As Shanhaevel watched the huge wooden weapon loom over him, its face set with sharp stones, he found himself suddenly thinking of Lanithaine. His old mentor’s face seemed to hover in the elf’s field of vision, smiling down on him, and Shanhaevel wondered if Lanithaine would be proud of him, of what he had been a part of. I came and served, the wizard thought. I honored his name and helped to protect the people of Hommlet from harm… at least for a little while.
Shanhaevel smiled back at Lanithaine, hoping his teacher was proud of him, and then the vision dissolved, and it was the ogre again, about to kill him. But the beast never got the chance. Govin was suddenly there, jumping between the huge creature and the fallen wizard, warding off the intended blow with his shield and driving his sword deep into the ogre’s midsection. At the same moment, Shirral dragged Shanhaevel away, giving Govin room to fight.
Shanhaevel tried to twist his head around, to smile at the druid as she pulled him to safety, but he could not move his head the way he wanted to. He heard the scream of the ogre as the knight’s sword eviscerated it, and out of the corner of his vision, he saw Elmo bullrush a skeleton, shattering the undead with his shield while he swung his axe around to strike at another. Shanhaevel’s vision blurred as a jolt of pain shot through his neck and down his back. Agony coursed up and down his spine, so much so that he could not even scream. The searing pain faded to a dull throbbing, and he could feel his fingers and toes again.
“Shhh,” Shirral told him, trying to press her hands against the back of his neck. “Hold still!”
The liquid fire that coursed down every nerve in his body immolated him, forcing him to cry out with the little strength he could find, only a hoarse croak. Suddenly, there was blessed coolness. He felt it radiate through him like a frozen stream melting in the spring sun. Shirral’s fingertips gently caressed his skin, sending quiet ripples of healing magic through him until the pain from the ogre’s blow was reduced to a vague throbbing in his neck and shoulder muscles.
Shirral sat back, looking at Shanhaevel, who blinked and realized he could sit up.
“Thank you,” he said, not knowing what else he could say.
Without a word, she leaned forward, grabbed him roughly by the collar of his cloak, and kissed him, pulling him to her lips and holding him tightly. He blinked in surprise and then kissed her back.
Just as suddenly, Shirral pulled away from him and uttered a few words of prayer so that her flaming scimitar ignited in her hand. Raising her weapon high, she leaped in beside Draga, who was being pushed back by no less than three skeletal warriors, their spears coming dangerously close to the bowman’s flesh time and time again.
Shaking his head to clear his senses, Shanhaevel rolled to his feet, noting that there was still some stiffness where he had been struck.
Govin was locked in a battle with the second ogre, while the rest of the companions fought skeletons. Now that Shirral stood with Draga, it looked as if Ahleage was bearing the worst of the fight, with three of the skeletons surrounding him. The man danced and feinted, trying to keep from getting pinned, but he was tiring.
Shanhaevel moved up behind Ahleage and said, “Keep them busy for just a moment more!” Then, he began a spell, drawing the magical energy and directing it outward as a sheet of flame from his spread fingers. He caught two of the skeletons in his magical fire. The scorching flame crackled and licked over the bones of the skeletons, igniting them like dry wood. When the jet of fire finally dissipated a moment later, the skeletons were nothing but a heap of smoldering bones.
“Thanks, wizard,” Elmo grunted, using the broad, flat blade of his axe to smash skeletons now, shattering them with his ferocious blows.
Ahleage said nothing, but he did take the offensive again, battering the lone skeleton still facing him with the flat of his own sword. Shanhaevel assisted with his staff where he could, swinging the stout weapon about and cracking bones when he saw a clean shot. After Elmo knocked the last skeleton backward to shatter against the wall, Shanhaevel turned to see Govin, his shield arm hanging awkwardly at his side, standing over the second ogre. Blood dripped from his blade.
Shirral was already moving to the knight’s aid, preparing to use her magical healing powers to mend his arm. Despite his injury, the fire in Govin’s eyes told Shanhaevel that the holy warrior was ready for more. Leaning on his staff to catch his breath, the elf looked around at the rest of his companions. Each of them had wounds, some worse than others. Draga had a nasty gash across the side of his face that had barely missed his eye. Elmo had a gaping rent in his armor across the ribs on his left side, and he was bleeding. Even Shirral walked with a slight limp. Yet none of them seemed cowed or subdued. Instead, he sensed an eagerness about the group, despite the oppressive feel of the temple, as though they felt they were close. Even Shanhaevel felt the excitement coursing through his limbs.
When Shirral finished her healing work, the companions turned their attention to their surroundings, trying to determine which way to go. At either end of the great hallway were other passages, and, of course, there was the room from which the ogre had come. They were just beginning to debate which way to go when Ahleage held his hand up for silence, his head cocked. In the distance, Shanhaevel could make out muffled sounds, a discussion it seemed, accompanied by footsteps. Motioning for the rest of the group to follow him, Ahleage padded forward, in the direction of the sounds.
“My lord Hedrack, we are almost ready to destroy the third door,” a man in the distance was saying. It sounded as though the voice carried from just a bit beyond where they were, around a bend in the passage.
Hedrack? Shanhaevel thought the name was familiar. The name from the papers in Lareth’s lair! Was this the man in the armor I saw today?
“Very good,” another voice replied, one that was rich and deep and carried the weight of authority—Hedrack’s, Shanhaevel knew. The power that radiated from that voice left no doubt in the elf’s mind. The footsteps had stopped. “You may proceed. I shall be in the main temple, preparing for her arrival. Notify me when the last doors are sundered.”
“As you wish,” the first voice answered, then there was a commotion, as though several others were scurrying somewhere.
“Hedrack!” Govin hissed. “We take them now, before they can destroy the door!” With that, the knight dashed around the corner.
“No!” Shanhaevel called after Govin, cringing at the thought of charging recklessly into battle unprepared, but it was too late. Shaking his head, the wizard followed as the rest of the Alliance charged after the knight.
The bend in the passageway deposited them in a wide corridor that ran at an angle and ended in another wide staircase leading down. A second passage, as wide as the first, branched off in the other direction, so that the whole of the intersection was in the shape of a Y with the staircase as the vertical line at the bottom. Falrinth and a small host of men and bugbears stood near the top of the stairwell, looking down into its depths. They were turned away from the onrushing knight and other members of the Alliance, and there was no sign of anyone else.
Upon hearing Govin’s heavy footfalls, Falrinth spun, bringing his hands up instantly, and cast a spell. The wizard stepped back as the bugbears brandished weapons and stepped forward, blocking Govin’s advance. Grunting from exertion, Govin charged into the fray, raising his sword high and swiping at the mangy humanoids. Ahleage and Draga hit the wall of bugbears a moment later, and quickly, the wide corridor was a broiling sea of weapons and blood.