loudly, and Shanhaevel gave a wry grin.

“Let’s finish here and get moving,” the elf said.

13

Despite a thorough search of the tower, the companions could find no way into the temple from the tower. They left it behind, hoping to find another entrance elsewhere. Outside, the sleet had turned to snow, although there wasn’t enough to coat the ground, yet.

“This snowfall seems unnatural,” Shirral muttered. “It never snows this late in the year.”

Shanhaevel had to agree with her, although he wasn’t sure if the eerie sensations crawling up his spine weren’t just from the temple itself.

The companions completed their journey around the perimeter of the temple, stopping at the front entrance again. It was well after dark, now.

“Damn,” Govin growled. “How do we get in?”

“We’ll never find it in the dark and snow,” Elmo said. “Let’s get away from here and camp somewhere out of the way. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Everyone was tired, cold, and hungry, so no one argued. The Alliance moved quickly along the path, the last vestiges of malevolence still whispering at the edge of their minds. Once the temple was out of sight, everyone’s spirits improved immensely. The sense of relief that washed over each of them was almost palpable. They had just moved back onto the trail after fetching their horses when Shanhaevel heard the sound of distant hoofbeats.

“Shh!” Shirral called from the rear. “I hear riders.”

“Get off the road!” Elmo commanded, turning his own horse and riding into the trees along the side of the path.

Shanhaevel wheeled his own mount and trotted into the cover of the forest. When he was several feet back under the boughs, he halted the horse and listened. Sure enough, from the direction of Nulb, the sound of galloping horses grew louder. A moment later, the sound ceased.

Shanhaevel called out to his hawk. Ormiel, are you there?

Yes, came a sleepy reply.

Fly to me.

“What happened to them?” Ahleage whispered fiercely. “Where’d they go?”

“I’m not sure,” Elmo replied. “Let’s wait a moment longer. I don’t want to run into any ambushes out here.”

A moment later, Ormiel swooped past Shanhaevel’s shoulder.

“Gods!” growled Ahleage, flinching as the bird shot past him. “What the hells was that?”

“Shh! It was just Ormiel,” the wizard whispered, smiling in the darkness. Men were riding this way. Find them.

I find, the hawk replied, flying off into the night.

“Tell your bird not to scare me like that anymore,” Ahleage huffed, hunching his shoulders.

“Did you send Ormiel ahead to scout for us?” Elmo asked.

“Yes. I told him to find the riders. Maybe he’ll see where they went.”

“Good idea. Let’s stay quiet and keep an eye and ear out.”

The group sat, waiting for Shanhaevel’s familiar to report. The silence was broken only by the falling snow pattering on the branches around them. After nearly ten minutes, Ormiel called out to Shanhaevel. Riders went into trees.

We are coming, Shanhaevel replied. “Ormiel found where they left the road,” he reported to the others.

“Let’s go, then,” Govin said.