“That’s got to be where this Grozdan went to meet with his superiors,” Shanhaevel said. “It probably connects with the lower levels of the temple.”
“Then the first thing to do tomorrow is explore that tunnel,” Govin said.
By this time, it was well past midnight, and everyone was exhausted. Govin volunteered to stand first watch. The knight set an old chair on the porch and made himself passably comfortable while everyone else got ready to bed down for the night.
Shanhaevel was surprised at how little used the place was. In addition to a large open room that served as a sitting room, dining room, and kitchen, there were two smaller rooms that were presumably bedrooms, though there was very little furniture left. Shanhaevel leaned his staff into a corner in one of the bedrooms and pulled his bedroll out of his saddlebags, which he had brought in with him after they had stabled their horses. Shirral stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him.
“Is there room for me in here, too?” the druid asked, somewhat shyly.
Shanhaevel looked at her—silhouetted by the light of the single lantern in the other room—then nodded.
“It’s cold,” she said as she came in and tossed her own belongings near where he was preparing his blanket. “We’ll stay warmer if we use both of our blankets together.”
The wizard had already stretched his blanket out so that he could wrap himself in it, but Shirral layered her own woolen covering atop his and then dropped down, pulling half the covers over herself and leaving half for him beside her. She was yawning profusely, Shanhaevel saw, and he had caught himself doing the same several times since entering the cottage. Smiling and realizing he was going to be glad for the warmth, he crawled under the bedding beside her.
For a moment, Shanhaevel merely lay there, inhaling the faint fragrance of Shirral’s hair near his face, but then he felt her shift, turn toward him, and he looked into her eyes, knowing she could see him, even in the darkness. She pressed her lips against his, just once, and then her eyelids closed. Soon both of them were breathing the slow, easy rhythm of slumber, huddled together in the coolness of the early spring night.
15
Hedrack smiled, pleased with what he was about to reveal to his master, Iuz.
“Your beloved grows more aware every day. Without knowing it, she has begun to affect the elements around the temple. I believe that I can focus her power and bring it to bear in a useful manner. She is not at full strength, to be sure, but she grows stronger.”
That is fortuitous news. Iuz beamed, his malevolent pleasure washing over Hedrack. It was a welcome sensation. You will harness this power, turn it against those damned interlopers that the mustached fop sent. Do not kill them, though. Bring them here, to the temple. I want them sacrificed to me.
“I hear and obey, my lord.”
Hedrack bowed, knowing the delight he would shower upon his lord should he manage to do such a thing. But Iuz was already gone.
Hedrack left the inner temple and visited the cell of his prisoner. Lareth stared at nothing, his eyes glazed. The burn marks on his face would never go away, disfiguring the once-handsome priest of the moathouse. As Hedrack had suspected, Lareth had been too wrapped up in his own beauty, too immersed in his own glory. Hedrack had made sure that would never be a problem again, and now, Lareth’s feverish mind churned with hatred for those infidels who had cost him his glory. He would be good for little else anymore, but for what Hedrack now had in mind, Lareth was the perfect instrument.
“I have duties for you,” the high priest said, signaling for the guards to release the prisoner.
Lareth’s appearance was ragged, but there now burned a fire in the man’s eyes that had not been there moments before.
Hedrack drew close and spoke softly. “They’re out there, you know.”
Lareth blinked and looked into Hedrack’s eyes.
“They’re close, too. And you remember what they did to you.”
Lareth nodded slowly, his nostrils flaring. “Yes….”
“The plans you had… the promises… They ruined all of that.”
“Yesss. I hate them.”
“The humiliation of defeat,” Hedrack reminded him. “I know you want to right that wrong, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please let me destroy them.”
“No.” Hedrack’s tone was firm. “Not destroy. Capture. I have an army above. It is yours. You will take command, as you were meant to. You will lead them. You know where the enemy is. Lead that army, and exact your just revenge. Bring your enemies to me, so that they may be cast to the elements and properly sacrificed to Iuz.”
Lareth’s head was nodding vigorously, now, saliva flecking his lips as he breathed heavily, the hatred overwhelming him. He was a near-mindless machine, and he was ready to throw his life away for the privilege of capturing the six who were hiding in the abandoned farmhouse. He strained where he stood, eager to move forward, to begin his last, greatest quest, but he was unwilling to take his leave without permission from the one who had instructed him so effectively—with pain, horrible, horrible pain—about the error of his ways.
Hedrack knew that a small, rational part of Lareth’s mind still clung to the notion that his own mistress, that spider bitch Lolth, would save him, would take him and make him whole and beautiful again. The high priest knew that the broken man before him still believed he was destined for greater things in her service and that he would gain the chance to exact revenge. In a way, Hedrack pitied Lareth for his false hopes. If there was one thing he was certain of, if there was one constant in the universe he believed above all else, it was the pettiness of gods.
Lolth would have nothing to do with a man such as Lareth, of that Hedrack was convinced. She would see the failures that tainted his damned soul, and she would not mend his ruined face. She might ignore him—or worse, betray him at the point when his belief was strongest. That was the way of Lolth, Iuz, and all of the masters. They did not accept failure, for it reflected badly on them. It was much better, Hedrack knew, for a deity to turn away, to find another champion. It saved face.
Still, Hedrack would exploit Lareth’s faint hope. He would temper it, mold it, and forge it into something useful, if only for a brief while. He smiled and waved his hand, softly casting a spell as he did so. He would use his magic to transform the broken, defeated man and rid himself of a pest that had gone too long unchecked. Lolth, too-proud Lolth, would see her own meddling in the temple warped. Her power over this man would be tainted, transformed, and used in a way she never intended. Hedrack smiled as he thought of the spider bitch’s displeasure at being thwarted. He almost wished he could see her face. Almost.
“Now, go, my friend,” Hedrack said to Lareth at last. “Go mount your steed and command the army. Bring the hated ones back to me in chains, then you can help me punish them for all of their transgressions.”
Hedrack gave Lareth a gentle shove, and the man who had once been beautiful almost stumbled in his eagerness to carry out the high priest’s orders.
Hedrack left the cell shortly afterward, making his way back to the main temple. He passed through the writhing purple curtain and passed the three small altars of the private temple. He descended the stairs to the chamber of gems where the shaft of pearly white light softly illuminated the throne in the center.
Seating himself in the gem-encrusted chair, Hedrack reached out with his mind, seeking her. Awaken, my lady. Your servants need your help.
Why do you disturb my rest? she replied, less sluggish than before. I am weary from answering your questions. Why do you not free me?
Patience, mistress. Lord Iuz and I have a plan that will bring you to us very soon, I promise. But first, I have need of your services.