"They're barbarians," said Ardeth. "They're probably celebrating a new record for most spines snapped or something."
"Which one do you suppose is chief?" Valkin asked her.
"There by the fire," said Ardeth, pointing to a dimly lit figure beneath them. "With the beard. Only chiefs are allowed to wear black wolf pelts like that."
Valkin looked back at her. "Just how do you know that?"
She smiled coyly. "I know a lot of things," she said. "Now speaking of wolves, are your pets in position?"
"Ready on your word," Valkin said. "May I say, Ardeth, this mission has proved a lot more interesting than guarding caravans across Anauroch has ever been. Maybe afterward, you'll tell me the real reason we're doing this. Abducting barbarian chiefs... not standard Zhentarim activity."
"Geildarr wants him," Ardeth replied. "That's all you need to know for now."
"Hmm," Valkin said. "I spent all morning flying over the Nether Mountains finding dire wolves for this little project, and you still haven't thanked me."
She turned back to him and smiled a transfixing smile.
"Perhaps I'll thank you later," she said. He cursed himself for being so damned malleable, all the while admitting that he couldn't do a thing about it.
* * * * *
Wolf howls suddenly filled the night, ringing like a knell through Sungar's Camp. The festivities ceased instantly. Mugs filled with mead spilled on the ground as warriors hurried to draw weapons. No war cry and no chiefs orders could call the Thunderbeasts to arms faster. These were not the cries of normal wolves, but of the great dire wolves that wandered the wilderness.
"She has brought wolves upon us!" cried Keirkrad, pointing a finger in Kellin's direction, but he was scarcely heard among the uproar. Families were roused from their tents and ushered to the camp's center, and horses were pulled from their corral to the center of camp as well. Mothers armed themselves with bows and formed a tight circle around the children. More howls came from the west, the north, then all sides. Torches were lit, armor donned, and weapons readied.
Kellin searched for Vell, dodging huge barbarians as they rushed back and forth, trying desperately to form a perimeter around the camp before the onslaught began. But as she navigated the confusion, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder and was spun backward, directly into Vell's face.
"This is no random attack," he demanded. "Some mind guides it. If you have anything to do with this..."
She shouted at him in fury. "You and Keirkrad both?" Vell shrank back at the force of her reaction. "Why would I have wolves attack your camp while I'm in it? I can help you fight," she said, reaching for the blade she wore at her side. The howls grew closer.
"Save your mettle for another time," Vell said. "Stay with the children." And he turned toward the edge of camp.
At that moment a dire wolf bounded into the lines, very close to Kellin and Vell. Kellin was startled by the suddenness of the attack, but Vell dashed between her and the wolf. Thunderbeast axes and swords quickly brought the creature down, but not before it had bitten a warrior in two with a single snap of its huge jaws. Another wolf came, then another, all charging into camp with suicidal fervor, their huge eyes glowing and drool glistening on their white teeth. The weapons of the Uthgardt dug into fur and flesh, stopping the wolves only at the cost of brave lives. The howling in the distance did not cease.
"Some wizardry is at work on their minds," said Kellin. But when she looked at Vell, she gasped at the transformation that was overtaking him. Scales sprouted from his skin as he vanished into a rage, and Kellin watched reptilian slits grow in the place of his soft, brown eyes. She extended a hand to feel his scaled skin, but he pulled away.
"No," she heard Vell croak. He fell to his knees, gripping at his face with both scaly hands. "Not this time."
* * * * *
"What if the chieftain should die in the attack?" asked Valkin, projecting his voice over the noise of the battle below.
"I suppose I'd leap down there and save him," said Ardeth. Valkin didn't doubt that she would.
It was quite a spectacle. Wolf after wolf tried to ram its way through the barbarian line and was slaughtered in the process. Valkin's magic willed the creatures toward the center of the camp—the beasts had nothing in their heads except a desire to get there and to kill anything in their way. Ardeth kept her eyes locked on the bearded chief who seemed well prepared to stay alive himself, hacking away at fur and claws.
The dire wolves were not so powerful that the tribe was in danger of destruction, but they served their true purpose well. They had been summoned only as a distraction.
"So when do we do it?" asked Valkin, tugging impatiently on the hippogriff's reins.
"Patience, skymage," said Ardeth, a cool night breeze tousling her hair. "When you have the luxury of choosing when to strike, always strike when the opponent is weakest."
"Did Geildarr teach you that?" asked Valkin.
Ardeth ignored him. "Barbarians are strongest when they rage. We wait till that subsides—after all their foes are killed."
"You mean," said Valkin, "we wait until they think they're triumphant, then hand them an awful defeat? A delicious idea."
"Why, Valkin," Ardeth replied. "Where did you acquire so cruel a mind as that?"
"Spending some time with you, my dear," Valkin said. "It rubs off."
He felt the squeeze of Ardeth's arms around his waist as she giggled away, so adorably, so madly.
* * * * *
Like waves against rocks, wolf after wolf charged the Thunderbeast lines. Some were skewered by archers, but many broke through. Barbarians were torn apart by vicious claws or snapped in two by massive jaws, and blood, of both wolves and men, ran in streams across the camp. A few torches had been knocked from their staves and several tents had caught fire. Some of the braver children ventured forward to try to extinguish them.
Vell choked back his anger and summoned every fragment of his will to contain the beast inside him. He knew some would call him a coward—Keirkrad would certainly scold him for abandoning his tribe in its time of need—but he did not trust his other self. Vell still feared that if the beast within him were released again, he would not be able to tell friend from foe.
In the chaos and cacophony that consumed Sungar's Camp, and despite his distorted senses, he could hear Kellin's voice pleading with him.
"Trust yourself," she begged. But how could he?
"There's a power in you," she said quickly. "I don't understand it. Not even Keirkrad understands it. But I know what it's like to have something within you that seems on the verge of controlling you. You have to learn to control it instead."
Vell looked at Kellin through his lizardlike eyes, wondering what she was talking about, and he saw that the concern on her face was genuine. He looked back at his hands and realized that they were his again. The scales had receded. He stood uncomfortably and looked her in the eye. He wondered how to thank her, but when he opened his mouth his words were not his own.
"What are you?" he asked.
A strange silence settled over the camp all at once. The clinking of armor and weapons ceased, and the howls ended. The enemy was defeated, and the camp was safe again.
"Victory!" Sungar shouted, thrusting a fist high into the air. All eyes turned to him.
In that moment, something appeared in the darkness above. A tiny point of light fell from the sky over the camp, looking no more dangerous than a shooting star in the distant heavens. But Kellin knew better.
"Turn away!" she shouted as loudly as she could, spinning away from it and slapping her hands over her eyes. But Vell's instincts misled him and he turned to look instead, just in time to stare into the heart of the burst.