Cyric paused and looked down at Tyzack's body. "And then you can announce me as your new leader," the hawk-nosed man
said proudly and walked back to rejoin the ranks of his men.
X
THE ESCAPE
There's someone here to see you," Varden said softly as he walked into the small room where Midnight and her allies were
hidden.
Midnight turned from her spellbook, which was braced upon a splintering crate, and looked to the figures standing in the safe
house door.
"Kelemvor!" Midnight gasped as she watched the fighter step into the amber light of the single small lantern that lit the room.
The mage rose so quickly that she nearly knocked her book to the floor.
"You look like hell," Midnight said, glancing at the leg irons the fighter still wore. Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. "How did
you -"
But as the green-eyed fighter moved toward the mage. Varden stepped in front of him. As the fighter watched, three other
members of the resistance - the old man and old woman who owned the safe house, and a rough-looking Sembian soldier-moved to
block the room's exits.
"I escaped from one set of captors into the arms of another, it seems. May I sit down?" Kelemvor asked, gesturing with his
fingers toward a vacant chair beside the raven-haired mage. Midnight nodded and studied the fighter as he walked to the chair in a
series of short steps that might have seemed comical were it not for the severity of his condition. By the flickering light from the
lantern, Midnight could see the scars, cuts, bruises, and burns that lined Kelemvor's body. His clothing had become rags, and
Midnight was reminded of the first time she had admitted her feelings for the fighter, in the corridors of Castle Kilgrave. Kelemvor had
not looked much better then.
The fighter's hands trembled as he muttered, "I haven't eaten in days. If I'm going to he tortured, can I at least have something
to eat first?"
The old woman moved past Varden and Adon to the door. "I need to check on Gratus anyway," she croaked and left the room.
"How do you think he found us?" the craggy Sembian soldier said to Varden.
Looking up sharply, Kelemvor glared at the gruff soldier. "You can ask me if you want to know something about that," the fighter
snarled. "I overheard my guards mention this place as a possible safe house. They didn't think I was going to survive, and they talked
in front of me as if I wasn't even there, just as you are doing."
The others in the room, including Adon, silently stared at Kelemvor, wondering just how much of what the fighter said was the
truth. Midnight, however, had no such problems with her former lover's story. "Are we going to get these chains off him?" the mage
cried as she looked around the room at her other allies.
"We can't do that," the old man mumbled, running a hand over his bald head.
"He's right, Midnight. What proof do we have -," Varden began to add.
Midnight stood up and glowered at Varden. "What proof do you need? Kelemvor is our ally... my friend." The mage paused for a
moment and her voice sank into a growl. "And if you don't release him, I will."
"But he came directly from Bane's garrison," the old man said. "He could have led the Zhentilar right to us!"
The cursed fighter bowed his head and sighed. "I wouldn't have to lead them here. They know where you are," Kelemvor
mumbled.
The old man shook his head and looked around the room. "Then why haven't they attacked us?" he asked sarcastically. "We're
still here, aren't we?"
"Listen to me," Midnight said coldly before the fighter could speak. "I want the chains removed, and I want food brought here.
Immediately. Or I'll cast a spell that will raze this entire building."
There was a moment of silence, then the old man stood and muttered, "You win, mage. We'll do as you ask. But I will not have
you threaten me again. I don't take well to threats... particularly from those who have sought asylum with me."
Varden took out his lockpicks and unlocked the fighter's leg irons, then moved away quickly.
"Now his hands," Midnight told the young thief.
Adon held up his hand to stop the thief from following Midnight's request. "What if you're wrong?" he asked. "What if he's here to
capture you?" The scarred cleric pointed at the fighter and added, "He was our friend... once. But it wouldn't be the first time he's led
a patrol after us."
The raven-haired mage was silent for a moment, then turned toward the cleric. "You must trust me, Adon. I know that Kelemvor
wouldn't harm us." When the cleric bowed his head, the magic-user softly said, "Varden, unlock the other chains."
Varden turned away, a scowl on his face. "All right," the thief muttered and did as she asked.
When the irons clanked to the floor, Midnight sighed with relief. "Now I want all of you to leave us alone for a moment," the
mage told her allies.
"Absolutely not," said the old man, shuffling forward a few steps.
"Please," Midnight cried. "Do as I ask and we won't trouble you anymore. We'll leave. Now that Kelemvor's back, we can leave."
"Very well," the old man grumbled. "If that's the way you want it."
"That's the way it has to be," Midnight answered, turning toward the fighter.
Adon, Varden, the old man, and the Sembian filed from the room. "We'll be just outside this door," Adon said, glowering a bit at
Kelemvor. In moments, the room was cleared and the door swung shut.
"Oh, Kel," Midnight cried, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her as she embraced the fighter. "You don't know how good it
is to see you." She kissed his cheek then brushed the hair from his face. "Are you all right?"
"I will be," he replied, sitting up straight again. Midnight kissed him full on the lips then drew back as she realized that he had
not returned the kiss. Something was wrong.
The mage furrowed her eyebrows and looked into Kelemvor's eyes. "What happened? What did they do to you?" Midnight
asked as she backed away from the fighter.
"That should be obvious," Kelemvor growled, glancing at the dried blood on his clothes. The fighter stood and kicked the chains
at his feet. "I don't want to talk about it. Not yet."
"We tried to rescue you," Midnight told the fighter. "We couldn't get into the garrison. Durrock found us..."
There was a momentary flicker of understanding in Kelemvor's eyes.
"Kel, I was so afraid for you. For both of us," Midnight cried, tears running down her cheeks. "We've got to get out of this city."
"It'll be difficult," Kelemvor noted distantly as he looked around the small room. In fact, he found himself looking at anything but
the mage's eyes.
Midnight wondered why Kelemvor was being so cold and distant. Anger could have been the explanation, but it made no sense
that his rage would be directed at her. Perhaps it was the strain of his recent incarceration. She stared into his eyes and saw it was
neither of these. Varden and Adon might have been right.
"Something's happened to you, Kelemvor. And you should know me well enough to understand that you can trust me with
whatever has happened." The mage paused and looked at the door. "You can whisper if you must, if you're afraid of the others
overhearing," Midnight told her former lover.
"There is nothing to tell," Kelemvor said, smiling weakly. "I just need a meal. I need to clean my wounds. You're letting your
imagination get the better of you."
Midnight gazed into his eyes. The fighter was lying.
"I suppose you're right," the magic-user said coldly as she turned from Kelemvor. "Varden knows a way out of the city, but we
will require your assistance. Will you help?"
A look of confusion crossed the fighter's face. "Of course I will."
"Then it's settled," Midnight snapped, reaching for her dagger and drawing the weapon from its sheath. "It's settled that you
betrayed us!"
Kelemvor made no move as the point of Midnight's dagger found his throat in a ferocious, quicksilver motion. The mage
stopped her hand, and the knife's point touched the fighter's skin but didn't break it.
"You are bound by your curse, Kelemvor," the mage hissed. "You can do nothing without promise of a reward. Yet when I asked
you to help us get out of the city, you asked for nothing in return. That means that someone has already paid you... to lead us into a
trap!"
The fighter closed his eyes and took a sharp breath. "Everything you've said is wrong. Even about the curse."
"What?" Midnight cried, confusion on her face. "The curse is gone? Who removed it?"
The fighter swallowed, then his hand shot out and grabbed Midnight's wrist. He twisted until the dagger fell to the ground.
Kelemvor spun Midnight around, knocking her from her feet, and wrapped one of his powerful arms around her neck. With his free
arm, Kelemvor steadied the mage before she could fall and pinned her arms to her body. Varden and Adon rushed into the room.
The blond thief drew his dagger and Adon hefted the war hammer that the old man had given him when they first entered the
safe house. "Let her go, you Zhentish dog," the thief yelled.
"Not until I've had my say!" the fighter growled. "So just stay back and listen." Adon took a step forward and Kelemvor tightened
his grip on the mage. "I'll break her neck if you come any closer," the fighter lied.
When the thief and the cleric stood still, Kelemvor began his story. "Bane did send me here to gain your confidence. I was to
lead you all out of the safe house, subdue Midnight, and bring her to the Black Lord."
Adon cursed and spat at Kelemvor's feet. "How much did he pay you, Kel? What did you trade our lives for?"
Midnight tried to struggle, but Kelemvor tightened his grip again. "Bane removed my curse," he hissed. "But I lied to Bane, the
way he lied to me. I never intended to bring you to him. I want to go to Tantras with you, help you finish this damned quest... because
you're my friends." The fighter paused and loosened his grip on Midnight. "Not for any payment. Just because I care about you."
Kelemvor released Midnight and backed away. The mage fell forward, but kneeled where she fell, her back to the fighter. "I
want to believe you, Kel. I don't know how I can trust you after all that's happened... but I do."
"You can't be serious!" Varden cried, taking a step toward the fighter. "He was going to kill you."
"Not likely," Adon said softly and put down his war hammer. "He could have killed her long before we rushed into the room,
Varden." The cleric looked at Kelemvor, who returned his gaze with tear-filled eyes. "I know about suffering, Kel. Mine is not like
yours, but all who suffer know what it is to want their pain to end." Adon walked to Kelemvor's side and put his hand on the fighter's
shoulder. "Perhaps I'd even lie to a god to end mine, too."
By now the Sembian soldier and the married couple who ran the safe house had rushed to the room. As they stood in the
doorway, Varden muttered a curse and turned to them. "It's nothing," he grumbled. "They seem to have worked it out for themselves."
"Well, the sooner you're gone, the better," the old woman croaked as she brought some food into the room on a tray. Then the
old couple, Varden, and the Sembian left the heroes alone.
Midnight, Adon, and Kelemvor talked as the fighter ate. And though Cyric was missing, the little time the three heroes had
together in the safe house was the happiest they had shared for a long time.
An hour later, after gathering their few belongings and acquiring mounts, clothing for Kelemvor, and supplies, the heroes left the
safe house. Varden rode beside Kelemvor at the front of the small band. The thief knew the best route through the city, but the fighter
knew how to avoid the Zhentilar. The heroes secured their horses three blocks from the harbor and walked the rest of the way. As
they reconnoitered the port, Kelemvor began to relax. Despite the Zhentilar that were stationed there, the vast stretches of the
shipping yards made the area impossible to secure with any degree of certainty. Only a single watchman stood between the heroes
and the Queen of the Night, an ebon slave ship used by the Zhentilar to transport illegal cargo and avoid taxation.
"We'll need a boat with speed and power if we're to escape the blockade," Varden said as they studied the slave galley. "What
could be better than one of Bane's best?"
On the bow, a huge, half-naked wildman with bright yellow hair had been chained to a post and was enduring the lashes of the
galley master's whip. The slave hurled curses and threats at his tormentor, and the heroes were able to see the slave's face for a
moment. One of the wildman's eyes was missing, as if it had been gouged out in a tight.
"Had enough?" the galley master called as he lowered the whip.
"Set me free!" the slave wailed. "I'll rip your arms from their sockets and beat you with them. Then I'll tear your head off and -"
Enraged, the galley master cracked his whip again. The slave's threat was never finished. The black-garbed galley master
whipped the slave until the man sank to his knees and his head lolled back, a vacant expression in his eyes. "Bjorn the One-Eyed will
have his revenge," the slave muttered and passed out.
"Take him below," the galley master snapped to one of the three Zhentilar who also stood on the bow. "We'll resume our...
discussion after I return from Scarsdale. I'm going to find a lass to help me relieve my tensions!"
