Midnight.
'Why have ye summoned me?' he said.
Midnight's eyes widened. 'I didn't summon you!'
The old man looked up at the growing rift in the sky. Strange lights had begun to play across the opening. Eyes narrowing, he pointed to the rift. 'Are ye responsible for this?'
'I didn't mean to — '
Raising his hand to indicate silence, the old man shook his head and turned from Midnight. 'There are far easier ways of getting my attention, ye should know. Ye could have come to Shadowdale, for example.'
'Elminster!' Midnight cried, and suddenly the winds cut her off from the old sage. The dust cleared, and she caught a glimpse of movement from Elminster's direction. The gray mist parted and revealed the seemingly frantic movement of hands, coupled with the sage's unmistakable voice rising to levels that cut through the winds. Then the mist engulfed Elminster once more. A moment later a section of the mist faded and the sage stood before her.
'Do ye know what that is!?' Elminster said, his impatience all too evident as he gestured at the growing rift in the sky. He did not wait for a reply. 'That is the direct effect of Geryon's Death Spell. Spells of this sort are directly forbidden, although it is difficult to punish transgressors as they are usually dead before the spell reaches this stage!' Elminster let out a deep breath. 'Besides that, Geryon himself died over fifty summers ago.'
The roar from above became worse.
'Can you stop it?' Kelemvor shouted.
'Of course I can stop it!' the old sage shouted. 'I'm Elminster, aren't I?' Elminster looked back to Midnight. 'Is this spell written some place?'
'No,' Midnight said.
'Can ye recall it again, through any other means?'
Midnight shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'I summoned it by accident.'
'Very well,' Elminster said. 'Consider thyself warned. A spell of this type is very dangerous.'
The rift seemed to be lowering. Elminster looked up and stood away from Midnight and Kelemvor, concentrating his attentions on the hole in the sky.
The fighter and the magic-user found themselves staring at the old man, speechless.
The aged hands of the great mage moved with surprising speed, and he chanted in a deep, resonant voice. A field of sparkling energies surrounded him, a flood of stars that pierced the heavy veil of grayish winds. Sweat was beginning to form on Elminster's brow as he worked his spell, then a web of tiny, glowing eyes began to form in the space between his fingers. Just before it reached completion, the web collapsed inward and a silver, spinning disc hung in the air.
Elminster issued a command, and the spinning disc shot up into the air, growing in size. It shattered in a blinding display, and the rift in the sky slowly tilted down. The hole descended like a kite with its strings cut, floating to the ground at a leisurely pace, moving back and forth on the winds erratically.
'Goddess!' Midnight screamed as the rift engulfed the entire area, robbing her of her senses. When sight and sensation returned, she found that she was still standing in the same spot, but night had fallen.
Elminster let out a deep sigh.
The rift was gone. The only source of light came from the glowing blue-white portal behind Elminster. The mage looked at Midnight.
'No more of this,' he said solemnly.
Midnight shook her head frantically. She heard a groan and saw Kelemvor sitting on the ground, holding his head.
Elminster stepped into the portal, and Midnight screamed at the top of her lungs for him to stop. He poked his head from the glowing rift. 'What is it!?'
'The goddess Mystra,' Midnight said.
Elminster looked at her sadly.
'The goddess is dead,' she finished.
Elminster tilted his head. 'So I've heard.' Then he darted back inside the portal, and the opening burst apart in a shower of spiraling flames.
Midnight stood in the darkness. 'But she had a message,' she said, alone and in shock. 'A message for you.' The mage walked forward, to the spot where the portal had been.
'Elminster!' she cried, but her desperate call remained unanswered.
Lighting torches to pierce the absolute pitch-black of the night sky, Midnight and Kelemvor went in search of Cyric and Adon. Twice they had ventured south, to the road, the stars misleading them, and their calls had fallen upon deaf ears. But now they stood before their fallen comrades.
Adon's back was turned to Midnight and Kelemvor as they approached, and the cleric jumped as Midnight touched his shoulder. Turning to address his comrades, Adon nearly screamed his welcome. When Midnight inquired about Cyric's condition, the cleric stared at her in surprise. As she continued to speak, his expression changed to one of panic.
In moments it became clear that Adon was deaf. Most of his attempts to read his friends' lips met with failure, adding to the cleric's panic, but Midnight managed to calm Adon by holding his palm open and tracing her words, letter by letter, with the gentle touch of her index finger.
It was easy enough for Midnight to figure out that the rift's collapse had somehow caused Adon to lose his hearing. Adon was left in the middle of the storm, protected only by the disintegrating wagon, while she was near Elminster, who must have been protected from the effects of the storm somehow.
When Midnight examined Cyric, she found that, although his breathing had become regular, she could not wake him. As the magic-user had no means of examining the extent of the damage the brigand's blade had caused, she covered the wound and hoped for the best.
While Midnight tended to Adon and Cyric, Kelemvor searched for any horses, either their own or the brigands', that might have survived the sandstorm. The fighter found Midnight's horse and one of the brigands' mounts still alive. He brought them back to Adon. The cleric knew what to do with the animals without Kelemvor having to mouth one word at him.
As Adon tended the horses by torchlight, Kelemvor and Midnight sat in the darkness with Cyric. 'Your debt must be paid,' Kelemvor said.
Midnight turned on the man. 'What? We have far to travel before we reach Shadowdale.'
'That was not our agreement,' Kelemvor said quietly. 'I was to accompany you until you spoke with Elminster of Shadowdale. You've already done that.'
'He wouldn't listen!' the magic-user cried.
'Nor will I,' Kelemvor said harshly. 'Every debt must be paid.'
'Very well,' Midnight said. 'My… true name…'
Kelemvor waited.
'My true name is Ariel Manx.'
There was a cough, and Midnight and Kelemvor both turned to see Adon help Cyric raise his head. 'Cyric,' Midnight said as she went to the man's side.
Cyric cried out when he tried to sit up, but his body slowly relaxed as Midnight eased him back to the ground. Kelemvor stood watching, a sharp uneasiness biting through him.
'How will we move him, Kel? His wound is serious,' the mage said.
Kelemvor looked away. 'I had not considered…'
'Surely you didn't mean to leave him — '
'Of course not!' Kelemvor said. 'But…'
'Another reward?' she said. 'Doesn't what we've been through together make any difference to you? Do you really care about any of us, or is it only the reward you care about?'
Kelemvor said nothing.
'I need your help getting Cyric to Tilverton and seeing that he is well enough to ride on to Shadowdale. After that, I don't care what you do.' Midnight took out the purse of money she had earned with the Company of the Lynx. 'I'll give you all the gold I have left.'
