"Her father has been taken," he said. "And I cannot do anything about it. I cannot live up to my responsibilities as a husband, or as a chief's heir." Kellin now saw him not as a strong barbarian warrior and chief to his tribe, but as a scared, confused boy, grappling with things far beyond him. "Who would do this to us?" he asked.
"Do you know of the Zhentarim?" asked Kellin.
Thluna raised his head and nodded. "Was this their work?"
"Perhaps. They're known for their wizards on winged mounts," Kellin said. "And for stirring up local monsters to dislodge or weaken their enemies. They're not often active in the Silver Marches, but they have a stronghold south of the High Forest, in the town of Llorkh."
"Why are we their enemy," asked Thluna, "when we have scarcely heard of them? What could they want with Sungar?"
Thluna summoned his strength. "We must do what Sungar was preparing to do," he told Kellin, stroking Alaa's hair. "She won't like it, but I must. Very soon. The Thunderbeast gave us our mission, and we must achieve it."
"Will you take my aid?" asked Kellin.
Thluna looked away.
"Shaman Seventoes lies unconscious across the camp," Kellin said. "And even if he were whole, you are chief and not he."
"You do not understand," Thluna said softly. "We do not tolerate civilized people. And we do not cooperate with those who shape magic. We know where that path leads."
Kellin's brow furrowed. She was missing something—something they weren't telling her, something not founded in ancient doctrine but in recent experience.
"I assure you, there is nothing corrupt about my magic. It does not come from a book—my magic is as innate to me as my ability to breathe."
Thluna looked at her.
"You will have my answer soon," he said at length. "We will not be leaving for several days. Our warriors must heal, and we await Vell's return. He is our hope and our prayer. I believe our tribe's survival rests on his shoulders now."
"That's an awful lot to place on him," said Kellin.
Thluna closed his arms tighter around his weeping wife. "If he will not save us," he said, "then I cannot imagine who will."
* * * * *
No place on Faerun was more mysterious than the High Forest—or at least it seemed that way to the inhabitants of the North. It was a holdover from ages past when such great woods dominated the face of the world. It held elves, treants, dragons, drow, and only the gods knew what else. Why did it still stand after millennia, with encroaching civilizations all around it, all craving lumber? The High Forest had a way of conquering those who sought to do it harm.
In the minds of many, the High Forest threatened to swell in the imagination and become the very embodiment of the unknown. But there it stood, all too real, and churning out mysteries beyond invention. Though most gave it a wide berth—only a few roads skirted close enough even to see the edge of the trees—anyone living in or traveling through the southern end of the forest knew of the Star Mounts. They could be seen from many places in the North, and it was reckoned that they were almost as tall as the highest peaks of the Spine of the World. Shrouded in cloud and lore, they were perhaps the most tempting secret of the infinite mysteries that the High Forest kept so well.
These peaks occupied the thoughts of Llorkh's mayor.
From the westward balcony attached to his study in the Lord's Keep, he stared in their direction even though they were out of view. Perhaps, he mused, his destiny would be decided there.
"The Sanctuary," he muttered to himself.
"What?" asked Ardeth, stepping next to him. "What sanctuary is this?" She was still battered and bruised from her fight in the barbarian camp, but now, with a long rest and some time in Geildarr's private baths, she was recovering.
"Sanctuary," he repeated with a smile. "All of our hard work may be realized in that little word. Come." He led her down the hallway to his study, where the axe still rested on his desk amid stacks of books and papers. He snatched up a note containing the details from one of his divination spells.
"I had almost given up when this came to me in a spell. It'll be interesting to see what Kiev can extract from the chieftain, but perhaps capturing him was unnecessary." He held the parchment out to her and she read:
Blood flows from the heart of secrets, where shepherds tend to scales. The axe is the key that pulls back the false and reveals the old Sanctuary in Vision's long shadow. The brave shall find the forgotten source.
Geildarr couldn't stop beaming.
"What does it mean?" asked Ardeth.
"It's simple," he said, grasping a book and flipping to a faded sketch of the Star Mounts. Each peak was marked with human and elf names. On the far right was a mountain labeled Mount Vision.
"Here," Geildarr said, pointing his finger. "This Sanctuary lies somewhere in the vicinity of Mount Vision. More importantly, the Star Mounts are the source of the Heart-blood River." He quoted, " 'Blood flows from the heart of secrets.' Whatever it is we're looking for, it should be near here." He poked the diagram with his finger.
"But shepherds tending to scales," asked Ardeth. "What riddle is this?"
"Perhaps it's more literal than that," Geildarr said. "Tyrrell said that the Thunderbeasts worship a behemoth, a great lizard of legend. And what attacked you may be the same, or some godly incarnation of the same."
"I'm lucky to have escaped it," said Ardeth.
"Truly," Geildarr said. "It's a shame Valkin couldn't have as well."
"He came back to save me. I owe him my life."
"You've done me no favors by returning without him," Geildarr said. He kept his tone steady, making no obvious judgments, but Ardeth sensed the anger underneath.
"Would you be happier if I had died instead?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch only slightly, but enough to make Geildarr feel the intensity of her words. "I'm not Zhentarim, after all. Manshoon wouldn't need to know, or care, if I had died."
Who is master here, and who is the apprentice? Geildarr thought. But he kept his frustration in check.
"That's not what I meant," he said. "But this has made the situation all the more desperate for me." He rested his hand on the battle-axe. "You'll shortly be going on another mission, if you're well enough. And this time, I wouldn't be unhappy if your party returns a member light."
* * * * *
The tribe assembled at nightfall in the camp's center. All expected that Thluna would give them some impassioned speech, saying that challenges let their tribe excel, or bidding them to trust in the Thunderbeast's will. But perhaps Thluna knew that speech-making was for another time, for he spoke simply and honestly. Kellin stood on the edge of the assembly, keeping an eye on Keirkrad, who had recently awakened. But throughout the day there had been no signs of Vell, and those barbarians who went combing the valley for him found nothing but a great many large indentations in the ground.
"Our destiny awaits us inside the High Forest," Thluna said. "Our future will be decided there. Our trail is set by the Thunderbeast itself. But our enemies are many, some of our strongest warriors are lost, and this camp must stay strong. When he designed this quest, Sungar did not foresee this calamity, and I can't follow the plan he had set. My place had been to remain in camp, but the chief of the Thunderbeasts must lead this journey. In my stead, Hauk Graymane, bane of orcs and Blue Bears, hero of the Red Ridge, shall lead with all his wisdom." A cheer went up on behalf of Hauk, one of the tribe's most respected elders.