Shadowdale

Kelemvor seemed ready to question this.

'Perhaps you need some rest,' Midnight said, and the young cleric nodded.

'Aye, perhaps this is so.'

Adon walked away, the flickering light of his torch showing him the trail that led to the campfire beyond. Sliding on one of the rocks, then righting himself, Adon mumbled something else about Sune and was gone.

'How do you feel?' Midnight asked. 'Were the tender mercies of this woman's cooking to your fancy?'

'Shall I speak plainly?' Kelemvor said.

Midnight smiled. 'Perhaps not.'

'Then I feel fit to carve a kingdom from these rocks.'

She nodded. 'I feel that way myself.' She motioned to the riches before them. 'Shall we?'

'Aye. It's always a pleasure to work with a keen mind and a level head when it comes to such matters.'

Midnight stared at him, but he did not take his gaze from the treasure. Before them the gold lay in piles on the stump of a huge tree. There were rubies, bits of jewelry, and a single, strange artifact that Midnight bent low to examine. She cried out in joy, picked up the magical item, and grinned at Kelemvor.

'We will be splitting this five ways it seems!'

Kelemvor sat back, 'What do you mean?'

'This is a harp of Myth Drannor. Elminster is a known collector of these. If all else fails, we may use it to gain his audience.'

Kelemvor thought about it. 'But what's it worth?'

Midnight refused to be discouraged. 'We won't know until someone makes an offer, now will we?'

'Oh. Aye, good thinking.'

'Each of the harps is said to possess magical properties,' Midnight said as she handled the object. The harp was aged, although it had once been a thing of shining beauty. The finely wrought ivory and gold inlays had been realized by a true artisan, and the dark red wood reflected the fire from the torches as if it still retained its original polish. Midnight plucked at the strings without skill, and the sound that issued forth was a strange, discordant flow of reverberating notes that grew louder and caused Kelemvor's armor to shake as if an unseen force was attacking him.

'MID — '

Suddenly each and every tiny clasp that held it in place popped open, and Kelemvor's armor fell to the ground.

'— NIGHT.'

Kelemvor sat, covered in nothing but a chain mail tunic, his armor spread around him in a heap. Midnight's mouth was open wide as she worked her jaws soundlessly, then she fell over in a fit of laughter.

'See here!' Kelemvor frowned.

'Please!' Midnight said, discouragingly.

'No, I meant…' The fighter looked down at the armor and sighed.

Midnight sat up and took a deep breath. 'This must be Methild's Harp. It is, as I remember, known to part all webs, open all locks, break all bonds… all of that.'

'I see,' Kelemvor said, his mild agitation giving way to Midnight's infectious grin. 'Perhaps now is the time for the reward we discussed. What say you?'

Midnight stood up and backed off. 'I think not,' she said, her heart suddenly pounding like a trip hammer.

Midnight turned around. She heard Kelemvor stand and felt his hand touch her shoulder. The mage bit her lip as she stared at the torch in front of them. His other hand gently encircled her waist and she trembled, fighting her own desire.

'We're only talking about a kiss,' he said. 'One kiss. Where is the harm in that?'

The mage leaned back into Kelemvor's arms. He brushed the hair away from her neck as he blew gently upon her tingling flesh and tightened his hold around her waist. Midnight's hand covered his.

'You promised you would tell me…,' she said.

'Tell you what?'

'You were stricken in the castle. You made me swear to give you a reward to carry on. It made no sense.'

'It made sense,' Kelemvor said, slipping away behind her. 'But some things must be kept secret.'

Midnight turned. 'Why? Tell me that much, at least.'

Kelemvor was backing into the shadows. 'Perhaps I should release you from your pledge. The consequences would be suffered only by me. You do not need to concern yourself. Perhaps it would be — '

Midnight didn't know if it was a trick of the light, or if Kelemvor's flesh really was turning darker, his skin seeming to ripple beneath the mail.

'— better,' the fighter said, his voice low and guttural. Kelemvor's entire body began to quake, and it seemed as if he were about to double over in pain.

'No!'

Midnight ran toward him, placed her hands on either side of his face, and brought her lips to his. His eyebrows had seemed thicker, his hair wild and dark, as if the gray were vanishing, and his piercing green eyes were like emerald flames. As they kissed, his body seemed to relax and he pulled away, as if he were about to speak.

She studied his face. It was as she had always remembered it. 'Don't talk,' she said. 'We need not talk.'

She kissed him again, and this time he took control of the kiss, his iron grip pressing her to him.

Unnoticed by either Kelemvor or Midnight, Cyric approached soundlessly. He watched as they kissed again and Kelemvor lifted the mage from her feet. Midnight had her arms around the fighter's neck as he gently lowered her to a bed of gold pieces. She began to laugh and tug at the clasps of her clothing.

Cyric retraced his steps, his head hung low, a slow tide of anger rising within him as the laughter of the couple followed him, taunting him even as he made his way to the campfire and ordered Adon to go to sleep.

'I will take the watch,' Cyric said and stared at the flames.

After his watch, Cyric lay down to get some rest, but he dreamed he was once again in the back alleys of Zhentil Keep. This time he was only a child, and a faceless couple led him through the streets, taking offers from passers-by as they attempted to auction him off to anyone with enough money.

Cyric woke with a start, and when he tried to remember the dream, he could not. He lay awake for a few moments, thinking that there was a time when his dreams had been his only form of escape. But that was a long time ago, and for now, he was safe. He rolled over and fell into a deep, restful slumber.

Adon paced nervously, anxious to leave the wilderness. Midnight suggested he use the time to give thanks to Sune.

The cleric stopped, wide-eyed, muttered 'of course,' and found a spot to make a small shrine. Midnight and Kelemvor did not speak. They simply lay against a great black boulder, their arms around one another, watching the flames of a fire they had started. Midnight leaned close and kissed the fighter. The gesture seemed uncomfortable and strange, although only a few hours before it had seemed perfectly natural.

The heroes woke Cyric at the first light of morning and led their horses from the mountain. By highsun they had established a healthy pace, although their morning repast — taken from the pouch — left each the gift of a bitter taste and an upset stomach.

The road was damaged in places, and huge silver fish with sharp teeth leaped from one of the lava pits the adventurers encountered. At times the sun appeared to be in the wrong position, and the heroes feared they were traveling in circles again, but they went on, and soon the skies returned to normal.

As they made their way across the twisted land, the adventurers encountered many strange things. Huge boulders, carved to resemble the faces of frogs by the bizarre forces that had been unleashed during Mystra's fight with Helm, alternately cursed and praised the travelers, then told them risque jokes that they laughed at, but did not slow down for.

Farther down the road, a war seemed to be in progress between opposing hills, as boulders and bits of rock were tossed back and forth, striking thunderous blows. The hostilities ceased as the travelers approached and