"You have failed us," the Shepherd retorted. "You have all failed us."
"I'm curious," said Kellin. "Did you mean to summon me here as well, or was that an accident?"
"It was not our intention," said the Shepherd woman. "Our contact with the world outside this Sanctuary was limited. We could not…"
"You could not send clear messages, obviously," said Thanar. "Why say, 'Find the living'? Why not say, 'Come to the shadow of the easternmost Star Mount'? Why not, 'Recover the lost axe'?"
"Our ability to act was limited," came the answer. The man hesitantly went on. "The shard of your totem that remains in our possession is limited indeed."
"What can this mean?" asked Vell. "What shard of our totem?"
"I can explain," said Kellin. "At least, I'll try. Before the coming of Uthgar, the barbarians of the North-Netherese-blooded survivors from the exodus of Runlatha-worshiped powerful nature spirits rather than gods. This was common in those days. There were fewer gods then, and the conditions of the gods' existence were less stringent, as they were not bound by Ao to their followers. You know the names of these totem spirits-Blue Bear, Black Raven, Elk, Red Tiger, and more, and of course the Thunderbeast. When Uthgar became a god, his tribal followers began to worship him and their totems at once, so they became aspects of Uthgar: fragments of his personality representing different tribes.
"We know that worshipers can be stolen away, as the Blue Bear tribe was by Malar. When none of the Blue Bear tribe worshiped Uthgar any longer, the Blue Bear itself no longer represented him, but became part of the Beastlord instead. So, too, is it possible for new totems to be added, as with the Tree Ghosts," she explained, looking to Rask. "But this place is special. For the most part, worship of the Thunderbeast flowed to Uthgar, but a portion of it trickled here instead. Therefore, the Shepherds have some ability to act through the Thunderbeast outside of Uthgar's authority-perhaps even without his knowledge."
"The Thunderbeast is more legitimately ours than Uthgar's," said the male Shepherd haughtily. "Our claim is prior. We of Netheril's line possess nobility the Ruathan race could never possess."
Thluna paced for a moment, but his youth got the better of him and he delivered a punch to the Shepherd's chin.
The old man crumbled, falling to his knees. "A bold blow," he cursed through clenched teeth, "against a defenseless opponent."
"You deceived our tribe into believing it was given a summons from the divine!" Thluna shouted. "You have masqueraded as the spirit of our tribe for far too long! We lost warriors fighting your fight for you, and our shaman as well. Our tribe is left weak in a time of danger. Worst of all, you twisted us into believing we were doing Uthgar's work, while instead we were serving ancient rivals of his." He snatched up the greataxe lying at his feet. "You deserve this axe in your skull." He turned and walked away, back toward the pass that had led them there.
Vell caught up to him across the high mountain field. "We must continue with our mission," he said.
"Why should we, Vell?" asked Thluna. "Do they not deserve their fate?"
"They do, but the behemoths do not. They are blameless."
"They are beasts," Thluna replied, but when he saw the anger rise in Vell's eyes, he amended his statement. "Sacred beasts, truly, and in some ways our kindred. But can I justify marching our warriors into a city of darkness? Surely that will bring doom down on our tribe more swiftly"
"And Sungar?" asked Vell. "What of him?"
The question gave Thluna pause. "We do not know if Sungar still lives."
"We do not know that he doesn't. Kellin, Thanar, Rask, and the rest… I am certain that all of them will be willing to make the trip to Llorkh. They will not refuse because the journey serves the Shepherds as well."
Thluna closed his eyes and nodded. "In addition to everything else, Vell, the beast inside you… they put it there."
"And they can take it away," said Vell. "If we aid them."
"We came into the forest looking for answers. Looking for a destiny." Thluna frowned. "I said that myself, did I not? That our destiny would be found in the High Forest. And so it was. I wonder if we should never have come here."
He cast a glance back at the Sanctuary. The menhir standing at its center looked so much like those at Morgur's Mound and at a dozen other sites sacred to the Uthgardt. The Shepherds seemed to have vanished; how did they live in this marsh? How did they survive? What did they use for food? What would they do now that the marsh was cold and their protection gone?
Next to the great phandar tree stood Thluna's companions, including the three Uthgardt warriors who had come so far without complaint. Ilskar, Hengin, and Draf represented the characteristics of the Thunderbeast tribe: sturdy and solid, largely silent in the face of orders from their chief, and willing to march and die at his whim.
"We have the answers now, wretched though they may be," Thluna told Vell. "How can they be our ancestors? How could we have come from them?" A new thought dawned on him. "What will our tribesmen think if they learn all this? Must we keep the truth from them?"
"A question for a chief," said Vell. "Chieftains face difficult decisions, as Sungar did that day in the Fallen Lands. I was not there, but I heard what happened. Many questioned his decision to throw the axe away, but I did not think it was my place to question that decision."
"He made the wrong choice," Thluna said, looking down at the axe in his hands. "But I understand why he made it."
"This is your decision," said Vell. "We will follow you. Back to our people, to tell them what you will; or onward to Llorkh, a city completely unknown to us, to death or glory, and to that destiny we came seeking."
Thluna forced a smile. "I have little choice," he said, "when you put it that way."
Thluna faced the marsh, and the Shepherds approached him once again. His seven companions clustered about him.
"I have made a decision," he said, holding the ancient axe. "We will go to Llorkh and reclaim that which was taken from you. We will bring it back here."
The Shepherds seemed unimpressed. "Do you believe you can do this?"
"We believe we must try," Thluna answered. "But there is one condition."
"Which is?"
"This Heart of Runlatha obviously holds great power," said Kellin. "Now that the outside world knows of its existence, it will be doubly difficult to keep yourselves secret. All avenues must be closed."
"Therefore," concluded Thluna, "we will leave this axe with you inside the Sanctuary. Forever."
The Shepherds looked at each other then nodded to the Thunderbeasts. "This is well."
"And something further," said Vell. "You must renounce all claims on the Thunderbeast tribe and on our totem. Abandon this 'shard of the spirit' you have used to mislead us. We cannot have you interfering in our affairs any further."
This brought a violent reaction from the Shepherds. "Our claims are older than yours!" one roared. "We cannot forsake them simply because you ask it!"
"It is our price," said Thluna.
The druid Thanar added, "It is not often that fate affords the opportunity to bargain with one's own past."
"You will fail," predicted another of the Shepherds. "You have failed already, and you will fail again. Any bargain is immaterial."
"Then it should not matter if you enter one," said Thluna. "Swear. Who else will help you? Or shall we just leave you here to die?"
They sneered, then with great reluctance they relented with the slightest of nods. "May the gods speed you to Llorkh," one of them said.
"Any god but Uthgar?" asked Thluna. He turned his back to the Shepherds and led his followers away; they did not look back.
CHAPTER 17
The Central Square in Llorkh had been emptied of its usual town market, but now it held more folk than ever. Onlookers swarmed around its edges where the Lord's Men stood guard, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange newcomers. The exotic lizards, each taller than the buildings that surrounded them, were tethered by magic. Each behem
oth wore an iron ring around a hind ankle, connected by a massive chain to a stone post in the middle of the square. The chains were enchanted to dissolve flesh that touched them, lest any fool try to release the behemoths. The chains were only long enough for the creatures to reach feed bins placed at the square's edges by some brave Lord's Men.
The great beasts occasionally raised their feet, pulling the chains to their tightest and lifting them off the ground, but the chains could not be broken. And as long as the lizards bore the rings around their ankles, they could not lift more than one foot off the ground at any time. The magical formulation had proven to be simple but effective, for which Geildarr was vastly proud.
From the heights of the Lord's Keep, Geildarr enjoyed stepping onto his balcony and watching the behemoths. He never tired of watching them. A honey-colored bird alighted on the balcony's rail and chirped merrily; its cheerful song echoed in Geildarr's heart.
The fate of the behemoths was an open question for Geildarr. He considered dissecting them, harvesting their organs for whatever magical value they might possess, and making armor of their hides. Naturally, the Dark Sun temple wanted the dinosaurs turned over to them, so they could explore corrupting them, perhaps turning them into beasts of Cyric. Geildarr would need time to weigh his options. In the meantime, he just enjoyed their presence. Huge creatures of living, breathing art, they were more of a monument to his success than any statue of Geildarr could ever be.
And yet, these animals were but a side show. The real bounty was the Heart of Runlatha. A piece of Netherese magic from before the fall was worth many more lives than had been spent on the expedition.
"You expect me to discipline you for letting the Antiquarians die," Geildarr told Ardeth as he met with her in his study. "But I will not. I was very fond of them-I know you were, too. I will miss having them crawl through ruins on my behalf. They were useful. But your success-" he gripped the red hunk of magic, its scarlet glow escaping through his fingers, "-does much to counterbalance that loss."
"I'm glad you think so," said Ardeth. "But what is that thing?"
Geildarr smiled and answered, "Nothing less than our redemption."
"You will deliver it to Zhentil Keep, then?" Ardeth asked.
"In time," said Geildarr. "I want more time to study it first-to see what it truly is. It's clearly capable of weaving powerful illusions, from what you report. Perhaps it even extended the lifespan of the Shepherds you encountered in the Sanctuary." The excitement rose in his voice. "Netherese magic, Ardeth! I've never before had my hands on a piece of magic from before Karsus's folly. I wonder how it survived. This could be magic of the sort Mystra now denies to Faerun!"
"Fzoul and Manshoon will be very pleased with it, then," said Ardeth. She watched Geildarr's crestfallen reaction to that statement.
"Truly," he said. "It's a shame that the Heart should only be ransom for my preservation as mayor."
"Is not your reign more secure now?" asked Ardeth. "Or did I kill Mythkar Leng for nothing?"
"His death pleases me, for certain." It's a shame the Antiquarians needed to die also, he silently added. He would save that issue for another time, a future blackmail.
"I'm afraid this accomplishment is only delaying the inevitable," Geildarr said. "So long as I answer to Lord Chembryl, my position here in Llorkh is in jeopardy."
"Is there not another option?" asked Ardeth. "What of Sememmon?"
Geildarr sighed heavily. "You give voice to my darkest thoughts. I never liked him, even when he was master of Darkhold, and I answered to him directly."
"Perhaps because of that reason," Ardeth suggested with a coy smile.
Geildarr patted her shoulder. "That could be. But I understood when he fled the Zhentarim, even sympathized. Fzoul has consolidated power to a terrifying degree. The Inner Circle used to battle among itself mercilessly, and that system worked-it kept any one of them from gathering too much power. But the new Manshoon appears to be thoroughly under Fzoul's thumb, and Sememmon is gone. Bane's vision is being stamped on the whole Network. Cyricists like myself will be an increasingly rare breed."
"Sememmon was a coward for fleeing Darkhold," said Ardeth.
"No," said Geildarr. "He was smart." He looked sadly at the Heart of Runlatha, still gleaming in his clenched hand. "This could only buy me a reprieve. I serve as mayor of Llorkh at Fzoul's pleasure."
The golden bird on the balcony chirped, but somehow its song didn't seem as happy as before.
"Do you think Sememmon would be a better option?" asked Ardeth.
"He has kept himself hidden from Fzoul," Geildarr acknowledged. "No minor feat even for a wizard of such resources and power. But I am not interested in living out my days lurking in dark shadows. Moritz would like me to think Sememmon has some plan for overthrowing Fzoul, or destroying the Zhentarim, or carving out some kingdom for himself. Only the gods know if he does, or if he has a prayer of seeing it to reality. He is certainly amassing magic and allies for some purpose."
"He would like the Heart of Runlatha," said Ardeth.
"Certainly." He looked down at the artifact and sighed. "I'm afraid he might try to take it by force, and I mean to be ready for him if he does. But enough of this doom and gloom. A guest of mine must be made acquainted with our new arrivals." He smiled at Ardeth. "He is an old friend of yours. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me?"
The sunlight seared Sungar's eyes as guards led him through the streets of Llorkh. After so many tendays in a dark hole, the outdoors were no longer his friend. He'd never been in a city before, not Everlund, or Mirabar, or any other. If they all were like this one, he couldn't imagine why anyone would choose to live within city walls. Llorkh stank of desperation and decay. It was drab, and its streets were littered with garbage. From the windows of cottages, common people looked out, their eyes sunken in despair. Armored orcs walked the streets.
Sungar was weak from another beating, his hands bound with iron once again. Two dungeon guards marched him from the Lord's Keep, across Llorkh to the Central Square, but a few blocks away, they put a blindfold on him.
"The mayor's orders," one of them explained. "Geildarr says he wants to be there to see your expression." Sungar did his best not to show any reaction, but when the blindfold came off, he could not help himself.
Geildarr laughed at the chief's surprise and sorrow. "Priceless, priceless, Sungar!" He gestured at the wide square before them. "Thunderbeast, meet the thunderbeasts!"
Sungar wept. These were the living totems that he revered, and like him, they were Geildarr's prisoners. They were myths that were never meant to be real. He would have been overcome with wonder had he seen the beasts in a forest's depths, grazing and roaming, but now, interred like living statues in this square, the sight was a tremendous blow to Sungar. Incomprehensible sadness showed in their massive eyes. Sungar tried to make a fist, but his fingers were too weak.
A young woman stepped up to Sungar. Small and dark-eyed, she wore a smug smile, and she strode up to him flaunting her lack of fear.
"I brought them here," she said. "Just like I brought you here."
Sungar knew her name and spat it. "Ardeth." The traitor to Hurd's conspiracy.
She was surprised. "You know me? Oh yes-you learned it from the dwarf."
"Uthgar will destroy you," Sungar said. An unexpected feeling of peace flooded up inside him.
"Will he?" she asked. "Trice Dulgenhar said that Gorm would do the same, just before I chopped his head off. Why is it that only the most obscure gods have it in for me?" She giggled.
"And you, Geildarr," Sungar said. "You will fall. This precious city of yours will fall." He nodded toward the behemoths. "The buildings will topple under their strength."
He did not feel as if the words were his own any more.
They flowed from his chest unbidden. Across the square, amid the enslaved behemoths, a ghostly figure flickered-King Gundar.
"Vague proclamations of doom from a barbarian chief," Geildarr sai
d. "What a shock."
"You have stolen our birthright," Sungar went on. "This theft will not be tolerated. My tribe will arrive to reclaim them." And he believed it. He knew it.
Geildarr leaned close to him, so Sungar could feel the mayor's breath on his cheeks. "We took more than just these dumb beasts. Ardeth claimed for me an object of power from before the Fall of Netheril."
Geildarr was so close-if Sungar were less weak, and he not been bound, he could have killed him with his bare hands. But he felt no compulsion to do so. His anger left him. The specter of King Gundar in his vision smiled widely.
"I will watch your fate unfold," he told Geildarr. "And it will be soon."
Geildarr took a few steps back. "The dungeon usually drives its residents insane," he said, "but not this swiftly."
Ardeth spoke to the guards who stood around Sungar. "Instruct Kiev to step up the torture. This pathetic man must be brought to his lowest point."
But Sungar was smiling as they led him away. Gundar vanished into nothingness but left Uthgar's grace behind, and Sungar awaited his captors' comeuppance with giddy anticipation.
A few days' march south of the Sanctuary, the Thunderbeast party continued to make its way through the High Forest. They kept a discreet distance from the Unicorn Run and slipped through the deep woods without incident. As they walked, golden and red leaves cascaded down on them and formed a carpet stretching forward, guiding them to victory or ruin. But the leaf fall was coming to an end, and all around trees stood leafless, their bare branches reaching out and grasping like the thin arms of desperate men.
They spoke very little. Thanar and Rask at first attempted to keep the mood light, though they swiftly realized that this was futile and joined the silence. The Shepherds' revelations had cast a shadow over the Thunderbeasts' entire history. Now, to be doing the work of these loathsome tokens of the past rankled especially. And whenever Vell and Kellin's dark eyes met, they knew without speaking that her thoughts concerned her father-another idol fallen, and another dark secret of the past unearthed so unwelcomely.
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