Morning dawned with a chill breeze and the ever-present stormclouds. Andoralson was the first to rise. Gamaliel, tucked behind his mistress on her bedroll, followed the druid's movements with his golden eyes. Seeing that the two of them were awake, Miltiades ducked into the trees for firewood. Andoralson busied himself at the edge of the clearing.

The druid picked away a patch of grass, weeds, and fungi, dug down a few inches, then planted several seeds. After humming a chant and adding blessed water and some sparkling dust, several tender sprouts pushed up from the ground.

Ren was now awake. His curiosity finally got the better of him. "Alright, druid. I watched you go through this ritual at least four times yesterday. Each time you planted some seeds, and, within minutes, a ring of seedlings started to grow. Why do you keep doing this?"

Andoralson looked up at Ren, smiling. He loved any opportunity to enlighten others about the wonders of the forest. The ranger could see he was in for a lecture.

"I'm helping to save the land. I'm not able to sense the mass of darkness Evaine tells us about. I can, however, see what the unknown evils are doing to the forests. The destruction must be stopped. I am following the good example of my cousin and doing my small part." The druid brushed off his hands and took a seat near the fire, helping Miltiades to stoke up a blaze.

"The trees I've just planted will grow magically. If they are not disturbed for a week, they will grow into huge oaks, unusually resistant to fire, disease, and blades of all kinds. Each ring of seven trees will form a grove-a haven of goodness, if you will. The trees will help counter the effects of evil."

Gamaliel jumped abruptly to his feet, sniffing the air.

Evaine announced the cat's message. "Riders coming."

The group readied their weapons, but left them concealed. They casually broke camp as they waited for the riders to approach. Long before the new group could be identified, Ren and the others heard their chanting. Evaine informed the group that Gamaliel smelled incense.

Andoralson cast a quick spell to mentally view the approaching horsemen.

"They're clerics," he observed. "There's a group of seven who follow Ilmater. You'll be able to tell by their gray tunics and tabards. One wears a red skullcap, indicating he is the leader. Take note if he has a gray teardrop tattooed under his left eye. Such a mark means he is a master of unusual power and dedication.

"There are ten other riders who are clerics of Torm. You can tell by the blinding shine on their plate armor, even under these gray skies. One has a blue tint to his plate armor, marking him as their leader. I'd guess him to be very powerful."

Both groups of clerics were loudly singing different chants, apparently oblivious to the clamor their conflicting tunes created. One priest of each sect carried a smoldering censor, filling the air with a trail of smoky incense. The singing didn't stop, even when the clerics discovered the travelers. The companions were on their feet, packing gear into saddlebags.

"Be ye friend or foe?" asked the cleric in the lead. The even tone of his voice and the scourge he hadn't drawn told everyone he didn't expect a fight. The other horsemen crowded into the clearing, arranging themselves so as not to alarm the strangers.

"Friends to those who would be our friends, foes to any who would slow our quest," Ren said, nodding to both groups.

"Well spoken, for a warrior," the cleric commented. The priest with the red skullcap gestured to the others, and his followers stopped their chanting and dismounted. The clerics of Torm held to their saddles but lowered their voices to a faint hum. The leaders of both groups stepped forward.

The cleric in blue plate mail shouted to his followers to cease their chanting. The smoke from the burning incense concentrated in the clearing, tainting the air with the smell of singed hair and stale, bitter herbs. The entire group grimaced as the odor washed over them. Gamaliel bared his teeth in a silent hiss.

"I am Bishop Painel," announced the man wearing the red skullcap. The gray teardrop tattooed under his eye was now visible to Ren and the others. "My priests are on a quest of our own, along with the priests of Torm." Painel deferred to his colleague.

"And I am Starnak, High Bishop of Torm. What is a ragged band such as yourselves doing here? Do you realize how dangerous this land has become?"

Without asking for consent, Painel moved to bless Evaine and the others. Gamaliel leaped between the cleric and his mistress, hissing at the intrusion.

"Good clerics," Ren boomed in his most authoritative voice, "our quest is to find some friends who were stolen along with the entire city of Phlan. We plan to look for answers at a red tower."

The clerics extinguished their pungent incense. The leaders looked upon Ren's group in surprise.

"Isn't this a coincidence?" Painel said calmly as he backed away from Gamaliel. "Our mighty gods have given us the quest of finding a red tower and expunging the evil there. Warrior, won't you introduce us to the rest of your party?"

Ren quickly surveyed the others. "I am called Blade. Yonder is a warrior dedicated to Tyr, known as Ordean." The ranger silently hoped that the clerics couldn't see through the paladin's illusion or sense that he was actually undead. "The lady is a wizard calling herself Anastasia-" Ren smiled, thinking Evaine wasn't the only one who could think fast on her feet "-her familiar, the giant cat, is Fellinor. The druid-"

"This druid can introduce himself. I am called Acer, good clerics. Perhaps we can join forces to approach the red tower. What do you know of this magical structure?"

Evaine observed slight hand gestures among the clerics at the rear of the group. She knew they were probably casting spells of detection.

The sorceress cleared her throat loudly. She hoped she could stop the clerics before they discovered their real names and the truth about Miltiades. "Excuse me, but your spells of detection won't work on us in the cloud of evil in which we find ourselves," she called over the heads of the two leaders. "Magics of searching won't work around the tower, either. You'll just have to trust us."

"Ah, trust-a charming concept, rarely given freely, is it not?" Painel asked. "Shall we compare knowledge of the tower before we decide whether to join forces?"

Four of his clerics began setting up strange poles, each with an iron gauntlet affixed to the top. The two lesser clerics of Ilmater walked between the poles, spreading the ashes from the incense burner.

Clerics are so odd, Ren thought to himself. He could never imagine such a life for himself.

"So, dear lady, please illuminate us on what your group knows," Painel said. A small stool was placed between the poles and the bishop settled onto it with a grunt.

Evaine was not about to spill the whole truth until she knew more about these clerics. She could tell a little of the story, however. "My home was destroyed and a message was left behind stating that a wizard named Marcus was responsible. He is recruiting wizards to join him at the red tower.

"Through some difficult spells, I think I have determined that this Marcus is involved in Phlan's disappearance. We hope to find him and learn what his terms are for the city's return. I could tell you all the details of our journey, but I'm sure a man such as yourself would be bored with the exploits of our little band." Evaine paused, waiting to hear the clerics' reaction. Hoping to bait them, she added, "I've also discovered three abishai guard the area around the tower."

The clerics were obviously intrigued. "We had no idea fiendkind were involved. The situation is much more serious if fiends from other planes are present." Starnak reached into his cloak and drew out a parchment.