“We are the Alliance, my lord,” the knight responded, “and you are in the bowels of the ruined Elemental Temple.”
“The temple! What am I doing here? What alliance? What are you talking about?”
“We are—” Govin began, but Elmo interrupted him.
“My lord, I am a Knight of the Hart, like yourself. These companions and I have banded together in the service of the viscount of Verbobonc and your father, at the behest of Burne of the tower. We were exploring the ruins of the temple and discovered you sealed away—magically preserved it seems. We apparently broke the spell.”
“I see,” Thrommel replied, rubbing his eyes. “Burne, you say? What dire circumstances would cause him to send you all into the ruins of the temple?” Then, shaking his head in dismissal, he continued, “I must get to Mitrik so I can let everyone know I am alive and well. Jolene must be beside herself with worry. The wedding! Tell me they haven’t cancelled the wedding!”
The prince tried to rise, but he was unsteady on his feet, and several hands reached out to aid him as he slowly and carefully climbed out of the coffin.
“My lord,” Elmo said gravely. “You have been missing for seven years. It’s the spring of 579.”
Thrommel stared, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “Seven years?” he breathed. “They must all think I’m dead.”
“No,” Govin interjected. “Not all.”
“My lord,” Elmo said. “Somehow, through some means of scrying, members of your fathers court knew you still lived, but there appeared to be no way to determine your location. Jolene has refused to marry, although there have been a number of suitors.”
“Ah, Jolene,” Thrommel said, smiling gently. “Always the loyal one—fiercely so. I hope she is well.”
“And Melias,” Govin added, “who served with you at the fall of the temple ten years ago, held out hope that he would someday find you.”
“Hmm,” the prince mused, nodding his head absently as he listened to the unfolding tale. “His dedication honors me.”
Elmo looked at the rest of the Alliance, from face to face, his own visage grave as he spoke “Sadly, my lord, Melias was leading this expedition, but he fell in battle not three days ago. I am sorry.”
“No!” the prince said, his unsteady legs betraying him at last. He sat down hard. “Not Melias. I would have welcomed seeing him again.”
“And he, you, my lord,” Shanhaevel said. “As would have my master, Lanithaine. He was on his way here when he also fell.”
The prince looked at Shanhaevel and frowned. “Lanithaine, the wizard?”
Shanhaevel only nodded.
“Two of my company, fallen in battle, and I, missing for seven years? What is going on? Why are we in the depths of the temple? Tell me your tale, and quickly.”
Shanhaevel blinked once at the man’s commanding manner, but then the elf remembered that he was, after all, a prince, used to commanding and to getting what he wanted with but a word.
With little fanfare, Elmo explained the situation to Thrommel. When he was done, the prince sat thinking for several long moments. Finally, he spoke again.
“This key… you now have it?”
“Yes, Prince Thrommel,” Shanhaevel said, retrieving the box from his pack and opening the lid to display to the prince.
Both Thrommel and Govin recoiled from the thing, and the prince said, “Ugh! It is foul with evil. I can feel its corruption even from here.” He turned back to Elmo. “You say that you recovered it from a wizard named Falrinth? The very same who also rode with me at the Battle of Emridy Meadows? He fell in battle that day.”
“Perhaps he was taken prisoner instead, my lord,” Elmo replied. “He might have been broken in some way and made to serve the temple.”
“That is very grave news,” Thrommel said, “but it shall be addressed, just as soon as we return to the surface. You say that Burne is researching the means to destroy this key?”
“Yes,” Shanhaevel replied. “We must take it to Hommlet, at once. Once the key is destroyed, the demon will be forever imprisoned in this place.”
“Yes,” the prince said, “and I must ride to Mitrik, this very day. My sword! Where is Fragarach?” Thrommel looked about frantically, glancing into the coffin as well. “Was there a sword here, with me?”
“I see only your shield, prince,” Ahleage said, pointing to the crested shield that had lain beneath Thrommel’s feet in the coffin. “There is no sword.”
“Ah!” Thrommel cried, pointing to the lid of the coffin.
Shanhaevel turned his gaze to where the lid rested upon the floor, cast away when the Alliance had awakened the prince. Where the inlaid cross had been, there now rested a fine broadsword, its hilt wrapped in silver and gold wire, its pommel set with brilliant emeralds. The blade shone brightly even in the dim light of the lanterns, gleaming with an almost unnatural bluish hue.
“Fragarach!” Thrommel shouted, holding forth his hand. The sword leaped free of the lid of its own accord, crossing the distance to the prince’s outstretched grasp. Thrommel held the blade aloft, closing his eyes in contentment, as though some unseen power coursed from the blade into his body.
When Prince Thrommel opened his eyes again, they were clear with determination and purpose.
“We must leave this chapel and find our way out of the temple,” he said. “You must deliver the key to Burne, and I must ride to Mitrik.”
21
Shanhaevel sat with his back against the wall of the chapel, keeping an eye on the others while they slept. Despite the prince’s eagerness to move quickly, the lack of sleep and the exertion of battle had caught up with the members of the Alliance. While Shanhaevel, Shirral, and Draga rested, Elmo, Ahleage, Govin, and Prince Thrommel kept watch.
Burne had visited Shanhaevel in his dreams again. The wizards floating visage had appeared, and the words Burne had spoken remained with Shanhaevel even upon waking.
Shanhaevel, I have discovered the means to destroy the key. As soon as you retrieve it and are able to return to Hommlet, we can conduct the procedure together. If, for some reason, you are unable to reach me, or if something happens to me before you can return, I will pass along the steps for the key’s destruction now.
You must expose the key—complete with its four gems—in quick succession and in the proper order, to the forces of each of the four elements. First comes air—a gust of wind should do nicely. Follow that with a hard strike from stone, preferably granite. Exposure to searing flame is next, to be followed, finally, by complete immersion in cold, black water. Only after these four steps are followed will the orb crack and its magical energies dissipate.
Hurry, Shanhaevel! Return to me with the key!
When Shanhaevel awakened several hours later, the dream remained in his consciousness, and the import of Burne’s words had horrified him. The key could not be destroyed unless it was whole, and the Alliance did not possess the four gems. We’re not done, yet, he had realized. He had hung his head in dismay, dreading to tell the others, but tell them the elf did, and his words had been met with many groans and disconcerted looks.
“We have no choice but to continue to look for the gems,” Govin had said grimly.
“First, we see to it that the prince reaches the surface,” Elmo had added.
Thrommel had shaken his head. “No. Your task is far more important. I will make my own way to the top, guided by the wisdom of Cuthbert. You continue your quest. Seek the gems.”
Elmo had opened his mouth to protest, but the prince would hear none of it, so the huge axeman had finally given in.
“I shall depart a little before you,” Thrommel had announced. “With luck, your fiendish spidery friend will not be there, but if it is, I will lure it away from you so that you may escape.” When he had seen both Govin and Elmo shaking their heads and opening their mouths about to protest, the prince had silenced them with a gesture. “Do not worry, my friends. Fragarach will protect me from this fiend.”