Son of Thunder (23 page)

Ardeth glowered at the gnome. “Where does a weakling get the nerve to lecture me on the evils of violence?”

“You intrigue me. You intrigue Geildarr, too. But unlike him, I’m not blind to what you truly are.” Moritz stood straighter. “Perhaps I should bring him up to date.”

Ardeth’s eyes darted about uncertainly.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, staring down at the primitive bone dagger lying in the stream.

“If you find what you’re looking for at this Sanctuary,” he said, “whatever powerful remnant of fallen Netheril it may be, it cannot be allowed to enter the desert.” He spoke blandly, for he did not need to put his threat into words. When she looked up, he was gone.

Ardeth thought about the ancient dagger. Made of bone, it probably had a long history, but what did that mean? From Elrem’s cave, to Llorkh, to Newfort, this insignificant token of the past had been on quite a journey. Perhaps it deserved to lie here, undiscovered, for the rest of time.

She reached down into the cold water to claim it, but when she touched it, it vanished.

“Under other circumstances, this would be a fascinating place to explore,” said Gunton. The group sat around a campfire, devouring a meal of roasted mountain sheep.

“The heart of mystery,” agreed Royce, admiring the vista of the mountains in the failing light. He added, “The others would have loved to see this,” not bothering to hide his sadness.

In the few days that they had traversed the Star Mounts, the surviving Antiquarians felt both at their best and worst. While they could not forget their dead companions, they were also doing something they had always wanted: exploring the hidden places of Faerun and plundering their secrets. They could think of no more enigmatic place than these peaks. They had already seen the legendary crystals, large as houses, growing from the upper slopes and catching the light to cast blue and green patterns all through the valleys. There were towers, too—strange, needle-thin white ziggurats rising from high mountain spurs, far too high to be accessible.

Were the towers long abandoned or inhabited still? What treasures might they contain? Perhaps they were as old as Netheril, or contained artifacts more mighty than those they sought at the Sanctuary. But for Royce and Gunton, the mysteries of the Star Mounts would remain mysteries.

Two long days of walking had placed them just beyond one of the smaller mountains that stood in their way. To their great unease, they found themselves relying on Gan, who indeed had an excellent sense of navigable passes and could forage for food. The three of them sat around the fire, carving up their latest meal.

“My mistress is overdue,” said Gan, scanning the valley for any sign of Ardeth.

“Ardeth can protect herself,” said Royce. “Probably better than any of us. Honestly, Gan, I don’t understand you at all. Geildarr’s responsible for sending your whole tribe to die needlessly in the Fallen Lands. But you serve him nevertheless.”

“I sought out strength,” Gan replied.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that servility was a hobgoblin trait,” said Royce, safe in his assumption that Gan wouldn’t understand the word.

“This was after you found Berun’s axe?” asked Gunton.

“Yes.” The hobgoblin’s hand involuntarily reached out to touch the axe’s shaft as it rested in front of him.

“I wonder if it’s an effect of the axe’s magic,” said Gunton. “It’s a weapon of great leaders—the Bey of Runlatha, and from what Geildarr said, even Uthgar.”

“I wield it on Geildarr’s behalf,” Gan explained. “He is a great ruler.”

“Yes,” said Royce, “so you keep saying. That must make it so. But what are you getting at, Gunton?”

“This is speculation, but…” Gunton stroked his beard. “Perhaps the axe responds to its wielder. When wielded by a leader of men, it might confer great power. But in the hands of a born follower…”

Gan looked puzzled.

“An interesting speculation,” said Royce. “But would that mean…”

Suddenly, Gan pointed into the sky. Gunton and Royce looked up to discover the largest dragon they’d ever seen, a vast mass of green scales silhouetted against the evening light. The carcass in its claws was enormous. Huge hairy legs dangled limply, but the dragon’s meal was beyond recognition. As large as a cottage, it dripped blood into the valleys below.

Without flapping its wings, the dragon soared through the Star Mounts, higher than even the mysterious towers. The size of it left Gan, Gunton, and Royce staring agape; the dragon’s apple-green form was as large as a galleon on the Trackless Sea. There was no question that they were looking upon a dragon of legend—an ancient wyrm that made all of the North its hunting fields. Royce muttered its name: “Elaacrimalicros.”

The sighting of the dragon did not set their minds at ease. They knew of the ongoing Dragon Rage burning throughout Faerun.

Gan jumped to his feet, snatching up the axe and scanning the valley for his mistress.

“Ardeth!” he shouted.

“Quiet!” Royce whispered. “She’s probably taken cover, just like we should.”

But it was too late. Though the dragon was several mountains away, its face turned in their direction, locking its gaze on them across all that distance. For an awful second Elaacrimalicros flapped its wings, breaking its glide, then changed its mind and rose on the drafts out of view, behind one of the great mountains.

“Thanks be to the Helping Hand,” said Gunton, putting his hand over his heart.

“His hunger outweighed our intrusion,” said Royce. “But now Elaacrimalicros knows we’re here.”

“How long till he comes out again?” asked Gan.

“Did you see the size of him?” said Gunton. “Do you think even a feast that size will keep him satisfied for long? And if he’s afflicted by the Rage… this is not good news.”

Gan lifted Berun’s axe into the air.

“Let him come,” Gan said. “The axe craves dragon blood! For Geildarr’s glory, I will slay Elaacrimalicros myself, then haul his head back to Llorkh as a trophy!”

Gunton and Royce looked at Gan with a mix of concern and amusement. Was it the axe’s influence that gave him this wild confidence?

“If it’s all the same,” Royce said, “I think we should get out of these mountains as swiftly as possible.”

Under the guidance of Rask Urgek, the Thunderbeast party traveled through the deep woods of the High Forest. The leaves on the trees rippled like fire. Only occasionally did a glimpse of the fog-shrouded Star Mounts, their destination, appear through the dense canopy. They made good time, and the ground became more level as they traveled farther south, as if it had been smoothed by some ancient woodworker’s plane.

Three days of travel had passed without incident, but late on the fourth night, their rest was disturbed by a cacophony of high-pitched squeals in the woods.

“Bats,” said Rask. Only traces of Selune’s light filtered down through the leaves, illuminating the thick trunks of the overgrown trees. Flashes of movement teased their eyes, and soon the whole forest seemed alive with them.

“Are they dangerous?” asked Thluna.

“The High Forest is home to some carnivorous bats,” Rask said. “But they live far to the northeast, in the area of Hellgate Dell and Stone Stand.”

“The most dangerous part of the High Forest,” Thanar elaborated. “Only marginally more dangerous than the rest.”

“There must be thousands of them,” said Kellin, watching the trees. The swarm came closer and closer, and they could see an occasional bat darting overhead.

“They find their way by sound, do they not?” Keirkrad asked Thanar. The druid nodded. “Then I know a simple way to keep them away.” The shaman motioned with his ancient hands and suddenly, the chiropteran squeals seemed to cease, and with them, all sounds of the night.

“What did you do?” asked Vell, but his question was answered when he opened his mouth and no sound came out.

Kellin smiled. “Clever,” she mouthed, and even dared to pat Keirkrad on the back.

Their camp was unearthly, deathly quiet. The bats, perceiving the silence as something solid, avoided the protective shell around the Thunderbeasts. Though the area above was thick with bats, Keirkrad’s spell had created an island of calm.

Then the silence turned deadly. Without warning, a jagged spear hurtled down from the trees above. Crudely aimed in the darkness, it nevertheless found an unsuspecting Thunderbeast, striking his chest and driving deep. Grallah collapsed backward, blood trickling from his mouth. Thluna and Hengin reached him to deliver aid, but they could only lower him to the leaf-strewn ground. Grallah’s lips moved, but no one could hear his dying words—perhaps a final prayer to Uthgar. The others scanned their dim surroundings, especially the branches of the trees. Amidst the shards of moonlight, they saw flashes of movement, larger than the bats—man-sized forms swooping between the trees.

“Werebats,” mouthed Rask.

The group knew that if they huddled closely, they would be easy targets. Worse the lycanthropes didn’t seem to be inhibited by the magical silence. A few Thunderbeasts broke away to put their backs to the tree trunks, forming a perimeter.

Vell looked at his hands, seeing flesh and not scales. He summoned the scales and he felt the restless behemoth spirit within him eagerly rising to the surface. He grimaced at first as the lizard scales sprouted and crawled across his flesh, but it was not painful. Lanaal’s teachings have had an effect, he thought. He understood the advantage of calling on these powers, but worried about feeling so natural while wearing a behemoth’s skin.

Every inch of his human form was quickly covered with a layer of brownish scales. Vell walked away from his group until he was beyond the protection of Keirkrad’s spell, finding tumult outside. The air was warm and humid from the swarm of bodies. Dozens of bats immediately set upon him, landing so tightly that his whole body seemed to writhe with their presence, but their teeth could not penetrate his natural armor. He reached out and grabbed handfuls of them, crushing them in his grip.

A figure swept down on him from the trees—a slender, human shape with thick bat wings and sharp white teeth on a hideous rodent face. Kellin jumped beyond the silence and, inspired by Keirkrad’s manipulation of sound, howled in the werebat’s direction. A tremendous shriek tore from her throat: a low-pitched boom of fantastic intensity that echoed off the trees. The blast struck the creature in midair and sent it careening against a tree, its thick claws grasping at its enormous bat ears. Vell ran over to it and delivered a bare-fisted blow to its head that crushed its skull. Its crumpled, leather-winged form collapsed in a twisted heap. All around, stunned bats plummeted from the sky like fat raindrops.

Unnoticed, a strange pellet fell from the trees. It landed next to Keirkrad and erupted into a mesh of thick, gooey strands like spider silk that wrapped around the ancient shaman, binding him in an instant. Within the sticky wrapping, his hands were held in place and his mouth was covered. The more he struggled, the tighter he was bound within the cocoon.

Ilskar and Draf ran over to slice through Keirkrad’s bonds, but another flock of bats assailed the party. The new attackers were as large as dogs, with triangular bodies and red fur. Like their smaller brethren, they lost their ability to navigate inside the magical silence. They panicked and lashed out with spiny tails, drawing blood wherever they struck. Thluna bashed one solidly with his Tree Ghost club, damaging its wings then crushing it under foot. Ilskar and Draf tried to cut Keirkrad free, but their blades were useless against the thick webbing. They turned away from Keirkrad to fight the new enemy.

Amid the confusion, two werebats swooped down from the treetops. They gripped the strange webbing that held Keirkrad and tried to pull him aloft. Rask hit one of them solidly with his battle-axe, but it bounced off the lycanthrope without leaving a mark.

Thanar clapped Thluna on the shoulder and turned him toward the werebats assaulting Keirkrad. Thluna swung his club at one of the struggling werebats, catching it just above its knee. The werebat released its grip on Keirkrad and turned to face Thluna, silently hissing and snarling. Thluna struck again with the enchanted club, sending his victim to the ground on one knee. At the same time, a red-tinged globe of magic struck the other werebat on the head, crimson streamers reaching back to Kellin’s fingers. The werebat released its grip on the webbing and flew off to the shelter of the trees. Still bound, Keirkrad tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, rolling out of control and landing with his face planted in the dirt.

Outside the silence, Vell found himself assailed by two werebats. Their speed and flight kept Vell off balance. Dozens of bats swarmed around him until he could hardly see. Thanar slaughtered one of the night hunters with his sword before rushing to join Kellin.

“They’re not trying to kill us,” he called over the clamor of bat shrieks. “They want Keirkrad.” He watched Thluna finish off a werebat with a blow from the Tree Ghost club. The other warriors slashed their way through the remaining night hunters.

Kellin nodded in agreement, looking over at Keirkrad’s bound form. “Did they bind him because he’s the most powerful of us?”

Thanar shook his head. “They probably thought he was the least powerful. We need to free him.”

Thanar and Kellin rushed to the shaman, spun him onto his back, and dragged him out of the magical silence so they could try their spells on the magical webbing. He was still conscious, and his ancient blues eyes darted about in fear. Before Kellin and Thanar could even begin to weaken his bonds, more werebats appeared from above. Kellin quickly conjured a bright blue bolt that blasted through a werebat’s thin wings. Thanar summoned a powerful blast of wind that tossed the creatures astray, but more came, flying down and striking, then retreating to the trees and sending more of the smaller bats down on them. Knowing they could not endure much of this, Kellin and Thanar gripped the webbing and hauled Keirkrad back into the shell of silence.

“It won’t last,” Kellin called, just before her words were swallowed up again.