begun," the raven-haired mage cried. "There's still time!"
The white-haired old sage rushed to the entrance to the tower, gesturing for Midnight to follow him. The instant he entered the
tower, though, all sound stopped. Midnight joined him. Elminster looked around, puzzled.
Without trying to explain the magical silence, Midnight looked up and saw the rope coiled beside the bell, almost a hundred feet
above them. She cursed silently and ran to the narrow, twisting stairway that led to the bell. Reaching the top, the raven-haired mage
looked out the window and saw the Black Lord moving toward the lion-headed avatar. She uncoiled the rope and allowed the knotted
end to fall to the sage.
Ring the bell! Midnight screamed in her mind and gestured frantically for Elminster to pull the rope. From the window, she could
see that the obsidian giant had moved closer to Torm. Kelemvor and Adon appeared at the door. Both looked confused by the
unnatural silence.
Elminster gestured for Midnight to come back down the stairs. The old mage had no idea how the bell would work, and he
certainly didn't want Midnight to be needlessly hurt when he used it.
Midnight was about twenty feet from the bottom of the long, winding stairs when the sage wrapped the rope around his hands
and tugged with all his strength.
Nothing happened.
Elminster tried again, but the bell made no sound. It didn't even move. Adon and Kelemvor grabbed the rope and all three tried
to ring it. Still nothing happened.
Red-faced and sweating, Elminster gritted his teeth and pointed at Midnight, who had just left the stairs. The old sage pushed
Adon and Kelemvor back and held the rope out to the mage.
The raven-haired woman nodded and took the rope. It felt very cold, and her sweaty palms seemed to burn as she passed her
hands over the line, attempting to get a secure grip. She thought of the thousands of people in the city who would die because of
Torm and Bane, and all those who had already laid down their lives. In her trembling hands was the power to save the city. Midnight
held her breath and pulled on the rope as hard she could.
The sound that echoed through the bell tower was so slight that Midnight feared for a moment that she'd only imagined it. Then
the mage felt a rush of cool air descend from above. She looked up and saw that the bell was now surrounded by a soft amber haze.
Streaks of black lightning played over the surface of the bell then shot out through the tower's windows.
"Ye usually can't trust 'em, but this time the prophecy was right!" Elminster croaked, clapping his hands together. "It took a
woman of power to save the city."
Kelemvor and Adon rushed to the doorway and watched as the black lightning reached out for two hundred feet in every
direction. The bolts then stopped as if they had reached a barrier. Next, the lightning formed an intricate network of arches that
curved down into the earth from the tower, forming the skeletal frame of a dome. The amber haze vanished from the bell then filled in
the gaps between the arches of lightning until the area around the bell tower was encased in an arcane shield.
The green-eyed fighter ran to the edge of the dome, found a stone, and threw it at the barrier. The rock bounced off the amber
curtain as if it had struck a solid wall. The city was still visible beyond the dome, and Adon could see that the avatars still stood to the
north, beyond Tantras's protective wall.
Elminster, too, was staring out at the barrier, but from inside the tower. He turned to Midnight, who stood with her eyes closed,
the bell's rope still in her hands. She felt as if every bit of strength had been drained from her body. "Are we safe?" she asked softly.
"We are, but the city isn't!" Elminster cried. "Ye must try again! The bell must be rung fully. Its sound must carry throughout
Tantras."
Sweat on her brow, Midnight looked up at the bell and dropped the rope. The cord dangled limply before her. Failure will put the
blood of all of Tantras on my hands, she thought. But I gave everything I had last time, and the bell barely sounded.
Midnight sighed. Duty above all, she reminded herself sourly, looking down at the bag containing the Tablet of Fate. Then the
mage forced away that thought and reached for the rope.
Elminster turned from the raven-haired woman and looked out the doorway, to the other side of Tantras.
Across the city, Torm and Bane stood face-to-face on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Dragon Reach. Both avatars were now
well over one hundred feet tall. As each god stood, silently studying his opponent's avatar, a cold smile formed on the Black Lord's
face.
"Lord Torm," Bane murmured sweetly. "My spies told me that you were in Tantras, but I never expected such a showy
reception."
"Is it true?" the God of Duty growled, the bestial features of his lion-headed avatar curling as he spoke.
"You'll have to be more specific," Bane sighed.
"Did you steal the Tablets of Fate?" Torm screamed. The god's voice echoed over the city. "Are you the one responsible for the
chaos in the world?"
"I cannot take all the credit," Bane noted calmly. "I had a fair amount of assistance. I'm sure you know by now that the Lord of
Bones aided me in the theft itself. And, of course, Ao's vast overreaction to that theft has played no small part in forging the unsettled
state of the world."
The God of Duty curled his huge hands into fists and took a step toward Bane. "You're insane," he growled. "Don't you realize
what you've done?"
Torm raised his right fist high over his head. There was a burst of light, and a metal gauntlet covered the hand. Next, the lionheaded
giant waved his gauntleted fist and a huge, flaming sword flashed into existence, seemingly from the air itself. Finally, the
God of Duty bent his left arm slightly, and a shield bearing his symbol appeared. Torm took another step forward and raised his sword
to strike.
The God of Strife stood his ground and sighed. "You have no idea what you're doing, Torm. If you destroy me, your pitiful little
encampment will be wiped from the face of Faerun."
Torm stopped for an instant then took another step forward. "You're lying."
Bane laughed, and the deep, bellowing noise shook the roofs on the houses near the city wall. "I saw Mystra destroyed in
Cormyr, you fool. She tried to return to the Planes, and Helm simply murdered her." The obsidian avatar paused and smiled. "And
when she died, bolts of energy swept the land and destroyed everything for miles around. It was actually rather pleasant."
Torm stood in shocked silence, so Bane continued. "I am here to retrieve something of mine that I left in Tantras a short time
ago. Allow my soldiers to take my property to one of my ships, and I will leave," the Black Lord lied. "There need not be any violence
between us."
"Something of yours?" Torm asked, shocked out of his silence. "You mean the Tablet of Fate that found its way to my temple."
Bane was genuinely surprised. If Torm had the tablet, why hadn't he simply returned it to Helm? the dark god wondered.
Actually, it didn't matter, as long as the tablet was still in Faerun and not in Ao's hands. "I placed the Tablet of Fate in your temple
myself, only a few hours before Ao cast us out of our homes," Bane said, trying to seem at ease. "I thought it was a rather amusing
little joke, hiding something stolen by an unfaithful servant in a temple to the God of Duty."
Torm gripped his sword tightly. "Turn back, Bane. I will not let you take the tablet. It belongs to Ao and it's my sworn duty-"
Bane snorted. "Please spare me the lecture on duty, Torm. You should know me well enough by now to realize that an appeal
to honor is the last thing that would impress me."
"Then we have nothing else to say, Lord Bane," Torm spat. "If you will not leave, prepare to defend yourself."
Bane took a step back as Torm's sword sliced the air in front of him. Bane willed a night-black shield to materialize on his arm,
and he raised it just in time to block Torm's next blow. There was an explosion as the mystical sword and shield met. Both items
shattered into fragments of energy and dissipated.
Bane surged forward and rammed into Torm. The God of Duty had raised his shield in time to protect himself from the deadly
spikes jutting from the obsidian avatar, but the shield itself shattered from the blow. The God of Duty and the God of Strife stumbled
together, back through the twenty-five-foot wall that surrounded Tantras. The giants crashed into Torm's temple, and part of the
building collapsed.
Bane pushed Torm against the remains of the temple, and huge chunks of stone toppled to the ground. From somewhere close
by, the God of Duty heard tiny screams. Panic seized Torm as he realized that the cries were coming from the few people left in his
house of worship.
The God of Duty struck Bane in the throat. When the God of Strife fell back from the force of the blow, Torm struck him again
and again in the same spot. The God of Strife felt a slight crack open in his neck, and he reached out in desperation to grab Torm's
mailed fist.
At the same time, the God of Duty opened the massive jaws of his lion head and leaned toward the Black Lord's face. The God
of Strife fell backward to avoid the rows of jagged, golden teeth, and Torm's mouth snapped shut in the air near Bane's neck. Seeing
that the Black Lord was off balance, Torm drove his foot into the obsidian giant's chest and pushed him back outside the crumbled
city wall. The God of Strife crashed to the ground, sending tremors throughout Tantras.
Torm stood over Bane and raised his mailed fist. The Black Lord struggled to rise, but the huge spikes in his armor had been
pushed deep into the hard earth by his fall. Torm's fist crashed into Bane's throat again, and the tiny, almost imperceptible fissure
there opened wider. A tiny flow of reddish amber light seeped into the air.
But Torm did not escape this attack unharmed either. As Bane thrashed about, trying to defend himself against the God of Duty,
one of the spikes on the Black Lord's armor punctured Torm's lower arm. The lion-headed avatar wailed in pain, and he fell back,
clutching his ragged wound.
As the God of Duty stumbled away from the Black Lord, toward the edge of the cliff, he felt a horrible weakness. Looking down
to the wound Bane had inflicted, the god saw a steady flow of sky-blue light pouring into the air. He felt a morbid fascination as he
watched the soul energies of his worshipers pass from the ragged hole. Torm looked away from the wound just in time to see the
Black Lord's fist crash into his face.
Stunned by the ferocity of the attack, Torm was unprepared as the God of Strife struck him again. After the second blow, the
God of Duty swung wildly at the Black Lord and hit him in the face with the back of his hand. Bane's head snapped back and a small
chip flew from his face. The God of Strife instinctively raised his hand to the wound. In the shiny black of the avatar's hand, the fallen
god glimpsed a reflection of the tiny jet of the greenish amber flame that escaped from the hole. With a scream, Bane leaped forward
and tackled Torm.
Both avatars tumbled over the edge of the cliff. As the giants fell, they separated. Bane struck the mountainside twice before he
landed on the rocky shore. Torm, another hole in his shoulder from the spikes on Bane's body, reached out and tore a tree from its
roots in an effort to slow his descent. The effort was futile, of course, and he crashed to the beach several hundred yards from the
Black Lord. For the avatars, though, this was a distance that could be crossed in seconds.
Torm rose first. As he stood up, he saw two ships that bore the Zhentish flag wallowing in the Dragon Reach, far from shore. A
few small boats were rushing to shore, up the coast a little ways off. The God of Duty swore a silent oath that he would kill every
Zhentish invader he could catch... as soon as he had slain their master.
The Black Lord was only now beginning to rise. As he lifted his head from the sand, Bane looked down and saw another crack
in his chest. More reddish black vapors streamed from the opening. "You fool," the God of Strife hissed. He looked up and saw Torm
standing over him.
The God of Duty held a boulder over his head. The chunk of stone was so large that the giant, lion-headed avatar was using
both hands to hold it up. "You must pay for your sins," Torm said flatly, then smashed the boulder over Bane's head. The rock burst
into pieces and more of the obsidian avatar's face cracked. In return, Bane impaled the God of Duty's leg with one of the spikes on
his arm. Torm stumbled back, a geyser of soul energy rising from his wounds.
"I'm dying!" Bane cried as he staggered to his feet. He looked at his wounds, saw his energy draining away. The Black Lord's
eyes blazed with crimson light as he lowered himself into a crouch. "Come, Torm. We will visit Myrkul's kingdom together."
Before the God of Duty could get away, the Black Lord charged to his side, grabbed his shoulders, and drew Torm into a deadly
embrace. A dozen spikes pierced the lion-headed avatar, and Torm roared in pain.
The juggernauts teetered back and forth for a moment, standing only because they were supporting one another. Bane laughed,
low and hollow, and the sound drifted out over the Dragon Reach. Torm looked into the Black Lord's eyes, then opened his sharptoothed
maw and slowly brought the rows of teeth down upon Bane's throat.
The God of Strife's laughter abruptly ceased.
On the southern hill of Tantras, Midnight released her hold on the bell's rope. It was no use. She had tried time and again to
force the Bell of Aylen Attricus to sound once more, but she had failed.
"Try again!" Elminster snapped then turned to look out at the sky over Tantras.
"Elminster, I can't," Midnight cried, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
The old sage did not take his gaze from the strange lights above the city. The frail bonds of reality seemed to be coming undone
