Cyric looked out at the rodents running by them. "They don't seem to be particularly interested in attacking us," he said. "I wonder if they're running away from something or if the earthquake destroyed their nests."
Once the last of the rats had scampered by, the shield shattered as if it were a mirror struck with a hammer, and the broken shards faded from existence. "I think we should go right now," Kelemvor said, and the heroes navigated a passage through the fallen trees and boulders.
They rode for hours that night, but the mist showed no sign of lessening. Kelemvor felt a sickness growing in the pit of his stomach, caused no doubt by the sour air. He felt weak and tired, and from time to time he was certain he was going to be ill, though he never was. Occasionally, the rocks ahead seemed to shift slightly, but Kelemvor was so used to the sounds, he had grown deaf to the noise of the mountains as they shifted and drew closer.
Eventually, though, the mist got thinner, and the heroes' spirits rose as they found it easier to breathe. The road, too, was clearing. After walking their mounts for over a mile through a broken terrain of rocks and shifting ground, the adventurers found that they could again ride. Adon was moved to Midnight's horse, and Kelemvor pushed his horse to a gallop and rushed ahead to scout.
The fighter found that the mist soon parted and he could breathe in fresh, clean air again. The mountains hadn't tossed debris in the road this far north, and it looked like they were out of danger. Still, the land to the north of what used to be the Shadow Gap had changed, too. It was now strange and beautiful.
The road glowed white as it wound its way north for a few miles. Then it disappeared into the jagged foothills of a beautiful mountain range, which looked as if it were made entirely of glass.
Cyric and Midnight rode up beside Kelemvor as he stood, staring at the strange mountains to the northeast.
"Where are we?" Cyric said as he stopped and dismounted. "I don't remember any glass mountains in the Realms."
"I think they're new," Kelemvor said. "We went in the right direction. Now we're just north of Shadow Gap. See," the fighter said, pointing to the west. "Those are the Desertmouth Mountains, and that's the Spiderhaunt Woods right in front of us to the north."
"Then we're trapped," Midnight said and hung her head. "We can't go through those mountains, and they're right in our path."
The heroes were silent for a moment. "Then we'll have to go through the woods," Cyric said at last. "We certainly can't go back the way we came. So that's our only choice unless, of course, Midnight wants to fly us over the mountains on her broom."
"If she had one, it probably wouldn't work right anyway," Kelemvor said and started for the woods.
As the heroes got closer to the woods, something moved in the trees, something the size of a horse, with eight spindly legs and icy blue eyes.
As Midnight and Kelemvor stared at the glowing eyes in the woods, Cyric turned to get one last look at the Shadow Gap. Emerging from the mist were a group of riders. "The riders from Tilverton!" the thief cried. Cyric wheeled his horse around and drew his bow.
Kelemvor drew his sword and rode up next to Cyric. Midnight looked for a way out. The shapes in the woods were moving quicker now, patrolling the shadowy perimeter of Spiderhaunt Woods.
Midnight dismounted and stood in the path of the advancing riders. Despite her exhaustion, she drew her dagger and prepared to fight. The unearthly glow from the road illuminated the scene, and the heroes could see the riders clearly as they got close. Midnight recognized the bald-headed man in the lead.
Dragon Eyes.
"Thurbrand," Kelemvor and Midnight said together, their mouths hanging open.
The bald-headed man stopped and dismounted. "Well met," he said to Kelemvor and Cyric. Then the fighter turned to Midnight. "We meet again, fair daffodil."
"How did you get through Shadow Gap?" Kelemvor said as he sheathed his sword.
"The same way you did. I've seen worse disasters," the bald man said. "The mountains had pretty much stopped moving by the time we got to them anyway. It wasn't so tough."
One of Thurbrand's men cleared his throat noisily. "We did lose one man in there," Thurbrand added. "He was crushed by a boulder."
"The people of Tilverton," Midnight said with concern. "The ones who were chasing us."
"They needed a bit of persuading to turn back. We lost two of our men doing so, but they lost a dozen of theirs," Thurbrand said. "That persuaded them."
Cyric shook his head. The fools, he thought. Dying for a god who doesn't care about them.
"By the way," Thurbrand said. "Along the road we learned that a squad of assassins is on the way from Zhentil Keep to dispatch the lot of you. They are Bane's elite force, trained practically from birth."
Cyric drew a sharp breath. "They wear bone-white armors, and their skin is bleached. The symbol of Bane is painted in black upon their faces." The thief shuddered. "I was almost sold into their order as a child. If they find us, we'll all be corpses soon."
"So now what?" Midnight said.
Thurbrand surveyed the travelers. "You have wounded. He should be taken care of first. And I imagine you haven't eaten or slept for quite some time."
"But what about the assassins?" Kelemvor asked, anxiously cutting glances back to the gap.
"We might as well wait for them," Thurbrand said as he turned and signaled his men to approach. "No use in running away if they are that highly trained. It'll be best to fight them on our own terms right here."
Midnight touched the bald man on the arm. "Why did you follow us?"
Thurbrand turned, but didn't say anything.
"Why are you here?" Midnight said quietly.
"My men will tend to the cleric, then we can talk," Thurbrand said.
"Damn you!" Kelemvor yelled. "What do you want with us?" Thurbrand's men all drew their swords.
Thurbrand frowned. "Did I forget to mention? You're all wanted for questioning in Arabel. The charge is treason. Technically, you're all under arrest."
The bald man motioned for his men to sheathe their weapons and walked away.
Bane was alone in the throne room with Blackthorne, who stood beside the room's huge doors. An amber cloud filled the center of the room, and the image of a huge, mottled skull hung in the mist.
"I am intrigued, Myrkul," the Black Lord said as he paced back and forth. "As you have delighted in reminding me, our last collaboration was hardly a crashing success. Still, after my battle with Mystra, when I asked for your assistance, you all but laughed. I, on the other hand, am polite enough to answer your summons in the middle of the night."
"What is time to you or me?" Myrkul said. "Will you listen to my proposal?"
"Yes, yes. Get on with it!" Bane shouted impatiently, curling his hands into fists.
Myrkul cleared his throat. "I believe we should unite once again. Your plan of bringing together the power of the gods has merit that I am only now able to fully appreciate."
"And why is that?" Bane asked wearily as he dragged himself to his throne and sat down, a yawn escaping from him. The amber cloud followed him. "Have you grown as tired as I have of spending your time in these hated bonds of flesh?"
"That is one consideration," Myrkul said. "I also know where you can find another Celestial Stairway. You need it to gain access to the Planes, do you not?"
"Go on," the Black Lord said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne.
"You've told me of plans to invade the Dales. Did you know that a stairway lies just outside of the Temple of Lanthander in Shadowdale?"
"Yes, Myrkul, I knew of the stairway," Bane said. "But I appreciate your effort."
The Black Lord smiled. Though Myrkul's news of the stairway's presence in Shadowdale wasn't new to Bane, its exact location in the town was. Of course, Bane never even considered letting the Lord of Bones know that he had uncovered information of some value.