Shanhaevel considered for a moment, then reached for the knife that was just beyond Hedrack’s grasp. He stood for a moment, looking down at the high priest.
“Yes, please,” Hedrack said. “Kill me… quickly. D-do it, I beg you.”
Shanhaevel raised the knife, preparing to plunge it through Hedrack’s eye, wondering why, after all of this, he would grant the high priest’s request, would help to spare the man his fate. He raised the dagger, but a cry stopped him short.
“Shanhaevel!” Shirral cried. “Help me!”
The elf turned to see the druid, still chained to the floor, although the symbol beneath her had vanished. Pieces of stonework were falling now—bits of the ceiling and walls tumbling down around her. Shirral was helpless to dodge the shards, imprisoned as she was.
Dropping the knife and leaving Hedrack, Shanhaevel scurried across the floor. He dropped to his knees beside Shirral and began frantically working with only one hand to unlock the manacles that bound her. In the throne nearby, Shanhaevel could see the image of Zuggtmoy, still trapped in the chair. She was in her true form now, but she was insubstantial, fading in and out of view. Occasionally, she would materialize so solidly that the elf could hear her howls of pain and agony, as she was being ripped from this plane and dragged back to her own.
Finally, Shanhaevel managed to unbind Shirral’s hand, and he worked to free one of her ankles. The druid leaned forward, working on the binding that encircled her leg. Around the two of them, the chamber shook and heaved, dropping huge chunks of masonry and stonework around them. One particularly large piece shattered near the two, spraying them both with shards of stone that stung their skin.
We’re not going to make it out of here, Shanhaevel silently fumed as he struggled to release the catch on the manacle.
“Release, damn you!” he commanded the shackle, frustrated that one arm still hung useless at his side.
As if responding to the elf’s demand, the manacles clicked open, and Shirral was finally free. Shanhaevel tried to help her stand, but the floor beneath him shifted suddenly, rocking and cracking so that it buckled in the middle of the chamber. Both of them went sliding toward a crevasse that had opened in the middle. Foul fumes belched up from the rip in the stone, spewing up and filling the air with smoke, gasses, and heat.
“No!” Shirral yelled, clinging to Shanhaevel as they both edged closer to the chasm.
With one arm wounded, the elf had a difficult time controlling his inexorable slide, but the druid managed to take hold of his shirt in one hand and grab an outcropping of buckled floor stone with her other. Slowly, straining, she pulled them both away from the shifting, widening gap in the rock.
The two companions rolled to the side, panting, but the collapse of the room was growing in intensity. Scrambling to his feet, Shanhaevel helped Shirral to stand, yanked his tattered cloak free, and gave it to her to cover herself.
“This way!” the wizard said, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the bottom of the shaft. As they passed the point where Hedrack still lay, pinned beneath the stones of the dead elemental, the high priest reached his free hand out, desperately straining for them.
“Please!” he called, turning his head as he saw them pass just beyond his grasp. “Don’t leave! Don’t let him take me!”
Shanhaevel ignored the high priest as he reached the point where the shaft was directly overhead. The shifting collapse of the temple had fractured the earth, however, and the hole leading to freedom was now sealed. There was no way to escape. Shanhaevel whirled around in frustration, knowing their time was running out. As the walls of the chamber sagged inward, his gaze settled on the broad stairs leading up into the darkness. It was the only way out of the room.
“Come on!” Shanhaevel growled, taking Shirral’s hand once more and dragging her up the stairs.
“Nooo!” Hedrack howled, and Shanhaevel paused for the briefest of moments, turning to look back at the high priest. As their eyes locked, as the elf saw the desperation in Hedrack’s own visage, he knew his own face was a cold mask of contempt. He felt no compassion for the man. Without remorse, he turned away just as a great mass of one wall tumbled downward, burying the high priest beneath it. Hurrying with Shirral up the stairs and out of the chamber, Shanhaevel never looked back.
The area at the top of the broad steps was another wide throne room. It, too, was on the verge of collapse, and there was but one way out—a large pair of bronzewood doors, sealed tightly with both silver and magic, that faced the throne. When Shanhaevel saw the portal, his despair was complete. As the earth shook and the stonework of the temple continued to fall all around him, he sank to his knees, shaking his head.
Shirral settled beside him and pressed her face against his chest. Tears and blood streaked her cheeks. “We did it, though,” she sobbed, struggling to smile. “We stopped them.” She took his face in her trembling hands and kissed him. “We kept them from freeing her.”
Shanhaevel nodded at her numbly, thankful that they would have that to cling to, to give them some measure of solace in these final moments. He drew the druid to him with his good arm and held her tightly as the thick columns of the throne room collapsed, sending deadly shards of stone scattering in all directions. As the ground bucked and quaked, Shanhaevel watched death close in on them.
Suddenly, there was bright blaze of blue light that emanated from the sealed doors. With a loud crack that reverberated above the noise of grinding stone and trembling earth, the doors flew apart, each half of the portal slamming hard against the stone wall in which it was set.
Shanhaevel gaped in open amazement for a heartbeat before lurching up to his feet, pulling Shirral, whose face was still buried in his chest, along with him. Pointing, he staggered forward, dragging her along behind him. When the druid saw where he was headed, she gasped then scrambled to catch up with him. A column smashed hard into the floor where they had been crouched, stinging them with slivers of shattered rock as it hit. Turning, they both fled through the open doorway and up the stairs they found beyond.
Running as fast as he had ever thought possible, Shanhaevel scrambled up the stairs, into a wide hallway, then turned and found the next portal, also gaping open. Without hesitating, he charged through and clambered up the next set of steps, still holding Shirral’s hand. At the top, though, he found the way blocked by collapse. Groaning, he turned back, thinking desperately.
“The shaft!” he said, praying the pit would still be open and the ledge intact. “Come on!”
He pulled Shirral along behind him. His broken arm ached horribly, but he tried to put it out of his mind as they sprinted together, struggling to maintain their balance as the whole place rumbled and shifted violently. Dust filled the air, and passages were crumbling, sealed off.
Desperately, Shanhaevel ran down the long hall of bones, scattering the remains of long-dead warriors as he charged through. When he reached the spot where the secret door had been, he began the desperate search to find the release and open it.
“Help me!” he cried to Shirral.
Together, they fumbled for the catch, and when Shirral found it, the two of them slammed the hidden panel down and peered through. Fortunately, the ledge was still there, and the two of them slipped through the small opening and into the shaft beyond. The tremors of the collapsing temple continued, and the companions had to brace themselves against the wall of the shaft to maintain their balance.
Hold together just a little longer, Shanhaevel prayed. Taking Shirral’s hand, he began the ascent to the top, to blessed escape. He knew of a spell that would aid him, a bit of magic he could use to levitate upward, but he refused to think about it. I won’t leave her, he insisted.