"He still should have said something at the trial to defend the two of you," the fighter grumbled. "His silence helped to sway Mourngrym's verdict."
"Don't hold it against him, Kel. I don't," Midnight said, smiling. "Besides, the trial is over now. And after you're with Adon for a while, you'll know that he's paying the price for his silence at the trial… and much more." The mage turned and walked toward Adon. As the fighter followed her, she added, "Cyric found it almost impossible to show him kindness or mercy. If I can forgive him, then you should be able to do the same."
Kelemvor considered the magic-user's words, then crouched at the other side of the pile of weapons, staring at the cleric. "Our survival depends on being able to count on one another, Adon. We will be wanted fugitives."
"I know that," Adon snapped. His gaze failed to meet Kelemvor's. Instead, the cleric toyed with one of the dead men's weapons.
"We're going on to Tantras, Adon, but the dalesmen might try to capture us. They also may try to kill us. Will you pledge your life to help us?" Kelemvor asked.
"My life…," Adon growled, his voice cracking. "For what it's worth, yes, I'll pledge my life for the two of you. Perhaps I can make up for what I have done." The cleric reached down and picked up an axe. He gazed at the weapon for a moment, frowned, then tossed it aside. "I'll find a way."
"Thank you, Adon. We'll need your help," Midnight said and started to walk toward the dalesmen's camp. Kelemvor quickly followed her. They could hear the sound of metal hitting metal as Adon picked up one weapon after another and tossed it back into the pile.
"The dalesmen hid their horses in the woods next to the camp. We should pick out a few mounts, pack up our supplies, and head toward Tantras while we still have a chance," the fighter said.
Midnight stopped walking and turned to Kelemvor. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Kelemvor smiled and shook his head. "Your reward," Midnight said flatly.
The fighter stiffened.
Gesturing at the blood stains on the bridge, Kelemvor spoke. "I'm a wanted criminal for aiding you and for killing the dalesmen. The curse only demands payment if I am not acting in my own best interest. Getting you to Tantras, where we may be able to hide from the long arm of the dale — or even recover the Tablet of Fate and magically clear us of all charges — is most definitely in my own interest. I don't want a price on my head for the rest of my life, however long that may be. It's no way to live."
"I see," Midnight said quietly.
Kelemvor frowned and closed his eyes. "That doesn't change my feelings about you," he murmured. "I have to look at things in those terms. Besides, it just simplifies matters."
"Well," Midnight sighed. "I suppose we should keep things simple."
Kelemvor looked at her sharply, and for the first time he saw a trace of the wicked grin Midnight had so frequently displayed to him on their trip to Shadowdale. He laughed and placed his hand on her waist. "Come," the fighter said, and they walked to the end of the bridge.
"Adon!" Midnight shouted. "We're leaving."
Footsteps sounded behind the mage and the fighter. Then they heard the clang of steel falling against steel and turned to see Adon gathering up the pile of weapons he had dropped.
"Hold it!" Kelemvor snapped. "Let's just take what we need." The fighter already wore his two-handed sword, but he grabbed an axe, a spare bow, and a cache of arrows to add to his arsenal. Midnight found a pair of daggers that suited her. Adon stared down at the collection, trying to find some weapon that was suitable. He was well trained with a war hammer and a flail, but sharp-edged weapons were frowned upon by his order. All the weapons that remained were edged.
"Take something and carry it for us," Kelemvor said at last, his patience reaching its end. The heroes quickly left the end of the bridge and entered the forest. After a few minutes, Kelemvor had led his companions to the spot where the huntsmen had secured their mounts. The horses were gone.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Adon asked as he looked around.
"The evidence is all about you, cleric. Open your eyes!" Kelemvor snapped. Adon shrank away from the fighter, and Midnight frowned. Kelemvor cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is that you can see the tracks that the horses, and whoever took them, left behind — the broken branches and the footprints." The fighter pounded his fist against a tree and swore. "It was probably Yarbro. Now he's got the gold that Mourngrym paid me, and we'll have to walk to Scardale."
Adon was struggling with two heavy swords he had found as the heroes prepared to leave the forest. Concern crossed Midnight's features. "Adon, where did you leave my spellbook and the items Lhaeo gave us?"
The cleric dropped the swords and the shield and backed away in terror. "I… I left them on the bridge," he gasped.
"Sorry…"
Kelemvor's shoulders drooped, and he opened his mouth to spew out a tirade of angry condemnations. When he saw the cleric's frightened, childlike expression, he fought back his anger. "Go get them," Kelemvor said softly, his deep voice trembling with barely controlled rage.
As Adon ran back toward the bridge, the fighter set his bow down beside the swords that Adon had dropped and walked back to the bridge with Midnight. "He is trying, you know," the mage purred as she put her arms around Kelemvor's waist.
"No doubt," Kelemvor grumbled and tried not to smile.
"And you're trying, too," Midnight said. "I appreciate that."
The fighter and the mage broke from the forest and saw Adon near the middle of the bridge, crouching over the canvas sack he had rescued from the river. He seemed to be rifling through the sack, checking its contents.
Standing near the north entrance to the bridge, the fighter called out to Adon. "Come on, cleric! We don't have all day!" Midnight started slightly at Kelemvor's sudden outburst.
On the bridge, Adon suddenly stood up, the bag firmly in his hand. The cleric stared at the eastern horizon, pointing toward the sky. The sun was behind the cleric, so he could dearly see the three figures floating in the eastern sky, becoming larger as they approached.
"Riders!" Adon exclaimed. "Riders to the east!"
At the northern end of the bridge, Kelemvor shook his head. "What is he — "
Then the fighter saw what had captured Adon's attention. Three darkly clad soldiers were flying toward the bridge. They were following the course of the river and riding huge ebon horses that struck a trail of fire as they galloped across the sky.
On the bridge, Adon stood rooted to the spot. As the riders drew close, he was able to see them even more clearly. The armor of the riders was completely black and lined with razor-sharp ridges. Spikes the size of daggers jutted out from various parts of the armor. The riders' faces were hidden by helmets. Far more frightening than the terrible armor the mysterious riders wore were the mounts they rode. The creatures that carried them across the sky were nightmares — powerful and deadly monster horses from another plane.
As they came even closer, the heroes could see the weapons each of the riders carried. One was armed with a huge scythe, which he tested in the air as he approached Blackfeather Bridge. Another favored bolos, with a cutting silver wire laced between the heavy spheres. But the man in the lead, an imposing specimen who seemed best-suited for his horrible mount, carried a heavy, two-handed broadsword that was stained black and charged with blood-red runes.
From the north entrance to the bridge, Midnight cried out. "Run, Adon! Get off the bridge!"
Kelemvor grabbed the mage and dragged her a few steps toward the woods. "We have to take to the forest," the fighter growled. "They might not have seen us yet."