up the hill toward the tiny clearing from which he had fallen.
As he climbed, Adon found his war hammer, where it had landed when his fall jolted it from his grasp. Good, he thought. At least I'll go down fighting — like Kelemvor.
The creature in the woods howled once more, and Adon broke into a run, reminding himself not to scream for help with every passing step. Finally, the clearing rose up before him, but a huge black shape padded back and forth, barring the way.
Adon stopped.
It was a panther, and at its feet lay a deer, savaged almost beyond recognition. How very natural, the cleric thought. And here I thought it was some horrible troll.
The panther's head swung back and forth, as if it were dazed. Adon prayed to Sune that the beast would be content with its feast, and just before he took his first step backward, the beast began to shudder. It threw back its head, and Adon caught a glimpse of its shining green eyes as the beast roared in pain, a human hand bursting from its throat.
Adon dropped his hammer. It fell to the earth and landed with a thud. The creature didn't notice. A second gore-drenched hand burst from the flank of the beast, and there was a sickening sound as the rib cage exploded and Kelemvor's head emerged from the opening. One of the beast's legs tore open, and a pale, shriveled, child- sized leg emerged. The leg grew until it was the proper length for a man's limb, and its twisted foot straightened, its bones crackling as they popped into place.
A second leg emerged, repeating the process, as the thing that was somehow becoming Kelemvor sprang from the shell of the beast. The fighter gave an exhausted grunt as he fell to the ground, a sleek network of hair already forming on his naked and smooth flesh.
Adon felt himself bending low to retrieve his hammer. He moved forward, shuddering as be approached the fighter. 'Kelemvor?' he said, but the fighter's eyes, wide and staring, registered nothing. Kelemvor's breathing was shallow, and a current ran beneath his skin as blood vessels burst and his flesh aged to its proper years.
'Kelemvor,' Adon said again, and issued a blessing over the man, then passed through the clearing without looking back. He found the trail without difficulty, and soon he was moving down through the thicket of trees until he reached the campsite. Midnight and Cyric were waiting.
'Did you find him?' Midnight asked.
Adon shook his head. 'I wouldn't worry,' he said. 'Game and solitude are plentiful in the valley over the first ridge. I'm sure he has found both. He will return soon.'
Adon told them of the odd swamp nature had created over the ridge, and soon the sounds of a man awkwardly making his way through the brush drifted to their ears. Midnight and Cyric met Kelemvor at the base of the foothills. The blood covering his armor looked to have come from the bloodied deer swung over his shoulder. Cyric helped the fighter with his freshly slain burden. They butchered the animal and quickly prepared it over a small fire.
Adon watched the fighter, who seemed oblivious to everything except the meal before him. Kelemvor looked up sharply at one point, catching the cleric's gaze. 'What? Did you forget to bless the meal?' Kelemvor asked bitterly.
'No,' Adon said. 'I was — ' he waved his hand in the air, '- lost in thought.'
Kelemvor nodded and returned to the feast. When they were done, Adon and Cyric went to work saving what meat they could from the animal, wrapping it tightly for their dinner.
'I must speak with you,' Kelemvor said, and Midnight nodded, following him as they made their way to the road. Midnight had already sensed his intent, and was not surprised when Kelemvor made his request. 'There must be a reward, or I cannot go with you.'
Midnight's frustration was evident. 'Kel, this makes no sense! At some point you're going to have to tell me what this is all about!'
Kelemvor said nothing.
Midnight sighed. 'What shall I ply you with this time, Kel, more of the same?'
Kelemvor hung his head. 'It must be different every time.'
'What else can I give you?' Midnight put her hand up to the fighter's cheek.
Kelemvor grabbed Midnight's hand roughly, forcing it away from him as he broke from her embrace. 'It is not what I desire that matters, only what you are willing to give! The reward must be something of value to you, but worth what I must go through to earn it.'
Midnight could barely hold back her anger. 'What we have together is of value to me.'
Kelemvor nodded slowly as he turned to face her. 'Aye. And to me.'
Midnight moved forward, stopping before she came close enough to touch the fighter. 'Please tell me what's wrong. I can help you — '
'No one can help me!'
Midnight looked at Kelemvor. The same violent desperation she had seen in his eyes at Castle Kilgrave was there now. 'I have conditions,' Midnight said.
'Name them.'
'You will ride with us. You will defend Cyric, Adon, and me from attack. You will help in the preparation of meals and setting up camp. You will impart any information you have that is relative to our safety and well being, even if it is only your opinion.' Midnight drew a breath. 'And you will follow any direct orders I give you.'
'My reward?' Kelemvor said.
'My true name. I will tell you my true name after we have spoken to Elminster of Shadowdale.'
Kelemvor nodded. 'It will suffice.'
The adventurers traveled the rest of the day, returning to their earlier practice of sharing two mounts. That night, after they set up camp and feasted, Midnight did not go to Kelemvor. Instead, she sat beside Cyric, keeping him company on the watch. They spoke of the places they had seen, with neither ever telling what they had done in those strange lands.
Soon, though, Midnight grew tired and left Cyric, settling into a deep, restful sleep that was shattered by an image of a horrible black beast with glowing green eyes and a slavering, fanged mouth. She woke with a start, and for a moment she thought she saw tiny blue-white fires playing over the surface of the amulet. But that was impossible. Mystra's power had been returned to the goddess, and the goddess had been slain.
The magic-user heard movement and reached for her knife. Kelemvor stood above her.
'Time for your watch,' he said and vanished into the night.
As Midnight sat by the fire, she watched the darkness for signs of Kelemvor, but there were none. A few feet away from her, Cyric tossed and turned in his sleep, plagued by some personal nightmare.
Adon found he could not sleep at all. He was disturbed by the secret he had inadvertently uncovered. Kelemvor seemed to have no memory of Adon's presence during his metamorphosis from panther to human. Or was Kelemvor merely pretending not to remember? Adon wanted desperately to confide in someone about what he had seen, but he felt honor-bound as a cleric to respect the privacy of the fighter. It seemed clear that he should let Kelemvor's secret remain just that until the fighter either chose to confide in his comrades or became a threat to the party due to his affliction.
Adon stared into the night and prayed that he had made the right decision.
Tempus Blackthorne lit a torch before he entered the tunnel, then he wrestled with the supplies he had purchased. The tunnel had been expertly constructed. The walls and ceiling were perfectly cylindrical, and the floor was a long two-foot wide plank. The walls had been polished then sealed with a substance that resembled marble when it dried. Blackthorne still regretted killing the craftsmen and fabricating the story of their accidental death. He wondered if anyone believed him.
In the chamber above, Bane was bellowing incoherently in a tongue Blackthorne had never heard before. The emissary listened as he climbed the stone steps carefully and practiced the routine he had helped Lord Bane install as a fail-safe against intruders: right foot on the first step, left on the third. Right foot joining left on the third step. Left up one, right up two, then retracing the steps in reverse, and returning upward once more in a different sequence. Any who varied from this routine would be sliced to ribbons by the traps Bane had created.
