"Cyric," Midnight whispered softly as she covered her face with her hands. "I let him die!" she said. "I should have saved him! I should have — "
"Don't punish yourself for being human," Adon murmured quietly. "You did what you could." The cleric put one arm around Midnight's shoulder. On the bridge, the panther howled once more.
"Kelemvor!" Midnight gasped. She pushed Adon away and struggled to her feet.
The young cleric grabbed the mage's arm and pulled her back to the ground. "Don't go up there!" Adon wheezed. "We can't face him while he's in this state. There's nothing we can do now but wait."
And so Midnight and Adon waited in the forest, shivering in their damp clothes. Although Midnight was wracked with guilt over the loss of Cyric and ached to ease Kelemvor's pain, she knew that Adon was right. Sometimes events got out of control and there was nothing you could do, no way for you to help.
There was nothing to do but wait for things to right themselves.
If only I could make Adon appreciate the wisdom of his own words, Midnight thought as she turned toward the scarred cleric. Adon sat huddled against a rotting log, his eyes closed as if he were daydreaming. However, Midnight could guess from the pained expression on his face that, in his mind, he was watching Elminster's death in the temple again. She thought of a dozen ways to start up a conversation with him, but she rejected them all as contrived or melodramatic.
Finally she put her hand on the cleric's shoulder. When he looked up at her, the mage smiled warmly and said, "Adon, you've got to stop punishing yourself for what happened in the Temple of Lathander!"
Adon frowned and turned away. The cleric drew his knees up against his chest, then wrapped his arms around his legs. "You don't know anything about it," Adon mumbled as he rocked back and forth, his gaze fixed on the churning river.
Midnight sighed and slumped down next to Adon. "We don't know that the old sage died in that rift. Elminster might have saved himself," the mage said as she caressed the cleric's back. "Lhaeo seemed convinced that his master was safe. That fact alone should give us hope."
When Adon didn't react to Midnight's words, the raven-haired mage put her hand under the cleric's chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "Hope has to be enough for us, Adon — for both of us." The panther roared again, and a tear welled in the corner of Midnight's eye. "It's all any of us really has left, isn't it?"
Adon gazed into Midnight's eyes. "But Sune — "
"I know," Midnight said softly. "It's hard to let go. When Mystra died — "
Adon pushed Midnight away and leaped to his feet. "Sune isn't dead!" the cleric snapped as he backed away from the mage.
"I didn't mean to imply that she was," Midnight said with a sigh. The magic-user stood up and took Adon's right hand in her own.
"If anyone is dead, I am — in Sune's eyes, at least," Adon mumbled. He ran his hand over the scar that lined his face and winced. "I've become as accursed as Kelemvor. I have been forsaken for my deeds, and this horrible scar is my punishment."
"What deeds?" Midnight asked. "You're one of the most faithful clerics I've ever known. What did you do wrong to deserve your scar?"
Adon sighed and turned away from the mage. "I don't know… but it must have been terrible!" The cleric put his hand over the scar and bowed his head. "This punishment is the worst thing Sune could visit upon me. I was once attractive, a credit to Sune. Now people cringe at my approach or ridicule me behind my back."
"I have never turned away from you, Adon," Midnight said softly. "I have never mocked you. The scars on your flesh can be healed, and if Sune won't have you, then perhaps she isn't worth worshiping. Besides, it's the scars that run beneath the flesh that concern me."
Above, the panther roared once again.
Adon turned, anger flaring in his eyes. "We should be quiet," the cleric growled. "We can't afford to have Kelemvor hear us."
Midnight nodded. It was obvious that her comment about Sune had upset Adon, and she did not want to force the issue. Not yet, anyway. So they spent nearly an hour sitting in silence, listening to the sounds of the river and the panther on the bridge. Finally, when the yowls and roars had stopped and they were certain the creature had changed back into a man, Midnight and Adon broke from their cover and approached the bridge.
The heroes felt their hearts sink as the scene of bloody carnage on the bridge was revealed to them. Kelemvor was lying on his stomach at the center of the bridge. He was naked, and his matted hair covered his face. Four badly mangled bodies lay nearby. Blood and bits of bodies stained long stretches of the bridge, as if several of the dead men had been dragged or tossed about by the animal Kelemvor had become.
Images of the clerics whom Bane's spies had slaughtered in the Temple of Tymora just before the Battle of Shadowdale returned to Adon, and he felt himself grow faint. However, the cleric fought back the nausea rising in his stomach and steeled himself for what he knew had to be done. The cleric wiped a thin film of sweat from his brow and moved to the first corpse. He grabbed the dead dalesman's arm, dragged the body to the edge of the bridge, and let the corpse drop into the Ashaba.
"To the sea our shattered bodies go, that our souls may take flight," Adon whispered as Bursus's body disappeared down the river. "May you find the peace you were denied in this world."
As Adon continued his bloody detail, Midnight dragged Kelemvor's heavy armor close to the fighter's side, then crouched down beside him. After a moment, she ran to the dalesmen's camp and grabbed a blanket to throw over her former lover.
"Don't wake him," Adon said as he dragged the second dalesman to the brink of the bridge. The cleric stopped for a moment and looked around. "Not until I've finished. It'll be… better that way."
Midnight nodded, then pointed to the daggers that hung from the dalesman's boots. "Take his weapons before you drop him into the river."
Adon gasped, and a look of extreme shock gripped his features. "I will not steal from the dead," the cleric snapped.
Midnight stood up and moved away from Kelemvor. "Take their weapons, Adon. We will have a greater need for them than the creatures that reside at the bottom of the river."
The cleric did not move. He just stood over the dalesman's body, his mouth hanging slightly open. Midnight went to the remaining bodies and gathered their weapons herself. After the mage stripped each man of his weapons, Adon pronounced a final blessing on them and dropped the corpses into the Ashaba. Although he did not know if his words would hold any true value in the realm beyond the living, Adon knew that he would regret it if he didn't even attempt a blessing.
As the last of the dalesmen splashed into the river, Kelemvor began to stir.
"Midnight!" Adon called from the end of the bridge, pointing to the fighter. The beautiful, dark-haired magic-user returned to Kelemvor's side and placed her hand on his sweat-covered face. Instantly the fighter's eyes flew open and he grabbed Midnight's hand.
Pain shot up the mage's arm. "Kel!" Midnight cried and tried to wrench her arm from the fighter's iron grip.
Kelemvor looked shocked for a moment, then recognition slowly filtered into the fighter's flashing green eyes. He relaxed his grip slightly, although he did not release his hold on the mage.
"Midnight!" Kelemvor murmured, his lips trembling. "You're alive!" The fighter's grip loosened even more, and Midnight stopped struggling.
"Yes, Kel," Midnight said softly. The mage looked into the fighter's eyes and saw pain and confusion.
Kelemvor turned away from Midnight, squeezed his eyes shut, and brought her hand to his lips. "I made a terrible mistake. I almost hurt you."