unease when the bard told him that such giants as the squirrel he had brought down were a sure sign of evil. They found it tasty anyway, roasted on a spit over the cherry embers of their small fire.
'You say that such limb-lopers as that are found only in forests of eldritch sort?' asked Chert again.
'Why are you surprised at that?' the bard countered. 'You know that the cambion's servants use the heart of the Vesve as a highway, and we are making for that evil core. It is encouraging to find a creature of that ilk so soon… the trails of Iuz must be nearer than I thought.'
Gord, not at all disturbed about the nature of the rodent, was thinking of the great swine that made their home in the area. 'And the wild boars? What about the tale of the one who is diabolical?' he asked.
'Devils and demons don't mix, as they say,' Gellor said with a small shrug. 'Still, perhaps the beast could be some form of demon, possessed or in swine-form — or even a were-form of that sort. Let us hope that we can avoid confrontation with a boar of any kind. If not, then we must slay quick and sure. There are more important things we must accomplish than sticking pigs, mundane or supernatural.'
'Let it be a plain old tusker!' exclaimed Chert enthusiastically. 'Second Key or no, a big tusker roasted over an open fire is a dish I haven't tasted in far too long.'
Gellor had been only half-listening as the giant hillman spoke of such feasting. Without commenting, Gellor quietly opened the leather bag with its little harp nestled upon the velvet that lined it. He sat back, ran his fingers experimentally across the silver strings, and made rippling melodies play around the firelit little clearing. Both young men watched and listened in fascination. Gellor left off the runs and rills, playing instead a melody and singing a ballad that bespoke the comradery and gladness of a forest camp at the coming of night. The song lasted for minutes.
Before it concluded, two forms emerged from the shadowy dark just beyond the edge of the campfire's light and joined the listeners.
Chapter 21
While Gord and his companions sought the evil dwarf Obmi deep in the Vesve Forest, events elsewhere began to lead toward a resolution of the matter.
Somewhere in the mountains to the west, a great citadel stood, carved from the basalt and obsidian of the peaks themselves. The fortress was cloaked magically, so that only a few knew where it stood, and fewer of those dared to go near it. Within the sprawling complex were many sorts of folk, including the dwarven miners who dug the rich veins of platinum from the depths of the massifs and the gnomish smiths who beat it into coins of finely wrought jewelry. Others, men and elves, carried the product of the mining and Grafting further west into Perrenland and Ket, southward to Highfolk and Veluna, and east into the sprawling Kingdom of Furyondy. The citadel was the demesne of Mordenkainen and the various folk were all who owned him as their liege.
The affairs of others seldom interested the archmage, but of late he had been troubled by news from his agents. These included spies who roamed the domain of Iuz and actually entered the dreaded city of Dorakaa, or rode the plains of the Hierarchs and drank in the sinks of Molag. All said that Evil bestirred itself. There were rumors of a concerted effort, even strange flashes of power in the cosmos. Mordenkainen took heed of all this. Emissaries of magical and ordinary type as well went forth to alert heads of state and other cryptic groups and powerful individuals to what the archmage had learned. With them went a pledge of assistance and a promise to resist the growing coalition of malign forces. The knowledge sent hinted most abstrusely at the existence of the tripartite artifact and its First Key. Those who were great in knowledge of arcane and recondite subjects knew then that the world stood in great peril.
Back came more bits and pieces of information and assurances of cooperation. The elvenfolk of Highfolk and their nominal subjects within the edges of Vesve Forest made alliance with Mordenkainen and the force called the Obsidian Citadel. Seldom had they quarreled anyway, and the arch-mage's vassals included many tribes of wild grugach and wood elves. Agents came and went from secret places, bearing more secret communications. It happened that one of these agents managed to bring Iuz his first intelligence regarding the Artifact of All Evil and alert the cambion as to the likely whereabouts of the Second Key. Thus Obmi, the worst of Iuz's 'Secret Six,' managed to find the item where it was hidden in the lost temple.
The host raised by the Scarlet Brotherhood, meanwhile, had floundered through the Suss Forest and upward to the Welkwood. Confused and slow, they had been harassed by the woodsmen and elves in the process of their march. Furious at their inability to locate something already far beyond their reach, the 'Brothers' gathered a still greater force. Goblins and hobgoblins and any other of the vicious humanoids who could be found were conscripted to fight beside the bandits, brigands, and scum who served as auxiliaries for the main body. This army was composed of the highly trained and rigidly disciplined regiments of the Brotherhood. Its advance guard was a thousand strong, and behind that regiment were four others. Such size was actually why the force was ineffective. It was increased by the addition of thousands of men and humanoids.
So large a horde could not fail but to attract attention. The army had to eat and its scurvy auxiliaries had to slay and burn. The whole rolled northward slowly, and then turned away from the forests to stab into the pastoral countryside of Celene. The elvish monarchy was awaiting. They fell upon the horde almost immediately, and a great pitched battle raged for two days thereafter.
There fell the Marshal of Celene, Lord Parseval. With him many other noble elves and men were slain as well. As spell-caster fought spell-caster, the plying of bow and spear, sword and axe, took the worst toll. Of the 'cousins,' 'nephews,' and 'brothers' of the Scarlet Sign there was a great slaughter. Afterward, their regiments had no heart and fought fiercely but without direction. So they died. Brigand companies and allied humanoids simply melted away, fleeing this way or that. Those that went east, back to the Welkwood, were ambushed or hunted down and then exterminated. In this manner an assassin sometimes known as Blonk was brought low by Deirdre, a Lady Knight of Hardby, while the great company of outlaws whom he had led was slain to a man by the banner of riders and footmen who served her. Some few managed to remain alive by fleeing north or south. Those who escaped to the south eventually returned to the Pomarj to tell of the terrible battle.
Those who went northward found another fate.
At the northern edge of the Kron Hills, where the fringe of the great Gnarley Forest sent no more of its briars and oaks toward the setting sun, stand the ruins of a large building. Once active, the place is now generally shunned, for another battle was fought near it and its builders slain or gone in defeat. The place is, of course, the Temple of Elemental Evil — its ruin, rather — as any local serf or peasant farm-boy from the neighborhood could tell you. Other than an occasional group of adventurous explorers seeking forgotten treasure, nobody goes to the temple. Bad, evil things haunt the place still.
To this very place came a company of another sort — goodly clerics, stout cavaliers and soldiers too, and a magic-user or two as well. They came because a dire warning said that some being of great evil still lurked there, imprisoned in the temple but about to be loosed. They traveled quickly and with grim purpose.
They were greeted by a mass of fugitives. These evil men and malign humanoids were spoiling for revenge, and they lay in wait for the company. These outlaws had strong and fearsome leaders now, folk from the hidden places beneath the temple and others too. They thought to kill the clerics and knights and all the rest. The evil leaders left them, though, and as most of their fellows had done earlier, these survivors did now. They were killed on the field. The battle, small and brief as it actually was, comparatively speaking, took its toll on the company. There was a delay for meditation and prayer, for healing and rest, to prepare for the entry into the Temple of Elemental Evil.
Time had been purchased at a price held cheap and meaningless by those within the place. A great personage, an ancient magus, a feared and mighty one of eld, had come among the few who still remained within the precincts of the ruin. She it was who set the ambush, brought the delay, and gained the time for her ends. The company came, ready again to face any foe of evil nature. Into the temple they came, driving all before them. Downward they plunged, sending undead things back to the pits from which they came, destroying the lurking monsters who would otherwise prey upon mankind. Deep and deeper they went, seeking what they knew they must find.
Even as they finally discovered the confining place and readied for the great confrontation, a pair of ghastly figures sprang upward, passing through stone and earth as if it were air. Too late had these archclerics and doughty
