Sickness had gripped the forests north of Umar, and each step closer to the spot marked on Mazzy's map grew worse. The air itself hung with a sweaty miasma, so thick that they could taste it. Black rot grew up every tree and the trunks creaked alarmingly as though on the brink of falling over. Beneath their boots oozed a dank, fetid slime. No birds could be heard, but the air rang with the mournful cries of wolves.
It was summertime in Amn, but the land here seemed to have forgotten that. This was not like the crisp icy cold of the Cloud Peaks but a bilious chill that accumulated in the lungs with every breath. At one point, Viconia suggested that they make camp until dawn, but Arowan was growing more afraid for Jaheira with each passing moment and refused to stop. In any case, as they were soon to discover, dawn never came to this region.
With the aid of Mazzy's map they found the den that they were searching for. The wolf lair itself had already been abandoned. Arowan walked around the deserted cave, inspecting piles of gnawed bones and one body in particular, which had been chewed up and left to rot.
"Wolves don't do this," Arowan muttered, crouching beside what had probably once been a man. "They'd either eat it or bury it, but they wouldn't foul their own lair with rotting flesh like this. I'd say there's not been a living wolf in this cave for some time. A week at least."
"What do you mean, a 'living' wolf?" asked Yoshimo unsteadily. Woods were pleasant enough for picnics, but when it came to adventuring, he was more at ease with cities and dungeons.
"Something out there is making that unholy howling," she said grimly. "And this wood is definitely haunted. I keep seeing shades out of the corner of my eye."
Much to Yoshimo's dismay, the party decided to follow the howls to their source. Emerging from the woods, they arrived at the entrance to a great stone temple. They passed a fountain spluttering dark liquid that reeked of death and decay. Arowan immediately thought of the fountain in the village square and wondered if they were linked. It didn't appear so. This one had no henge around it and no peculiar carvings. Quite the opposite; it had an ornamental, almost domestic appearance. Were it filled with normal water it would make a pretty courtyard centrepiece.
Wispy shades were gathering around them. It was not just out of the corners of their eyes that the party could see them now. Pale spirits of wolves and men were emerging from the trees, their sightless eyes staring unblinkingly at nothing. Behind them on a plinth sat a small gem that seemed to burn with an inner light, faint but noticeable. Yet what drew Arowan's attention more was the pillar on which it stood.
It was made of blue marble, decorated with gold bands that ran about it like the legs of an armoured spider. The gem was the centrepiece of a single eye, like that of Helm, stamped into a crude representation of a golden helmet. As she squinted into the gloom she saw long-dimmed lanterns placed around the temple, which looked like the domes of the Morning Lord.
"Keldorn is going to cream his pants," she whispered to Yoshimo. The thief did not reply. His skin had turned waxen and he was barely listening, his eyes fixed on the shades. Before him he held out his katana in trembling hands. Arowan jabbed him in the ribs. "Check it out! We've just found another temple of Amaunator!"
"So it is!" the thief said shakily, looking around him. He was trying to sound brave and unconcerned, but failing dismally. "More lectures from Keldorn about the historical and cultural significance of an archaic religion. I bet Anomen will just love that."
"Wait!" Rasaad cried, "You found a temple of Amaunator? And you did not tell me?"
"Not just the temple, we found Amaunator himself," Arowan said, readying a fire arrow while Viconia made her devotions to Shar in preparation for the coming fight. "It was the strangest thing, there was a whole temple complex buried under the sewers of Athkatla. Even some of his priests were still there, but they're gone now. It was decorated just like this place. Very distinctive with the blue marble and the gold. You couldn't mistake it."
Rasaad let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a wail.
"We are on holy ground!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees and making the sign of Selune.
"We're also about to be attacked by at least a hundred shades," Yoshimo pointed out, his voice rising. "Is this really the best time for meditation my glabrous comrade?"
"They seem hesitant to come near the light on the plinth," Viconia noted. She cast a disapproving look at Rasaad. "What has gotten into you this time, moon male?"
"Amaunator was the original patron deity of the Sun Soul Order," Rasaad breathed, awestruck and still on his knees. "It was founded in ancient Netheril and called the Brotherhood of the Sun. With the fall of Netheril, Amaunator vanished. Some believe his power now resides in other gods. Different factions of my order turned to them. Most to Lathander, some to Selune and a very few to Sune. But you… you cannot have met him. Amaunator is gone."
"We came across one of his avatars," Yoshimo shrugged. "It was not that big a deal my friend. Not compared (to take a completely random example) to being attacked by a hundred shades at once."
"Never mind Rasaad," Arowan rolled her eyes, "When we return to Athkatla, you can be the one to tell Sir Keldorn all about it. I can't overstate how happy it will make him to have someone to talk to who is as enthusiastic about these temples as he is. Perhaps he can give you a tour of the one in Athkatla."
"I would be honoured beyond words!" Rasaad breathed.
Arowan rolled her eyes again but her impatience was soon replaced by fear. The shadows were advancing and as they approached a chill settled on her that seeped down to her bones. Her first fire arrow whistled into the darkness, driving through a wolf spirit. The arrow itself sailed straight through the translucent creature, lodging in the bark of a nearby tree. Yet the fire remained behind, glowing within the wolf, burning briefly inside it and weakening it, before snuffing out.
There was a terrible stillness, and then the struck wolf began to howl. An unearthly, anguished wail that went on and on. The rest of its dead pack picked up the call until the woods rang with a deafening assault upon the party's ears.
Surging like a rolling mist, the undead swept toward the party. Arowan shot five in quick succession, but this only served to slow the spirits. Sallow hands reached out to grab her, passing through her with freezing fingers. She caught glimpses of faces, some screaming, others sad. Old, young, male, female but all with the marks of the injury or disease that slew them. The shade of a wolf leaped at her, teeth bared. It hurtled through her torso, landing behind her. With its passing, Arowan's insides cracked with unbearable cold. Her breath caught and for a moment, her heart paused.
Rapidly the shades drained the strength from her until first she could no longer fight, then she couldn't stand and finally the ranger could not even force herself to remain conscious. The ground rushed to meet her and she felt no more.
Rasaad was already ashen-faced, and he would be the next to drop. His Sun Soul powers gave him the ability to call powerful light and fire but the effect was brief. Easily he dispersed the first wave of shades to come at him into harmless mist, but after that his kicks and punches were useless. The shimmering pallid hand of a long-dead temple guard reached through his chest, as though his muscles were nothing more than water. It clenched around his heart, and the monk fell too.
Yoshimo was doing a little better. He'd had the presence of mind to stand close to Viconia, who was focusing all her powers to Turn Undead. She kept the shades at bay in a little ring around her, but not by much. They pressed themselves against her invisible barrier, and if she let her concentration slip even for a moment, the spirits would have them.
The thief possessed no weapon or power that could harm the shades, which were now swarming over the fallen bodies of Rasaad and Arowan. Panicked, he looked at the softly glowing gem that the shades were still avoiding. He tried to grab it from its plinth but it would not come loose.
Beneath it he saw a foreboding set of steps leading down into the temple, but they could not outrun the ghosts while carrying Arowan and Rasaad. There was no easy way to reach their fallen companions in any case.
A short distance away was a large pit, the edges scratched and torn. It did not look like it belonged to the temple complex, in fact the mounds of loose earth and rubble surrounding it suggested that it had been dug recently. The darkness of the pit was so black that it strained his eyes just to look at it, but it was not wholly unfamiliar. It bore, Yoshimo thought, a striking resemblance to the entrance Lord Firkraag had dug into his own complex.
"Shades or dragons," he remarked weakly to Viconia. "How would you prefer to die?"
Viconia did not answer him. He turned to see her mouth moving to the words of the incantation slowly and feebly. A wolf was pushing its white muzzle toward her, and to his horror, Yoshimo watched the last of his companions collapse. Now he was alone and feeling his own strength start to ebb away. He hefted his katana, ready to make one last stand. The light of the gem reflected from it, and the approaching shades recoiled.
"Aha! You do not like this ghosties?" he cried hopefully, searching around him for anything reflective. The temple boasted large stained glass windows, they were dirty and dim but a little of the crystal's light reflected from them. With the hilt of his katana, he smashed the nearest one.
The glass fell with a crash and a lingering tinkling sound. It was a cheerful little noise, to counter the chilling howls of the wolves. The outside of the glass had been coated in grime but breaking it into fragments revealed new, clean edges. Thousands of tiny rays of the gem's light reflected from them brightly. Yoshimo smashed another window and another, coughing from the stale, centuries-old air that he was releasing.
Soon the area was brightened by the reflected light, and the shades backed away, though they did not back very far. He could still make them out, moving about in the shadows of the trees. There was no hope of going back the way they had come. After checking that Arowan was still breathing, and pulling her further into the safety of the light, Yoshimo sat down heavily and had some water.
Once again, he had saved the party and nobody saw it, but perhaps it was as well. The thief could just imagine what Keldorn would make of him vandalizing an ancient temple of Amaunator. Even if he defended himself by saying it was to save their lives, he doubted that the paladin would think their lives worth it.
The only possible way to go now was down, but they were safe for the moment and Yoshimo decided to let his party sleep and recover a little. He unpacked their bedrolls and wrapped up his party as best he could, then lay next to Arowan for warmth. Her hands were as cold as death itself, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep beside her, hoping that the gem would not go out before dawn.
When they woke, hours later, Amaunator's gem shone as constantly as ever, but the sun had not risen over this desolate place. Breakfast was a subdued affair. They had not regained all of their strength. Rasaad in particular, who had been recovering from a fever before they even set out, was in a bad way. He was pallid, listless and every so often his body shuddered with a suppressed cough. Viconia tried to heal him, but she could not restore the energy that the ghosts had sucked away. Her own confidence, meanwhile, was deeply shaken.
"The gods let me fall without intervening," she said, almost accusingly.
"That light on the plinth seems divine in nature," Rasaad pointed out fairly. "It would appear that Amaunator still has some power after all."
"At least within the confines of his own temples," Arowan nodded. She was curled up against Yoshimo, her face bloodless. "But when we found the avatar of Amaunator beneath the cult of the Unseeing Eye he was weak, and that was with living worshippers. I doubt we'll find any of those here. We shouldn't count on much help from him."
"I am here," Rasaad reminded her defiantly. "I am living."
"I thought you followed Selune?" Yoshimo asked, curiously.
"There are those who believe that Amaunator became a tripartite deity," the monk replied. He looked terrible, but lecturing his companions on philosophy always cheered him up. "Abbot Hanor Kichavo teaches that Lathander, Selune and Sune are his aspects. If so, following any one of them equates to the worship of Amaunator himself."
"First the Twofold Trust and now this?" Viconia half-shrieked in disgust. "Is there no end to your heresies?"
"I did not say I believe that he became tripartite, I merely acknowledge the possibility," Rasaad replied calmly. "It is one of many conceivable ways that the deities of light might be linked. A far cry from the Twofold heresy which seeks to equate light and shadow."
"Your suggestion is even worse than the Twofold heresy!" the Sharran replied. "Selune is the twin of Shar. Weak and anaemic though the milkmaiden is, if she is merely an aspect of a more powerful god then Shar must be likewise. I will not suffer such insults, ignorant male!"
Arowan and Yoshimo were eyeing the dragon-hole glumly. There was nothing for it though, but to face whatever was inside the temple, for they could not leave the gem and return through the woods. Besides, it seemed likely that this was where Anomen and Jaheira had gone.
The party descended the stairs using Viconia's sword for light. Each footstep echoed loudly, but oddly enough they encountered no resistance. Every so often, however, they passed the battered bones and fallen weapons of undead guards. Someone else had already come this way. There were also streaks of red and more bloody paw prints, which they followed deep underground to a long stone corridor. Most of the shades were above and could not cross the gem's light to pursue them down here. A few were lurking about but these could be dealt with one by one using Turn Undead, fire arrows and blasts of Rasaad's Sun Soul powers.
Only one door opened leading to a large crypt containing a single tomb, with an effigy of a little girl carved into the stone slab. It reminded Arowan of Imoen's grave in Candlekeep, and this one was also empty. The bones were defiled; scattered around the room and gnawed on by wolves. It was a huge vault to house one child, whoever she was she must have been important. Yet it seemed as though this crypt had never been finished. A great mural of the rising and setting sun had been abandoned, half painted. There were partially completed statues and blue marble plinths with the gold only semi-wound around them.
"The prophetess Amuana," read Viconia from an inscription beneath the tomb. Arowan was looking sadly at her tiny, chewed skull.
"We'd best put her back," she sighed, gathering the bones and replacing them in the stone crypt. She placed the head tenderly in its proper place on the pillow, but the other bones were so small and numerous that it would have taken an expert days to reconstruct her. They dropped in the pieces with as much dignity as they could manage and between them, they slid the tomb closed. Normally Rasaad could have done this alone, but with his strength so depleted it took all of them together to complete the task.
As the slab covered the bones, the stone eyes of the girl's effigy blinked open. They glowed with a golden light. Had any of the party ever met Sarevok in life, they might have recognized the divine stare, though hers was much faded. Without moving its lips, the stone Amuana spoke.
"I appreciate your effort to close my tomb, but he will only open it again," she said in a distant, echoey voice. "The last ones tried to salvage my bones too, but he locked them away and let in the wolves to desecrate my remains once more."
"The others?" Arowan asked urgently.
"First the halflings, then the druid and her companion," Amuana elaborated.
"Where are they now?" the ranger cried.
"Through the door to your right. The tombs which once housed my custodians have been emptied and turned into cells. I fear that you will join them soon. I would aid you if I could, but I gave my holy symbols to the halfling knight," she whispered. "It was my hope that she would defeat the Shade Lord and purge this place that I might, finally, be forgiven my failure and be allowed to pass on. Alas, it was not to be."
"What failure do you speak of?" asked Rasaad.
"I was born a prophetess amongst my people, and raised as their leader. It was hoped that I would lead a revival of our dying faith. Instead I was slain in my youth, and my remains entombed here. The fall of my faith and of my people followed swiftly."
"You cannot blame yourself for that," Arowan told her gently.
"Oh, but I can. I made a terrible mistake," Amuana said, suddenly fearful. "In the process I sacrificed the favour and protection of my god."
"What in Selune's name did you do?" Rasaad demanded, recoiling.
"She was only a child!" Arowan chastised him. "Whatever she did could not possibly have merited this fate."
"True, I was indeed a child, but a prophetess child," Amauna sighed. "The worship of my people made me arrogant, when in truth I was untutored and foolish. I thought to unleash the power of the Golden Sun Lord in one glorious burst, purging all darkness from the world. I believed that I was ridding the world of evil."
"What did you say?" Viconia asked sharply, suddenly taking an interest. "Ridding the world of which evil?"
"All of it," Amauna confessed sadly. Viconia's red eyes widened in curiosity and alarm. "Everything would be perfect, I imagined, and the grateful people would flock to Amaunator. With a child's understanding I perceived only darkness and light, right and wrong. I did not think of the children those of evil alignment would leave behind. Nor the civilizations ground to dust, nor how defenceless the survivors would be from the denizens of other planes. I certainly did not realise that had I succeeded, my actions would have annihilated my own god."
"This is all sounding a bit familiar," Arowan said. She and Viconia were looking right at each other. "What happened next, Amauna?"
Barely perceptibly, the carved stone face changed. The little girl's lips curved upward into a bitter smile. One silvery tear slipped from her golden eye. It tinkled to the floor, hardening as it fell into a perfect pearl. Yoshimo picked it up, earning him a glare from Arowan.
"The gods sent a servant to punish me for my crime and end my folly," the prophetess told them. "With the result that you see before you."
Viconia gasped loudly. Rasaad looked from her to the prophetess and gripped her hand instinctively. Amauna's story seemed to fit with everything they knew about the Servant of all Faiths. With the obvious exception that these events had occurred prior to the fall of Netheril, centuries before Viconia's birth.
"This… erm… this servant of the gods?" Arowan began, with a sideways glance at Viconia. "What exactly did they look like?"
"He was a dwarf, with a huge golden beard and an axe made out of…"
"Ok, never mind," Arowan said, relaxing. Beside her, Viconia let out a thin whistle. The drow was not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "It was just a thought."
Though she felt great pity for the dead girl, Arowan's main concern was with the living. She took the door indicated by Amuana but as soon as she did a skeletal guard clattered out of the darkness, carrying a bunch of iron keys on his fraying belt.
"You shall not free the master's consorts, mortal!"
"Consorts?" Arowan echoed, disgusted and horrified in equal measure. "Since when did ghosts want spouses?"
The skeleton paused, cocking his skull to one side. Empty sockets throbbed with a ruddy light as though he were thinking.
"No, what I meant was that their bodies will be taken over by the Shade Lord," the skeleton replied through chattering teeth. "It's not a romantic arrangement."
"Are you sure? Only that is what consort means," Arowan said doubtfully. "It's a very specific word."
"I don't think so," the skeleton jailor snapped, folding his fleshless arms.
"She is right, you know," Yoshimo nodded.
Some of the colour had returned to his face since their encounter with the shades. Arowan had thought the way he had broken the windows to save them was very brave and clever, although it would be nauseating to go around saying so. He was so resourceful even when he was terrified. Not to mention fun and sexy with his long black hair which was really very…
"Stay out of this Kara-Turan!" the skeleton retorted waspishly, jerking Arowan back to her senses. "Common isn't even your first language."
"Actually, it is," Yoshimo corrected him, draping a friendly arm over the skeleton's shoulders. The fingers of his other hand went straight for the keys while the undead guard was distracted. "I must say that I find your assumptions most offensive."
In so far as it was possible to have expressions with his facial muscles decayed away, the skeleton looked abashed. He straightened his rusty armour awkwardly and adjusted his broadsword in a self-conscious sort of way.
"I'm not prejudiced!" the skeleton protested. "Some of my best friends are from Kara-Tur. Admittedly I don't remember exactly which ones, but it's not my fault if their faces rotted away centuries ago. We're all the same underneath, you know."
"As you are walking proof of," nodded Arowan, trying to keep the skeleton talking while Yoshimo did his work. "But consort still implies husband or wife."
"What about 'consorting' with the enemy?" insisted the skeleton. "Ha!"
"Consorting is a verb. It has a subtly different meaning to the noun consort," Rasaad pointed out. They stared at him, and he shrugged. "Part of the role of a monk is to convert others to Selune's light. Language lessons were taken very seriously in the monastery."
Yoshimo slipped the keys silently from the guard's belt, then coughed at Viconia. She focussed her energies and began to Turn Undead. At once the skeleton threw his hands to his eye sockets as though something were hurting him and backed away down the corridor, complaining bitterly as he went.
"This is no way to win an argument!" he whined, his voice growing more distant. "What about the master's mate? Concubine? Bondsman?"
"None of those words mean what you think they mean!" Arowan heckled. "Try 'host?'"
"You're right, host is better!" the skeleton cried from somewhere in the distant darkness. "Thank you!"
They made their way to the cells. The nearest was already open but it was quite empty. A used slop bucket in the corner and a pile of crumb covered plates suggested that it had been occupied at one point, but the prisoners had been taken already. Then they unlocked the adjoining cell.
What they saw next was more horrendous than anything Arowan had ever imagined possible. Gamaz's workshop, Irenicus's dungeon and all the horrors of Athkatla's sewer system could not have prepared her for what met her eyes.
Anomen was sat on the ground, legs splayed with his pants down. His face was turned determinedly to the far wall, and both his eyes and fist were clenched. Crouched beside him with her hand on his manhood, was Jaheira.
Rasaad gasped and turned away, covering his eyes, while Yoshimo went red. Viconia doubled over, her squeaking laugh reverberating through the dungeon. Yet by far the strongest reaction came from Arowan. Her shocked scream was so loud and piercing, that for a while even the wolves outside paused their howling to listen.
The young cleric's head snapped up. His face had already been scarlet, but now it turned close to purple.
"Haven't you people ever heard of knocking?" he demanded.
"I… this… you…" Arowan squealed, paralyzed in horror but unable to turn her eyes away. "You swore not to use the Charisma Ring to hit on my mother! YOU BASTARD!"
"It's not what it looks like," Anomen mumbled.
Jaheira, who seemed completely unabashed, rose to her feet with her hand on her hip. She looked down her nose at all of them, with an imperious expression.
"Of all the puerile nonsense!" the druid thundered. Arowan had no response to this. She turned heel and began to stride rapidly away, with Jaheira calling after her. "Where in Faerun are you going child?"
"To feed myself to the dragon!" the ranger hollered hysterically. "I've decided that I no longer want to live!"
