the leader of one of the contingents of Zhentilar who joined the Scorpions before Tyzack's death, had been made Cyric's lieutenant.
Dressed in an ebon cloak that was pressed against his sleek body by the heavy winds, Dalzhel ran his hand over his bushy, black
beard.
"You're worried when you shouldn't be," Dalzhel noted. "There should be no doubt as to our victory. Lord Bane himself leads us
to Tantras."
"Of course," Cyric replied, his voice distant. Realizing that Dalzhel was staring at him, the thief assumed the posture of a
confident warrior. "We will bathe in the blood of our enemies."
Dalzhel was still staring. Cyric thought for a moment then realized his mistake. "If we are forced to engage them, we will
slaughter the Tantrasans. Lord Bane's orders are not to be taken lightly, no matter how badly some of us may wish to engage these
dogs and drive them under our heels."
The lieutenant looked away. "Were you privy to the ceremony where Bane took his new avatar?"
"I was," Cyric replied and felt a warmth spread through his body. "It was a spectacular event to witness. It was almost
inspirational."
Dalzhel nodded. "I understand that three beholders were summoned from Zhentil Keep and Lord Myrkul himself was in
attendance."
"That is something of an exaggeration," Cyric noted and proceeded to tell Dalzhel all that he had witnessed.
After reaching the harbor, the obsidian juggernaut that Bane had inhabited was forced to enter the Dragon Reach from the east
side of Scarsdale, while most of the Zhentilar fleet, four sailing ships, three galleys equipped with rams, and the Argent, left from the
Ashaba port to the south. Triremes were noted for their speed and superior handling, so it wasn't surprising that the Argent quickly
pulled ahead of the fleet and passed the southeast tip of Scarsdale in time to see Bane's mammoth avatar enter the water.
The sun had been directly above the avatar as it waded into the Dragon Reach. Brilliant white light enshrouded the unnatural
creation with an aura of blinding luminescence. Despite the glare, though, Cyric could see reddish black mists swirling inside the
smoky body. The obsidian giant now hummed with a throbbing tone that rose and fell in time with the movements of the crimson light
within its massive chest.
During the journey, only the head, shoulders, and parts of the God of Strife's arms were visible as he waded and swam through
the Dragon Reach. The waves Bane caused made it impossible for the fleet to follow closely, and so the god was always far ahead of
the ships.
Now, as Cyric told Dalzhel about the birth of the obsidian avatar, the Zhentish fleet's two-day trek was almost at an end. Bane
had broken away from the main body of the fleet, taking two ships with him as he prepared to enter Tantras from the north, where the
temple of Torm resided. The Black Lord justified the move by claiming he was going to destroy Torm, and thereby plunge Tantras into
chaos.
Cyric knew better. The Tablet of Fate was all that concerned Bane, and the thief now knew that the tablet was somewhere near
the Temple of Torm.
The Argent had been ordered to take up a position at the northernmost end of Tantras's harbor, closer to the scene of Bane's
imminent raid upon the Temple of Torm than any of the other ships sent to blockade the western borders of the city. The Argent's
orders had been to stand ready, but take no action unless it was necessary.
Cyric, however, had plans of his own.
* * * * *
Elminster's lair was a filthy hovel in the low-rent district of Tantras. The heroes had spent the better part of three days hiding
there from the priests of Torm. They passed the time by arguing about a plan for the retrieval of the first Tablet of Fate.
"I think we should just charge in and grab it," Kelemvor grumbled sarcastically as he stared at the sharp edge of his blade. The
fighter looked up suddenly as he remembered something Adon had mentioned about the Temple of Torm. "What about the main
worship room in the center of the building? The vault might be there."
Elminster stared at the ceiling, his fingers absently playing with his beard. "Ye sound much like the lummox I always took ye for,
Kelemvor," the sage sighed. "The tablet must be in the diamond corridors that Torm warned Adon about and Tenwealth threatened
him with."
The fighter mumbled something rude about the old mage, but Midnight spoke before Elminster had a chance to reply. "So how
do we get to the tablet, then?" the raven-haired mage asked. "If we teleported or even opened a gate-"
The sage threw his hands into the air. "Far too dangerous," he snapped. "With the instability in the weave, ye might find thyself
a mile beneath the earth or somewhere beyond the reach of the sky. Ye might even find thyself halfway across the Realms, in a place
like Waterdeep... but then, ye'll be going there soon enough anyway."
"That's the second time you've mentioned Waterdeep in the last few days," Adon said angrily. "Why do you think we'll go there
soon?"
Midnight's eyes narrowed. "Yes. You mentioned Waterdeep when we were in the market, too. Why?"
Elminster thought it over then looked at the mage. "Ye can get to the second tablet through the City of the Dead, next to
Waterdeep," the old sage sighed. "I learned this from... reliable sources during my time in the Planes. But whether or not ye are
worthy of the task of retrieving both tablets-"
Kelemvor punched the rickety wall that stood a few feet away from him. "No!" he cried then looked to Midnight. "We're not going
to go chasing after the other tablet, too. We're getting nothing in return for this. Let the old wizard get the artifact himself."
"Still the mercenary, aren't ye, Kelemvor," Elminster snapped. "If it's a reward ye seek-"
"Don't talk to me of reward," Kelemvor shouted. "Now that my curse is gone, I can take other things into consideration - like
Midnight's welfare and our future together. Besides, even if I was interested in making a pact, you'd be the last being in Faerun I'd
deal with. You reneged on our last agreement."
"I was indisposed," Elminster grumbled. "If ye could have waited for me to return instead of striking a bargain with the Black
Lord, perhaps I would be more impressed with thy words."
"We'll search for the other Tablet of Fate, too," Midnight said softly, then put her hand on Kelemvor's arm. "But only because it's
our duty and our choice. I refuse to be a pawn any longer."
Torm's words about duty and friendship echoed in Adon's mind as he moved forward and said, "We should wait a few days
before we try to retrieve the tablet. Let them think we've left the city. Then we can get the artifact in the temple and head toward
Waterdeep."
"But that still doesn't settle how we're going to get the Tablet of Fate from the temple's vault... if that's where it's being kept,"
Kelemvor said, and the heroes started their argument all over again.
They were still debating about how to retrieve the tablet when the shouting began outside. The heroes stepped out of the small,
ramshackle building and saw that the entire city had suddenly been engulfed in chaos. Worshipers of Torm, wearing pendants or
patches with the god's symbol, flooded from their homes as news of the deity's summons spread.
Adon grabbed a messenger and asked what was going on. The scarred man's face was pale when he returned to the heroes to
report. "It's Torm," the cleric told them, his voice quavering. "He's asking his faithful to come to the temple. He needs their help to fight
Lord Bane, who's coming from Scardale even as we speak."
The heroes quickly set off toward the Temple of Torm. As they traveled through the city, they found the streets littered with
bodies, though none of the corpses carried wounds of any sort. Supernatural winds ripped through the city, dragging strange, skyblue
vapors in the direction of the temple. Man-sized wraiths walked or flew toward the golden spires in the distance.
"Look there!" Kelemvor said, and pointed to a young man at the other end of the street who fell to his knees. The man was
dressed in the robes of a Tormish priest, and he shouted, "For Torm's eternal glory!" before he dropped to the ground. A burst of skyblue
flame rose from his body, then took to the unnatural winds.
"We'd best gather a few mounts and hurry to the temple," Elminster suggested and pointed toward a stable. The stable boy and
the owner lay in the street, dead. The heroes took four horses and set off down the twisting streets as quickly as they dared.
As they looked toward the spires of the citadel and the temple that stood beyond it, Midnight and her allies glimpsed an
impossible sight. A golden-skinned giant with the head of a lion towered over the temple. The strange winds flowed toward the
monster, and the sky-blue lights that had once been the soul energies of Torm's worshipers were absorbed into his body. The lionheaded
giant turned from the temple and looked toward Tantras's north shore, beyond the ridge of hills and the wall that protected the
city.
"It's Torm!" Elminster cried, reigning in his mount. 'He's created a new avatar to use in his fight with Bane."
"We'd best get to the temple before the battle starts," Midnight told the old sage. "If Torm loses, Bane will certainly recover the
tablet." The mage kicked her horse into motion again and clattered off down the street.
In minutes, Midnight, Kelemvor, Adon, and Elminster passed the citadel and dismounted before the main gates of Torm's
temple. All three sets of gates lay wide open. The guards had vanished from their posts. The gatehouses were ominously empty. The
silence inside the temple was frightening, too, and a dire contrast to the constant sounds of chanting and worship that Adon and
Elminster had both described. And as the heroes expected, corpses lined the halls.
"They've given their lives for Torm," Adon said softly. "Just like the others we saw in the streets." The cleric shook his head and
ushered the party toward Tenwealth's chamber.
"If there's a vault in the temple," the cleric noted as they walked, "there will probably be a door to it in the high priest's quarters."
But as Adon reached the door to Tenwealth's room, a guard called out from behind the heroes. "You there! Where do you think
you're going?"
"Go ahead," Elminster hissed. "I'll take care of this dolt. Ye just look for the vault."
Midnight stopped to protest, but Kelemvor grabbed her and pulled her into Tenwealth's room. Adon slammed the door closed
behind the fighter. "Quickly," the scarred man said. "Look for a secret door."
Midnight and her allies could hear Elminster's laughter, along with the guard's, as they searched. Then there was silence in the
hallway. Midnight went to open the door, but Kelemvor pulled her back. "Just find the door," he grumbled. Then you can worry about
the old man."
"But there's no doorway here," Adon cried at last, exasperated.
"None that we can see, anyway," Kelemvor noted sourly as be sat down in front of the door to the hallway.
Midnight put down the bag containing her spellbook and looked around the sparse cell. "You're right. Why should we think
Tenwealth put the door in plain sight? It's probably hidden by magic!"
The fighter stood up quickly, and the heroes circled the room, rapping on the walls. Finally, Kelemvor found a hollow section in
the center of one of the walls. "I'd say there's a doorway right here."
Midnight and Adon examined the wall. The cleric frowned and shook his head, but the mage wasn't discouraged so easily. "I
think a sequester spell has been used to hide the doorway," she said. "But how are we going to know for certain?"
Midnight knew that the only answer was another spell, but the thought of using magic, even a simple incantation, frightened her
terribly. Ever since the Temple of Lathander, Midnight had been terrified that the next spell she cast would injure someone... or even
kill one of her friends. As she turned the problem over in her mind, though, the mage remembered Mystra's final words to her at the
Battle of Shadowdale.
Use the power I gave you.
Midnight sighed and hung her head. "Get as close to the door as you can. Both of you." She walked to the section of the wall
Kelemvor had pointed to.
"Don't do this," the fighter pleaded. "You don't know what could happen."
"I'll never know unless I try," Midnight replied. "Besides, we didn't come all this way to give up now."
The mage recited the spell to detect magic. A blue-white pattern of energy shot from Midnight's hands and struck the wall. For a
moment, nothing happened then the wall began to shudder. Shards of mystical energy exploded from the hidden doorway, cutting
harmlessly through the heroes' bodies, and pure white daggers of light flashed into Midnight's right eye. As suddenly as it had started,
the shower of light ended.
Midnight stood in front of the door, trembling. "I think I can see it," she gasped, wavering on her feet. "I see the door to the
vault."
But the image the mage saw was strange, as if two different pictures had been placed, one over the other. If she kept both eyes
open, Midnight saw this confusing blur. However, the mage's vision cleared when she closed her right eye. Then she saw things
normally. She looked at the wall and saw only stone and paint.
When Midnight closed her left eye and looked only through the orb that had been struck by the daggers of light, she could see
the secret door clearly. In fact, through this eye, physical objects like the floor or the wall or even her friends appeared as ghostly gray
