Cry of the Ghost Wolf: Neverwinter NiChosen of Nendawen, Book III (43 page)

Hweilan could feel her mind tearing apart. Something like this had happened once before, on the night Lendri had died and she first saw Nendawen. The Hunter had taken off his mask, and Hweilan had screamed in horror, for the primal instincts of her mind saw her own future in that face.

You are mine, Hweilan
, he said.
You were always mine
. But her spirit had recognized the true meaning behind those words:
This is what you will be. I am both your salvation and your damnation
.

And then his mind had been inside hers, ripping through her essence, consuming every memory, every hope, every secret shame. But the Hunter had intended to take them as his own, to meld his essence to hers. To make them one.

But with Jagun Ghen, there was no sharing, no communion. The burning hunger wanted only to take. When his terrible will penetrated her own, he devoured her to taste. There was no nourishment. For every bit of Hweilan he swallowed, his hunger for more only intensified. He swallowed and spat and raged. He took what he wanted and tore the rest, simply out of the pure joy of destruction.

Still, Hweilan could see. As she felt her sanity being torn away, she could see everything around her, as if in a dream. Darric running out of the doorway, casting aside his torch. Urlun and Jaden backing away when they understood what she’d become. Valsun stepping forward, clinging to his faith and defying Jagun Ghen. She even felt Mandan’s club trap her in a crushing embrace. She could feel, but she could not move. Like a dream … able to behold everything, feel everything, but her will given over, like a leaf being swept down a river, inevitably, toward the waterfall ahead. Hweilan knew that when she reached that point, there would be no going back.

And through all this, Jagun Ghen continued to tear through her spirit, infecting every vein of her essence. She saw images of her family and friends as if through bloody water. The hugs from her father, the embraces from her mother, every time Scith had tugged playfully on her braid … she felt them all burned by fire. Every scent and taste she had ever cherished now had the flavor of smoke and corruption.

But Jagun Ghen was still not satisfied. The burning hunger burned deeper, consuming and rending.

Hweilan saw a light blaze in the darkness of the mountain doorway. A wolf—her wolf—blazing like unstained moonlight, leaped out of the darkness. In that new light, Hweilan saw it. Jagun Ghen’s pact circle had indeed trapped the Hunter’s ghost, but it was still here, still fighting, unable to break free. But as the wolf leaped over the pact circle, Hweilan saw a tiny crack open in the Hunter’s bonds.

And then Uncle’s jaws closed over her arm. She felt every tooth tear through her flesh, cracking the bone, but the deeper pain was far worse. The Master’s power inside the wolf hit Jagun Ghen, like cold water thrown on the hot stones of a campfire. In her mind, Hweilan felt the hiss and steam and the shattering like stones cracking and the Hunter’s power found a way inside.

Still, Jagun Ghen proved stronger.

Hweilan felt her left arm rise, the wolf’s jaws still locked around it, his immense weight pulling on her. She felt her right hand—

—She carries death in her right hand—

—strike, her fingers digging into the flesh between the wolf’s ribs. She heard his shriek of pain, felt him struggling, his claws rending at her shirt and the skin beneath, but his grip on her arm did not lessen, and still the power of the Hunter found ways into her mind, like the tiniest roots slowly shattering rock.

—There’s something in you, something I suspect has made even the Master wary—

She felt her hand close around the wolf’s unbeating heart and squeeze. For a moment there was nothing, but then Jagun Ghen funneled his unholy power through her grip.

The wolf’s jaws let go of her arm, and he threw back his head, and howled.

But it was not a howl. It went far beyond that. This cry was wolf, Lendri, and the power that had brought him back altogether. The last of Jagun’s power binding the Hunter’s ghost shattered at that cry. He was free.

Free but bodiless, no more than a raging will in the wind.

Hweilan flung the wolf away. He was still moving, but broken and hurt, unable to stand.

The threads of power from the Master burned away in Hweilan’s mind, and Jagun Ghen continued tearing through her. Almost done now. Soon, the tiny leaf that was Hweilan would be swept over the cataract, to drown in darkness.

She heard laughter, like the roar of fire, as Jagun Ghen tore through her, going deeper, to the very heart—

The destroyer bit—

—and something bit back.

Something hidden. Something that had been dormant in the life and spirit that was Hweilan. But it was dormant no longer. It
blazed
. Not a light of flame like Jagun Ghen, full of smoke and ash and destruction. This was the light of a newborn star, shining purest white, bringing light and life to the darkness.

The destroyer screamed, a shriek of a shattered spirit.

Jagun Ghen fled, burning in his own fire.

In the emptiness he left behind, Hweilan heard the music that had haunted her dreams. She followed it.

Free from Jagun Ghen, and free from Nendawen, she saw the light and song for what it was. Her grandfather. His countenance had the sad wisdom of ages, but he still had the face and strong gait of a man in his prime. And then she saw his eyes.

Golden. He had golden eyes, and she realized that they saw her.

You remind me of your mother
, he said.
I felt her passing. I am so sorry. Still, I weep for her at night. I have been searching for you ever since. But something has kept you from me
.

What are you?

I am your mother’s father. My name is Jalan
.

No
. What
are you? Your eyes … and the light around you, like the sun …

He smiled.
You see truly
. What
I am is a long story. Suffice to say that my father was … not of this world. That thing trying to hurt you, it has no power over me
.

You can defeat him?

No. That is not my calling. But
you
can
. I can sense it in you. You know the way, Hweilan. You know what to do. And after, come to me. I am in the east, beyond the Sunrise Mountains. There are things here I cannot leave undone. Find me, Hweilan. When tonight is over, I may be your only hope
.

The music and light faded. For a moment Hweilan was alone, in the darkness of her mind.

And then she opened her eyes.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE

M
OONLIGHT STAINED BY SMOKE FELL ON THE
mountainside, but it was still more than bright enough for Hweilan to see. She lay on the ground, and for a moment she could see into both worlds—this one and the invisible spirits around them all—

Jagun Ghen, a massive thing of fire and darkness, hurt and weakened but still raging and strong.

And the Hunter, a green light of fangs and claws.

Seeing his ancient foe, Jagun Ghen fled into the nearest refuge—the body of Nendawen.

And then the spirit sight faded, and Hweilan saw only the carnage around her—

Her wolf lay broken and bloody not three paces away. His paws scrabbled at the ground as he tried to rise, but he was too weak.

Menduarthis was sprawled not far from the wolf. He had tried to crawl away, but found only the sheer drop-off beyond, and he was looking to the others for his next move.

Darric stood several paces away from Hweilan, looking down at her with some sort of medallion dangling from his raised hand.

Behind him, Valsun lay in a pool of wet darkness.

Mandan and Hratt were scrambling to their feet.

The young hobgoblin Urlun was sitting up, his wide, fear-filled eyes taking in the scene before him.

She just caught sight of Jaden fleeing back into the mountain doorway.

And then she saw Nendawen rising, the spear still protruding from him. But Hweilan knew the truth of it. This was not the Master of the Hunt. This was his ancient enemy stealing his body, profaning it. The symbol gouged into her forehead, a mass of pain, suddenly felt cool, as if she had been splashed with cool water.

Urlun screamed, for he was the closest to Jagun Ghen. The others turned at his cry and saw the dead man standing up.

Hweilan pushed herself into a sitting position. Her limbs trembled. She felt utterly wrung out.

Darric began approaching Jagun Ghen, the medallion held before him. But Hratt ran past, and Hweilan saw he held something in his bare hand—the stake she had prepared for Jagun Ghen.

“Hratt, no!” she called out.

He stopped and looked at her, confusion on his face.

Jagun Ghen raised himself to his full height, facing them. The eyes in the ruin of his face were no longer green, but glowed red and hungry. They locked on the stake in the hobgoblin warrior’s hand.

Hweilan pushed herself to her feet. “Hratt, run!”

Too late.

Jagun Ghen raised one hand, his eyes blazed, and the stake in Hratt’s hand erupted in fire. The hobgoblin screamed and flung the burning wood away, but flames were already licking their way up his sleeve. He flung himself down, falling on his own arm in an attempt to quell the fire.

Darric held the medallion higher and renewed his advance. “By the Loyal Fury—!”

Jagun Ghen grabbed the haft of the spear, one hand in front, one in back, and snapped it with no more effort than a man snapping a dry twig over his knee. The breeze off the mountain swept over Nendawen’s body and carried with it the scent of flowers, and Hweilan couldn’t help but laugh at the mad absurdity of it. He pulled the broken shaft out of his front and the end with the spearhead out his back.

Mandan ran to help, holding Hweilan’s red knife. Darric was almost within reach of Jagun Ghen.

“No!” Hweilan screamed.

Jagun Ghen swiped the spear haft outward. Bone cracked and the talisman went flying. Darric fell to his knees, grasping his shattered arm.

Hweilan stumbled forward on trembling legs, tears streaming down her face. The wind swirled around her, and for a moment she thought—

But no, Menduarthis had fallen back to the ground and wasn’t moving.

The scent of flowers grew stronger, and brought with it something else—a wetter, iron-tinged flavor in her mouth. Blood. But not dead, reeking blood. Alive.

Tasting that, it all came to her.

Gleed’s words—
Nendawen is the Hunter. He has always been the Hunter. He will always be the Hunter. It is his nature
.

The vision she had seen of another Hand, who had watched as his teacher and friend was killed. That Hand had fulfilled his calling, giving himself up to the Master, becoming the new host for the Hunter so that the Hunt might continue.

Yes, Hweilan understood. And she recognized that bloody sweet breeze and the tingling on the rune in her forehead, seeking a way inside.

Jagun Ghen raised the black iron spearhead and took a step toward Darric.

Hweilan understood, and she gave in.