Two To One

Chapter Four: Depths

Mark reigned in his horse as he crested the rise and studied the green valley spread out before him. The trees stood like a tight collection of theater-goers held in rapt attention as seen by the players. Their intermingled types, sizes, and colors made for a mottling of greens swaying and moving with the wind like a sea of faces dancing to the whispered music.

A clearing in the trees at the far end of the valley opened to reveal weathered stone and tall grasses. Stacks of cracked and broken granite showed through the grass and the bleached white mortar shone in contrast with the gray stone blocks. As Mark watched the grass sway slowly, studying the layout of the ruins and comparing them to the map he had memorized earlier, he found himself relieved at the destruction.

Lack of repair means lack of organization, thought Mark. It's good to know that anything we are likely to come up against will be acting mostly on instinct rather than intelligent reasoning. He hated fighting anything smart enough to cast spells, and he always seemed to connect that with good housekeeping. The theory didn't hold up very well when he thought about most human wizards he knew, but then he couldn't remember any wizards who let the walls of their house fall down either.

He heard the hoof beats of his companions' mounts stepping up beside him and turned as they halted their quiet conversation in surprise at the ruins before them. He looked at Gammon with a question ready to pass his lips but stopped himself as the wizard smiled.

"It would appear that we have arrived." he said to Mark and clucked his horse into motion.

"Is it just me or does he seem to be looking forward to this?" said Jenni over Mark's other shoulder. He turned to the woman and laughed.

"The man has completely lost touch with reality." said Mark and Jennifer laughed with him.

"I wouldn't worry about it," she said. "He really just wants to impress Thanduin." Jennifer turned and watched Gammon as the wizard rode down the hill away from them. "Just make sure you're there to cover his back when the trouble starts."

"I always am." Mark looked at his friend's retreating back and sighed. Isn't that what friends are for? A saddle creaked behind the two as Ciranon shifted in his saddle.

"Can we get going?" said Ciranon. He looked at the two faces that turned to him. "I'm getting sick of roughing it. I can hear a hot bath and a cold drink screaming my name back in town." Mark turned back to Jennifer and the two broke into laughter as they snapped their reigns and started toward the temple.

As they approached the clearing the four spread out and carefully checked out the surrounding area. The trees had thinned out greatly as they drew near the temple, tending more towards maple and alder rather than the prevalent fir and pine of the surrounding valleys. They approached the overgrown scene of destruction cautiously, alert for signs of danger and clues to their quest. Mark looked at the game trails weaving in and out of the thickets and fields and wondered what kind of creatures lived in the valley. He thought again of the lizard-like things the group had encountered only a few days before and was glad they hadn't seen any more of them.

Mark stopped his horse and climbed down. A print had shown itself in the mud and he bent down to take a closer look. As large as a man's footprint, the indentation showed three elongated toes and two other atrophied digits on the outside edge. The marks in the mud also indicated a skin-like webbing stretched between the toes.

Damn, thought Mark. Just when you think the tide has gone out you find yourself up to your neck again. He loosened his sword in the scabbard as he stood up and looked around. He led his horse off the trail, eyes on the ground. After a few minutes he found another print near a small streamlet. This one was several days old, by the look of it, but the one he had found by the trail was probably made the night before. Mark looked around and turned toward the ruins.

As Mark came closer to the broken walls he found Gammon examining a section of scorched stone. The wizard was bent over the rubble in concentration and didn't hear the fighter come up behind him until Mark was peering over the wizard's shoulder. Gammon turned to his friend.

"Mark," he said. I think this is something you should see." Gammon rapped his staff hard against the wall then pulled his dagger and chipped at the burnt and melted blocks. "Notice the way even the crystalline deposits are melted within the stone."

"Yeah. So?" Mark said, looking at the mage.

"So." Gammon looked askance at the tall warrior. "So have you ever seen normal fire do this kind of damage?" He turned back to the wall. "If it was just one or two places with this kind of effect I would attribute it to a fairly powerful fireball spell, or even a fire elemental. As it is, with nearly every wall burned this intensely I can only suspect." The wizard put his dagger away and sighed.

"That would fit right in with the prints I found at the edge of the clearing," said Mark. "It would seem that the creatures we encountered the other night have patrolled this valley as well, and fairly recently." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder and moved on.

Mark found Jennifer's horse staked at the remnants of the front gate and tied his own mount beside hers. That done he turned to the entrance to the main hall and entered the ruined doorway. Inside he found Jennifer standing in the middle of the room looking at the walls, turning slowly around to take in the entire room.

"Anything interesting?" asked Mark?

"I think this is the outer worship hall," said Jennifer. Mark followed her example and looked around the room, noticing the thick grass growing in patches on the uneven floor. Here and there a small tree stood, its roots embedded in piles of debris. Above their heads the late morning sun glowed in the sky. "I have this strange feeling here," she said dreamily. "I can't quite explain it." She was interrupted by Ciranon who came in through a gap in the wall on one side.

"Hi-ya folks," he said as he pulled a dagger from his belt and started cleaning his nails. "You find anything interesting in here?"

Mark clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything. The fool could be at a street fair for all the attention he's giving to his surroundings. He looked to Jenni for help but the woman was completely lost in thought. "We're ALL supposed to be searching this place. The sooner we find what we're looking for the sooner we can be on our way back." He stopped and looked away.

"All right, all right," said Ciranon. "I'll see what I can find." He turned slightly and looked around the room. "So what are we looking for, anyway?"

"Ciranon!" Mark felt his face flushing with frustration. "Anything!"

"Come to think of it, I think I saw a dead rabbit on the other side of the ruins." Mark's hands clenched into fists and he took a step towards the bard. Ciranon took a step back and continued on quickly. "I'm kidding!" he said. "I really did find something. I only came in to tell you about it in the first place."

"Well spit it out then," said Mark. He crossed his arms and gave Ciranon his best look of impatience. I'll rip out his liver if this is another joke.

"You really ought to see it," said Ciranon. He turned and stepped toward the broken wall but stopped to see why Mark wasn't following him. Mark looked at the bard a moment longer and then let Ciranon lead him out of the room.

The two wended through the rubble until they discovered a path through the grass. Ciranon turned to his left and followed the path among the demolished walls and through several chambers into what appeared to be an inner study. A small room, only twenty feet or so across, the place held less growth than most rooms Mark had seen in the place. The walls were mostly intact but the ceiling was absent as expected. Mark looked down at the path running across the middle of the small chamber and through the far wall.

As Mark looked up at the wall he discovered that he had found the main tower, or rather what was left of it. Still standing nearly thirty feet tall, the walls of the tower looked like rotting teeth at the top with sharp stones jutting into the sky. Through the broken wall which gaped before them Mark could see stairs and shadows and he knew they had found the way into the depths of the temple.

Mark brought his left hand to his lips and blew a shrill note into the air then stepped forward to examine the tower. Inside the stairs spiraled down into the darkness, littered with loose blocks and other, less identifiable, debris. What could be using the path, thought Mark. The lizard things didn't appear too smart, and there weren't enough tracks around to account for the path here in the ruins. The thought puzzled him, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the others in the group.

"This must be the way the soldiers went in," said Gammon. "Notice the way the stones have been broken inward by a large heavy object, like a ram of some kind. They must have puzzled over this for hours before they decided to use such brutish means." Gammon stopped and looked over his friends with a smile. "I think the wizard who designed this place did an excellent job. From the looks of the stairway the original entrance was several floors up, maybe in some hidden room. Quite possibly it was a magical portal of some kind with a strong concealment spell and effective wizard lock. I like it."

"Does everybody have everything they need from their horses?" said Mark as he looked into the darkness that concealed the bottom of the shaft. "I don't think anybody wants to climb back up these stairs for a torch."

Gammon mumbled something and waved a hand at the end of his staff. Suddenly a brilliant glow appeared on the end. "Who needs torches?"

The four started down the steps, looking at the stains and rubble on the stairs. The sun shone down from above, slowly coming over the edge of the tower wall and lighting the stairs. The group walked slowly down the steps, dodging stones and staring into the depths below them.

After several circuits of the twenty-foot wide spiral the four found themselves in growing darkness. The sun had passed it's zenith and climbed the far edge of the crumbled tower leaving the depths in shadow. Gammon's staff lit their feet well enough for them to dodge the refuse that cluttered the stairs, but of the deep pit that awaited them they had no view.

They climbed further into the earth, around and around with no sign of landing or chamber. Mark stared into the darkness around him and wondered if the way went to some other world. He noticed the temperature had risen noticeably and that amplified the feeling.

Suddenly there were no more steps to follow. Mark looked around the landing and discovered that it opened into a large chamber. He couldn't see the opposite end of the room in the dimness but as the echoes of their footsteps faded he realized that the room was far larger than they had expected.

Mark drew his sword. the others looked at him with surprise but he was in no mood to take any chances. Too many times he had been caught unaware and he was going to be certain that he was ready. He stepped away from the stairs and began to cross the floor and enter the room.

As they entered the room the features slowly became apparent. Stone benches stretched out before them, some skewed and overturned, some still in their original condition and position. The vaulted ceiling rose above them into the darkness, out of reach of Gammon's light. Here and there tattered robes and crumbling bones attested to the nature of the room and the fierce battle that had been it's destruction.

The benches ended before a raised dais of stone which sported a mound of broken marble. That was where people were sacrificed and served as offering to the worshippers and their god.

Mark steeled himself and approached the dais slowly. He looked around the shattered pedestal and found the only other adornment was a colorful engraving on the backdrop wall. It depicted a surreal rendition of a red-skinned and scaled god standing in the clouds and holding out his hands in magnanimous kindness. The outspread arms seemed to encompass the entire chamber and promised protection from the cruel outside world.

Mark stopped before the painted wall and looked around again. There were no doors or archways that he could see and he seriously doubted that the knights would have left any chamber unturned if there were any. He turned to Gammon.

"All right," he said. "I'm sure you have something up your sleeve that you haven't told us, and I think this is where you have to lay your maps on the table. What are we really here for? Where is this staff you prize so highly?"

Gammon looked mildly back at the fighter, no sign at all whether he was offended by the affront or not. After a moment of tense silence the wizard stepped forward and climbed onto the dais. But instead of stopping before the tall warrior in confrontation he walked past the man and approached the back wall.

Gammon stopped before the center of the wall, standing between the outstretched hands of the unknown deity. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, and for a moment the three observers thought he had dozed into some kind of trance.

After a short time of silence, though, he lifted his head and raised his staff. With the pole raised high Gammon spoke three searing words that were completely foreign to his companions. As the words echoed into silence the mage swung sharply and placed three solid blows on the wall before him, then stepped back as a crack appeared in the engraving from top to bottom. Quickly the crack became a crevice, then the crevice became a gap and the party watched as two giant doors opened before them.

Suddenly the tomb-like quiet was shattered by a deafening roar that echoed through the silently opening door before them. The four companions dove aside at the noise, just in time to avoid the giant tendril of flame that flashed through the doorway and licked at the floor.

Mark stood for a moment, leaning against the cold stone wall, and watched as the flames receded, leaving the stone dais before the double doors melted and smoking. His hands gripped the sword before him with white fingered intensity but the tip of the blade refused to be still. As he mastered his fear of failure and gained control of the powerful adrenaline rush, his sight clouded with anger and he felt himself drawn toward the doorway. Only through conquest would he overcome the shame he felt at his fear.

A hand caught his shoulder as he stepped from the wall. He shrugged it off impatiently, but it was back instantly with more urgent insistence. He turned, ready to vent his anger, but was met by Gammon's face, pinched with concern, but also showing a glimmering idea. Mark knew the look. He had seen it enough to understand what it meant. He also knew it had saved his life several times.

As the echoes of the roaring flame echoed into silence Mark became aware of a heavy breathing from the chamber beyond the door. Heavy breathing which was swollen and deep with the reverberations of a great chamber. Then a powerful voice spoke and removed all questions as to what had sent the flames.

"Who dares disturb the rest of the Mighty Armous, God of Fire and Lord of the Dragons?"