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“Calm thyself,” Elminster said, relieved to see that Myrkul’s spell no longer plagued him. “Midnight will recover. She did nothing more than exhaust herself.”

The wizard went to the edge of the tower and looked down at the battle. The denizens had driven the remnants of twenty shattered companies into the line along Selduth Street. Waterdeep’s defenders had opened holes in their ranks to allow the routed troops to pass.

“And she did so in a good cause,” Elminster said, pointing at the denizens. “They’re coming for the tablets.”

“Why?” Kelemvor asked. “Myrkul’s gone!”

“Apparently they don’t know that,” Elminster replied, “or they don’t care. In either case, I must stop them.”

“How can one man stop a host of those things?” Kelemvor demanded.

“Ye were a soldier. What’s the best way to demoralize an army?”

Kelemvor shrugged. “Starve it or cut it off from its home. But who—”

“Precisely!” Elminster said. “Cut it off from home.”

He addressed both Kelemvor and Adon. “When Myrkul’s horde begins to retreat, take the tablets to the Celestial Stairway. But don’t move before that or the denizens will come after ye. Do ye understand?”

Adon nodded. “But where is the Celestial Stairway?”

Elminster frowned as though the answer were obvious. “Up there” he said, pointing toward the summit of Mount Waterdeep.

“Two more questions before you go,” Kelemvor said.

“All right, but be quick about it.”

“First, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Elminster replied. “Go to the Pool of Loss and close it off, I suppose. Since the denizens aren’t from our plane of existence, that should draw their attention away from the battle.”

“But you’ll need hours to get there,” Kelemvor objected. “Even if you can make it back to the Yawning Portal through the battle—”

A condescending smile creased Elminster’s lips. “My boy, have ye forgotten who I am? What’s thy second question?”

Kelemvor frowned, not entirely satisfied with Elminster’s first answer. Still, he knew the sage wouldn’t explain himself further. The fighter asked his second question. “Why didn’t you tell us Adon was alive?”

Elminster actually looked embarrassed. “Yes—well, Blackstaff and I discussed that matter. There’s no time to explain at the moment. Perhaps when I return.”

With that, the sage went to the stairwell, already plotting his strategy. First, he would cross into another plane, where there would be no need to worry about the unpredictability of magic. Then Elminster intended to travel to the other side of the Pool of Loss and reseal it from there. It might be tiring, but the ancient wizard did not think it would be beyond him.

As the sage stepped into the stairwell, Cyric slipped into a room on the tower’s top floor. The thief had been watching and listening to everything that occurred on the roof.

It’s good you didn’t steal the tablets immediately, his sword commented. Even I could not have defended you from an army of denizens.

Cyric did not reply. Instead, he waited for Elminster’s steps to descend well past his door. Then the thief returned to his position at the top of the stairwell, waiting for an opportunity to attack.

A few minutes after the wizard left, Midnight regained consciousness. She immediately noticed Elminster’s absence, and feared she had dispelled the sage with Myrkul’s spell. “Elminster,” she asked weakly. “Where is he?”

“The Pool of Loss,” Kelemvor replied. “He went to seal it.”

“As soon as the denizens start retreating, we’re to take the tablets to the top of Mount Waterdeep,” Adon said.

Kelemvor turned to the cleric. “What makes you think the denizens will retreat?” the fighter asked doubtfully. “Elminster’s one man against an army.”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Midnight replied. “I need to rest anyway.”

They turned to watch the battle. In the air, the superior number of griffon riders appeared to be holding their own against the flying denizens. The battling specks had moved no closer. On the ground, the story was different. The denizens had just reached the line at Selduth Street and were ripping through it with the force of a tidal wave.

Waterdeep’s second rank of defenders charged Myrkul’s denizens while the foul creatures were busy destroying the first rank. Each soldier stayed long enough to slash two or three times, then quickly retreated to form a new line. At the same time, a third rank of pikesmen formed behind the second, prepared to utilize the same hit-and-run tactics.

The strategy took its toll on the denizen army, leaving two hundred of their bloated, leathery bodies in the street. But it took a heavier toll on Waterdeep’s defenders, who lost two men for every denizen. Still, it was the only strategy that worked, so the defenders repeated it over and over, retreating farther north and closer to Blackstaff’s tower.

Finally, the battle reached Keltarn Street, which ran west from the Street of Silver. It crossed the Street of Silks and ended, scarcely five hundred feet from Blackstaff’s tower, at Swords Street. The denizens were advancing up all three north-running avenues: the Street of Silver, the Street of Silks, and Swords Street.

In accordance with the normal strategy, the Company of the Manticore fell back along the Street of Silver, leaving the denizens a clear path down Keltarn Street. To the Manticore commander’s surprise, the denizens turned down Keltarn Street and fell on the flank of 3rd Watch Regiment, who were defending the Street of Silks.

Within seconds, the 3rd Watch Regiment perished. The denizens from both the Streets of Silver and Silks started down Keltarn Street toward the Company of the Chimera, the last group of defenders on Swords Street.

“That’s it,” Kelemvor said. “We’d better run before they break through.”

“But Elminster—,” Adon objected, waving his mace like an accusing finger.

“Did not succeed,” Midnight interrupted. “And I doubt I’ve the strength for even one more spell.”

Kelemvor reached down to help the raven-haired mage stand, and Adon cast a last glance over the battle. “Wait—they just might hold,” he said.

All three companions turned just as the denizens reached Swords Street. The Company of the Manticore was charging down Keltarn Street behind the denizens. At the same time, the 5th Watch Regiment, which had been held in reserve, was rushing to reinforce Swords Street.

Kelemvor did not think even these developments would stop the denizens. “We can’t take that chance,” he said.

Cyric decided to make his move while the three companions were still trapped on Blackstaff’s tower. He drew his short sword and slipped onto the roof as quietly as he could, moving toward Kelemvor’s back.

Midnight saw Cyric first. “Kel!” she screamed.

“What?” the warrior asked, bewildered.

Cyric rushed forward, taking advantage of the fighter’s confusion. He wanted to finish the warrior quickly. The others he would take his time with. But as long as Kelemvor remained alive, he was dangerous.

“It’s Cyric!” Midnight yelled.

Kelemvor spun to face his attacker. Cyric’s blade flashed past the warrior’s chest, missing its target by a hair’s breadth. The fighter yelled in astonishment. Realizing he still had the advantage, the thief stepped forward and slipped an ankle behind the stocky warrior’s knee. Kelemvor tried to retreat and Cyric tripped him.

As the warrior fell, Adon slipped to Cyric’s right, the saddlebags over his shoulder and his mace in his hand. Midnight stepped to Cyric’s left.

The thief raised his sword to finish Kelemvor.

“Stop!” Adon screamed, stepping within striking range of Cyric’s head.