Kelemvor called out to the others, bringing them to his side in moments. Cyric fetched a torch, lighting it in the flames of the campfire. They found no reason for the condition of the animals. There were no marks upon the beasts, nor tracks that would indicate a wild animal or saboteur in their midst.
When they checked their provisions, the heroes found that their food had become completely foul. The meats bubbled with green, cancerous growths. Strange, black insects crawled from the fruits. The breads were stale and moldy. The ales and meads had evaporated. Only the water they had taken from the colonnade outside Castle Kilgrave was unaffected.
Kelemvor searched through the pouches containing their gold and treasures and let out a cry as he found nothing but yellow and black ash. The harp of Myth Drannor had been rotted through, and it broke apart as Midnight tried to pick it up. She found a bag that had once contained diamonds. Now it held only their dust. The mage set it aside for use as spell components.
"No," Kelemvor said softly, pulling away from Midnight's comforting hand as she attempted to console him. He glared at her. "Now all we have is your miserable quest!"
"Kel, don't — "
"It's all been for nothing!" he screamed as he turned his back on the magic-user.
Adon moved forward. "What will we eat?"
Kelemvor looked over his shoulder. His eyes and teeth seemed unusually bright, as if they were catching the first rays of sun and holding them. His skin seemed darker. "I'll find something," Kelemvor said. "I'll be the provider for us all."
Cyric offered to help, but Kelemvor waved him away as he ran toward the mountains. "At least take the bow!" Cyric called, but Kelemvor ignored him, becoming a dark blur against the shadow-filled foothills.
"'The gods giveth, the gods taketh away,'" Adon said philosophically, shrugging.
Cyric let out a bitter little laugh. "Your gods — "
Midnight raised her hand, and Cyric didn't finish his sentence. "Take what you will from your mounts," the mage said. "Then we should make them as comfortable as possible until the end."
"Is there nothing we can do?" Adon said, taking pity on the suffering animals.
"There is one thing," Cyric said, and drew his blade.
Midnight exhaled a ragged breath and nodded. Cyric offered to wait until after Midnight and Adon were out of view of the dying mounts, but they each agreed to remain and offer some degree of comfort and compassion to the animals as Cyric mercifully ended their pain.
Hours passed, and Kelemvor did not return. Finally, Adon volunteered to look for the fighter.
Adon found deep shadows and tiny, unseen creatures that made odd sounds. The cleric wondered if Kelemvor had been injured, or if perhaps he had deserted them. The fighter would have taken his mount, Adon reminded himself, though the thought brought little comfort as the cleric allowed himself to be swallowed up by the darkness.
Something scampered by his boot, and Adon was pleasantly surprised to see a soft, gray squirrel suddenly stop, look at him, then bolt as the cleric crouched down to look into its deep, blue eyes. He moved through a thicket of trees, forcing branches away carefully so that his face would not be scratched. As he climbed higher, Adon found a clearly marked trail before him.
Kelemvor had come this way.
Adon was congratulating himself for finding the trail when he stumbled over Kelemvor's breastplate. The armor was covered with blood. Adon cautiously untied his war hammer from his belt.
Farther up the trail, the cleric found the rest of Kelemvor's armor, bloody like the breastplate. He considered Kelemvor's fighting prowess, and wondered what manner of beast could have brought the fighter down.
There was movement in the trees. Adon caught a glimpse of black fur and snarling teeth, and he bit back a call for help, afraid he would reveal his position. The cleric remained still for a few minutes, then heard a roar from behind him.
Adon didn't bother to look back as he ran, following the trail of broken branches and disturbed patches of earth, and he didn't look down long enough to realize that the tracks leading away from the armor had begun as the imprints of human feet and become the pawprints of some huge animal.
The cleric didn't know how far he had run when he broke through a web of branches and the earth suddenly disappeared from beneath his feet, sending him tumbling through the air. An instant later his body made a splash as he plunged into water.
Rising to the surface of the water, Adon shook the mire from his hair and surveyed the area. A swamp? he thought. Here? This is madness!
Madness or no, the fact remained that Adon found himself paddling to the marshy shore of a beautiful, ghostly land, lit by a soft, bluish white glow. The sunlight was absorbed by elegant strands of Spanish moss that hung from the tall black cypress trees and glowed to reveal the wiry intricacies of its design. The moss seemed to be straining as it reached downward, an occasional strand gently touching the surface of the swamp. Huge lotus pads floated toward Adon, and as he climbed to the shore, he saw a beautiful butterfly with orange and silver wings burst from its cocoon before his eyes. A lone heron started as it watched Adon approach, then fled, making tiny splashing sounds as its feet broke the water.
Adon rose from the bog, disgusted at the mess he had made of his fine clothing. Suddenly he froze as he heard a roar and the sounds of some beast crashing through the forest above him. But, the sounds stopped as suddenly as they had begun, and Adon looked around in vain for some place to hide. Clusters of bright yellow and red leaves capped the spindly gray trees close by, but little cover was afforded the cleric as he slowly made his way up the hill toward the tiny clearing from which he had fallen.
As he climbed, Adon found his war hammer, where it had landed when his fall jolted it from his grasp. Good, he thought. At least I'll go down fighting — like Kelemvor.
The creature in the woods howled once more, and Adon broke into a run, reminding himself not to scream for help with every passing step. Finally, the clearing rose up before him, but a huge black shape padded back and forth, barring the way.
Adon stopped.
It was a panther, and at its feet lay a deer, savaged almost beyond recognition. How very natural, the cleric thought. And here I thought it was some horrible troll.
The panther's head swung back and forth, as if it were dazed. Adon prayed to Sune that the beast would be content with its feast, and just before he took his first step backward, the beast began to shudder. It threw back its head, and Adon caught a glimpse of its shining green eyes as the beast roared in pain, a human hand bursting from its throat.
Adon dropped his hammer. It fell to the earth and landed with a thud. The creature didn't notice. A second gore-drenched hand burst from the flank of the beast, and there was a sickening sound as the rib cage exploded and Kelemvor's head emerged from the opening. One of the beast's legs tore open, and a pale, shriveled, child-sized leg emerged. The leg grew until it was the proper length for a man's limb, and its twisted foot straightened, its bones crackling as they popped into place.
A second leg emerged, repeating the process, as the thing that was somehow becoming Kelemvor sprang from the shell of the beast. The fighter gave an exhausted grunt as he fell to the ground, a sleek network of hair already forming on his naked and smooth flesh.
Adon felt himself bending low to retrieve his hammer. He moved forward, shuddering as be approached the fighter. "Kelemvor?" he said, but the fighter's eyes, wide and staring, registered nothing. Kelemvor's breathing was shallow, and a current ran beneath his skin as blood vessels burst and his flesh aged to its proper years.