"Never! You are a demon, Ancilla."
Hederick found himself peering over the low railing that protected those at the altar from the sixty-foot drop to the floor. He saw movement in the depths below. Smoke rose through the solid marble floor of the Great Chamber. It clung to the stone, a purple-gray miasma of evil.
"Begone!" he boomed. Exultation grew in the High Theocrat. His was the voice that had ensnared more Seeker souls than any other priest over the decades. His was the name that countless followers breathed aloud rev shy;erently as they worshiped, believing him the soul of the new church. He had dispelled the witch in the courtyard; he could dispel her here. Hederick's forceful baritone voice shook with indignation. "Erolydon is a holy place! Leave it at once!"
The words echoed off the gleaming wooden walls. "Erolydon … Erolydon… holy… at once … once."
The echoes stopped, swallowed by the smoke.
You must accept me as part of you, if you hope to achieve what you wish.
The smoke thickened, roiling over the floor.
"You do not frighten me," Hederick lied, eyeing the four tiers of steps. Perhaps he could race down and leap through the smoke before Ancilla's Presence grew stronger. But he grimaced at the vision of himself bound shy;ing down the stairs to escape fog that he was quite sure no one else would be able to see. Dahos could enter at any moment. It wouldn't do to have the priest witness the highest Seeker in Solace leaping and running away from … nothing.
"You cannot stop me," he said. "You are the dying breath of the Old Gods. You are magic … and you fear me." He forced a laugh. "You fear me! I will end your gods' reign upon this world. I am Chosen. Few believe in the Ancient Ones. Now is the time of the New Gods. We grow stronger with every passing moment." Spittle leaped from Hederick's mouth as he spoke.
Hederick, you are old, and I… in this form, I am ageless. Welcome me. Turn away from these false gods.
The fog now covered the first two tiers of stairs. It deep shy;ened and grew more purple; streaks of black oozed through.
Hederick backpedaled to put the altar between him and the Presence. He once again drew out the Diamond Dragon.
The artifact is useless against me in this form, Hederick. Will you spend your few remaining years with your eyes still closed to the truth? Your lauded Seeker gods are only pathetic wishful thinking. Remember Venessi? Remember our mother's false god?
"I will lead all the Seekers!" the High Theocrat shouted. "And not just those in Solace! We will destroy all who fol shy;low the Ancient Ones. Only the fool Knights of Solamnia, a handful of mages, and a few deluded losers still believe in the Old Gods. Move aside for the new order. Admit your defeat!"
You cannot defeat such as I. You must accept me, love me as I love you, little brother. I came once to bring you to the true gods and you turned me away. Let me help you now.
Stair after stair gave way before the rising fog. Hederick detected flashes of lightning. He waved the Diamond Dragon at the smoke, but the artifact seemed to have lost its power.
Hederick's rich baritone was gone now, his mouth dry. He rallied, though his voice cracked. "Magic," he spat out. "The magic of the Old Gods wanes daily. Wizards have hidden themselves in covens and towers, they so fear the new Seeker order." Hederick felt a surge of religious fer shy;vor. "Magic is leaving Krynn! But call it by its true names, Ancilla: Witchcraft! Sorcery! Sin!"
You have but a short time left, Hederick. In this form, I have forever.
He heard a hiss, as though of fog dissolving. The smell of rotting meat filled his nostrils. The High Theocrat swal shy;lowed a mouthful of bile and closed his eyes. Hederick leaned back against the railing and held out the Diamond Dragon again. The altar cloth slipped unseen to his feet.
His voice still rang with bravado, but the fog deadened the words, stealing their edge. "I will end magic, end witchcraft, and Krynn shall praise only the New Gods. I have slain mages from Haven to Solace and beyond. My spies . . . The Old Gods have abandoned Krynn. Only fools refuse to abandon them in turn!"
Carried away by his own rhetoric, Hederick opened his eyes. Purple and black smoke boiled around him, extend shy;ing to the rafters. Hederick smelled death. His spine con shy;vulsed. He pitched forward.
Crouching unsteadily at the base of the altar, Hederick screamed, "What are you? What evil do you hide?" He scrabbled to the railing, grasped it with a pudgy hand, and hauled himself to his feet. "I will fight you! I am the Seekers! Show yourself!"
The fog wavered for a heartbeat. Something like a sigh sounded. Then the smoke thinned. One hand on the rail and one on the altar, Hederick stood, bracing himself, and looked downward where he could make out what might have been the silhouette of a woman-or an ogre-or a lizard. It hung in the air, standing on nothing, suspended over the open expanse of the Great Chamber. Clots of fog and smoke obscured its true form. It took a step toward him and seemed to beckon.
Ah, Hederick. Face me, my brother.
Hederick's nails carved half-moons in the wood. The scent of magic was everywhere. He sank back into the dimness under the altar.
"No!" he screamed. "Go back!" Sobbing like a child, Hederick buried his face in the crumpled altar cloth. "I don't want to look. Go away. Go away, please. I'll be good, I promise." He waited, shaking. "Please?"
He waited a bit longer, then lifted his head. The foul odors were gone. Gouges from his fingernails marred the red-gold vallenwood railing. The altar cloth was tear-stained and ruined. But the fog had vanished.
Hederick heard a voice, quite an ordinary one.
"Your Worship?" A slender woman, light hair braided into a coronet, stood in shadow at the bottom of the steps. She held a basket topped by a pink cloth. Shakily, Heder shy;ick rose and, gripping the railing, staggered down the steps toward her.
Had the woman witnessed his humiliation?
From a distance, she had appeared young. But as Hed shy;erick drew nearer, he could see that the hair was white, not blond. The face was wrinkled.
"Did you see anything?" he demanded.
"Your Worship?" The old woman gazed up at him in awe. Her words tripped over themselves. "I come now with a gift for the priests. I seen you tending something under the altar, and I waited until I think you was done,
on the off-chance you was doin' something religious. Your Worship." She nodded rapidly, twice.
Hederick, standing on the landing, inspected the hag. She was just like the multitude of other peasant converts who had been drawn to the Seeker religion for comfort in the troubled years since the Cataclysm. They came in droves but brought little money.
"What is your name, old woman?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?" He suddenly realized that the sun was about to set. Soon the crowds would converge upon the Great Chamber for the nightly revelations.
"Norah, Your Worship." She smiled tentatively at him and ventured stiffly up the stairs, still holding out the bas shy;ket. She favored one knee, and her knuckles were swollen. "Your man, the high priest, said as it was all right for me to come in here. He said you was probably near done with your religious duties. So I come in here to wait."
"And you saw nothing?" Hederick pressed. "Heard nothing?"
Norah looked around in bewilderment. "Are you all right, Your Worship? Can I help you?" She came closer, hand outstretched, until she stood two steps below him.
Hederick hesitated. Sympathy glowed in the old wom shy;an's bright blue eyes. For a fearful moment, he wanted nothing more than to lay his head on her shoulder. Once again his hands shook, and he hid them in his robe.
Norah continued to reach a knobby hand toward the High Theocrat. "You look awful, Your Worship, if you don't mind my sayin'. I could make up an herb charm for you, a tea or poultice, say a few special words over't. My mother used to make 'em, and my grandmam afore her. It'll fix you right up, sure." She smiled reassuringly. "A bit of harmless family magic, y'see." Her hand picked at his sleeve.
"Magic! Witch!" Hederick cried out, recoiling. "You are Ancilla! You are the witch in mortal form."
"Ancilla?" Bewilderment crossed the woman's features. "Who? But I told you, m'name is…"
The flat of Hederick's hand struck the side of Norah's startled face. Her basket soared over the stair railing. A dish shattered. She pitched backward and careened head shy;long down a flight of stairs to the temple floor. There were a few groans, a luckless attempt to rise, then… nothing.
Hederick waited on the stairs.
The double doors banged open under the pulpit. Dahos hurried into the room and stopped short. Two temple guards, arrayed in their ceremonial blue and gold, fol shy;lowed. "What has happened?" the high priest asked, alarmed. "Your Worship, you are harmed?"
"No, Dahos," Hederick said.
The tall priest knelt over the crumpled figure. Large hands moved deftly. Dahos loosened the woman's cloth shy;ing and chafed her hands. He gently tapped her face, then bent close to see if she still breathed. Finally he sat back and sighed. Blood stained his face and robe. "She is dead." Dahos bowed his head and began the Prayer of the Passing Spirit. "Great Omalthea, accept the commitment of this guiltless soul…"
"Stop," Hederick snapped. "The hag was evil. She deserves no final blessing."