There was silence for a time.
'You would leave this place, wouldn't you?' Midnight said. 'If I agreed to come away with you, you'd leave this very night.'
'Aye.'
Midnight let out a deep breath. 'I was right, then. We have nothing lo discuss.'
She reached for the door, but Kelemvor called to her. 'My reward,' he said. 'Elminster promised there would be a reward, but he didn't say what it would be.'
Midnight's lips trembled in the darkness. 'I told him about the curse, Kel. He believes it can be lifted.'
'The curse…,' Kelemvor said absently. 'Then it was a good decision to stay.'
Midnight's hair fell before her face.
'He'd have done it anyway, damn you…'
She opened the door. 'Midnight!' Kelemvor called.
'Aye,' she said.
'You still love me,' Kelemvor said. 'I'd know if you didn't. That's my reward for coming this far with you, remember?'
Midnight's whole body stiffened. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'Is that all?'
'All that matters.'
Midnight closed the door behind her and left Kelemvor to stare into the darkness.
XIV
Mourngrym learned of the vicious attack against the Temple of Tymora in the hours before dawn. Elminster had been summoned, and met his liege at the gateway to the temple. Adon was still there when the sage arrived.
The bard, Storm Silverhand, soon showed up, too. She wore the symbol of the Harpers, a silver moon and a silver harp against a backdrop of royal blue. The night winds caught her wild silver hair, blowing it high into the air, giving her the appearance of a vengeful apparition rather than a human woman. Her armor was the bright silver of the Dales, and she moved past her liege and the sage without a word of greeting.
Mourngrym did not attempt to stop her. Instead he joined her in the desecrated temple, and they surveyed the destruction and the carnage in respectful silence. The symbol of Bane, painted in the blood of the victims, caught their attention instantly. Later, as Storm spoke to the guards who had found the destruction, Adon put forth the theory that it was the theft of the healing potions that had prompted the attack; the debilitating effects such an assault would have on the morale of Shadowdale's faithful was probably also a consideration. Storm Silverhand regarded the cleric very suspiciously, as she would any outsider present during such a tragedy.
'The blood upon his hands he came by in honest service, laying out the dead,' Elminster said. 'There is no malice in this one. He's innocent.'
Storm turned to Mourngrym, seething with fury over the attack. 'The Harpers shall ride with you, Lord. Together we will avenge this cowardly act.'
Then she was gone, her grief at the tragedy threatening to overwhelm her steely continence. Mourngrym set his men to the grisly task of identification and burial of the dead. The old sage stood at the dalelord's side and spoke in hushed tones.
'Bane is the God of Strife. It is not surprising that he seeks to distract us, to strike at our hearts and leave us grief-stricken and vulnerable to his attack,' Elminster said. 'We must not allow his plan to succeed.'
Mourngrym trembled with rage. 'We won't,' he said.
Hours later, after returning to the Twisted Tower, Mourngrym stood at the side of his friend and ally, Thurbal, as the man lay in a deep, healing sleep. Thurbal had not spoken since the night Elminster's magic retrieved him from Zhentil Keep, when he warned Mourngrym of the planned attack against the Dales.
'The horrors I have seen, Thurbal. Men of worship slain like dogs. There is a rage that burns in my heart, old friend. It threatens to sear away the frail bonds of reason.' Mourngrym hung his head low. 'I want their blood. I want revenge.'
Such rage leaves you a mad dog, incapable of victory and easily disposed of, Thurbal had said in the past. Cool the fires in your heart, and let reason guide you to the halls of vengeance.
Mourngrym stood watch at Thurbal's side until the first light of morning broke and he received a summons to join Hawksguard in the war room.
The work details had been organized in the early hours of morning, and Kelemvor was amazed at the progress that had already been made during the past few days. He had stood at Hawksguard's side as the older warrior rallied the hundreds of soldiers who had volunteered to serve in Shadowdale's defense. Many had passed through the nightmare vistas of Gnoll Pass and the Shadow Gap to make it to the dale. They knew the fate that would befall the Dales should they fail to repel Bane and his armies. A cry of unity had resounded, and Kelemvor found himself swept up in the momentum, raising his fist in the air with the others.
Then came the drudgery, though few complained. Merchants and builders toiled side by side with soldiers as highsun approached and the lines of defense began to take shape in the area of Krag Pool, on the road to Voonlar. Wagonloads of rock and debris from the ruins of Castle Krag were brought to the edge of the main road northeast out of the dale. There the materials were used to build large fortifications.
Around the workers, on the ground and in the trees, the archers prepared to defend the road and lay siege to the Zhentish troops that would advance from the northeast. The battle might not come for days, but the archers knew they had to prepare, too.
And after their work was completed, they waited patiently, The sky above was a clear blue, and there were very few clouds. The trees around them were alive with the sounds that one could only fully appreciate after spending endless hours chopping wood, cutting down trees, sharpening spikes, digging holes and covering them up again. The woodsmen did this and more as they set traps and prepared their hiding places.
The archers were not alone in this task, though. There were work crews from the town to help, lead by a pair of city planners from Suzail Key. The planners had been visiting relatives in Shadowdale when news of the imminent invasion arrived. They helped to place the various obstacles the men of Shadowdale would put in the way of Bane's armies, and stayed to make detailed charts of escape routes through the forest. Of course, the maps would be memorized and destroyed long before the first of Bane's armies arrived.
The work proceeded at a brisk pace throughout the morning, but as the day wore on and the dalesmen worked the defenses back toward the town, they were forced to leave more and more men behind to guard their elaborate traps and ensure their proper deployment. With each man lost to man a trap or watch for advance scouts, the construction of new traps slowed down. But even the dalesmen left in the woods tried to be useful as they waited for the battle to begin. The archers, especially, took the time to learn the small part of the forest they would defend.
These archers, the first who would engage the enemy, spent hours learning every sound of the forest, becoming completely attuned to the intricate flow of nature. Any sound or scent that was out of the ordinary would be instantly detected. They rarely spoke, and instead practiced hand signals that would be used to relay word of the enemy approach, if the attack came during the day. Other measures, like signal lanterns, had been taken on the chance that the armies would arrive at night.
For now there was nothing to do but experience the elegance of nature as they waited.
Patiently.
As the day wore on, Kelemvor was sent to rally the many smiths who had been working for days hammering out shields, swords, daggers, and armor for those who would fight with nothing but their bare chests and their resolve if it were necessary. With the help of two assistants, the fighter supervised the loading of the weapons onto wagons. Then Kelemvor checked on the fletchers and wood carvers who were busy making arrows and bows for the archers.
