01 Shadowdale by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T11:55:43.721000+00:00

The metal twisted. "You must let me examine you. You're bleeding again. You've torn the stitches." Midnight reached down and took the bowl from Adon's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. The healer bent low, toweling away the blood from Adon's face. The damage was not as bad as he had feared, though, as only a few of the stitches had been torn. As the cleric looked at the scar, he wished they'd been in a city when he found the Sunite. At least he could have made a cleaner job of the stitching with the proper tools. Adon's fingers traced the darkening scar, following it from his left eye, down over his cheekbone, and through the center of his cheek. The ragged cut ended at the base of the cleric's jaw.

Later that morning, as the adventurers broke camp, Cyric got into an argument with Brion, a young thief in Thurbrand's company. "Of course I understand what you're saying!" Cyric shouted at the albino. "But how can you deny the evidence of your own senses?" "I gazed upon the face of the goddess Tymora herself," Brion said. "That's all the evidence I need. The gods are now visiting the Realms to spread their sacred word first hand." "Aye, pay your money and step right up," Cyric said. "Perhaps your goddess will start telling fortunes next." "All I'm saying --" "Dullard! I heard you the first time," Cyric yelled. "Contributions are always necessary --" "A necessary evil, you mean." Cyric shook his head and looked away from Brion. "It must be terribly lonely not believing in anything but yourself," Brion said. "My belief makes me whole." Cyric trembled with rage, then gained control of his emotions. He knew that Brion had not intentionally provoked him, but the dark-haired, lean fighter had been unusually edgy since he woke that morning. Perhaps it was the sadness that hung over the camp because of Adon's wound, but a part of him wanted to charge into the mountains once more and let fate throw any monstrosity it could imagine at him. Even Spiderhaunt Woods felt vaguely tempting, although Cyric knew that the only catharsis he would likely find in that place was death. There was a sound in the distance, and the earth beneath the adventurers shuddered. Cyric saw huge crystalline shards sliding from the face of the glass ridges that had positioned themselves across the road to Shadowdale. "Merciful Tymora," Brion said as the massive glass boulders shattered and sent rainbows across the land as they reflected the sunlight. Then, without warning, a glossy black spear, the size of a small tree, shot out of the earth next to Cyric. The thief was knocked to the ground, but quickly got up and grabbed his horse. All around the plain, similar jagged ebon spears thrust up through the dirt and towered a dozen feet into the morning sky. "Time to leave," Kelemvor said to Thurbrand, and the two men ran for their mounts. "It looks like we're go ing through the woods after all.

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