Upon hearing his commander’s scream, Dalzhel swore he would allow the smoke to delay him no longer. He ran into the writhing mass of yellow tendrils. When the wisps did not hurt him, the burly lieutenant waved his men forward.
As the Zhentilar approached, Kelemvor stepped forward to finish Cyric.
In a forceful voice, Midnight yelled, “Stop, Kelemvor!”
Kelemvor responded without looking away from Cyric. “No.” He pointed the tip of his sword at the thief’s throat.
Adon and Sneakabout picked themselves up, then noticed the approaching Zhentilar. The cleric quickly retrieved the saddlebags with the tablet, while Sneakabout disappeared into the shadows.
“If you kill him,” Midnight cried, “we die too.”
Without looking away from Cyric, Kelemvor said, “We’re not going to die alone.”
“We don’t have to die at all,” Adon yelled, turning to face the approaching company, who were now only thirty yards away. To them, he yelled, “Stop, or Cyric’s dead!” The cleric pointed at Cyric, who still lay beneath Kelemvor’s blade.
Dalzhel’s first instinct was to charge the scarred man. But upon seeing his commander’s predicament, he halted and motioned for his subordinates to do likewise. “Milord?” asked the burly lieutenant.
For the first time, Cyric dared to move. He slowly pulled his sword arm from beneath his body. “Wait there.”
Kelemvor frowned. “Now what are we going to do?” the warrior asked Adon. “Zhentil Keep sent Cyric for the tablet. He’s not going to give up.”
Cyric laughed bitterly. “You’re mistaken. They’re no longer my masters. I want the tablet for my own reasons.”
“To satisfy your lust for power,” Kelemvor snapped.
Cyric ignored him. “I have twenty men. Let us join forces. We all want to return the tablets to the Planes.”
Adon snorted. “You’d slit our throats while we slept.”
“Can you look into men’s hearts, Adon?” Midnight demanded. “Are you a paladin that you can tell when a man is being untrue?”
The cleric didn’t reply.
“Then how do you know what he intends?” Midnight was relieved that her friends had to hear Cyric out.
After a long pause, Kelemvor answered Midnight’s question with his own. “How do you know what he intends?”
“I don’t,” Midnight admitted. “But he was our friend. He deserves our trust until he abuses it.”
Kelemvor snorted. “He’s done that already.”
A maniacal gleam sparkling in his eye, Sneakabout returned to the group with a long rope. He began anchoring one end to a boulder at the cliff’s edge.
Dalzhel watched the halfling carefully, ready to charge.
“What are you doing?” Midnight asked.
“I’ll hold him hostage while you three climb down the rope,” Sneakabout replied. “You’ll be long gone before his men ride back around the cliff.”
“What about you?” Adon asked.
The halfling shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”
In reality, Sneakabout already had a plan in mind. He intended to kill Cyric, then recover his stolen property. With luck, he could slide down the rope a short distance, then climb onto the cliff before the rope was cut. The plan was risky, but it was the only way to both save his friends and get the sword back.
Cyric frowned at the halfling’s resourcefulness. “I know when I’m defeated,” the thief lied, hoping to stall and looking at Midnight. “If you let me go, I’ll take my men and never bother you again.”
“He’s lying!” Sneakabout yelped, finishing his knot.
“No doubt,” Adon said, “but at least we’ll live through the night.”
“I still want to kill him,” Kelemvor said, pressing the tip of his sword against Cyric’s throat. “Can’t you stop his men with a spell, Midnight?”
“No!” the raven-haired mage exclaimed. “I won’t even try.”
Kelemvor sighed in frustration. Still holding his sword to the thief’s throat, he said, “Then you live, Cyric … for now. Stand up.”
Cyric carefully stood, acutely aware that Kelemvor could kill him with a mere twitch.
“Your command, milord?” Dalzhel asked.
“Tell him to go down the trail to the bottom of the cliff,” Kelemvor ordered, never taking his eyes off the thief.
Cyric hesitated before obeying. “How do I know you’ll release me?”
“My promise is better than yours,” Kelemvor spat. “You know that. After they’re gone, you can climb down the rope. Now tell them.”
Cyric hesitated for a long moment. He had no doubt the warrior would do as promised. But, after coming so close to capturing Midnight and the tablet, the thief could not bear to let them escape.
Kelemvor pushed gently against his sword and the tip drew blood. “I don’t know how much longer I can resist the temptation,” the fighter warned. “Send them away!”
Cyric had no choice and he knew it. Kelemvor could kill him in an instant. “Do as he says, Dalzhel,” the thief ordered.
Dalzhel nodded and sheathed his sword. But before leaving, he addressed Kelemvor. “If you do not release him unharmed, we will be back.”
The burly lieutenant turned and led the others away.
A few minutes later, Adon walked to the edge of the forest and peered into the darkness. “I think they’re gone.”
“Good,” Sneakabout said. “Kill him now.”
Kelemvor shook his head. “I won’t betray my word,” he rumbled. Then, never taking his sword from Cyric’s throat, the warrior steered his prisoner to the rope. “If I ever see—”
“You won’t have the chance,” Cyric yelled.
Without sheathing his short sword, the thief ran the rope around his thigh and over his shoulder. Then he began picking his way down the face of the cliff, using his free hand to feed the rope through the makeshift rappelling harness. Cyric’s sword arm remained free to hold his weapon.
“Don’t make me regret saving you,” Midnight called.
The thief simply grunted and continued down the cliff.
As he watched Cyric go, a groan of disappointment escaped Sneakabout’s lips. Overwhelming despair overcame him, and the halfling knew that he could not let his sword go. Drawing his dagger, Sneakabout grabbed the rope and wrapped his legs around it, then disappeared down the cliff after Cyric.
The halfling’s action surprised everyone and it was a moment before they reacted. By the time they peered over the cliff’s edge, Sneakabout was no more than a dark form moving down the rope.
When Cyric felt the rope jerk, his first thought was that Kelemvor had cut it. But when the thief didn’t fall, he knew that something else was happening. Cyric looked up and saw the halfling sliding down the rope.
“I want my sword!” Sneakabout screamed.
“Come and get it,” Cyric called. He stopped descending and braced himself.
A moment later, the halfling reached him and lunged. Cyric easily blocked the attack and sent the halfling’s dagger flying into the night.
The lack of a weapon did not deter Sneakabout. He slid farther down, landing atop Cyric’s shoulders. Holding the rope with one hand, the halfling clawed at Cyric’s sword arm with the other.
Cyric wrenched his arm free, then laid the edge of his blade against the halfling’s neck. “You’re mad!” he hissed.
Sneakabout resisted a powerful urge to grab the weapon. At the moment, the halfling was completely at Cyric’s mercy and knew it. “Give me my sword,” he begged.
As the thief began to comprehend the reason for Sneakabout’s mad attack, a cruel smile creased his lips. “As long as I have this, you’ll never stop hounding me, will you?”