Tantras at-2 Read online

  "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 Scardale."

  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 Scardale 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 Scardale, 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 Scardale, 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 row-boat. 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 Scardale 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.

&n
bsp; "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 Scardale, 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.

  The cleric was sampling an odd-looking combination of bread, filleted meat, and a tangy red sauce topped with ground black peppers. "Delicious," the cleric told the vender, then passed the wooden bowl on to Kelemvor, who also sampled the food.

  "There's an inn ten blocks from here that posted a vacancy sign this morning," the vender told the heroes. "You should get there before all the rooms are taken."

  The cleric paid for the food and thanked the vender for the information. Then the heroes went in search of the inn. After becoming lost three times in the winding city streets and receiving directions that only led them deeper into the twisted city center, the heroes found the Lazy Moon Inn. As they entered, a young man wearing a red frock with gold trim appeared before the heroes.

  "How long will you be staying?" the boy asked, his voice cold and efficient.

  "We don't know yet, but this should cover everything," Kelemvor said gruffly and slapped a few coins into the boy's hand. "We'll take two rooms," the fighter added. "At least until the end of the week."

  The inn was of a simplistic design, with a large taproom, kitchen, and storeroom on the ground floor, and guest rooms on the upper two floors. A shield bearing the symbol of Torm lay on its side in the corner, next to the boy.

  The young man insisted on carrying the heroes' travel bags, although he was clearly struggling to keep his balance as he led Kelemvor, Midnight, and Adon up a wooden, spiral stairway that led to the third floor of the inn. After dismissing the boy and checking over their rooms, the heroes met in the taproom. It was well before eveningfeast, so few other people were present.

  "Here we are," Kelemvor said. "Tantras." A deep breath escaped the fighter. "Midnight, how will we recognize this tablet of yours? Better still, what are we going to do with it once we find it?"

  "If we find it," Adon said darkly, drumming his fingers nervously on the greasy, unwashed table.

  "We will find it," Midnight noted firmly, turning to look at the cleric. "The sphere of detection Lhaeo gave us will shatter when it's near an object of great magical power, such as the missing Tablets of Fate." The mage paused and turned to Kelemvor. "As to their appearance, Mystra's final message to me at Castle Kilgrave contained an image of the tablets. They are made of clay and stand less than two feet high. Fiery blue-white runes line their surfaces. They radiate powerful magic."

  "But magic is unreliable," Kelemvor grumbled, waving for the barmaid to bring him an ale. "Who's to say this sphere of yours is even going to work? And where will we look? We can't cover every square inch of this city on our own. It's far too large." The green-eyed fighter scowled and looked away from his friends. "Besides, we have to assume that Bane will send agents to find us. His people might even move the tablet before we can find it."

  Midnight ran her hands over her face and looked to the open doorway. The perfect sunlight from without had not changed since their arrival. "If we are to believe the men who greeted us at the dock, we'll be able to search in daylight. That, at least, will work against many of Bane's agents."

  The barmaid brought the fighter's ale, and the heroes were silent until the pretty girl left them. As soon as she was out of earshot, though, Kelemvor pounded the table with his fist and hissed, "We can't go completely without sleep. Do you want to leave yourself open to attack because you're too tired to properly defend yourself? We need a better plan than just searching the city at random until we find the damned tablet."

  "Then what do you suggest?" Midnight snapped, the weariness in her soul bleeding through to darken the tone of her words.

  The fighter sighed and closed his eyes. "First, we should split up," Kelemvor said. "We can cover far more ground that way."

  The mage shook her head. "We have only one object capable of locating the tablet. If I take the sphere, what can you two possibly hope to accomplish on your own?"

  Kelemvor ignored the edge in Midnight's voice and tried to calm himself. "I tried to get Bane to tell me where the Tablet of Fate was hidden. He wouldn't tell me directly, but he did say something about 'having faith.' I didn't make anything of the remark at the time, but it could be an important clue."

  A thought shot into Adon's mind, and the cleric smiled. "The temples," he said simply. "Bane could have been plating off the word 'faith.' Not unusual for a
god these days." Adon ran his hand over his scar. "And Faulkner said there were a number of deserted temples in the city. The Tablet of Fate could be hidden in one of them."

  "Well, that's a start anyway," Midnight told Adon, then turned to the fighter. "As to your other question, Kel, there's only one thing we can do with the Tablet of Fate when we find it. Elminster explained that there are Celestial Stairways — paths to the Planes — scattered throughout Faerun. Only gods or mages of Elminster's class can see them and touch them. A mortal can walk through one of the stairways and not even know it's there."

  Midnight paused and considered her next statement carefully. "I've seen two Celestial Stairways, and I think we should bring the Tablet of Fate to one of these paths and give it to Helm. But first, one of us must gain an audience with Torm. He'll know where the closest stairway can be found." The mage paused again and put her hand on Adon's shoulder. "This should be your task. As an experienced cleric — "

  Adon rose from the table, his chair falling away behind him. "I will not!" he shouted, and the few patrons in the taproom turned to stare at him. "I cannot speak with a god!"

  A few murmurs ran through the room, and Midnight hardened her heart to the sight of the frightened, childlike cleric. "You must," the raven-haired mage said at last. "Kelemvor is needed to look for safe passage for us, so we can leave Tantras quickly — once we find the tablet."

  The fighter took a swig of ale. "Aye," he grumbled. "We must assume the Celestial Stairway will be somewhere far from this city. If it's not, all well and good. But if it is, we must be prepared."

  The cleric's hands were trembling, and his flesh had gone pale. When he saw the inn's patrons staring at him, though, Adon picked up his chair and seated himself at the table once more.

  "I intend to return the Tablet of Fate to the Planes," Midnight said with a finality that frightened Kelemvor, though he couldn't tell why. "It's the only chance we have of ending the madness that has infected Faerun. As for our immediate plans, we should start the search immediately, and meet back here in two days."