The fighter smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Safe passage to Tantras. Then the ship is yours," Kelemvor said.
Bjorn studied the fighter with his one good eye. A smile broke over his face, and he threw the set of keys to the next slave. "A fair deal," Bjorn decided and looked to the army of slaves. "What about the rest of you?" There were cheers as the slaves were unchained, one by one. Cries of allegiance to the new captain of the Queen of the Night, Bjorn the One-Eyed, filled the hold.
"How many of you men want to see the stars once again?" Bjorn asked. The slaves roared in approval.
Moments later, the sight of the minor skirmish taking place on the Queen of the Night between the freed slaves and the few Zhentish sailors still on the ship did not escape the notice of the grubby watchman. As the Zhentish were pitched overboard, alarms were sounded.
On the ship, Kelemvor watched as Adon clubbed a Zhentilar with his war hammer. The soldier was still alive, and the cleric was about to strike again when Kelemvor raised his hand. "A few should be kept alive as hostages. Perhaps they'll have information we can use!" Kelemvor ordered as he lowered the cleric's hand.
"We'd best secure the prisoners in the hold, then," the cleric noted. Looking at the harbor, Adon grimaced. The alarm had been sounded, and a few soldiers raced in their direction.
"They're more observant than I would have wagered," Kelemvor yelled, then turned to Bjorn. "Do what you have to do. Just get us out of here!"
The battle with the few Zhentilar that boarded the galley was very short. Despite their training and their superior weapons, the Zhentilar could not compensate for the large numbers of slaves that waited for them onboard the ship.
When the fighting was over, Bjorn had ordered as many of the slaves as he could spare to take their stations at the oars. The one-eyed man was now the galley master. The rhythmic sound of drums filled the night, and the Queen of the Night soon raised anchor and pulled away from the dock.
Soon after they had left the harbor, Midnight rushed to Kelemvor's side. "Look there," Midnight cried, pointing back toward Scardale.
Two of Bane's ships had left the dock in pursuit of the captured galley.
"Wonderful!" Bjorn cried out as he was informed of the news. "Those dogs have given us no choice. We turn and fight!"
In moments, the ship was alive with activity, and the Queen of the Night turned to intercept the closer of the Zhentish ships. The catapults on the deck were filled with everything the men could get their hands on, including the Zhentish corpses that had not yet been cast over the side.
From the cries of panic that sounded from the opposing ship as the Queen drew close, Kelemvor realized that the Zhentish were hardly prepared for this type of battle. The majority of their crew was probably on shore leave, celebrating the fall of Scardale with the crew of the Queen of the Night and the rest of Bane's forces.
"Ramming speed!" Bjorn cried, a maniacal glint in his one good eye.
The ships collided, and a hole was torn in the side of the pursuing Zhentish ship. The Queen of the Night withdrew, and the second Zhentish ship moved in to pick up survivors as the Queen sailed out into the Dragon Reach. But before the galley could put a hundred yards between it and the other Zhentish ship, there was a cry from the bridge. Kelemvor looked up and saw a horrible shape floating in the air above the galley.
Kelemvor's mind seemed to freeze as he realized that Bane must have discovered his betrayal. Sejanus had escaped the suits of animated armor and now sat astride his nightmare, ready to attack the galley. The assassin's bolos whirled in the air. The fighter looked to the bow and saw Midnight about to throw a spell.
"Midnight, get out of the way!" Kelemvor cried, but he was too late. The bolos flew through the air. In seconds, the weapon would wrap around Midnight's torso, and they would knock her over the edge of the ship, into the water. Sejanus would have his prisoner at last.
Suddenly Varden appeared beside the mage and shoved her to the side. The bolos wrapped around the blond thief's neck, and Midnight heard a sickening snap as her friend's neck broke. Varden fell over the side of the ship, already dead.
"No!" Midnight wailed in horror. Images of Cyric being swept away in the Ashaba flooded the mage's mind. She raised her hands once more. Her fingers moved like quicksilver, and the incantation flew from her lips so quickly that it sounded like gibberish.
The assassin reigned in the nightmare and hovered in place for an instant, the extent of his error suddenly becoming clear. A spiral of light leaped from Midnight's hands and struck the water below Sejanus. He was startled to find no ill effects from the spell. Whatever incantation the mage had tried had gone awry. Ordering his mount to descend toward their prey, the assassin charged toward the Queen of the Night.
But as Sejanus raced down through the air, the nightmare he rode slapping fiery hoofprints into the sky, a group of huge, black tentacles burst from the dark green water next to the galley. Pulling a knife from his boot, the assassin looked down and saw the horrible sight. Dozens of writhing, slimy limbs were rising up toward him, curling around the nightmare's legs.
This is only an illusion, Sejanus thought. These figments cannot harm me.
He was wrong.
The tentacles grabbed the assassin and his mount and carefully, methodically pulled them apart. When the last of the black limbs sank back into the Dragon Reach, Midnight collapsed. The few small pieces of Sejanus's armor that had stayed afloat for a moment after striking the water now sank beneath the bloody waves.
Several hours passed, and Midnight would not speak. Liane had been told of Varden's death, and she too had kept to herself. At highsun the following day, Midnight joined Kelemvor in the private quarters Bjorn had set aside for his guests.
The mage was still badly shaken. "How could I have done that?" she asked as she entered the cabin.
"He deserved death," Kelemvor concluded coldly. "An assassin doesn't feel remorse. He doesn't care about the agony he causes to those left behind. You've done the Realms a favor."
"That's not what I mean," Midnight said. "The spell I used. It should have been a fireball spell. That was all I had time to learn when we reached the Sembian's safe house. But something else happened. Something else completely."
Kelemvor shrugged. "Magic is unstable, remember? We both know that."
Midnight shook her head, trying to scatter the unwanted questions that had grown there since the incident. "Was that all?" the mage asked.
Kelemvor sensed the apprehension in his lover's voice. "Aye," he said, reassuring the raven-haired mage. "What else could it be?"
Midnight shuddered. "No more talk," she said as she drew the fighter close to her. "We've been apart for far too long to talk this day away." Kelemvor kissed her then smiled. "I told you there would be time for us," he reminded her softly.
It was the following day when the lovers left the cabin. On deck, they noticed Adon talking with Liane. The scarred cleric placed a comforting hand on the woman's back as he gestured out to sea. Liane sniffed the flower she held tightly in her hands, then leaned over the railing and faced east, toward Scardale and the spot where Varden's body had sunk beneath the sea.
"I forgive you," she said quietly and cast the flower upon the waters of the Dragon Reach.
XI