Tantras

X

"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 fight.

"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 Scardale. I'm going to find a lass to help me relieve my tensions!"

The guards laughed and nodded as they dragged the slave away.

On the dock, Kelemvor turned to Midnight. "Perhaps you could — "

The mage froze the fighter with her stare. "Even if I pretended to be a trollop, it would do no good. These men have been given my description. They would see through the ruse in an instant."

"There's only one place the galley master can go that's close by, and the proprietor is a friend of mine," Varden said softly. "We can take him when he gets there."

Kelemvor watched as the galley master, a short, strongly built man with a thick, black mustache, left the boat and approached the lone watchman near the heroes.

"We should ambush him in the shadows and save ourselves the bother," Adon said quietly, lifting his war hammer slightly to emphasize his words.

Adon's suggestion surprised Kelemvor. "I'll go along with that," the fighter said and smiled at the cleric. "But only if the opportunity presents itself as we follow him to this establishment run by Varden's friend."

The heroes tried to follow the galley master, but the short man kept to streets that were heavily patrolled. Within a few minutes, they had lost him.

"It doesn't matter," Varden muttered as the heroes hid in a darkened alley. "He went in the direction of the Fatted Calf Tavern, just as I thought he would."

The thief knew a short cut, and the heroes were soon at the rear of the tavern, in a dark, dirty alley. "Wait here," Varden whispered. The thief went around to the front of the tavern and vanished inside.

Five minutes later, the tavern's rear door opened, and Varden stood silhouetted in light, grinning from ear to ear. "Good evening and welcome to the Fatted Calf," the thief announced proudly as he ushered the heroes inside. "May I take your order?"

Kelemvor allowed his allies to go in before him then he closed the door. The room they entered was very small and decorated with beautiful, multicolored veils that were draped from various points in the wall and ceiling. The light in the room came from lanterns, and shades of soft blue and red played across the heroes' features. A bed, a table, and a few chairs made up the furnishings.

"The galley master's name is Otto," Varden noted. "My fiance will be bringing him in here any moment." He turned to Kelemvor, who had hefted a small chair. "Do be careful not to hit the girl."

Midnight laughed. "You're going to be married?"

Varden shrugged. "I had to keep telling this wench something to get her to go along with my wild schemes — like this one." He paused and smiled. "Besides, her father owns the tavern. There's money in this family."

There was a sound at the door, and from his position next to the entrance, Kelemvor motioned for silence. The other heroes crowded on the other side of the door, out of the line of view of anyone entering. The smell of bad liquor wafted into the room before the galley master, and the sound of celebration came from the taproom as the door opened.

Otto, the galley master, stumbled into the room on the arm of a beautiful woman dressed in bright, golden robes, pulled tightly to display her perfect figure. Her hair was the color of honey and matched her clothing. Bits of jewelry sparkled from her hands, neck, and waist. Her features were stunning, and she had captured the attentions of the galley master completely.

Kelemvor grimaced. The woman was on his side of the door. But as she entered the room, Varden's fiance cried out, tripped, and fell forward. The galley master bent instinctively, and Kelemvor crashed the chair over his head. Varden slammed the door shut and locked it behind them.

"I want a ring, and I want a ceremony," the golden-haired woman told Varden. "None of this sneaking about in the middle of the night and getting married in the Hall of Records. Do you understand me, Varden?"

The thief opened his mouth.

"Further, this thieving business is out of the question. You've never made enough at it to convince me it's a viable means of earning a living. I thought you could apprentice with Daddy, then — "

"Shut up and kiss me," Varden said as he grabbed her waist and pulled the woman to him. Their lips met, and the kiss lasted long enough for Kelemvor to drag Otto to the bed and set him on it.

Varden's fiance sighed. "I thought I was going to have to talk about our old age together before you got motivated to do that."

Varden smirked and turned to the heroes. "This is Liane."

The woman bowed slightly then looked to Otto. "What are you going to do with him?"

"The question is, my dear, 'what are we going to do with him.'" Varden said.

Adon watched the lovers in silence. There was a time, not very long ago, when he had played Varden's role: the lover, the fool. Liane caught sight of the cleric and shuddered when she saw the scar that lined his face. Adon had grown used to the reaction, but a slight shiver of pain ran up his spine. He turned away to open the door and check the alley.

Twenty minutes later, Varden and Liane stood on either side of the galley master as they dragged him back to his ship. The lone watchman approached, and the galley master mumbled incoherently. The stink of the cheap wine wafted from the short man.

"Tipped back a few too many," Varden said, just loud enough for the heroes to hear him from their hiding place a few yards away. The watchman laughed, made a few crude jokes, and gestured for the trio to move along.

"Say, you're a cute little thing," the grubby dock guard commented to Liane when he noticed the woman staring at him with a wicked grin. "If you go on that ship, we'll never see you again. All the fine young men on board will never let you go!"

Liane sauntered to the watchman's side, leaving Varden to struggle with Otto. "What are my alternatives?" Liane asked as she circled the guard. The man turned to follow Liane with his eyes, and when his back faced the ship's walkway, Kelemvor and the others broke from the shadows and ran to help Varden with Otto. Liane threw her head back, ran her hands through her hair, and slowly traced a path down the luscious, smooth skin of her neck, allowing her hands to come together and follow a straight line to the sash at her waist.

The watchman sighed.

In moments, Varden and the heroes had Otto on board the Queen of the Night. Midnight, Kelemvor, and Adon hid as Varden called out, "Fair lady, he's getting kind of heavy, and you're the prize he came ashore to find, not I, a humble serving boy!"

Kelemvor shook his head at the thief's overwrought performance.

At the walkway, Liane said farewell to the watchman and promised to look him up when she returned from the ship. The woman tried to appear casual and unhurried as she made her way to the boat, although her hands were shaking the entire time.

The heroes dragged the galley master back through the shadows, then below deck, where the slaves waited. Bjorn the One-Eyed sat at his station, mumbling curses. Suddenly the body of the galley master fell before the slave, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. Kelemvor smiled at the slave and pulled back the flaps of the galley master's coat to reveal a huge set of keys tied to the man's waist.

"That's a sight I'll wager you hadn't expected to see this night," Kelemvor noted softly as he tore the keys from the groaning galley master and handed them to Bjorn.

"He was a cruel taskmaster," one of the slaves said from the shadows of the slave hold. "He'd beat us — whip us — for no reason."

"No one escaped his punishment," another slave cried.

The tide of condemnations grew, but the shouts abruptly ended with the sharp, metallic click of Bjorn opening his chains. The wildman stood up, a bit shaky on his feet at first, but proud and tall. In fact, the slave towered over the heroes.

Bjorn grabbed the galley master's hair and pulled the man up to look at him. "Remember the promise I made earlier this evening about what I'd do with your arms and legs?" the wildman growled. The slave grabbed a metal clamp and locked it in place around Otto's throat. "Keep thinking about it." Then the one-eyed man turned to face the heroes. "You've come to liberate us? What for? What do you want in return?"

The fighter smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Safe passage to Tantras. Then the ship is yours," Kelemvor said.

Bjorn studied the fighter with his one good eye. A smile broke over his face, and he threw the set of keys to the next slave. "A fair deal," Bjorn decided and looked to the army of slaves. "What about the rest of you?" There were cheers as the slaves were unchained, one by one. Cries of allegiance to the new captain of the Queen of the Night, Bjorn the One-Eyed, filled the hold.

"How many of you men want to see the stars once again?" Bjorn asked. The slaves roared in approval.

Moments later, the sight of the minor skirmish taking place on the Queen of the Night between the freed slaves and the few Zhentish sailors still on the ship did not escape the notice of the grubby watchman. As the Zhentish were pitched overboard, alarms were sounded.

On the ship, Kelemvor watched as Adon clubbed a Zhentilar with his war hammer. The soldier was still alive, and the cleric was about to strike again when Kelemvor raised his hand. "A few should be kept alive as hostages. Perhaps they'll have information we can use!" Kelemvor ordered as he lowered the cleric's hand.

"We'd best secure the prisoners in the hold, then," the cleric noted. Looking at the harbor, Adon grimaced. The alarm had been sounded, and a few soldiers raced in their direction.

"They're more observant than I would have wagered," Kelemvor yelled, then turned to Bjorn. "Do what you have to do. Just get us out of here!"

The battle with the few Zhentilar that boarded the galley was very short. Despite their training and their superior weapons, the Zhentilar could not compensate for the large numbers of slaves that waited for them onboard the ship.

When the fighting was over, Bjorn had ordered as many of the slaves as he could spare to take their stations at the oars. The one-eyed man was now the galley master. The rhythmic sound of drums filled the night, and the Queen of the Night soon raised anchor and pulled away from the dock.

Soon after they had left the harbor, Midnight rushed to Kelemvor's side. "Look there," Midnight cried, pointing back toward Scardale.

Two of Bane's ships had left the dock in pursuit of the captured galley.

"Wonderful!" Bjorn cried out as he was informed of the news. "Those dogs have given us no choice. We turn and fight!"

In moments, the ship was alive with activity, and the Queen of the Night turned to intercept the closer of the Zhentish ships. The catapults on the deck were filled with everything the men could get their hands on, including the Zhentish corpses that had not yet been cast over the side.

From the cries of panic that sounded from the opposing ship as the Queen drew close, Kelemvor realized that the Zhentish were hardly prepared for this type of battle. The majority of their crew was probably on shore leave, celebrating the fall of Scardale with the crew of the Queen of the Night and the rest of Bane's forces.

"Ramming speed!" Bjorn cried, a maniacal glint in his one good eye.

The ships collided, and a hole was torn in the side of the pursuing Zhentish ship. The Queen of the Night withdrew, and the second Zhentish ship moved in to pick up survivors as the Queen sailed out into the Dragon Reach. But before the galley could put a hundred yards between it and the other Zhentish ship, there was a cry from the bridge. Kelemvor looked up and saw a horrible shape floating in the air above the galley.

Kelemvor's mind seemed to freeze as he realized that Bane must have discovered his betrayal. Sejanus had escaped the suits of animated armor and now sat astride his nightmare, ready to attack the galley. The assassin's bolos whirled in the air. The fighter looked to the bow and saw Midnight about to throw a spell.

"Midnight, get out of the way!" Kelemvor cried, but he was too late. The bolos flew through the air. In seconds, the weapon would wrap around Midnight's torso, and they would knock her over the edge of the ship, into the water. Sejanus would have his prisoner at last.

Suddenly Varden appeared beside the mage and shoved her to the side. The bolos wrapped around the blond thief's neck, and Midnight heard a sickening snap as her friend's neck broke. Varden fell over the side of the ship, already dead.

"No!" Midnight wailed in horror. Images of Cyric being swept away in the Ashaba flooded the mage's mind. She raised her hands once more. Her fingers moved like quicksilver, and the incantation flew from her lips so quickly that it sounded like gibberish.

The assassin reigned in the nightmare and hovered in place for an instant, the extent of his error suddenly becoming clear. A spiral of light leaped from Midnight's hands and struck the water below Sejanus. He was startled to find no ill effects from the spell. Whatever incantation the mage had tried had gone awry. Ordering his mount to descend toward their prey, the assassin charged toward the Queen of the Night.

But as Sejanus raced down through the air, the nightmare he rode slapping fiery hoofprints into the sky, a group of huge, black tentacles burst from the dark green water next to the galley. Pulling a knife from his boot, the assassin looked down and saw the horrible sight. Dozens of writhing, slimy limbs were rising up toward him, curling around the nightmare's legs.

This is only an illusion, Sejanus thought. These figments cannot harm me.

He was wrong.

The tentacles grabbed the assassin and his mount and carefully, methodically pulled them apart. When the last of the black limbs sank back into the Dragon Reach, Midnight collapsed. The few small pieces of Sejanus's armor that had stayed afloat for a moment after striking the water now sank beneath the bloody waves.

Several hours passed, and Midnight would not speak. Liane had been told of Varden's death, and she too had kept to herself. At highsun the following day, Midnight joined Kelemvor in the private quarters Bjorn had set aside for his guests.

The mage was still badly shaken. "How could I have done that?" she asked as she entered the cabin.

"He deserved death," Kelemvor concluded coldly. "An assassin doesn't feel remorse. He doesn't care about the agony he causes to those left behind. You've done the Realms a favor."

"That's not what I mean," Midnight said. "The spell I used. It should have been a fireball spell. That was all I had time to learn when we reached the Sembian's safe house. But something else happened. Something else completely."

Kelemvor shrugged. "Magic is unstable, remember? We both know that."

Midnight shook her head, trying to scatter the unwanted questions that had grown there since the incident. "Was that all?" the mage asked.

Kelemvor sensed the apprehension in his lover's voice. "Aye," he said, reassuring the raven-haired mage. "What else could it be?"

Midnight shuddered. "No more talk," she said as she drew the fighter close to her. "We've been apart for far too long to talk this day away." Kelemvor kissed her then smiled. "I told you there would be time for us," he reminded her softly.

It was the following day when the lovers left the cabin. On deck, they noticed Adon talking with Liane. The scarred cleric placed a comforting hand on the woman's back as he gestured out to sea. Liane sniffed the flower she held tightly in her hands, then leaned over the railing and faced east, toward Scardale and the spot where Varden's body had sunk beneath the sea.

"I forgive you," she said quietly and cast the flower upon the waters of the Dragon Reach.