Shadowdale

'I've already been informed,' the bald man said. 'You may leave now.'

Kelemvor pushed past the fighter and shut the door behind him. 'We should talk… about you and your men.'

'Men die,' Thurbrand said and sat down on the bed. 'Those are the fortunes of war.' The bald man kicked his sword across the room and looked up at Kelemvor. 'I'm leaving, Kel. Vogt and Isaac are coming with me.'

'Aye. I expected as much.'

Thurbrand ran his hand over his bald head. 'I'll go back to Arabel and tell Myrmeen Lhal what I've seen. I'm certain she'll drop the charges.'

'Charges? I thought we were wanted for questioning!'

Thurbrand shrugged. 'I didn't want to alarm you,' he said. 'Perhaps I should just tell her you're all dead. Would you prefer that?'

'Do as you will. But that's not what I came here to talk to you about.' Kelemvor looked at Thurbrand's sword, now laying in the corner. 'You blame yourself for what happened in Spiderhaunt Woods.'

'It doesn't matter, Kel. It's over. The blood of my entire company is on my hands. Can you wash it away with your consoling words?' Thurbrand stood, walked to the corner, and picked up his sword. 'I might as well have killed them myself.' The bald man swung the sword halfheartedly in the air, as if to chase his thoughts away. 'Besides,' he said quietly, 'there are many more deaths than theirs on my conscience. You know that.'

Kelemvor said nothing.

Thurbrand grimaced. 'I still see the faces of the men who died in my stead — in our stead, so many years ago, Kel. I still hear their screams.' Thurbrand paused and looked up at Kelemvor. 'Do you?'

'Sometimes,' Kelemvor said. 'We chose to survive, Thurbrand, and that's a difficult decision to live with. But what happened to our friends has nothing to do with the Company of Dawn. The company had no choice but to follow us into the woods. If they'd stayed on the plain, they'd all have died with no chance to fight back.'

Thurbrand turned his back on Kelemvor. 'Why are you so concerned about this?'

Kelemvor leaned against the door and sighed. 'There was a girl — about the same as Gillian was — who started with us on our journey. Her name was Caitlan.'

Thurbrand turned to look at Kelemvor, but the fighter was staring off into space, reliving Caitlan's death.

'She insisted on coming with us, and she died when I was supposed to be protecting her.'

'And you feel that you're to blame,' Thurbrand said.

Kelemvor let out a deep sigh. 'I merely thought you might like to talk about the company.'

'Gillian,' Thurbrand said after a moment. 'She seemed rather young to be an adventurer, didn't she?'

Kelemvor shook his head. 'I've seen younger on the road.'

Thurbrand closed his eyes. 'She was filled with enthusiasm. Her youth… gave me back some of my own. I wanted — no, I needed her around. I was certain I could protect her.'

A long silence hung over the room as both fighters thought about companions, some long dead, some dead only a few days. 'It was her choice to come with you,' Kelemvor said at last and turned to leave.

'And it's my choice to get out of Shadowdale before I end up dead, too,' Thurbrand said softly. 'I'll be away from here by highsun.'

Kelemvor left the room without saying anything.

Hawksguard smiled and shook his head in disbelief. 'What do you mean 'this is not a good time?' I haven't led these good people to Elminster's tower just to have them turned away.'

'I'm sorry you bothered. You'll have to come back later. Elminster is conducting an experiment. You know how little it takes to arouse his anger if he is interrupted in such moments. Now I suggest you people move on, unless you wish to find yourselves transformed into horseflies, or receive some similar, unpleasant fate.'

Lhaeo attempted to shut the door only to find an unusual doorjamb blocking the way. Hawksguard winced as the heavy door pressed against his foot with greater force than Elminster's scribe could ever apply. More of the sage's enchantments, he thought, then forced the door back a bit.

'Look here,' Hawksguard said as Kelemvor appeared at his side and shoved at the front door with him. 'I have an unhappy liege. If I have an unhappy liege, then you have an unhappy liege. And if we have an unhappy liege, then — '

Suddenly the door swung open wide, and Lhaeo moved out of its way. Hawksguard and Kelemvor were both tossed forward and fell in a tangle at the scribe's feet.

'Oh, let them in, lest he begin the sordid tale of woe all over again!' a familiar voice called out.

Midnight felt flushed with awe at the sound of Elminster's voice. She heard the sound of footsteps on rickety stairs growing louder. Then, a white-bearded sage appeared at the foot of the steps and fixed Midnight with his gaze. The number of lines surrounding his eyes seemed to double as he squinted, as if he doubted his senses.

'What? Ye again! I thought I had seen the last of ye in the Stonelands!' Elminster said. 'Mourngrym sent word that someone with a message of importance would visit me. That's supposed to be ye?'

Cyric helped Kelemvor to his feet. Adon stood back and watched.

Midnight refused to allow her anger to get the better of her. 'I carry the last words of Mystra, Goddess of Magic, as well as a symbol of her trust; it is an item she told me to give to you, along with her message.'

Elminster frowned. 'Why didn't ye tell me this when we first met?'

'I tried!' Midnight said.

'Obviously, ye didn't try hard enough,' Elminster said as he turned back to the stairs and motioned for her to follow. 'I don't suppose ye would consider leaving that troublesome entourage with Lhaeo while ye relate this vitally important information?'

Midnight drew a deep breath. 'I don't suppose I would,' she said. 'They have seen what I have seen, and more.'

The sage cocked his head to the side as he climbed the stairs. 'Very well,' he said. 'But if they touch anything, they do so at their own risk.'

'There are dangerous objects here?' Midnight said as she climbed the winding staircase behind the sage.

'Aye,' Elminster said as he looked over his shoulder. 'And I am the most dangerous of them all.'

Then the sage of Shadowdale looked away and did not speak again until the heroes had left the stairs and entered his chamber.

Midnight was certain something would fall on her if she dared another step into the sanctum of the wizened sage. There was a window directly ahead, and the beams of sunlight that pierced the air beside her revealed a small army of dust particles floating in the air. There were parchments and scrolls, ancient texts and magical artifacts strewn about the modest quarters of the sage.

'Now,' Elminster said. 'Give me the details of thy involvement with the goddess Mystra. Then tell me her exact message, word for word.'

Midnight related all that she had seen, starting with her brush with death on the road to Arabel and her salvation by Mystra, and finishing with the seeming destruction of the goddess at the hands of Helm.

'Hand me the pendant,' Elminster said.

Midnight pulled the pendant over her head and gave it to the sage. Elminster passed the pendant over a beautiful glass orb that glowed with an amber cast and waited a moment. When nothing happened, the sage brought the pendant even closer to the orb, touching the cold metal of the star against the sphere, while holding the item as far from his body as possible. The globe had been designed to shatter if any powerful object was brought within its range, but nothing happened as the pendant touched it.

Elminster's eyes narrowed as he looked up. 'Worthless,' he said and dropped the pendant to the floor.

'There is no magic within this trinket.' Elminster kicked the pendant across the floor. It landed in the corner and a cloud of dust rose. 'Ye've been given my time and my patience,' Elminster said. 'Neither is to be trifled with, especially not in these trying times for the Dales.'

'But there is powerful magic in the pendant!' Midnight said. 'I've seen it. We all have!'

And soon the stories began to flow from both Cyric and Kelemvor. Elminster looked to Hawksguard wearily.

'That's all,' Elminster said finally. 'Ye may leave now, and rest assured that the protection of the Dales lays in the hands of those who think better than to waste the precious time of its defenders with tall tales and fantasies