There was hope in the other mind, now, eagerness to be free. What? How can I aid you, trapped as I am?
Call on your power, my lady. Call on the forces of the elements.
But that is not my realm! I am the lady of fungi. The elements were his notion.
Hedrack frowned, having known this would surface sooner or later. In his mind, it did not matter who sat at the bottom of the temple, bound in that pit beyond his reach. In the end, what he desired had more to do with focusing the temples than the realms of power behind the energy. But eventually, the discrepancies between her love of all things fungal and the elemental bent of the temple would come to a head.
He cleared his mind of those thoughts and projected, It does not matter; my lady. Funnel your energy into the temple around you. We will take care of the rest.
He felt it: the hum in the walls, the vibration of energy. Yes, he thought, it’s working.
Very good, my lady. Pour yourself into it. We will free you soon, I promise. Very soon.
Hedrack arose from the throne and hurried from the room. He was very pleased.
Shanhaevel woke shivering. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Shirral huddled next to him, shivering as well. She had the majority of the blanket wrapped about her, leaving only her neck and shoulders bare. Suddenly his mind cleared and he sat bolt upright.
“Why in the hells is it so cold?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but something’s wrong. Can’t you feel it? In the air?”
Shanhaevel rubbed his eyes and scrambled off the pallet.
“Boccob! It’s freezing!” he muttered in the darkness. There was more to it than that, he realized. Shirral was right. Something was wrong. He could feel it. The elf hurried out of the room.
In the main living area, Draga was trying to stoke the fire higher, and Govin was pacing back and forth, half-dressed, rubbing his hands together and muttering. As Shanhaevel entered the room, Elmo came out of the other spare room, rubbing his arms. Upon seeing the wizard, Govin stopped pacing.
“This isn’t natural,” Govin exclaimed. “It’s springtime, not winter! And that’s not all—I can smell evil in the air.”
Shanhaevel merely nodded and crossed the room toward the fire. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Almost dawn,” Draga answered. “I just came in from my post, about ready to wake Elmo for his turn at watch, but Govin was already up. Now Elmo is, too.”
Elmo joined the rest of them by the fire. “Who can sleep with this chill in the air?” he muttered. “Where in the hells did this weather come from?”
“You know where,” Govin growled, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the temple. “You can feel it.”
No one denied it.
“How long has it been getting cold?” Elmo said.
Draga snorted. “Only about half an hour. And there’s no wind either, like when a norther comes in. It was calm and quiet.”
“We need to get back out there on watch,” Shanhaevel said. “We’d be easily trapped in here.”
“I can go back out,” Draga replied, “but I have to get a warm cloak first.”
Shirral, the blanket wrapped around her, entered the room, but instead of moving close to the fire she crossed to the door, a grim look on her face. She flung it wide and stepped onto the porch.
Shanhaevel followed, sensing her extreme unease. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugging her against him.
“What is it?” he asked.
Instead of answering him, she pointed. He turned to look into the small yard. It had begun to snow again, more heavily than he had seen in his life.
“By Cuthbert!” Govin growled, following the two of them out. “They’ve awakened something.”
“Yes,” Shirral said quietly. “The demon. And she’s powerful enough to thwart the Mother herself.”
“All right,” Elmo said, stumbling out onto the porch as he pulled on his boots. “Draga and I’ll get out there and keep watch while the rest of you get ready. Shanhaevel, join us as soon as you can. We may need your eyes.”
Nodding, Shanhaevel turned and headed back into the smaller room to gather his things. Everyone else began scurried about, dressing and preparing for whatever might come. Shanhaevel stifled a yawn as he grabbed his cloak and staff. As he was leaving the room, slinging his cloak about his shoulders, Shirral stopped him with a touch on his arm.
“Be careful,” she said, and she leaned in to kiss him once, softly, on the lips. “I can feel something wicked stirring.”
“I know. Everyone can feel it. I will be wary.” He squeezed her hand and said, “You watch yourself, too.”
Shanhaevel turned away and headed out of the room, but he turned back and drew Shirral to him, hugging her tightly. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and the warmth of her body against him made his heart race. Prying himself free, he left her to don her armor and hurried out the door to join Elmo and Draga.
Once outside, Shanhaevel hugged his cloak about his body, shivering in the cold. The snow was falling steadily, and the ground was already beginning to disappear beneath a blanket of white. The wizard shook his head in wonder and dread at the notion that such heavy snow would come so late in the season.
“Nice night for a little vigil, eh?” Elmo said with a smile, but the worry in his eyes belied his humor.
Shanhaevel snorted. “Whatever’s going on, it has everyone spooked.”
“Something’s going to happen,” Draga said, “and soon, too. I can feel it.”
“Yes,” Elmo replied. “We all sense an attack, and I can’t explain that, which worries me. In battle, I like to base my planning on knowing where the enemy is, how strong he is, and what he’s doing, not on malign feelings hovering in the air. This snowfall isn’t going to help. Everything feels wrong. I don’t like it.”
“Elmo, you sound like a veteran who’s been on many field campaigns,” the elf said, a slight smile on his face. “Another little secret of yours no one knew about before now?”
Elmo laughed. “I told you, I am a member of the Knights of the Hart in Furyondy. I have received some training in martial tactics, you know.”
“Hey,” Draga cut them off, crouching low and whispering. “Do you see that?”
Shanhaevel and Elmo ducked down beside the bowman, gazing out across the snowy clearing into the woods beyond. Even with the elf’s vision, the woods seemed gloomy through the falling snow. In the distance, threading their way through the trees, were figures—many figures. They were crouched low and coming toward the stronghold—men and other things, big things like ogres and trolls.
“Oh, gods.” Shanhaevel’s heart leaped into his throat. He tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath. “Boccob, Draga! You don’t need me to help you keep watch. Your sight is almost as good as mine out here. There’s an army of them, coming this way.”
“That’s what I was afraid you were going to tell me,” Elmo said. “Draga, check that side. See what’s coming from that direction.”
Draga obeyed, while Elmo moved to the other corner of the farmhouse to have a look at the back side of the farmhouse.
Shanhaevel turned back to watch the advancing force, sweeping his gaze in either direction, tracking them. In his estimation, there were possibly a hundred or more, plus maybe a total of two dozen ogres, trolls, and even what looked like a giant. He tried to squelch the panic that was rising in his chest. A giant!
Draga returned from the side of the house, shaking his head. “It’s no use. They’ve surrounded us.”
“It’s the same on this side,” Elmo said. “We defend the house, then. Back inside.”