Kelemvor reined in his horse and stopped around a bend in the road. Cabal and Jorah, riding the same horse, quickly joined the green-eyed fighter, as did Yarbro and Mikkel. The hunters sat silently for a moment, listening to the orcs cursing in the distance. Only Kelemvor could understand what the orcs were saying, but all of the riders shivered. The meaning of the threats were clear enough, despite the difference in language.
In another second, Bursus's mount cantered into sight. The black-haired dalesman was lolling in the saddle from the pain of his wounded leg, but his horse had continued down the road. Jorah jumped down from Cabal's mount and stopped Bursus's horse from continuing past them.
"The Lathanderites…," Bursus mumbled. "Save them!" The archer tried to raise his hand, probably to point back at the Standing Stone, but couldn't. Cabal dismounted and examined the arrow wound in Bursus's left leg.
Kelemvor turned his horse away from the Standing Stone. "Let's go," he muttered. "The clerics are lost. There's no way they can escape those orcs."
Yarbro drew his sword and looked at Kelemvor. "Sometimes orcs let their victims live… for a while." The young guard paused for a moment. Mikkel drew his sword and Cabal remounted. "We're going back for them." Kelemvor closed his eyes. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could go back for the clerics. It simply wasn't in his best interest to endanger his life for them. "Do what you want, Yarbro. I'm not going to help you." The fighter got off his horse and walked toward the trees. "I'll wait here until you get back."
"I'll look after Bursus," Jorah said flatly. "I'll try to get that arrow out and bind his leg." The slender, auburn-haired archer turned to Kelemvor and spat, then turned back to the others. "If that's what you want me to do, that is, Yarbro."
The young guard narrowed his eyes and stared at Kelemvor for a moment. "Yes… it is up to me now, isn't it?" Yarbro said slowly. "Fine, Jorah." The guard spurred his horse and headed back toward the Standing Stone. "But I'd keep Kelemvor in front of you at all times." Yarbro, Cabal, and Mikkel raced back down the road, whooping and yelling. Kelemvor heard a few squeals and cries in Orcish as the fighters rounded the bend, then nothing but the sound of something running through the woods. This is the end, Kelemvor thought as he sat under a tree and watched Jorah pull the arrow from Bursus's leg, then dress the wound and even tend to Bursus's wounded horse. There's no way I'll ever be able to stop these men from killing Midnight, Cyric, and Adon.
The fighter kicked a stone into a rut in the rough dirt road. It would all be so simple if it weren't for my damned curse! I could do what was right. I could give up this hunt. But that wasn't possible, and Kelemvor knew it. The moment he sided with Midnight, Adon, and Cyric, he broke his pledge to Lord Mourngrym and would lose the reward the dalelord had promised him as incentive to finish the quest. He would have endangered his life on the hunt for no reward — an act that would surely cause the curse to go into effect. Then Kelemvor would transform into a panther until he killed someone.
Jorah turned to Kelemvor and scowled. Kelemvor saw the hatred in the archer's eyes. For a moment, he felt afraid. It's far more likely they'll kill me, too, Kelemvor suddenly realized. I'm no better or worse to these men than Midnight.
Before Kelemvor could think about that too long, he heard the rumble of hooves on the road. The fighter jumped to his feet and moved behind his horse. If the orcs had taken the dalesmen's mounts, they'd likely try to shoot a volley of arrows at him as they rode past.
But it wasn't the orcs coming down the road — it was Yarbro and the two other archers. They had one other riderless horse in tow. All three men were sweating profusely, and Cabal had a nasty slash across his upper arm, but they were alive. Jorah helped them to dismount, and Yarbro immediately went to check on Bursus.
As soon as Jorah and Cabal had placed Bursus onto a horse, Yarbro walked over to face Kelemvor, his sword drawn. "The orcs ran, you coward. Just like you did!" The young guard held his sword up to Kelemvor's face. "I ought to kill you right now, but we'll need you as a shield in case we're attacked again. You ride in front, alone, from now on."
Kelemvor pushed the guard's sword away. "And were you right about the clerics?" Yarbro snarled, and his sword flashed out toward Kelemvor's chest. The fighter slapped the sword aside with his own blade, however, and Yarbro was knocked backward a few feet by the blow. Jorah, Cabal, and Mikkel drew their swords.
"See?" Yarbro hissed as he sheathed his weapon and held up his hands. "You're alive only because I say so." The other dalesmen sheathed their swords as well. Kelemvor turned away and readied his horse for another long ride.
The ride to Blackfeather Bridge was long and silent for Kelemvor. The dalesmen stopped in Essembra only long enough for supplies and to have a local healer look at Bursus's leg. The wound was not too serious, and after a few poultices, Bursus was ready to ride on to the bridge with the other hunters. All along the road, Kelemvor rode far out in front of the others, hoping that something would attack them from behind.
The green-eyed fighter knew that if the dalesmen were ambushed, he wouldn't lift a sword to save them. There was nothing but Mourngrym's gold and his promise holding him to the quest now, and even that was proving to be little incentive.
Kelemvor had expected that the shock of losing their companions to such a horrible fate would cause the dalesmen to withdraw into themselves, to tone down their viciousness. At the very least, he thought they would stop dwelling on ways to torture Midnight, Adon, and Cyric. But Yarbro and the other hunters — even Bursus, when he was well again — spent much of their days plotting horrible fates for Kelemvor's friends.
Occasionally Yarbro would catch up to Kelemvor and toll him the latest cruel imaginings, just to taunt him. The fighter always remained silent, but it never stopped the young guard from telling him over and over again how the dalesmen were going to kill the magic-user and her allies. Eventually the hunters arrived at Blackfeather Bridge, where they secured their mounts in the forest on the north bank of the Ashaba, then took up positions on the bridge. As the dalesmen set up a rough camp, Kelemvor stood at the northern end of the bridge and cleared his throat loudly. "Yarbro is now your leader," the fighter began, "and rightly so. However, I have something to say to you all." A low rumble of mutters ran through the camp. Yarbro eyed Kelemvor suspiciously, then nodded to his men, letting them know that they had his permission to listen to the fighter.
When the dalesmen had all turned to glare at him, Kelemvor continued. "This is the last time I'm going to remind any of you of the explicit orders of Lord Mourngrym." Yarbro frowned deeply. "Our orders are to capture Midnight, Cyric and Adon, and return them to Shadowdale, where they will pay for their crimes. They are to be taken alive unless there is no other option."
The cold stares of the hunters seemed to bore through the fighter. His words were stated calmly and without passion.
Kelemvor knew they would have no effect, but he could not stop trying. When he was done speaking, the fighter slowly walked back to his horse and unpacked his gear.
After almost an hour had passed and the dalesmen were beginning to get restless, Mikkel asked, "What if they've already passed this way?" The archer kicked a pebble off the bridge and watched it plummet into the Ashaba.
"Impossible," Yarbro snapped, trying more to convince himself than his men. It was entirely possible that the hunters had arrived late. Their quarry might be miles away by now, perhaps in Scardale already.