was pulled into the outer rings of the madly swirling water. The thief jammed a single oar over the right side of the boat to steady the
craft, but the tiny skiff spun and bobbed as it was dragged toward the maelstrom.
In a matter of moments, the heroes were poised at the very top of the whirlpool, and they could see down into its lowest depths.
A blinding blue-white luminescence was visible at the very bottom of the vortex. Using the oars as rudders, Cyric tried to keep the
skiff steady, but the boat was lurching violently. A fine mist surrounded the heroes, and they occasionally caught glimpses of a
landmark on the shoreline as they sped dizzily past it. The boat lurched, leaving the water for a brief moment, and Midnight had to
force back a wave of nausea. Cyric fought with the oars, cursing loudly. Tears were streaming down Adon's face as he stared at the
swirling vortex of water.
"Please, Sune!" the frightened cleric cried as he reached out and nearly fell from the boat. The skiff rocked, and Cyric shot a
look over his shoulder.
"Can't you control him?" Cyric shouted, then turned back to the oars to compensate for the disturbance Adon had caused.
"What is it, Adon?" Midnight screamed. "What is it you see?"
Adon whimpered for a moment, then spoke softly, barely audible above the roar of the whirlpool. "Elminster's in the rift. I want to
save him, but I can't reach him."
Images of their final moments in the temple returned to Midnight. Bane's avatar had been defeated, and Mystra's essence had
vanished in the explosion that destroyed the Black Lord's avatar. During the battle, Elminster had been driven into a swirling vortex he
himself had created. Neither Midnight nor Adon could save the old sage when the rift closed.
"I-I tried to save him!" Adon cried. "I tried to cast a spell. But Sune refused to hear my prayers. She deserted me and let
Elminster die!"
"It wasn't your fault!" Midnight screamed. The frame of the skiff was beginning to shake violently under the assault of the surging
water.
Adon turned to Midnight. Though his eyes were red from crying, Midnight saw clarity in them, a spark of understanding that had
long been missing." It is my fault," the cleric said calmly. "I was unworthy. I deserved to be forsaken by my goddess." Adon paused for
a moment, closed his eyes, and pointed to the jagged scar that ran down his cheek. "I deserved this!"
The boat shook violently, pitching the cleric forward. Midnight grabbed Adon and pulled him back from the gunwale. Midnight
looked up at Cyric and saw that he was still fighting with one oar, using it as a rudder. The boat was now more than halfway around
the outside of the whirlpool, but it hadn't seemed to descend any deeper into the vortex.
Midnight grabbed the other oar. "What can I do?" the mage screamed. "How can I help?"
Cyric nodded toward the southern edge of the vortex. There the Pool of Yeven opened onto the Ashaba again. "We've got to
break out of the curve!" Cyric yelled. "It's either that, or we die right here!"
The mage plunged the oar into the water. Adon grabbed the end of the shuddering oaken oar with Midnight, and together they
held the second makeshift rudder in place. Together the three heroes forced the craft to break free from the ring of the whirlpool. In a
moment, they had passed through another wall of froth and were moving downstream, away from the Pool of Yeven, toward
Scardale.
The whirlpool had apparently somehow corrected the misdirected current, and now the river was running as it should, though it
was still dangerously swift. As they moved farther away from the Pool of Yeven, Midnight gave a hearty yell, happy just to be alive.
The others didn't seem to share her enthusiasm, however. Cyric simply scowled at Adon and turned away from the cleric, who sat
quietly in the bow.
This partnership has to end soon, the thief thought. I was wrong to believe I needed these fools to make it to Tantras! Cyric
glanced over his shoulder at Midnight. In fact, he growled to himself, they practically killed me in that whirlpool with their whining,
while I risked my neck to save them!
The heroes continued down the Ashaba for several hours more, Midnight lounging happily in the stern, Adon silently staring at
the water from the bow, and Cyric moodily handling the oars. Finally Cyric spotted a huge wooden bridge spanning the river in the
distance. "Blackfeather Bridge!" Midnight called.
"Perhaps we can rest here," Adon said softly as he turned to gaze at the bridge.
As they approached the bridge, however, a flicker of movement alerted Midnight. She quickly called a fireball spell to mind, but
when she saw that the figures were men and not some strange creature lurking on the bridge, she hesitated to cast it. The spell could
fail and destroy the skiff. Or it could succeed, and Midnight might learn that she had harmed an innocent group of fishermen or
travelers like themselves.
The hesitation proved costly.
Cyric, too, saw the movement on the bridge, but he had also glimpsed sunlight glinting from steel. The three men standing on
the structure were joined by two more. All had weapons. The thief turned quickly and shouted for Midnight to cast her spell.
On the bridge, Kelemvor and the group of dalesmen stood waiting, arrows knocked, ready to fire at the skiff.
V
BLACKFEATHER BRIDGE
The surviving members of the hunt were lined up in a row upon the bridge, their bows ready. Kelemvor stood next to Yarbro,
and the two men looked out onto the Ashaba. A skiff rushed toward them, three people frantically scrambling about inside it.
"Look at them!" Yarbro snarled, the muscles in his lean arms tensing as he prepared to loose an arrow. "They're trying to turn
around. They'll never be able to do it in this part of the river. The current's too fast." The young guard's flesh was pale, and his eyes
were bloodshot. His lips pulled back in a grimace, the guard trembled with anticipation.
The killing time had come.
"I can see them," Kelemvor snapped. Below, on the river, Midnight, Cyric, and Adon struggled to turn their boat to shore. The
fighter glanced across the bridge. The men were all like Yarbro, barely hiding their glee as they held their bows ready to fire. "No one
shoots without my order!" Kelemvor shouted.
A few of the dalesmen laughed. Yarbro turned sharply to the fighter. "You don't command us any longer. The men follow my
orders now!"
Sweat was streaming down Kelemvor's face. "Our orders are to capture the prisoners, not to kill them on sight."
"Unless there's no other choice," Yarbro growled bitterly as he turned back to face the river. "Unless you want me to have you
shot full of arrows, I suggest you either grab a bow or get off the bridge!"
The small boat rocked violently in the fierce current as the escapees tried unsuccessfully to turn their shuddering craft.
Kelemvor silently stared at Midnight and felt a strange pressure upon his chest.
I can't do this! the fighter cursed to himself. I simply can't let these lunatics hurt my friends... and my love.
A few feet away from Kelemvor, Jorah laughed. "Let them get to shore... if they can. I don't want the river to sweep them away
after we shoot them. We can have them stuffed and hung like scarecrows on the road to Zhentil Keep." Bursus and Cabal chuckled
and nodded.
"That'll let any Zhentish scum who might plan to attack the Dales again know exactly what we'll do to them," Bursus agreed. The
wounded archer hobbled to Jorah's side and patted the younger, auburn-haired man on the shoulder.
"Let's just kill them now," Mikkel suggested. As he looked down at the fishing skiff, images of the countless days he had spent
on that boat with his partner flooded into his mind.
The skiff was within range now. The hunters watched as Adon stood up and grabbed Cyric's arm. The thief lashed out at the
cleric, and Adon fell. The young cleric hit the side of the skiff hard, and Midnight and Cyric were unable to maintain their balance as
the boat careened wildly and capsized.
Midnight screamed as she struck the water and sank as if a heavy weight had been attached to her body. Adon also plummeted
into the Ashaba and vanished beneath the surface of the river. Cyric fell in the opposite direction, and the current grabbed him and
began to pull him downstream.
"Fire!" Yarbro shouted, and a rain of arrows struck the river around the capsized boat.
"No!" Kelemvor screamed, but it was too late. Midnight and Adon had disappeared from sight, and Cyric was bobbing up and
down in the strong current. The thief tried to plunge under the surface of the water, but he was helpless in the tide. The skeletal
branches of a large, dead tree that had fallen into the river reached out from the shoreline, and the thief managed to grab a limb as he
rushed past. As the thief hung there, suspended in the rapid flow of the Ashaba for a moment, an arrow struck the water mere inches
from his face. Cyric let go of the branch instinctively, then sunk beneath the surface of the water.
Beneath the river's surface, Midnight flailed her arms and legs in a frenzied panic. Suddenly a large shape approached her out
of the darkness. The cleric held one of their canvas bags in his left hand as he swam toward the mage. His eyes were wide with fear.
We're going to drown unless I do something! Midnight realized. The mage reached out, trying to grab anything on the bottom
that would stop her from tumbling down the river. She came up with a handful of reeds. Unconsciously a spell thrust itself into
Midnight's mind.
Pushing back her fear, Midnight recited the brief incantation in her mind as she plucked a reed from the riverbed. Before she
could turn and cast the water breathing spell on Adon, a huge sphere filled with air flashed into sight around her. The shell
surrounded Adon as well, who now lay on his stomach, soaked and gasping.
"Thanks, Midnight," the cleric groaned and rolled over onto his back. "I owe you my life... again."
Midnight smiled weakly, then looked shocked and fell to her knees as the bubble lurched into motion and quickly rose to the
surface of the river. "Mystra, help me!" the mage cried as she looked up and saw the bridge only about twenty yards away. Arrows
rained down from the bridge again, and she heard the curses of the dalesmen as the arrows glanced harmlessly off the sphere.
On the bridge, Kelemvor stepped back from the other men. The fighter watched as Yarbro swore and stamped around on the
bridge in frustration, screeching orders at the other dalesmen. The group had degenerated into a band of killers, differing little from
the orcs they had encountered near the Standing Stone. The fighter relaxed slightly. Midnight had managed to save herself, and in
doing so, she took the need to act away from him.
As the sphere passed beneath the bridge, close to the southern bank, one of the archers ran to the shore to get a large rock.
When the sphere emerged on the other side of the bridge, he was waiting, the rock held high over his head. The other dalesmen
stood stock still, bows at the ready.
Midnight looked up as she passed beneath the bridge. She saw Kelemvor leaning over the bridge's edge, and her heart skipped
a beat. For only an instant, the mage's attention was completely focused on her former lover. So when the large stone came hurtling
down at her, it took the mage completely by surprise. The rock bounced off the top of the sphere, but Midnight lost her concentration,
and the sphere disappeared in a flash. The magic-user and the cleric plunged into the water, very close to shore but also very close
to the bridge.
I've got to help her! Kelemvor thought desperately as the sphere disappeared. At that moment, the fighter let out a terrible, highpitched
scream. The dalesmen loosed a volley of arrows at Midnight and Adon, but the distraction caused by Kelemvor's horrifying
scream disturbed their aim. Three of the dalesmen turned in time to see Kelemvor's breastplate clatter to the bridge. Mikkel and
Yarbro were too intent on their prey to notice.
Jorah, Cabal, and Bursus stood staring at Kelemvor as he let out a deep, long growl and tore at his face with his fingers. Then
they noticed that the fighter's flesh was rippling. It was as if there were something inside him, struggling for release from his human
skin. Kelemvor fell to his knees, threw his head back, and screamed once more as his chest burst apart and the paws of a sleek,
black beast emerged.
Kelemvor's head seemed to collapse, and then the loose flesh tore open. Glowing green eyes and a gaping maw, filled with
razor-sharp teeth, appeared visible as the head of the panther shook itself free from the glove of human flesh. In moments, all that
remained of Kelemvor were a few bits of bloody flesh that soon dissolved. The fighter had moved to help Midnight with no reward in
sight, and the curse had asserted itself.
"Shut him up or kill him!" Yarbro shouted without turning around. The young guard had drawn a bead on Midnight's head as she
started to clamber up the southern bank. Anticipation rushed through Yarbro, and he reveled for a second in the knowledge that the
fate of the sorceress was in his hands, that he was her judge, jury, and executioner. And the sentence is death, Yarbro thought as he
steadied his arm and prepared to loose the deadly shaft.
Suddenly an incredible, bestial roar sounded from behind him, and Yarbro started in surprise. Distracted, he released the arrow,
and the shaft flew harmlessly over Midnight's head. The young guard turned and saw the panther, and for a moment he believed that
he had slipped into some kind of waking nightmare, that his lack of sleep was playing tricks with his mind. Still, his fellow huntsmen
stood beside him and stared at the snarling beast with expressions of disbelief rivaling his own.
Yarbro and Cabal were between the panther and the other dalesmen, who were now backing away nervously toward the north
end of the bridge. Kelemvor was nowhere to be seen, the young guard realized, even though the fighter's shredded clothing and
