Son of Thunder

CHAPTER 22

Sungar and Thluna raced up two flights of stairs to a small anteroom. Another stairway led up to a heavy iron door, guarded by a massive metal statue-the top of its head almost scraped the ceiling. The figure was depicted in a suit of night-black armor, with a skull within a sunburst-the emblem of Cyric-etched into its chest.

"This is where we'll find Geildarr," said Sungar.

"How do you know?" asked Thluna.

Sungar pointed up at the statue's face, chiseled, youthful, and as beautiful as a god, but recognizable as Geildarr all the same.

Thluna allowed himself a slight chuckle. But when he reached for the door, the statue lurched into life. Purple fire lit up within its eyes, and it turned to face Thluna. Thluna ducked fast. The statue's arm swung about and slammed against the door behind him with a loud clang. He rolled backward, barely avoiding the golem as it brought its foot down hard, setting the walls trembling.

Sungar swung the axe, striking its left shoulder with a metallic ring and digging a dent in the iron body. The golem swept out with its iron arms, but Sungar jumped beyond their reach. Thluna struck the automaton with his club, denting the metal, but the golem showed no reaction to the blow.

"Strong and physical," said Sungar, dodging another blow from the golem. "No wonder Geildarr gave it his face. It's everything Geildarr himself is not."

The sounds of battle rang through Geildarr's private floor, reaching his study. "Fighting on our threshold, Geildarr," said Ardeth. "It's time you made a decision."

"Very well." Geildarr tossed down his wand and turned his back on his balcony. Much of the city was lost in a haze of dust from so many destroyed buildings. "The secret passageway, then," he said, looking toward one of his bookcases. "We can slip out of the keep, then…"

"Then what, Geildarr?" Ardeth demanded. Her white face was flushed with anger. "Explain to Fzoul that you were chased from the Lord's Keep by an enraged barbarian?"

"The Heart of Runlatha may hold power worth a dozen Llorkhs. I will not turn it over to Sungar, even to save the city." He looked at the artifact, resting on a table. It glowed so serenely and peacefully, even as the world shattered around it. It had survived the fall of Netheril, and it would survive the fall of Llorkh, too. Geildarr extended his hand.

Ardeth reached out to stop him from touching it. "It's not yours, Geildarr," Ardeth said. "I stole it from the Sanctuary, but that didn't make it mine. It's not yours now-it never was."

Geildarr reached out and placed his hand over the Heart, not to clutch it, but to touch it, one last time.

The golem wearing Geildarr's face struck Thluna with the back of its hand, sending the young barbarian sailing. Thluna hit the wall hard, and the wind was knocked from him, but he held on to his club.

Sungar drove the axe into the golem's shoulder, widening the crevice he was carving into its neck. Its stony face pivoted on its shoulders toward Sungar, and its mouth opened wide. A thick greenish haze flowed out that quickly settled over the anteroom. Sungar raised the axe, but the gas crept into his nostrils and turned his stomach. His eyes watered, and he felt his throat burn as the acid from his stomach climbed into his mouth. The poisonous green smoke filled Sungar's lungs, and he stumbled backward before collapsing at the foot of the stairs. The axe clattered to the floor. His eyes swam with the poisonous taint.

Thluna choked back vomit as the stinking vapors reached him. He buried his face in his sleeve. This was worse than anything he had ever smelled in the forests-worse than a skunk, and far worse than a decaying carcass. Soon the room was lost in the haze, and Thluna heard only silence, broken by the golem's steps as it marched across the room.

Out of nowhere, a powerful wind erupted near the ceiling, sending wild, green swirls through the fog. The haze began to dissipate under the strong breeze, and Thluna could see his surroundings again, just in time to watch the golem step forward, its thick arms ready to pummel the incapacitated Sungar. As he spat the sick taste from his mouth, Thluna saw Kellin pounce down the stairway, her sword catching the golem against its neck.

"Good to see you, Thluna," said Kellin as she slashed at the golem. Her sword ripped slashes in its armor, but the golem was unfazed. Wisps of gas still hung in the air but soon dissolved.

"Likewise, daughter of Zale," said Thluna, smashing his club against the golem's iron with a noise like the ringing of a gong.

Thanar and Lanaal ran down the stairs, grasping Sungar's helpless form to drag him to safety. The golem reached out a thick iron arm and caught the druid around his middle. It pulled him against itself, crushing Thanar between its arm and its body. Lanaal let out a cry as she heard bones snapping. To her surprise, the automaton focused its purple eyes on her and Sungar, then turned away. Ignoring the intruders outside its room, it confronted Kellin and Thluna, releasing Thanar's shattered form. The druid crumpled to the foot of the stairs next to Sungar.

Thanar's head struck a stair as he landed. "By the Winged Mother, Thanar," said Lanaal, her tears flowing. His entire middle section was collapsed and twisted sideways. Broken ribs pierced his lungs, and a pool of blood spread beneath him. Lanaal reached out a hand to grasp his, but he pulled away.

"Oakfather," he said through gasps, "one last request." He placed his hands on Sungar's unconscious form. "Restore my chief to health and strength. Take his poison and give him vigor. Grant me this, then I'll be no more trouble to you."

His god heard his prayer. White radiance flowed from Thanar's hands and coursed through Sungar's body. Contentment and satisfaction spread across the druid's face as he expired. He died a Thunderbeast.

The deathly pallor slipped away from Sungar's face, and he sat up. He shrugged in puzzlement at the elf maiden standing next to him, but she was scarcely the strangest thing he had witnessed that day.

Sungar looked to Thanar's mangled corpse. Whispering a few words to his fallen brother, Sungar stood and snatched up the axe, dashing toward their metal enemy with restored vigor. Even the wounds of his imprisonment had faded to smooth scars. He buried the axe head into the golem's features and twisted the weapon, ripping apart the ridiculous parody of Geildarr's face.

"Take it," said Geildarr, looking at the Heart of Runlatha. His voice was full of regret. "Get it out of here."

"Where shall I take it?" asked Ardeth.

"Take it to Zhentil Keep. Don't rest until it's in Fzoul's hands, and tell him what brought all of this about."

Geildarr detected a faint trace of glee in Ardeth's voice as she said, "As you command." Ardeth picked up the Heart of Runlatha in both hands. She took a step toward the bookcase that concealed a secret passage out of the keep, but found a red-clad gnome standing in her path, the tricorn atop his head slightly askew.

For a moment all were still, nobody knowing what to say. Moritz smiled at Geildarr.

"So, my friend," Moritz said. "You reveal your true colors at last."

With a burst of speed, Ardeth spun backward and dived, the Heart of Runlatha still within her grasp. She tried to pull herself into the shadow under the zalantarwood table, but Moritz gestured and the table vanished, its shadow disappearing with it.

Catlike, she fell into a crouch and stared at Moritz-or more precisely, at the small shadow he cast. A determined look from the gnome told her not to bother. Ardeth backed away from him, easing up against a bookcase along the far wall, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room and to Geildarr-not to him, but to his shadow, barely visible in the filtered light of the keep. Then her eyes darted to the hallway beyond the door, from which sounds of battle still rang.

"Moritz!" shouted Geildarr. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I wondered if you might be disloyal," said Moritz to Geildarr, taking a few steps toward Ardeth and twirling his wooden cane. "But no-you have kept the faith. To Fzoul. Whereas Ardeth… she knows to whom Netherese artifacts truly belong. Isn't that so?" He flashed her a venomous smile. "Uncloud your eyes, Geildarr. See the truth."

Moritz cast another spell. Before Geildarr's unbelieving eyes, Ardeth's pretty face turned from white to a dusky tone, like that of a Calishite. Her honey-colored hair darkened to a coal black shade. Then even this illusion was stripped away, and Ardeth was laid bare as a pillar of shadow in the shape of a girl. Darkness wafted from her, smoky tendrils snaking from her into the air. The Heart of Runlatha glowed even brighter in her hands-its light against her veil of shadows shining like a red star over her chest.

The shadows reached out to stroke the artifact, enveloping it in a cold caress. It sank inside Ardeth's body, coming to rest where her heart should be. The strength of its glow diminished only slightly. The Heart's red light shone from within its cage of shadows.

"I would've preferred to act earlier," Moritz told Geildarr. "But Sememmon wanted me to confirm your loyalties."

Geildarr's doughy face turned red as anger mixed with embarrassment. She had manipulated him so completely, deceived him so utterly. Geildarr wanted to look away from her but he could not. How did she keep this hidden for so long? She was a shade. A shade! A spy in his midst all this time, a spy from the Empire of Shadows.

No wonder his troops had been unable to surprise the Shadovar in the Fallen Lands.

He had thought she was his new Ashemmi, the creature he could trust in everything. She bought his confidence with the head of a dwarf, and kept it by skillfully accomplishing every task Geildarr assigned to her.

What a fool she had made of him. No, he corrected himself, what a fool she had revealed him to be.

Geildarr raised a hand and an arrow burst forth, sailing through the air at Ardeth. She leaped toward the hallway, the arrow splintering the bookcase behind her, acid spraying from it and singeing tomes and floor. Geildarr bellowed a magical word that locked all the doors on his private floor.

As Geildarr ran after her, Moritz called him back.

"Here. Sememmon's regards." He tossed Geildarr a dagger. Geildarr caught it in midair and realized it was the ancient bone dagger from the Great Wyrm's hoard, the very same dagger he had given Ardeth before sending her after Arthus Tyrrell.

She'd be seeking out deep shadows, Geildarr knew, that would allow her to step into the Plane of Shadow and walk away with the Heart, probably back to Anauroch and the City of Shade. Then the Heart would be lost forever.

Ardeth ran through the hallway, little more than a black streak trailing tendrils of smoke. Pedestals toppled as she passed, Geildarr's precious relics smashing on the floor. Geildarr bounded after her, hopping over each fallen treasure, naked anger compelling his sluggish form to faster and faster speeds. The light of the Heart shone faintly from inside Ardeth-a beacon for his fury. Ardeth didn't bother to exit through any of the doors along the hallway, but kept up her sprint all the way to the hall's end.

Ardeth reached the iron door, her shadowy fingers playing on the lock as Geildarr bore down on her, dagger in hand.

Who am I?

What am I?

Rage was such an utterly pure state. Vell understood everything-the limits of the world were no further than his own perceptions. There was nothing in the universe but what he saw and what he felt. When his human mind floated to the surface for a moment, a wave of confusion overtook Vell that was quickly silenced by the simplicity of rage. The behemoth anger swelled and grew till it encompassed all things, and Vell was pushed down beneath.

A chorus sang inside Vell. Every behemoth was there in his mind along with him, fighting in the streets of Llorkh and leaving a trail of destruction. When another of them fell, he felt the death as if it were his own.

Who am I?

Did I ever really know?

Thluna, Kellin, and Sungar battered the iron golem with club, sword, and axe, chipping away at the powerful construct. Lanaal, helpless against its power, kept out of the way on the stairs.

Kellin chopped at the crevice that Sungar had cloven into the golem's shoulder, and the statue's left arm fell off, landing on the floor at the top of the staircase. Sungar could see the golem's purple lights flickering and fading inside its eye sockets, and he let it follow him to the downward stairs.

"Now!" he shouted. He dived out of the way just as Thluna slammed his club against the golem's back. Unable to balance properly without its arm, and with its magical animation failing, the golem tumbled forward down the stairs with a metallic racket. Sungar leaped over it and came to rest on the landing below. Kellin patted Thluna's back as Sungar and Lanaal approached the heavy iron door leading to Geildarr's private chambers.

Before they could examine the door, it swung open with great force. A rotund, purple-robed mage tumbled out, locked in combat with something dark and vaporous. The wizard struggled with a creature that seemed forged out of pure darkness, yet held the shape and solidity of a human woman. As its dark face howled at them, Sungar and Kellin recognized it as Ardeth, shadows writhing across her face.

Geildarr knocked her to the floor and pinned her against the red carpet under his weight. Ardeth writhed and twisted under his full bulk. He lifted the bone dagger and drove it into her shoulder. She let out an unearthly squeal as it easily sliced her shadow-flesh. When Geildarr pulled out the weapon, he saw a flash of yellow ignite inside her.

He glanced at the dagger in puzzlement. Geildarr had examined it himself years before and found it to be completely ordinary. One of his useless relics, Moritz had termed it.

A realization struck Geildarr. Moritz must have asked Sememmon to weave a new enchantment into the dagger.

Moritz had berated Geildarr for collecting worthless relics of the past-this must be his sense of irony at work.

Geildarr guessed that Sememmon had infused it with the stuff of sunshine.

Sungar and the others watched in amazement as Geildarr struck again and again, sinking the dagger into Ardeth's flesh. Each time he withdrew the dagger, her wails grew louder as explosions of light tortured her dark form from the inside. The bursts of sunlight grew brighter, blanketing the room with flashes of white light.

Finally, Geildarr drove the cruel dagger into Ardeth's face. With a single flash brighter than any sun, her black form disintegrated beneath him. He flopped to the floor, falling flat on the carpet, now marked with an inky black stain beneath him.

The Heart of Runlatha rolled out from under him, toward the door from which he and Ardeth had come. But before the Thunderbeasts could move to claim it, another man emerged from the doorway and picked up the Heart in his hand.

He was tall, handsome, and black-haired, and he wore long blue robes that flowed down to the floor. He held a long staff topped with a black bat in his free hand. He was an imperious, impressive figure; his expression was calm and self-satisfied, showing no fear.

Kellin, Sungar, Thluna, and Lanaal held their weapons ready. But they were uncertain who to fight.

"You may kill Geildarr if you like," said the deep voice of the wizard, as he looked directly at Sungar. "You have every right, and I won't stop you. But know this: he rules Llorkh at the Zhentarim's pleasure. When word of today's disaster reaches them, they will be highly displeased. I'll wager that Geildarr doesn't have more than four or five days to live. And if I know Geildarr, I imagine those last days will be spent in fear and dread as he desperately schemes for a way to save his skin. But the Zhentarim do not tolerate failure, and they can neither be reasoned with nor hidden from. At least-" he added with a dark chuckle "-not by Geildarr. Chieftain Sungar, the torments you endured in Geildarr's dungeon are but a shadow of what Fzoul will inflict on the Lord Mayor."

Geildarr pulled himself to his knees and turned to the tall wizard. "Please," he gulped. "Help me, help me now-" he pronounced the name carefully,"-Sememmon." The name sent a shiver of recognition through Kellin, which brought a touch of a smile to the former Master of Darkhold.

"Do you not think you've had enough chances?" the wizard asked, tapping his staff against the floor, catching part of Geildarr's robe.

"Please," Geildarr said, dropping his face to the floor before Sememmon, gripping the bottom of his quarterstaff in a gesture of submission. If the barbarians would only believe that this was a wizard of extreme power before whom he supplicated himself, perhaps they would be humbled into submission, into sparing him. "I'll do anything you say," Geildarr said. "Protect me, save me-"

"Save your groveling for Fzoul," said Sememmon. "But it won't do any more good with him than with me."

"The Heart of Runlatha," said Thluna from across the room.

"What of it?" Sememmon snapped at the young barbarian.

A nervous shiver ran through Thluna's limbs. "We need it."

"No, my Uthgardt friend, I think not." He looked at the glowing artifact. "When I have a Netherese artifact in my hands, I'm not about to let go of it."

Geildarr admired the economy with which Moritz, in the guise of Sememmon, voiced his threat. He clutched the staff more tightly.

"We will not let you leave with it," Sungar threatened.

"You won't be able to stop me, I'm afraid. Consider your lives my gift to you, and only because you've caught me in a generous mood. You've accomplished nearly everything you set out to do. I'm sure your god is adequately pleased."

Geildarr turned to them from his position kneeling in front of Moritz. "Join me and fight him," he said. "He's not a wizard … not the wizard he appears to be. He's just a gnome… a gnome named Moritz wearing Sememmon's face. He's an illusion-a weakling gnome! We can defeat him! A gnome!"

Sungar, Kellin, Lanaal, and Thluna frowned, exchanging puzzled looks. Was this true?

This brought a chuckle to Moritz, a perfect replication of Sememmon. "You see the desperate scheming I was talking about?" He looked down at the mayor of Llorkh. "Geildarr, did I ever tell you what happened when one of Manshoon's clones attacked me during the Manshoon Wars? I plucked his beating heart from his chest!"

"Sememmon did that, Moritz," said Geildarr. "Not you."

"Good-bye, Geildarr. Give my best to Fzoul. For that matter, give my best to Cyric." He finished with a smug look and a slight wave.

A moment later, confusion crossed his face. Moritz's illusionary brow furrowed as he found himself unable to teleport out of the Lord's Keep.

"Sememmon isn't the only one who can toy with magic," spat Geildarr. He thrust the dagger at the image of Sememmon, driving it into his abdomen. The illusion flickered and fell, and the stately wizard was replaced by a red-garbed gnome, a blackwood cane in one hand and the Heart of Runlatha in the other. He howled at the dagger, embedded in his shoulder and now sending a cascade of blood down his crimson clothing.

"Attack!" shouted Geildarr.

All looked to Sungar. The chief took one step forward and swung his battle-axe down on Moritz. Moritz lifted his cane to deflect the blow. The blackwood repelled the assault, but snapped in two under the impact.

Sungar felt a strange new energy flowing from the axe. The ancient weapon was closer to the Heart of Runlatha than it had been in many centuries.

With Sungar charging at him, Moritz hopped backward through the doorway and ducked. Muttering an arcane syllable, he vanished on the spot, along with the Heart. His red tricorn hat fluttered to the ground. Sungar stopped, puzzled.

"He cannot teleport from inside the Lord's Keep," shouted Geildarr. "He's invisible."

Faint footfalls were audible from down the hallway as small, unseen feet jumped over the fallen pedestals. Thluna and Sungar bolted after their quarry.

"Where will he go?" asked Kellin.

"He'll try to get outside, especially since he's hurt," said Geildarr, pulling himself to his feet. "He'll try for my balcony or a secret door behind the bookcase down the hall."

"Look after him, Lanaal," said Kellin, running down the hallway after them.

Lanaal raised her sword and rested the curve of its blade against Geildarr's neck. "Not a word, not an incantation, or I take your head," Lanaal promised.

"Fair enough," said Geildarr. He asked her, "How did an elf maid like yourself come to be fighting alongside barbarians?"

"Strange times," Lanaal answered.

"You remind me of another elf woman I met once," he said. "Her name was Ashemmi. Have you heard of her?"

Lanaal said nothing, but raked her short sword against Geildarr's throat, drawing a line of blood.

Geildarr's eyes turned down toward the dark spot on the carpet, stained by the disintegrating shadowstuff of Ardeth's body. If he were truly brave, he thought, why shouldn't he let the elf kill him here and now?

Shaquintar, wizard tyrant of Runlatha, died in the fall of Netheril.

Lucky fool.

Something drove Sungar on as he raced down the hallway, hopping over debris. It was the axe, pushing him forward with its will and giving him a wild new strength. Sungar had wielded the axe hundreds of times before and had never known anything like this. It invigorated him, inspired him. His will and that of the axe were merged, fighting as one. He fancied that he could feel Berun, and Uthgar, and the imprints of all who had ever touched the axe, and that they were wielding it alongside him.

As he reached the end of the hallway, he slammed into a table-an invisible table that had been placed in his way. It dug into his belly and stole the wind from his gut. The axe flew from his grip, landing on the floor in the middle of Geildarr's study.

A faint wind blew in this room, from the wide-open doors to the balcony. Bookshelves lined the walls-Sungar had never seen so many books, had scarcely seen them at all. A passageway built into a bookcase hung open.

On the floor, the axe trembled.

Regaining his footing, Sungar hopped over the invisible table and into the study. He snapped up the axe and prepared to dive after the gnome down the hidden staircase. Kellin and Thluna arrived behind him, shoving the table aside.

But as Sungar leaped toward the passageway, he felt the axe tremble in his hands. A strange red glow enveloped its head.

It pulled him the other way.

Sungar didn't resist, but let the axe guide him, turning with its coaxing until it pointed to a corner of the study next to the balcony.

Suddenly, a burst of red radiance pulsed on the head of the axe. The new energy flowed across the room, and the artifact to which the axe was magically tied, the Heart of Runlatha, pulsed in return. As it had done at the Sanctuary, it dissolved all illusions, all invisibility, slicing through anything that kept the Heart hidden. Moritz the Illusionist was revealed before Geildarr's bookshelf. The gnome staggered from his bleeding wound, and he clutched the Heart of Runlatha in one hand.

Moritz frowned at the barbarian chief and slowly shook his head.

"Sememmon's not going to like this," he said. And with the last of his strength, he ran for the balcony.

Sungar bolted after him, axe raised. The gnome reached the balcony's rail and took a flying leap just as Sungar brought the mighty axe down, burying it deep into the floor. Moritz vanished over the side.

Thluna and Kellin rushed to join him. Sungar smiled, holding up the axe. Blood clung to the blade.

At his feet lay the Heart of Runlatha, clutched within a diminutive hand.

Kellin looked over the balcony just in time to see a falling body vanish into the dusty haze that encircled the Lord's Keep. A trickle of falling blood traced its path downward.

Sungar plucked up the gnome's arm and pried the Heart from its grip. He felt its warmth and held it up to his eye to inspect it closely, as one might a jewel. He turned to face Thluna and Kellin.

"Now," he said. "Is someone going to tell me what this damned thing is?"