Tantras (32 page)

“I’m intrigued,” Bane said as he paced back and forth in front of his throne. “For some reason, I actually think you’re telling me the truth.”

“I am,” Cyric told the god. “I’ve kept myself alive through much to offer my services to your cause.” The thief smiled and then explained the intricate series of deceptions that had kept him alive from the time Yarbro and Mikkel found him on the Ashaba’s banks to the present. Tarana stood by the thief with her arms folded across her breasts. The mad mage hugged herself tightly as the bloodshed and violence was exposed by Cyric’s casual narrative.

Bane shook his head as Cyric concluded his gory tale. “In the last few weeks, you’ve betrayed everything you once held dear. What do I offer that you want so badly?”

“Power,” Cyric snapped, a little too emphatically. “The power to shake empires one day.”

The Black Lord’s lips trembled in amusement. “You sound more like a rival than an ally, thief.”

Cyric took a step toward Bane’s throne. “The Realms are very large, Black Lord. When you have conquered them all, you will certainly be able to spare a small kingdom for me. After all, a true god cannot bother himself with the petty day-to-day operations of an entire world.” The thief paused and took another step toward the God of Strife. “Give me a kingdom to run.”

The Black Lord was stunned. “You have a gifted tongue, Cyric. Perhaps I should not waste such skills by slaughtering you where you stand, though that would be amusing.” Bane gestured for the sorceress to draw near. She had backed herself into a corner, near the door. “Have Durrock released from his torments and brought before me. We are going to give the thief a chance to hang himself.”

Tarana bowed and raced from the chamber.

When she was gone, Bane walked to the thief’s side. “Now that my insane assistant has scampered away, is there anything about the mage you have not told me?”

A name flashed into Cyric’s mind. Midnight’s true name. The words were poised on the end of his tongue, but he drew them back. With that information, the Black Lord could lay claim to the soul of the mage in an instant, and Cyric wasn’t sure that that would be at all acceptable. Not yet, anyway.

“No,” Cyric said firmly, looking up into the god’s eyes. “There is nothing else.”

The door to the chamber opened, and Durrock was brought before the Black Lord in chains. Cyric flinched as he stared at the assassin’s disfigured face. Then he realized that the burn marks were very old. Only a few of the scars that lined his body had been inflicted recently.

“I am in a forgiving mood this day, Durrock. I’m sure it won’t last,” Bane told the assassin then he returned to his throne. “I have a task for you, assassin. You will travel to Tantras with this thief and spy on his former allies. You know them quite well, since you escorted them into Scarsdale.”

Durrock stiffened and bowed his head. Before the scarred assassin looked to the ground, Cyric saw an intense hatred flash in Durrock’s eves.

Bane continued. “As I told you before, I do not want the mage killed. The cleric is of no consequence. As for the fighter, Kelemvor Lyonsbane, I want his head adorning a gate on this building as soon as possible. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” Bane asked sharply.

“You have, Lord Bane,” Durrock answered, his voice a growl.

“You have a question?” Bane said when Cyric didn’t answer quickly.

The thief nodded, glanced at Durrock then looked back at Bane. “What if they discover the location of the… artifact we spoke of? What if they try to take it from Tantras?”

Bane frowned and gripped his throne tightly. “Then, Cyric, they will all have to die.”

It had been two days since the heroes left the Port of Scarsdale in the stolen galley. At night, a glowing spot on the horizon had marked the location of the city the Queen of the Night journeyed toward. The cause of the unearthly light couldn’t be explained, but as the travelers drew closer to the city, the illumination grew brighter. Other than this strange light, the journey across the Dragon Reach was uneventful. The slaves prowled the upper decks in shifts, luxuriating in the feel of the warm sun upon their faces. Adon, as usual, kept to himself. Midnight divided her time between long hours with her spellbook and wonderful, tender moments of love with Kelemvor.

After the escape from Scarsdale, the fighter had been more relaxed than Midnight had ever seen him, though he did have occasional bouts of worry that the curse had not been lifted for good. Although she was happy, too, the mage found herself wondering if Kelemvor would be happier going back to the adventuring life, perhaps even sailing with Bjorn and his crew. She wondered, too, if the fighter desired to follow that course rather than put himself at risk in Tantras. Soon, the question started to plague Midnight. Similar circumstances had driven a wedge between the lovers before, in Shadowdale, and she did not want history to repeat itself.

Finally she confronted Kelemvor as they stood near the bow, looking out at waves ahead and the dark craggy shoreline that they were fast approaching. It was a few hours after morningfeast.

“I am going with you,” Kelemvor told her simply. “I have no destiny to fulfill, other than remaining at your side.” After a moment, he looked at the mage, a serious look on his face. “You, on the other hand, seem to have a grand destiny, a path laid out for you by the gods themselves.”

“But isn’t being dragged along in my wake, following me as I follow my destiny, just another curse, Kel?” Midnight asked somberly. “You’ll have less control of your life than you did before.”

The fighter took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I love you,” Midnight said softly, the words escaping her lips before she even realized what she was about to say.

“And I you,” Kelemvor whispered and kissed her again. The lovers stood in each other’s arms for a moment. “It won’t be long before we land,” the green-eyed fighter sighed at last. “We should alert Adon.” The lovers walked off, arm-in-arm.

Ten minutes later, Midnight and Kelemvor found Adon on the deck. Bjorn and Liane joined them. Tantras loomed in the distance.

“It’s not as big as Scarsdale, but it’s not that much different,” Bjorn told the heroes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the Living City?”

“We have business in Tantras,” Adon said, the light in his eyes darkening as he spoke.

An hour later, the Queen of the Night entered Tantras harbor. The tip of a huge ridge hooked into the Dragon Reach, forming a natural breakwall, and the ship sailed toward a gap in the southern part of the wall. Massive catapults guarded the harbor from positions along the rocky inner wall. The harbor was filled to overflowing with ships, and watchmen signaled the Queen of the Night to fly its color.

“Full stop,” Bjorn ordered then turned to the heroes. ”We don’t have any colors to fly, so we can’t move any closer. You can use a rowboat to get to shore. They won’t bother with us if we drop you then move off.”

“Fair enough,” Kelemvor agreed and slapped the captain on the back. Each of the heroes was given well-stocked travel bags, and their purses were filled with gold from the Zhentish ship’s stores, compliments of Bjorn and the crew. Then the heroes climbed down the rope ladder into a rowboat. Midnight seemed nervous as she settled onto the small boat, and she stared toward land whenever possible. Kelemvor recalled her many near-fatal accidents on the Ashaba and covered her hand with his own.

“I’ll row,” Adon said flatly, leaving the lovers to themselves. The cleric released the lines holding the boat in place then looked up at the Queen of the Night to see the captain waving farewell. Adon started to move the small boat toward Tantras.

“If we had stayed with Bjorn, it could have been a fresh beginning for us all,” Midnight said as she watched the stolen galley move away.

“I doubt it,” Kelemvor replied. “We’d be fighting in a week in the close quarters of a ship, at each other’s throats in a month.”

“You think so little of our relationship?” Midnight asked, genuinely surprised.

“Not at all,” the fighter said as he placed his arm around her waist. “But we both need the hint of danger in the air and open spaces to roam, don’t we? Makes life a bit more exciting.”

Midnight laughed a small, sharp, bitter laugh. “I’ve talked to gods and seen them destroyed, been put on trial for the murder of the Dales’ most powerful mage, and sentenced to death. I was nearly drowned in the Ashaba, and I’ve been hunted like a dog by the soldiers of a mad god. Boredom would not be unwelcome at this point, destiny or no.”

As the boat came within a hundred yards of the port, watchmen pointed the heroes to a small bay near the north end of the harbor. A small delegation of men, including two soldiers armed with swords and crossbows who wore the symbol of Torm - a metal gauntlet - met the heroes as they climbed from the ship and secured it to its moorings.

“Please state your business,” a middle-aged man at the head of the delegation asked them, a bored expression on his face.

Midnight explained all they had been through in Scarsdale although she left out their true purpose for journeying to Tantras.

“If you’ve made an enemy of the Black Lord, then you’ve made an ally of all of Tantras. My name’s Faulkner,” the middle-aged man told them happily.

As he stepped onto the dock, Kelemvor turned to Faulkner and asked, “What causes that odd light in the sky at night around here? We could see it from our ship when we were just halfway across the Dragon Reach!”

“Night?” Faulkner asked and snorted. “Night doesn’t come to Tantras anymore. Not since the time of Arrival, when Lord Torm, the God of Loyalty, revealed himself to us.”

“No night? It must be confusing,” Kelemvor muttered.

“Tantras is the city of eternal light,” Faulkner added and shrugged. “Our god sets the hours of the day for us; he puts loyalty in our hearts and reason in our heads. There is nothing confusing about it.”

Midnight realized that Adon was trembling slightly. Whether it was fear or rage that had been locked within the scarred young man, his emotions had been stirred by Faulkner’s words. Then the cleric turned and walked from the delegation in silence.

“You must excuse Adon,” Midnight told them desperately, her fear of insulting the soldiers evident in her voice. One of the other members of the delegation stepped forward.

“There’s no need to worry,” a young soldier named Sian said. He was a younger man, with thin black eyebrows and curly, black hair. “It’s rather obvious your friend was a cleric. How long has it been since he lost the way?”

As they slowly followed Adon’s path along the dock, Midnight explained how Adon had been scarred at the hands of the Gond worshipers in Tilverton, how he had lost his faith in himself and the Goddess of Beauty, whom he had worshiped most of his young life.

Sian nodded. “Many have lost their faith now that the gods walk in Faerun instead of the Planes. Perhaps your friend will find the peace he so requires in our fair city.”

Midnight felt Elminster’s sphere of detection resting against her back, through her backpack. “I’m afraid we won’t have much time for rest,” the mage said in a low voice as she turned and walked with Kelemvor and the delegation to the main buildings of the Port of Tantras. Adon was waiting with the watchmen when they got there.

In the next few hours, the heroes purchased fresh clothing and were given a brief description of the city’s layout. Tantras, like most cities, was protected by a wall. In this case, the wall encompassed the vast port city, stretching in a winding path to the rocky shore. A series of towers lined the northern ridge, where the Citadel of Tantras was located. The Temple of Torm - the focus of the city ever since the god himself arrived there - was located in the northern section of town, and most of the streets that led to it were on a sharp incline. A huge bell tower lay at the southern end of the city, with a military complex close by, making the area off limits to civilians. There were several abandoned temples in the area, and a shrine to Mystra in the far south, near the bell tower.

“Other than these landmarks, Tantras is quite unremarkable,” Sian concluded.

“Not completely unremarkable,” Adon noted, his voice completely flat. “It looks as if you’re preparing for war.”

Sian narrowed his eyes and stared at the cleric for a moment. “You’ve just come from Scarsdale, haven’t you? We’ve had several reports that confirm your description of the city’s condition. If Zhentil Keep and Lord Bane are trying to annex new territories and expand their evil empire, what makes you think they’ll settle for controlling only half of the Dragon Reach?”

“It was just an observation,” Adon replied coldly. “Besides, I would have expected Torm to protect you.”

“The city wasn’t built with the idea of a resident deity,” Sian said. “Torm’s arrival is fairly recent. The presence of our god should be a deterrent to any enemy, but the people are prepared to fight for themselves anyway.”

“I notice a number of refugee camps in the area,” Midnight noted, changing the subject as quickly as she could.

“The chaos in the Realms has driven some of our neighbors to seek the protection of our city,” Sian replied. “Others have fled south to Ravens Bluff or north to Calaunt. Hlintar has been practically deserted since an unnatural windstorm tore through the town and unearthed the graves of a few thousand of the town’s former residents. The skeletons came to life, and now the dead rule the city.”

Ten minutes later, the heroes were alone on an avenue that paralleled the harbor then stretched off toward the business district to the south. A wandering band of mimes and showmen passed the heroes and performed snippets of a half dozen different stories that ranged from bawdy, ribald comedy, to dark tragedy. The heroes tried to ignore the performers, but they had to part with a few gold pieces before the artists left them alone.

Merchants also lined the street, hawking their wares at the tops of their lungs. From the looks of many of the tradesmen, the chaos in the Realms was affecting business for the worst. Kelemvor simply browsed, though, and Midnight found a new braid for her hair. Adon wandered to an outdoor eatery.