banding together as allies to save their city; instead, they were huddled together like groups of thieves in a darkened alley. At any moment, they might suddenly turn on one another. To Adon, it was all very sad.
When the heroes finally got to meet Barth, Adon's musings about the soldiers' pettiness were proven correct.
'You expect us to what?' Barth exclaimed, his normally well-tanned face turning bright red. The soldier was strongly built, with curly black hair and a thick mustache.
'I don't expect you to do anything,' Midnight growled, balling her hands into fists. 'I'm offering you a chance to strike back at Bane's forces. You might be safe while you're inside these tunnels, but the Zhentilar have made you prisoners here just as surely as if they had thrown you in their dungeons!'
Barth leaned back in his chair, the only one Midnight had seen in the tunnels, and looked at the mage and her friends. Contempt showed in the soldier's eyes as he mulled over Midnight's plan to rescue Kelemvor.
Gratus smiled fatuously and addressed the leader of the resistance. 'The mage has a point.' Raising his hand, the old merchant placed his index finger and thumb together, then allowed a small space to open between them. 'Why, we can't even go outside the tunnels this far, even to look for food, without worrying about a Zhentish patrol picking us up. I can't even — '
'Stop thinking of only yourself, you old con man,' Varden snapped. 'There's a very real chance that Midnight's companion may be enduring torture even as we speak. He might even be dead, for all we know. Bane is going to crush Scardale beneath his black boots. The least we can do is try to strike a blow against the tyrant.'
'Enough!' Barth barked, waving Varden away with a meaty, unwashed hand. 'Your passion and your beliefs are not the issues. We've already sent messengers to alert Sembia of the takeover. If we wait it out, reinforcements will arrive. Then we'll attack the Zhentilar. Not before.' The Sembian paused for a moment and picked a bit of his lunch from his teeth with a dagger. 'Right now, any attack would be a waste of effort and men.'
'There's another reason you need us,' Midnight said. She hated to lie, but she was beginning to realize that Barth was going to give her no other choice. 'Bane is in possession of a mystical object that we were carrying to Tantras for Elminster the Sage.' The Sembian looked up quickly, nearly poking himself in the cheek with his dagger. Midnight smiled and continued. 'The object is an amber sphere of great power. If Bane learns what it is and how to control it, he will have the power in his hands to find you whenever he wants to.'
Panic flared in the eyes of the Sembian leader. 'Perhaps I could spare a few men,' Barth said slowly, his mind racing. 'Tell me, with this sphere, would you be able to destroy the Zhentil Keep garrison?'
He won't help me for altruistic reasons, Midnight thought to herself, but fear certainly convinced him to assist me soon enough. 'No,' Midnight said with mock sadness. 'Only a god, or a being with a god's power, could accomplish such a task with this object.'
Barth paled slightly. 'If it's a danger to my, uh, soldiers, I'll assign two men to your party. They'll assist you in your efforts to retrieve this magical sphere… and your friend.' The Sembian cleared his throat and wiped a thin film of sweat from his brow.
'You have our thanks,' Midnight said.
Barth made a futile attempt at a smile. 'Yes, well, perhaps you should get going right away. We wouldn't want… your friend to suffer any undue danger, would we?' Midnight nodded and silently cursed the Sembian, then led her friends out through the curtain and into the section of the tunnel where the soldiers were gathered.
Almost an hour passed before the soldiers who had been assigned to assist Midnight arrived. The heroes had pulled together a few crates to serve as a table, and the section of the tunnel they occupied had started to look like a military planning room. Maps of Scardale and the outlying areas lay all over the floor. Trade routes and various notations concerning the business districts of the town marked the surfaces of the maps, which had come from a local merchant's looted store, making it impossible to make out some of the map's details.
As Midnight, Adon, Varden, and Gratus huddled over a map of the harbor, two young men wearing grubby, nondescript clothing approached the heroes. The first soldier, a tall, dark-haired man with a pale complexion, stepped forward. He was a tired-looking youth, with deep circles under his eyes. 'I'm Wulstan. This is Tymon. We're both from Hillsfar.'
The second man was also dark-haired, but his craggy nose appeared to have been broken several times. However, in general, he seemed in much better health than his friend. He nodded to the heroes.
Midnight stood up. 'Well met,' she said, and proceeded to introduce herself and her companions. 'Thank you both for volunteering to help us.'
The soldiers glanced oddly at one another, then back at Midnight. 'Volunteer?' Wulstan asked incredulously. 'Are you serious?'
Varden surged forward, a dark scowl on his face. 'You mean the two of you had to be ordered to help us attack your enemies?' Wulstan looked away awkwardly.
The thief looked down the tunnel at the other soldiers gathered there. 'Is there no one here who has the heart to fight the Zhentilar to regain Scardale?' Varden cried loudly enough for the others to hear.
'Not really,' Tymon said matter-of-factly as he walked past Varden and sat down. 'But orders are orders, and you will find that neither Wulstan nor I will shrink from our responsibilities.'
Varden bowed his head and returned to the maps. 'I suppose that your best effort is all we can ask for,' Adon sighed and put his hand on Tymon's shoulder. 'At least under these circumstances.'
Wulstan snorted and rolled his eyes. 'Spare us the sermon, cleric.' The worn fighter walked to Midnight's side. 'Just tell us what we're supposed to do.'
Adon narrowed his eyes and started to speak, but Gratus stood up quickly and cleared his throat. 'Well, we have a number of obstacles to overcome,' the old merchant noted. 'We can expect that the Zhentish garrison will be filled to overflowing with Bane's soldiers. To relieve the overcrowding, the fallen garrisons of the Zhent's enemies will be occupied if possible.'
Wulstan muttered to himself, then growled, 'Once we leave this hiding place, there'll be no other safe place for shelter. Isn't that what you're trying to say, old man?'
Gratus ignored the sullen soldier and continued. 'However, we might be able to get lodging in a private house.' The old merchant ran his hand over his face and tapped his chin. 'The people of Scardale have declared themselves neutral. They won't be interested in harboring fugitives. But I have friends that might be willing to help.'
'The Zhentilar will be prowling the streets,' Midnight added, 'and I wouldn't be surprised if at least one of Bane's assassins is airborne, combing the streets for Adon and me.' The mage grew silent.
'So our first problem is getting to the Zhentish garrison in one piece,' Varden said flatly. 'Then what?'
'The obvious,' Gratus answered, rubbing his hand over his bald spot. 'Getting inside, retrieving Midnight's belongings, and rescuing her friend. Then the small matter of getting out again.'
'At least they're simple problems,' Wulstan muttered moodily.
'The Zhentish may be expecting us to make such an attempt,' Adon added. 'It's possible the Zhentilar may have set up a trap. They might let us get into the garrison with only token resistance, then capture us with ease.'
Gratus frowned and sat down. 'So what do you suggest?' the old man asked. 'It it's such an impossible task, why are we undertaking it?'
Midnight's eyes flashed. 'We're doing this because we must!' the mage snapped. 'And we have one thing you haven't mentioned that may tip the scales in our favor. The one thing the Zhentish won't expect.'
Adon looked up. 'Magic!' he breathed softly. 'But Bane has your spellbook.'
'There's one spell left in my memory,' Midnight said, smiling at the scarred cleric. 'One I was studying before we were captured.'
Varden shook his head and started to object. The two young soldiers eyed the exit from the tunnel. Gratus nervously rubbed behind his ears. 'If you mean to teleport us halfway across the city,' the old man snapped, 'you can count me out right now.'
'No,' Midnight answered. 'That would be madness. We could end up inside solid rock or buried beneath the Ashaba.' The two soldiers from Hillsfar glanced nervously at each other and frowned.
'Any spell is dangerous,' Varden said. 'There are no guarantees — '
'Life itself has no guarantees,' Adon interjected, running his hand across his scarred cheek. 'Let her finish.'
