Tantras

XVI

As Elminster and the heroes flew over Tantras, they looked down at the chaos that gripped the city. People rushed through the streets. Worshipers of Torm were still dying everywhere. As they surrendered their lives to the God of Duty, the faithful sent their souls — sky-blue streaks of light through the avenues, forming beautiful patterns. Then the souls mingled and flowed toward Torm's lion-headed avatar.

The Tantrasan military was out in full force, too. The soldiers attempted to direct the people rushing away from the avatars toward the garrison in the south. Most of Tantras's citizens simply ran blindly in that direction anyway. In the harbor, ships were being prepared for battle, and the catapults on the breakwater were being loaded. The small Zhentish fleet remained just out of reach of the weaponry and made no move to advance into the harbor.

Kelemvor had never flown before, and the high, thin air that rushed at his face made him light-headed and giddy. As the green-eyed fighter looked at the sky, he marveled at how close he was to the clouds and how far he'd have to fall before hitting the ground if Elminster's spell failed.

Flight was new to Adon, too, but the scarred cleric stared at the city, not the sky. A strange sense of wonder passed through him. Is this how a god sees Faerun from the heavens? he thought. A world filled with thousands of tiny beings frantically scurrying about? The cleric shuddered and closed his eyes.

Midnight looked back toward the temple and could see Torm standing near the shore of the Dragon Reach, on the edge of a high cliff. A huge, dark shape covered with spikes was climbing out of the water. The mage thought back to Mystra's battle with Helm outside Castle Kilgrave, and a sickness filled her soul. Midnight knew in that instant that Mystra was not the last god she would see die before the Tablets of Fate were returned to Lord Ao.

Elminster, on the other hand, fixed his gaze dead ahead and thought only of maintaining the flight spell.

In the near distance lay the clearing that held Mystra's shrine. Soon the heroes could clearly see the tower that housed the Bell of Aylen Attricus. Within minutes, Midnight and her allies found themselves at the foot of the large stone obelisk.

Midnight turned to the north. Torm still stood perfectly still, watching Bane, who now stood on the shore. "The battle has not yet 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 lion-headed 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 sharp-toothed 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 and lines of force were snaking out across the sky. The center of this web of energy rested just above the avatar's battleground and took the form of a swirling vortex that rose toward the clouds. Sky-blue streaks of power intertwined with amber, green, and reddish black strands. The souls of the followers of the Black Lord and the God of Duty battled for control of Tantras, even beyond death.

Huge, glowing meteors had begun to rain down upon the city, too. The fiery balls struck the earth in every direction. Some demolished buildings, others devastated ships in the harbor. As Adon watched, one fireball tore a hole in the side of a Zhentish craft and the galley foundered then sank in the Dragon Reach.

Still another meteor struck the amber dome that protected the bell tower. Though it couldn't reach the heroes, the glowing chunk of rock bounced off the magical wall and fell into the hundreds of panicked Tantrasans who had seen the shield from the distance and had flocked around it. Kelemvor had to watch in helpless anger as the meteor killed two dozen people and injured a score more.

Inside the tower, Elminster felt his aged heart racing. "Ye must try again," the sage said slowly, turning back to the raven-haired mage.

Midnight fell to her knees, the rope in her hands. "Can't you teleport some of the refugees inside the shield?"

"Magic won't penetrate this barrier," Elminster grumbled. "Ye should know that."

The old sage paused and walked to Midnight's side. He helped her to her feet and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Midnight," Elminster said in a comforting tone the mage would never have associated with the cranky old sage, "ye alone have the power to complete this task. Mystra believed in ye. It's about time ye did the same and justified her trust. Now, force away thy fears and concentrate on saving this city."

With those words, the old sage turned and left the tower. Midnight stared up at the bell and imagined it ringing. For a moment she could almost see the bell swinging back and forth in the tower, its rich tones filling her ears. She closed her eyes and the image remained. In that instant, Midnight finally understood the reason for the magical silence that gripped the tower before the bell was rung. Only by blocking out all distraction, by concentrating fully on the task of ringing the bell, could a mage hope to make it sound.

For a moment, Midnight did not think. She did not feel. For an instant, she didn't even breathe.

Then, the raven-haired mage pulled the rope, and the Bell of Aylen Attricus sang out again, its song of power so loud that it nearly deafened her. The bell tower glowed with a bright amber light, and a terrifying chill flowed down and engulfed Midnight. Amber waves of energy and black lightning flashed in the tower then leaped from the high windows to the dome that protected the heroes. The walls of the shield quickly spread outward, and the huddled Tantrasans suddenly found themselves safe within its confines.

Midnight ran to the tower's door and watched as the dome continued to expand. She gasped, though, as she saw that the shield was slowing as it moved across the southern hill. She raced back inside and grabbed the rope once more. The mage pulled with all her strength, ignoring the blasts of cold and the maddening sound of the bell tolling. She pulled on the rope again and again, with no regard for herself. All that mattered was the city.

Still, Midnight was only human, and after a time that seemed like an eternity to her, the mage felt her arms grow limp, her hands slide from the rope, and her legs buckle beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. When Midnight opened her eyes again, only a moment had passed, but Elminster, Kelemvor, and Adon were now inside the tower with her.

The green-eyed fighter fell to his knees and threw his arms around Midnight. "The shield is over the city," Kelemvor said. "It's over."

"I don't think so," Adon whispered as he turned back to the door.

The cleric saw that the shield was still expanding, although it had not yet reached the citadel and the Temple of Torm. Suddenly there was an explosion that made the sound of the bell tolling seem like a small child clapping his hands. A massive, night-black form rose over the north hill of the city. The shape was amorphous, and a blood-red spiral of energy curled within its center. A second shape rose behind the ebon blob, but it was sky blue with an amber core that looked not unlike a shining sun.

The unprotected part of the city, which contained both the Temple of Torm and the citadel, was covered by a wave of searing flame. The land turned black, and the waters of the Dragon Reach bubbled and changed to vapor under the intense heat. The Zhentish ships exploded as the waves of flame struck them. Bane's troops died instantly.

On the shore to the north of the city, the discarded bodies of the avatars lay upon the rocks, charred and brittle. Bane's obsidian giant was shattered in a dozen places, and its head lay yards from its body. The golden-skinned avatar of the God of Duty had been ripped to shreds, and its proud lion's head lay twisted, its soulless eyes staring up toward the essences of the rival gods that hung over the coast.

In the sky, the pulsating essences of Bane and Torm were dragged upward, caught in the pull of the vortex created by the freed souls of their followers. The vortex swallowed the shimmering, swirling masses that had once been gods, and a blinding white flash filled the air. The crimson spiral, the heart of what had once been Lord Bane, the God of Strife and Tyranny, and the amber soul of Lord Torm, the God of Duty and Loyalty, met in the whirlwind. A high-pitched shriek, the final cries of both gods, filled the air. The vortex swallowed the deities and the screams stopped. Both gods were dead.

At the Tower of Aylen Attricus, Kelemvor and Adon helped Midnight to her feet. Together, they walked from the stone obelisk, Elminster trailing behind them. A group of Tantrasans had gathered around the tower, and the crowd was suddenly silent as the heroes stepped outside.

Midnight smiled when she saw the people gathered around, safe from the destruction that had savaged the northern shoreline, but when she looked closer and saw the awe in their faces, she shuddered. Their expressions were composed of the same look of fear mixed with adoration that the mage had seen on the faces of those who'd given their lives for Torm.

Softly, she asked Adon and Kelemvor to give her a moment alone with the old sage. As soon as her friends had walked away, Midnight turned to Elminster and asked, "What do you know about my powers?"

"I have suspected many things since the first day ye arrived at my doorstep in Shadowdale. As for the true nature of your talents or what grand schemes ye may use them to pursue, I cannot help ye." Elminster paused and smiled. "Mystra has blessed ye, I think. Perhaps the Council of Wizards in Waterdeep may be willing to hear your tale and offer some guidance. I could put in a word for ye, if ye like…"

Midnight sighed and shook her head. "Why do you feel it necessary to taunt and tantalize and drive us to fits of near-insanity just to get us to follow your suggestions, Elminster?" the raven-haired mage asked. "If the second Tablet of Fate is in Waterdeep, then we'll go to Waterdeep. Just tell me the truth: Do you know where in Waterdeep the tablet has been hidden?"

The sage shook his head. "Sadly, I do not."

"That will make the task difficult," Midnight noted sadly. "But probably no more so than finding the first of the pair." The mage hefted the bag containing the tablet and slung it over her shoulder.

"Aye," Elminster laughed. "Difficult, but not impossible." He turned away from the mage and looked out over the city. "But we can discuss this later. There are more pressing matters that call for our attention at the moment."

Elminster pointed to the refugees that had been wounded by the meteor earlier. Kelemvor and Adon were already moving through the ranks of the injured, trying to give whatever aid they could. Midnight smiled as she watched her lover and the scarred cleric.

After a moment, the raven-haired mage looked up at the sky. The vortex was gone, and sunlight streamed through the amber shield that still hung over the city. Midnight gasped slightly when she noticed that the position of the sun was changing. The sky was actually getting dark. By eveningfeast, the eternal light that had graced Tantras since the time of Arrival would only be a memory. They'll be better off without it, Midnight decided and walked with Elminster toward the refugees.