The clouds were low in the sky and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Sarah's heart was beating quickly as she stood outside the temple and found herself wishing that John was with her. Stanley stood nearby, looking worriedly down the road.

“The spell appears to do what the halfling said it would,” she said out loud, more for her own benefit than his, “That is if the translation can be trusted.”

“That’s the rub, isn’t it?” Stanley pointed out sourly.

She wished she could read elvish. If only Udoriol had come along. Would that really have made her feel better? Even if the translation was sound, it was a book provided to her by Varuna or her followers. Could they be trusted? Not completely. Added to that, the translation only appeared to cover a small portion of the book and having Udoriol would allow her to translate the rest of it, for she was sure it contained knowledge that had a price beyond measure.

She felt the book tingle in her hand and looked down at it. Its warmth grew, as though it could sense her doubts and was working to assuage them. She marvelled at the conviction needed to sacrifice immortality to ensure knowledge was preserved. Elven books were said to be indestructible and jealously guarded by the elves. Elves were immortal and possessed near perfect memories, and thus had little need to create such books. They were considered to be holy relics, the ultimate sacrifice to become closer to Varuna, the god of knowledge.

It wasn’t long before the halfling came walking down the grassy avenue with a dozen guards and four blue clad priests in tow.

“He sure is bringing a lot of people,” Stanley observed.

Sarah glanced at the guards who marched with stern looks on their faces. They were clad in steel armour. Half of their number carried bows, while the other half carried glaives and tall shields. Even the priests wore steel hauberks over their robes.

“Perhaps they expect something to go wrong,” she murmured.

“We are merely taking precautions,” the halfling called out cheerfully, reading the worry on their faces, “Not that I expect anything to go wrong, but you can never be too careful.”

Sarah looked at him dubiously, and Gareth arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, are you having second thoughts?”

“We don’t have time for this,” one of the elves warned, “You told us that the orcs are a day away at most.”

“All the more reason to secure our backs, don’t you think?” Gareth pointed out.

Sarah gasped but held her tongue. If a battle was about to break out, the last thing she wanted was to be saddled with Agni. If her back was to the wall, he might take control again. While powerless, she could run with a clear conscience.

“I can think of another way to secure our backs,” the elf replied dangerously, as he gave Sarah a murderous look.

“Now now, Pairel,” Gareth said placatingly as he positioned himself between the armed elves and Sarah, “the last thing we need now is to fight Agni’s Avatar.”

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The elf furrowed his brow and relented. “Fine, but at the first sign of trouble…”

“Of course,” Gareth turned to Sarah and winked, “But nothing is going to go wrong, is it?”

“You tell me,” Sarah replied.

The halfling held out his hand. “The book, if you please.”

The elves sucked in their breath as Sarah pulled the elven tome from her backpack and handed it over.

“You gave one of our holy books to an outsider?” one of the blue robed priests gasped.

“I’m an outsider myself,” the halfling reminded him, “Do not fret. I had permission this time.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed. “From whom?”

“From the very top,” Gareth grinned and cocked his head over his shoulder at the temple.

The priest bit his lip. “I just wish you’d told us first, Water Speaker.”

“It won’t happen again,” Gareth promised with a carefree shrug. “Now then, let’s go inside, shall we?”

“I’ll wait out here, if it’s all the same to you,” Stanley remarked. The elves seemed not to notice him as they entered the shrine.

“Hospitable bastards, aren’t they?” he muttered.

Sarah gave him a wan smile before following Gareth into the shrine. Inside, the armed elves had spread themselves out along the perimeter while the priests formed a smaller circle in the centre, standing in the troughs that brought water into the temple from the pond outside.

“Hold out your hands please.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, looking at the halfling suspiciously.

“Do you know what abracite is?” he asked, holding up a pair of stone cuffs.

Sarah nodded and the halfling blinked in surprise.

“Good,” he said, “Then you know why you should wear these.”

Reluctantly, Sarah allowed the halfling to put the manacles on. Almost at once, she felt considerably weaker.

“There, now He won’t be able to interfere,” Gareth said absently, “Quite remarkable how the elves managed to fashion that stone into manacles.”

Sarah didn’t reply, wanting only to be done with this entire business quickly.

“Now, please remove your shoes.”

Sarah looked down and saw that the halfling and the other priests were barefoot. As she removed her shoes, Gareth took his position among the priests in the inner circle, clutching the elven book in his hands. Once Sarah had removed her shoes, Gareth gestured for her to stand in the middle of the inner circle, facing the wooden altar. The water was ice cold, and once she was in place, she felt a tug as the other presence attempted to wrestle for control. It seemed far weaker than usual, and Sarah shrugged it off easily.

Gareth took a deep breath and grinned at her. “Ready?”

She nodded, bracing herself for another attempt from the other presence. Her eyes widened as Gareth and the priests began chanting in unison. They spoke elvish, and the only word Sarah understood was Varuna. The waters around them began to swirl, and she watched in amazement as the elvish tome floated into the air. The pages flipped on their own before settling on a page that Sarah recognized as the one containing the spell.

“Pairel, the Spear of Varuna,” Gareth said, holding out a hand.

The elf looked to one of the priests who nodded, before bringing out a wooden stick made from pure white wood. Delicate waves were engraved on its surface. It was about an inch thick and longer than the halfling was tall. As the halfling twirled in his hands theatrically, Sarah noted that it was hollow. The halfling nodded at the priests, and the chanting grew louder. The water seemed to swirl more violently in response until Sarah felt like she was in the heart of a raging storm. She could feel the God of Water and Knowledge watching the proceedings impassively through the statue’s eyes. Gareth dipped one end of his spear into the water, and the storm subsided as a spearhead of pure brilliant blue energy erupted from the opposite end.

The halfling cried something in elvish. The elven priests screeched in agony and fell into the water. Sarah turned around to look at them as they lay motionless in the water. She whirled back to look at Gareth in time to see him step forward and drive the spearhead into her chest. She felt a searing pain as her world went black. The last thing she felt was the sting of ice cold water against her face.