The watery trip, miraculously, was almost uneventful. Almost.
As the raft rounded a bend in the river the water narrowed, flowed ever faster. And on the shore, obscured by the driving rain and gathering fog, stood a creature of unearthly mien. It neither moved nor spoke.
Demo had faced the bear that claimed the mountain ridges as their own. The snarling night cats that dominated the forests had stood before him. Of them all, none had aroused in him such fear as now he felt.
For from this creature radiated a menace more fearsome than he
had ever known, an overwhelming evil emanation.
Demo gasped, eyes wide. "What is it! What manner of beast are you . . . ?"
Almost immediately the creature disappeared in the swirling mist.
It was gone! Though it disappeared from view he felt a premonition. A premonition that he would see it again. He knew not why, but knew it would be with him. A constant, unseen companion. The chill that enveloped him now was not caused by the cold, soaking rain.
Whether sundown was near, or had long past, he could not tell.
The dark, drear day had no sun, only the continuous rain.
Finally, there, on the cliff above, stood the temple, barely
visible.
He paddled with his hands, attempting to bring his raft to the far shore. The water swirled, waves built up before the wind, and currents formed and disappeared throughout the stream. His paddling was almost to no avail. The makeshift raft swirled, rocked, meandered randomly at the mercy of the river. By the time the craft reached the shore he had drifted well beyond the temple.
Clawing his way up the muddy bank he found a narrow trail and began the climb. His ankle, which he had thought healed, began a slow steady ache. Rock-strewn, and now covered with silt and muck and murky water, the trail formed a slippery maze up the mountainside. Rivulets gouged ever-deepening gullies across the path. At times the entire path was but a stream, with swift water washing away small plants and stones.