name will now be added to the ranks of the guilty."
The fighter paused as he continued to dress himself. When he was done, he reached out and took Midnight's face in both of his
hands. "Why did you leave me behind in Shadowdale?"
Midnight pulled away, anger suddenly overwhelming her. "Leave you! You turned Cyric down when he asked you to help rescue
us!" The mage slapped the fighter's hand away as he reached for her, then she moved to Adon's side.
A bitter laugh escaped Kelemvor's lips. "Just what did Cyric tell you?"
Midnight hesitated for a moment. Brushing the hair out of her face, she relived the pain she felt when she first heard Kelemvor's
words of betrayal. "That you 'couldn't interfere with justice' "
Kelemvor nodded. "Cyric chose his words well, don't you think? He knew you," the fighter growled, turning away from his
friends. "He knew just what to say to make you believe him."
"He was lying?" Midnight gasped. "You never said that?"
"I said it before the trial," the fighter mumbled and hung his head. "I thought you were going to be found innocent. If I'd have
known, I would have found some way to help you escape."
Adon shook his head. "What do you mean? Didn't you know about Cyric's plan?"
Kelemvor whirled around, anger flashing in his eves. "By all the souls in Myrkul's Realm, what do you think I'm saying?" The
fighter took a deep breath. "Cyric never told me about the escape. I found out the next day... when the bodies started to appear."
Midnight and Adon looked at each other, shock in their eyes. "What bodies?" Midnight asked. A dark, creeping fear was moving
across her soul. Even before Kelemvor told her about the murdered guardsmen, she knew that Cyric had not told her everything
about his plan.
Kelemvor studied Midnight's face for a reaction as he told her about the bloody trail of corpses he and Mourngrym had traced
through the Twisted Tower. The fighter hoped that the mage would not be able to hide her guilt if confronted directly with the murders.
As he told her of the crimes, the mage blanched, and her eyes revealed surprise and horror.
"I-I didn't know," Midnight stammered and looked again to Adon. The cleric was frowning deeply, and his eyes reflected the fury
he felt.
Kelemvor sighed. They really are innocent; he thought to himself, relieved that for the first time in what seemed like years he
had done something right, something good. "I know you didn't, Midnight," Kelemvor said at last. "But didn't you even think it odd that
you were able to escape so easily?"
"He told us he used the Gaeus Thorn," Adon snapped. When Kelemvor looked puzzled, the cleric continued. "That's a magical
weapon of sorts. You strike someone with the thorn - a type of dart, really - and they do anything you tell them to do." Kelemvor
thought of the young guard who had impaled himself and shuddered.
"We assumed he had subdued the guards using the thorn." Midnight folded her arms and hugged herself tightly. After a
moment, she turned to the fighter. "Are you sure that it was Cyric? Could it have been someone else?"
Kelemvor shook his head. "We both know it was Cyric. Who else could it have been?"
"I... I don't know," Midnight sighed. "But it's possible there was someone else, isn't it? Another killer could have broken into the
tower that night. He might have found the guards in a weakened state, or -"
The mage stopped speaking for a moment and took a deep breath. "Could one of the other guards have done it? Perhaps he
wanted to cover up his own inattentiveness. Or maybe he wanted... I don't know what he might have wanted..." Tears were welling in
Midnight's eyes.
Kelemvor reached out to take Midnight by the arm. The fighter drew her into his embrace and held the mage as her tears came.
Suddenly she pulled back. "No," Midnight said. "I won't believe it!" Kelemvor put his hands on his hips. "Midnight, the facts are -"
"I don't know what the facts are, and neither do you!" the raven-haired magic-user cried. "I refuse to condemn our friend the way
the dalesmen condemned Adon and me for Elminster's murder!"
Adon put his hand on the mage's shoulder. "Midnight, you know he did it. He would have killed me, too, if you hadn't stopped
him." The cleric turned to the fighter. "A sickness had taken hold of Cyric, Kel. It was as if he went mad," Adon said flatly. He paused
then and looked into the churning river. "Perhaps it's better that he's dead."
Midnight slowly walked to the edge of the bridge. "No, Adon. Cyric would have been fine once we got to Tantras, once we had a
chance to rest. He really was a good person, you know. He just never had the chance to prove it."
Memories of all the evil he himself had done in the past, things the curse had forced him to do and things he had only blamed
on the curse, flooded into Kelemvor's mind. The fighter went to Midnight's side and put his arms around her. "Perhaps he was afraid
to do what's right," he said softly. "That same fear nearly prevented me from rescuing you."
Looking into Midnight's eyes, Kelemvor sighed and was forced to look away. "I was standing near the tower, waiting for daylight,
waiting to see you again," the fighter told her." I didn't know what I was going to do. But I suspected that once you were brought out, I
wouldn't have been able to stop myself from trying to help you, even if it cost me my life. I stood there waiting for the moment when I
would learn what I was going to do.
"Then the bodies were discovered, and I let Mourngrym convince me that you were guilty, that you and Adon had killed
Elminster and then the guards." Adon whimpered softly at Kelemvor's comments, and the fighter paused for a moment. "It was easier
to believe them than to do what I knew was right.
"After I saw what the dalesmen really were, when your boat approached, I knew that I had to make a choice." The fighter turned
and looked at the bloodstains scattered about the bridge. "My reaction was as I thought it would be."
"Then you believe we're innocent?" Midnight asked softly.
"Aye," Kelemvor whispered as he kissed Midnight full on the mouth. When the kiss had ended, Kelemvor noticed Adon
crouching over the pile of weapons that had been appropriated from the bodies of the dead hunters. He suddenly looked tired, even
withered. "What's wrong with him?" Kelemvor asked.
Midnight told Kelemvor all that had transpired in the Temple of Lathander, but especially how Adon had tried to save Elminster
from the rift. "With his scar and his failure at the temple, Adon's certain that Sune has abandoned him," the mage concluded. "It's as if
his whole world has been shattered."
"He still should have said something at the trial to defend the two of you," the fighter grumbled. "His silence helped to sway
Mourngrym's verdict."
"Don't hold it against him, Kel. I don't," Midnight said, smiling. "Besides, the trial is over now. And after you're with Adon for a
while, you'll know that he's paying the price for his silence at the trial... and much more." The mage turned and walked toward Adon.
As the fighter followed her, she added, "Cyric found it almost impossible to show him kindness or mercy. If I can forgive him, then you
should be able to do the same."
Kelemvor considered the magic-user's words, then crouched at the other side of the pile of weapons, staring at the cleric. "Our
survival depends on being able to count on one another, Adon. We will be wanted fugitives."
"I know that," Adon snapped. His gaze failed to meet Kelemvor's. Instead, the cleric toyed with one of the dead men's weapons.
"We're going on to Tantras, Adon, but the dalesmen might try to capture us. They also may try to kill us. Will you pledge your life
to help us?" Kelemvor asked.
"My life...," Adon growled, his voice cracking. "For what it's worth, yes, I'll pledge my life for the two of you. Perhaps I can make
up for what I have done." The cleric reached down and picked up an axe. He gazed at the weapon for a moment, frowned, then
tossed it aside. "I'll find a way."
"Thank you, Adon. We'll need your help," Midnight said and started to walk toward the dalesmen's camp. Kelemvor quickly
followed her. They could hear the sound of metal hitting metal as Adon picked up one weapon after another and tossed it back into
the pile.
"The dalesmen hid their horses in the woods next to the camp. We should pick out a few mounts, pack up our supplies, and
head toward Tantras while we still have a chance," the fighter said.
Midnight stopped walking and turned to Kelemvor. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Kelemvor smiled and shook his head.
"Your reward," Midnight said flatly.
The fighter stiffened.
Gesturing at the blood stains on the bridge, Kelemvor spoke. "I'm a wanted criminal for aiding you and for killing the dalesmen.
The curse only demands payment if I am not acting in my own best interest. Getting you to Tantras, where we may be able to hide
from the long arm of the dale - or even recover the Tablet of Fate and magically clear us of all charges - is most definitely in my own
interest. I don't want a price on my head for the rest of my life, however long that may be. It's no way to live."
"I see," Midnight said quietly.
Kelemvor frowned and closed his eyes. "That doesn't change my feelings about you," he murmured. "I have to look at things in
those terms. Besides, it just simplifies matters."
"Well," Midnight sighed. "I suppose we should keep things simple."
Kelemvor looked at her sharply, and for the first time he saw a trace of the wicked grin Midnight had so frequently displayed to
him on their trip to Shadowdale. He laughed and placed his hand on her waist. "Come," the fighter said, and they walked to the end of
the bridge.
"Adon!" Midnight shouted. "We're leaving."
Footsteps sounded behind the mage and the fighter. Then they heard the clang of steel falling against steel and turned to see
Adon gathering up the pile of weapons he had dropped.
"Hold it!" Kelemvor snapped. "Let's just take what we need." The fighter already wore his two-handed sword, but he grabbed an
axe, a spare bow, and a cache of arrows to add to his arsenal. Midnight found a pair of daggers that suited her. Adon stared down at
the collection, trying to find some weapon that was suitable. He was well trained with a war hammer and a flail, but sharp-edged
weapons were frowned upon by his order. All the weapons that remained were edged.
"Take something and carry it for us," Kelemvor said at last, his patience reaching its end. The heroes quickly left the end of the
bridge and entered the forest. After a few minutes, Kelemvor had led his companions to the spot where the huntsmen had secured
their mounts. The horses were gone.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Adon asked as he looked around.
"The evidence is all about you, cleric. Open your eyes!" Kelemvor snapped. Adon shrank away from the fighter, and Midnight
frowned. Kelemvor cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is that you can see the tracks that the horses, and whoever took them, left
behind - the broken branches and the footprints." The fighter pounded his fist against a tree and swore. "It was probably Yarbro. Now
he's got the gold that Mourngrym paid me, and we'll have to walk to Scardale."
Adon was struggling with two heavy swords he had found as the heroes prepared to leave the forest. Concern crossed
Midnight's features. "Adon, where did you leave my spellbook and the items Lhaeo gave us?"
The cleric dropped the swords and the shield and backed away in terror. "I ... I left them on the bridge," he gasped.
"Sorry..."
Kelemvor's shoulders drooped, and he opened his mouth to spew out a tirade of angry condemnations. When he saw the
cleric's frightened, childlike expression, he fought back his anger. "Go get them," Kelemvor said softly, his deep voice trembling with
barely controlled rage.
As Adon ran back toward the bridge, the fighter set his bow down beside the swords that Adon had dropped and walked back to
the bridge with Midnight. "He is trying, you know," the mage purred as she put her arms around Kelemvor's waist.
"No doubt," Kelemvor grumbled and tried not to smile.
"And you're trying, too," Midnight said. "I appreciate that."
The fighter and the mage broke from the forest and saw Adon near the middle of the bridge, crouching over the canvas sack he
had rescued from the river. He seemed to be rifling through the sack, checking its contents.
Standing near the north entrance to the bridge, the fighter called out to Adon. "Come on, cleric! We don't have all day!" Midnight
started slightly at Kelemvor's sudden outburst.
On the bridge, Adon suddenly stood up, the bag firmly in his hand. The cleric stared at the eastern horizon, pointing toward the
sky. The sun was behind the cleric, so he could dearly see the three figures floating in the eastern sky, becoming larger as they
approached.
"Riders!" Adon exclaimed. "Riders to the east!"
At the northern end of the bridge, Kelemvor shook his head. "What is he -"
Then the fighter saw what had captured Adon's attention. Three darkly clad soldiers were flying toward the bridge. They were
following the course of the river and riding huge ebon horses that struck a trail of fire as they galloped across the sky.
On the bridge, Adon stood rooted to the spot. As the riders drew close, he was able to see them even more clearly. The armor
