Ch. 11…The Temple

The Mir wood might be called a forest but it was a very wet and swampy sort of forest. We had walked most of the day down a muddy path that had once been a road. There were no signs that anyone had come this way before us in a long, long time. Without the detailed map Melissan had given us, I doubt we ever could have found our way. My boots and legs were slimed up to the knees with a foul smelling muck that would likely never come out of my travel leathers. Dark clouds had hidden the sun all day and I had no idea what time it was. Judging by the ache in my legs, it was late.

Anomen's absence was like the pain of a broken tooth, always with me and probed in secret again and again.

For the last few hours, the forest had become eerily silent. No birds, no animal cries, not even the sound of insects could be heard. There was nothing but the drip of water from the branches of the sickly trees that reached across the path like diseased beggars seeking alms. Some dread blight had overtaken the forest. I'd never in my life been in a swamp that didn't teem with biting or stinging insects, until now. This stillness was definitely unnatural and I didn't have to see Jaheira's deep uneasiness to know that.

We passed through a zone of dying trees and into a zone of dead ones. The marshy trail we had been following firmed up under foot to become broken pavement. And then we reached the ruins.

"This is the temple?" I asked. Surely time and nature alone hadn't created this ruin. The outer wall had been torn apart by some mighty explosion that had scattered great blocks of stone in a rough circle.

"I know of this place," Sarevok said. "This was a temple of Bhaal, abandoned since Bhaal's death, or so I've been told."

"I, too, know of this place," Jaheira said grimly. I looked at her in some surprise. "The Harpers struck here long ago and drove off the Bhaalists who made their base here. Gorion told me of this."

"Gorion was here? Right here?"

"He was the sworn enemy of the Bhaalist cult, child, and he led many such raids, to cleanse the temples of their evil rites and to save what innocent victims he could. Did you not know this?"

"Your Gorion was the wolf that Bhaal's sheep feared," Sarevok said.

Jaheira gave him a belligerent look. "Gorion was a hero."

"He was a fanatic," Sarevok replied.

"How come I don't know any of this?" I complained. "I didn't even know he was a Harper for certain until you told me, Jaheira, remember?"

"He was always close-lipped," she agreed.

"And he never said anything about Bhaal, other than making me learn those stupid prophecies. He never told me a damned thing."

"I didn't know any of this either," Imoen said.

"But surely, child, you knew that you were taken as a babe from just such a temple as this."

Sarevok laughed. "Yes, that is so. Consider the irony if you had been snatched from this very temple," he said. "It's not impossible. The timing would have been about right."

"You knew, too?" I asked him. Jaheira frowned, her lips pressed tight. "You're—"

Imoen thumped my back. "Shut up!" she hissed. "Can't you feel it?" I whirled at the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. It was Keldorn. He held his sword with the blade pointing down to the ground. A soft white glow ran up the length of the holy blade. It was a warning.

"Evil approaches," Keldorn said. I felt it then, a cold shiver running down the back of my neck. A mist rose from the broken pavement, lapping around our feet in a cool white tide. The sky turned darker still, dark as night. We all had our weapons out.

Out of the darkness, from the direction of the temple, a darker form approached. It moved through the pale fog in utter silence. I could make out no face or features, but the creature had a voice. It called my name.

"Keeta."

"No," whispered Jaheira. Her hands clenched her staff. "It cannot be!"

"Halt, Keeta," the shade said, in the voice of the man who raised me—my father in everything but blood—Gorion. "Stand forth, and go no further."

Oh, I stood forth quick enough. I stood forth with steel in my hands. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten me so soon? Have you forgotten me as you have forgotten everything I tried to teach you? I will not have it, Keeta." His dark hands rose and a shock of energy slammed into my chest. My breath came out in a huff but I was frozen in place, I could not move. "You cut a bloody swathe through the Sword Coast after I was murdered. And my murderer stands by your side, his blade no bloodier than yours. I will not have it!" And he struck me again. Harder. "You're like a beast—worse than a beast—slaying and slaying, until the world shudders with the cries of those you have murdered."

All around us rose the cries of anguished spirits.

"I devoted my life to cleansing Bhaal's evil from the world, yet you feed the prophecy with every new murder. You murder my hopes as you murdered me!" His hands rose again and the bolt sent me flying back to hit the ground in a wet squish I felt through the seat of my leathers. I scrambled to my feet, the paralysis broken. Now I was really seeing red. And ghostly spirits rose up all around me. But I pushed through them towards the false Gorion.

"Die, you lying shade," I growled.

It laughed. "Do you think you are clever, god-child? You are surrounded, surrounded by those slain by your Gorion and his Harper kin. You do not murder the faithful in Bhaal's own temple! Not without retribution!"

I slashed my blade through his shadowy form and let the stroke continue on through two of the lesser shades that crowded around us. They were destroyed by the enchantments on my sword but the wraith seemed unaffected. Gods! If only Anomen were here! No undead could stand against him while he channeled Helm's power. That gave me a thought and I yanked my amulet out of my shirt, the one given to me by the Dawnbringer in Athkatla.

"Lathander, help me!" I begged. Well, demanded, really, but it worked. Light burst from the amulet. It wasn't enough to damage any shade, and maybe it did nothing more than bolster my own confidence but I did feel that the shades fell away and gave me more room to move.

Like me, Sarevok and Keldorn lay around themselves with their swords, forcing the shades to retreat. Only a temporary retreat at best, for they could flit in and out of the mist, close to invisible, at least to my eyes. Keldorn seemed to have no trouble striking them and the spirits quickly learned to fear his holy blade. Imoen had called a circle of flame to protect her. As far as I could tell, the spirits could not cross it, and the light was welcome indeed.

Yet they kept coming. Sarevok and I had the wraith caught between us, but if we injured it, I could not tell.

"By the Horns of Silvanus," I heard Jaheira mutter. "Enough." From the corner of my eye, I saw her plant her feet in a wide stance. Her head fell back and I felt a backlash of power prickle across me. Her hair streamed out in a pale cloud. And then lightning poured out of the black sky in a deafening crack that I could feel through my feet as well as through my ears. The bolts tore through the wraith, striking it again and again. I let the tip of my sword touch the ground, just in case, although I doubted such a minor precaution would protect me had nature's fury been turned on me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the glare, too late of course. More lightning struck, not just from the sky but now from the rod in Imoen's hand as well.

The shades were ripped to pieces.

Something shadowy, with way too many arms, had wrapped itself around Sarevok. Its head was buried inside his armor. I heard a sickening, slurping noise as I used my sword to peel it off his back. Imoen burned the thing up with a burst of flame. Sarevok sank to his knees, face gray, like his armor had become too heavy to bear. He didn't lose his grip on his sword, however.

"I've got you covered," I said, but the threat was gone. Any shade that hadn't been destroyed must have slunk off into the trees. "I'm sure glad that's over."

Keldorn had not sheathed his sword. His gaze was steady on the temple before us. "The battle is not over," he said. "We have more evil yet to face."

Great.

I pulled Jaheira aside and Imoen drifted over to join us. "What's wrong with Sarevok?" I asked.

"That's a question that would take all night to answer," Imoen said.

Jaheira frowned at her. "The shades have drained his vitality. I believe you have a scroll that will aid him, child."

"Yeah," she said. She snapped her fingers for a little ball of light, which bounced beside her as she dug through her scroll case. "I do. Hate to waste it on him, though," she muttered, as she pulled out the scroll she sought. She looked up at me. "Without Anomen, we're going to need a lot more supplies. Scrolls, potions, lots of stuff. Not sure where we're going to get it, either, unless you know of an arcane supply shop out here in the wilderness. When is he coming back?"

"He's not," I said.

"But Keeta, we really, really need him." Like I didn't know that. He had weakened us all when he left. Something to chalk up to Helm's account, as if I would ever get the chance to settle any debts with the gods.

Jaheira gave Imoen a gentle jab with her elbow. "We have no time for this," she said. "Cure Sarevok. I have no more love for him than you do but we must be practical. We need his sword arm if we are to finish our task."

"We need Anomen more," Imoen said. None of us disagreed.

The devastation inside the temple was awesome—had Gorion done all this? What a mage he must have been. We worked our way over the remains of pulverized walls, stepped over fallen columns. Inside was the choking stench of rot and decay—the reek of evil, Anomen might have said. Rocks small and large, and sandy grit everywhere made for treacherous footing. I was glad I was in my leather walking boots and not clomping around in plate.

I signaled the others to wait until I moved through the archway into what appeared to be the sanctum. As I moved forward, Sarevok grabbed my shoulder to pull me behind him.

"If you can't follow my lead, I don't need you here," I said in quiet fury.

"Little fool," he hissed. "If I die, you can resurrect me perhaps. If you die, we may both be lost." This was no time for an argument, so I gave him a curt nod to proceed. He had a point.

Most of the roof had fallen in. I cast an uneasy eye upward, wondering how stable the rest of the building might be. Sarevok stopped and I was forced to peer around his broad shoulder. As Keldorn had warned, there were more undead inside the temple, more of Bhaal's faithful. Skeletal undead awaited us in a rough half circle, with their weapons in their hands. One of these skeletons stood by the unholy altar, still wearing the tatters of a clerical robe. This priest gave me a grin when we picked our way toward him. Or maybe that was a frown, hard to read expressions on a skull.

"I feel the taint of the Master," it said. "The taint must be returned to our Lord Bhaal. Others may have forsaken their duty but we have not. Kill her, in Bhaal's name!"

"Hey," Imoen shouted. "Leave us alone. Bhaal's dead, you're dead, just move on with your afterlife already!"

Good advice but they didn't take it. Too bad for us, for these were no ordinary mindless skeletons. One threw up a mage's defenses and began to rain spells on us. Even the warriors, instead of attacking the nearest target, moved together as a team and massed a concerted assault upon Keldorn. They feared him the worse, him and his holy sword Carsomyr. Me, I felt my sword was having little effect and I swapped to the Ice Star, the morning star I'd taken from Gromnir Il-Khan's corpse. It crunched through bone quite nicely. I destroyed the two skeletal warriors that had flanked Keldorn, but to my alarm, he sank to his knees before me.

"Poison," he gasped. I saw the thin throwing knives lodged in his armor. At least one must have penetrated a gap or joint. "I have an antidote," he said. "See to that mage."

The mage standing right before me, casting something? Right. I threw myself at it, hoping to dodge whatever spell it was chanting. We went down in a heap. A huge earth elemental began to pull itself out of the ground beside me but I didn't wait for its help. I reared back, and with a two handed grip on my weapon, smashed down with all I had. Its skull exploded. A shard cut my cheek. Then something smashed into the middle of my back, sending me sprawling over the mage's bones. Knocked the wind right out of me. And I realized the elemental was one of theirs, not one of ours. Great. The skeletons were summoning help. That just didn't seem right. The huge feet lumbered my way—stomp, stomp, stomp—and the creature leaned over me. I tried to catch my breath so I could scream or curse or something. It had no eyes, no face, but it certainly had arms. One huge hand reached down for me and suddenly Sarevok was between us. He grimaced with effort and his sword sheared through the creature's elbow. The whole arm fell to the ground with a thud. I took a great shuddering breath at last, then another, and then I tightened my grip on my morning star and rolled to my feet before it could stomp me. Between us, we turned it into topsoil.

I looked around. Imoen and the priest were in some kind of casting battle. Jaheira had crouched beside Keldorn but her head was up, scanning for hidden opponents. Sarevok and I raced toward the priest, who now stood behind the broken altar. Tiny flames danced in its empty eye sockets. It spoke the words of a spell—evil words, sickening words, words that burned me, that stopped me, that made me scream out in pain and horror. He smote me.

But Sarevok never faltered. He leapt over the altar and his sword smashed through the creature's neck. His head went flying like a child's ball and its body collapsed into fragments and dust. We had won.