The Two That Came To Ilarnek

Chapter 8

“Are you just going to lay there and nap all night, Grimm, or are you gonna help me dump this toad into the well?” asked Freyja. Grimm sprang to his feet, ran a hand about his bruised and battered neck, and peered into the well.
    “We best act quickly, I think I see dark forms moving down there,” Grimm remarked, then added, “we’ll lock that lid in place first.”
    They hurriedly dumped the batrachian-thing into the depths, and slid the cover over the well and bolted in place. The two barbarians sidled to the rear altar. Freyja unfurled a largish leather sack and held it open to receive their prize.
    The idol was not large, less than a cubit in length, and entirely of what looked like green soapstone. It was an ugly thing, despite the fine workmanship that clearly went into its manufacture. It looked like a great crouching bloated lizard, with a spiny dorsal ridge, webbed and clawed feet, and a long curling tail. Its head was blunt looking, more like that of a turtle or frog than that of a  lizard.
    As Grimm grasped the idol and lifted it he felt a strange sensation. He could not have clearly described it, but if he had tried, he might have said it was something like the snapping of a taut leather strap, or the opening of a window onto a chill night. A shiver played along his spine. He felt that something had changed, but he could not quite say what it was. As he dropped it into the sack he almost recoiled involuntarily.
    “Let us quit this foul place.” he said, catching Freyja’s eyes meaningfully, and they strode out of the adytum hastily, crossing the cella like a sudden wind.
    As the Thuleans exited the cella, and through the pronaos, they mounted the top stair of the Temple. They stopped, frozen. The barbarians looked out toward the Festival-crowd and the lake beyond. They had expected to hear sounds of laughter and revelry, instead they heard awed screams of terror and naked fear. Some stampeded from the Square, others stood staring out into the lake.
    Freyja scanned the lake, illuminated by the ghostly light of the gibbous moon. A terrible black shape loomed up out of the water, a massive blunt reptilian head, and instantly she understood their mistake. It was approaching the Ghats, water rolling down its hulking dark surface, reflecting the silvery sheen of the moon. She recognized that head, just like the head of the idol she held, but expanded to colossal proportions. Bokrug had come.