Son of Thunder

CHAPTER 14

Tremendous winds pelted Ardeth, Royce, Gunton, and Gan as they slowly navigated a high mountain pass. A vicious thunderstorm had slowed them; the gray mists above had let out their store, dropping a sudden deluge that turned the mountain slopes into slides of pure mud. The foursome lost much time hunkering in sheltered spots, and their object, Mount Vision, had disappeared into the haze. The wind howled so loudly that they could barely hear each other, their clothes were soaked through, and all the while they looked over their shoulders for Elaacrimalicros to drop out of the rain clouds.

While the rain was at its worst, and they took refuge in a hollow at the base of a steep cliff, a black figure stopped at the mouth of their cave, barely visible in the gloom. Everyone grasped weapons, and Ardeth pointed her crossbow at the intruder.

Through the rain, they saw the outline of huge wings. The wings disappeared as the strange creature approached, and a copper-skinned elf stepped out of the murk, dressed in animal leathers. Short and slender even for an elf, his dark hair was matted and unkempt. His red-streaked hazel eyes darted back and forth before settling on Ardeth.

"Ardeth of Llorkh?" he asked, barely audible over the raging winds outside. His voice was high-pitched and raspy, decidedly not like any elf any of them had encountered before.

"Yes," Ardeth answered cautiously.

"I smelled your scent on the wind. I am here on behalf of the Mayor of Llorkh."

"Thank the gods," Royce gasped. "I didn't suspect Geildarr would have contact with the wood elves."

The elf let out a disgusted grunt as his answer.

"You're a werebat," Ardeth said. "From Heskret's tribe. Geildarr told me there was a chance he could recruit aid from your folk." There was no relief in her voice, only suspicion, and she kept her eyes locked on his face, scanning for any insincerity.

"My name is Halzoon," the elf said, looking at the group, his neck twitching. "I am to offer myself as your guide."

"No deva, but a winged savior nonetheless," said Gunton.

"Where are you guiding us?" asked Ardeth.

"Three great phandar trees in a triangle, alongside the Heartblood River. That is what you seek."

"How do you know this?" asked Royce.

"Heskret extracted it-" he drooled and chuckled, "-from an Uthgardt shaman."

"You know the best way to the Sanctuary?" asked Royce. "These passes are difficult to navigate."

"Forget the passes," the werebat hissed. "Forget them! I know a better way."

"We don't have wings," huffed Gan.

"Not above the mountains, goblinoid. Below them."

"There are tunnels?" asked Royce.

"Yes," Halzoon said, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. "Many tunnels, all through the mountains. Dwarves built them long ago. Harpies made their nests there. But not any more."

"How do we get in?" asked Gunton. "It'd be a far better option than waiting here for Elaacrimalicros to eat us."

Halzoon pointed upward. "An entrance farther up the mountain. Winds are terrible up there, but with care, you should make it."

"Thanks be to all the gods," Royce said. "I'd hug you if you didn't stink of guano."

The elf werebat chuckled at Royce's joke. "I will lead you," he said. "Heskret commands it."

"What was his name?" Ardeth demanded.

"Whose name?" asked Halzoon.

"The barbarian shaman you captured," she said. "What was his name?"

"His name was Keirkrad." A cruel smile crossed his face and he let out a high-pitched cackle. "We were lucky to get that one. Heskret was pleased. He had some unfinished business with that one."

"Keirkrad," she repeated. The answered satisfied her, and she lowered her crossbow.

The ingress on the mountain that Halzoon described was higher and more remote than anyone expected. Ardeth and her companions summoned every scrap of will and endurance to climb through the driving rain and the roaring wind to reach shelter again. They found a knee-high drop onto an enclosed platform, its base full of water, and a stone passageway leading into the mountain.

"Fascinating," said Gunton when they ducked into the dry passage. "A landing platform. The dwarves who lived here must have used flying mounts, just as they do in the Great Rift."

Ardeth lit a torch, and by its light they could see the fine stonework of the passageway. Dethek letters were inscribed in the wall and from them, Gunton translated the name of the place: Onthrilaenthor.

"Ancient mines," said Royce. "Built by dwarves, but with a clearly elf name. Most curious. How far is our destination?" he asked Halzoon.

"Two, three days," the werebat said. "I don't know why you want to go there. I know the place, and there's nothing to say about it."

"We have a key," said Gan, holding up the axe.

Halzoon scratched his head, uninterested.

"And you know exactly where we're going?" asked Gunton.

Halzoon nodded. "I scouted these tunnels for Bloodmaster Heskret. I know the way."

"I can only hope that a werebat will have good senses underground," said Ardeth.

"We Antiquarians have experience in tunnels as well," boasted Royce, but Halzoon soon humbled Royce and Gunton. He led the foursome through a maze of ancient tunnels, shored by the occasional stone pillar. The werebat frequently stopped to sniff the air or turn an ear to a vacant passageway, apparently navigating on sheer instinct. Some of the tunnels were coursing with wind from the outside, while others were silent as if they'd not been visited in millennia.

Halzoon was a strange creature. He was more bat than elf, clearly. His posture was stooped, and he was a mass of tics-he could not keep still for a second, scratching, twitching, and sniffing.

"You said there are harpies here," said Ardeth as they climbed down a twisting staircase deep into the bowels of the mountains.

"No," Halzoon answered.

"But you said…"

"Harpies lived here, but no more. Scared off, they left and are all gone."

"What scared them off?" asked Gunton.

"The dragon."

"Dragon?" Royce said. "You mean Elaacrimalicros?"

"No!" Halzoon insisted. "Onskarrarrd."

"Who?"

"Deep dragon. He moved here after the fall of Ched Nasad last year. Onskarrarrd lairs down below."

"Tremendous," said Royce, dropping his voice to a whisper. "We're evading one dragon above, only to intrude on another one below. You might have mentioned that."

"No worry," said Halzoon. "He is sleeping now."

"How do you know that?" asked Ardeth.

Halzoon pressed an ear to the wall. "Can't you hear?" he asked. "He's snoring!"

"You should have mentioned this," Royce said, new anxiety in his voice.

"Why, human?" asked the werebat. "Would you have preferred to stay out there?" He squeaked with laughter.

The Uthgardt pushed their way through the High Forest with new urgency. The Star Mounts drew ever closer, cold and forbidding, and their clouds spread out to douse them all with hard rain.

No one said much since Keirkrad had been taken. They wondered whether the werebats had been hired-most likely by the Zhentarim-to capture one of them for interrogation, perhaps to learn where they were going.

"Malar," spat Thluna. "Blast his hide."

As they pushed through the pouring rain, Thluna vividly remembered a single day on the cracked earth of the Fallen Lands. All their troubles seemed to stem from that day. The wizard Arklow had spoken of creatures called the phaerimm, monsters of magic who could ensnare the mind of any creature. Thluna had feared that would be their fate-the Thunderbeasts would be made vassals to another foul power.

But with Arklow's help and directions, the Thunderbeasts had slaughtered the dark naga who led the phaerimm forces and fled as a massive orc army fell into infighting. Their victory was swiftly tangled with defeat, as Arklow revealed that magic lay in many of the tribe's weapons, including Sungar's ceremonial axe. The Thunderbeasts responded by leaving those weapons in the Fallen Lands.

Thluna looked at the oaken club he now clutched, given to him by Gunther Longtooth. It had hurt the werebats when other weapons had not. Thluna knew that the club must be magical, just like the axe. But he would not dream of disposing of it. It was a gift. Moreover, it was an outstanding weapon.

"When we were seeking out Grandfather Tree," Rask told Thluna as they walked together, "we knew that the Blue Bears were doing the same. We did our best to give them false leads, lure them into traps, counter them wherever we could. And, thanks be to Uthgar, we reached the Tree before they did. But at the same time, our enemy helped legitimize our quest."

"What do you mean?" asked Thluna.

"Think of what we're doing now. You quest for your living behemoths. This might seem foolhardy to outsiders, something important only to your tribe. But clearly, this is not the case. If the Zhentarim want your secrets, your secrets must be very important indeed."

"I had not thought of it that way," said Thluna. "The Zhentarim have taken great interest in us. Why? Aren't we beneath their notice?"

"A mystery indeed," Rask confirmed. "Nothing moves the Zhentarim but power. I knew their workings all too well… they are brutal and cruel, and Geildarr is a petty despot. But contrary to what some would say, they do not practice their vile ways for no reason. They want power, and for power they hoard their coin and whatever else magic can find."

"Magic," Thluna repeated fatefully. At the core of all the evil in the world, he decided, there was magic.

"A mystery indeed," the half-orc repeated. "I only hope we live long enough to solve it."

"I never thought I had anything to hide," said Kellin softly.

"What's that?" asked Vell. They walked together through the underbrush, the Thunderbeast party fanning out around them. Rask and Thluna walked in the lead while Thanar held back, scanning the woods for signs of anything lurking among the trees.

Kellin swallowed. "Until recently, I never had secrets-not any that anyone would care to know. I was as open and forthcoming as anyone could be, and that felt like freedom. When I came to your camp, I kept part of myself hidden, but I could justify that to myself. I knew that if I revealed that I was a sorceress you'd reject me, and my journey would end before it began."

"You were right," Vell affirmed.

Kellin forced a smile. Keeping her voice low, she asked, "But am I right this time? What I know about my father…"

"Has nothing to do with you. You are not your father."

He cast her a sideways glance.

"A curious statement from an Uthgardt," she said. "Tell me about your father, Vell."

Vell stood a little taller. Out of pride? Kellin wondered. "He fought with King Gundar. He died when I was young, fighting perytons in the Lurkwood. He was buried with honor outside Grunwald."

"My father's body was burned, and his ashes spread into the Trackless Sea at Candlekeep. He wanted to unite with the sea, with everything." Kellin frowned. "As I keep my father's shame a secret, it becomes my shame. Maybe I should tell Thluna."

Vell thought about it. "Thluna's younger even than I. He's already proven himself less rigid than Sungar. But all the same, I would not do it. Not now."

A tear rolled down Kellin's cheek. "Why should I bear his shame?" She laid her hand on the hilt of the sword she wore. "I took him as my teacher. How he fooled us all. Even Keirkrad said he was a good man." Vell could see she was holding back her emotions, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

"What will you do when you return home?" asked Vell.

"I'll have to reveal what I've learned to the Candlekeep monks. It will cast doubt on all of his research. His entire work could be discarded, his books culled from the libraries." She looked up at Vell. "Or perhaps not-I hope not, for most of my work is built on his work. But what I've learned must be brought forward, must be revealed."

"You could keep his secret," said Vell. "Only Lanaal and I know, and neither of us will reveal it."

Kellin shook her head. "Oghma is the god of knowledge, and he teaches that knowledge is the most valuable thing. But that doesn't mean it should be hoarded. It should be freely available to all. I'm not able to start keeping the secrets of thieves."

"You're brave," said Vell. "All my life, I was taught that civilized outsiders were dishonorable and full of deceit."

"Not all, but some are," said Kellin. "Your tribe has seen this. Likewise, most of civilization thinks of the Uthgardt as stupid and bloodthirsty. But I always knew better."

"Because of your father, no doubt," said Vell. Tentatively, he added, "I'm intrigued by what you said about Oghma. Does he truly spurn all secrets? Even those we carry in our hearts?"

"Well, mostly it concerns the facts of the world," said Kellin. "Some things are meant just for the individual. The church of Oghma values self-knowledge as well, and sometimes that means privacy. In fact, on my twelfth birthday, the Lorekeepers revealed to me my True Name, a secret name meant to contain the truth of me."

"Does it?" Vell asked.

"I wondered at first how it was meant to," she admitted. "It frustrated me. I thought this was a weakness. I thought I was supposed to understand. I struggled to grasp the meaning, the reason this True Name was for me. I probed deep, contemplated many questions. There are moments when I seemed on the verge of understanding, but it always lay just outside my grasp. Then I had an epiphany. I realized that the struggle for understanding held more meaning than the name ever could." She smiled with a serenity that Vell admired and envied.

"So what name is it?"

"I can't tell!" she laughed. Vell was thoroughly disarmed. "A lady must keep some secrets for herself."

"That's all I wanted to know," said Vell.

"If I had secrets of the heart?" asked Kellin. "Be assured, I do."

"I am glad of that," Vell answered, a smile on his face. It filled him with confidence that perhaps, when all of this was settled, another world might be opened up for him.

But the pressure inside his mind could not be ignored. It was growing stronger with each step closer to the Star Mounts. Gods, he thought. I would not be here if it wasn't for my affliction, the Thunderbeast inside.

He placed his hand on the side of his head, trying to weigh his thoughts.

It's leading me around, he thought.