"I suppose," said Sungar, and he asked no more questions. He thought of Uthgar's defeats: losing the Blue Bears to Malar, the Elk tribe to Auril. Each must have been a piece of him cleaved away. And the other dead tribes of old, remembered in the skalds' songs—the Red Pony and Golden Eagle had supposedly vanished into the Underdark forever.
Were the Thunderbeasts bound for a similar fate?
So often Sungar's mind went back to that day in the Fallen Lands. Geildarr's words were insidious. And he wondered whether following Uthgar's law might be leading the tribe down the road to destruction.
And if so, did that mean Uthgar willed it?
CHAPTER 13
Laying her crossbow on a rock, Ardeth kneeled at a fast-moving mountain stream at the foot of a tall peak and filled her waterskin. The inglorious task gave her a welcome moment to herself, away from Royce's cynicism and Gan's toadying. If only she could do without them!
This mission was not going entirely according to plan, she had to admit to herself. But she would not let herself be dismayed. The Sanctuary still awaited.
She heard a strange noise behind her and spun to face it, snatching up her crossbow. It was a sort of flapping sound, but when she turned, she saw nothing. Then she heard it again, behind her still, and swung around to see a red-feathered birdman, just shorter than Ardeth, staring at her from across the stream. Its wings were folded, and it clutched a javelin in one three-fingered hand.
"What are you doing here?" it spoke in a chirping voice, its head darting from side to side.
"We are merely passing through the Star Mounts," Ardeth said.
"My people were slaughtered and dispersed by the green dragon Elaar," the creature said. "Your kind call him Elaacrimalicros. Are you here to slay him, or to aid him?"
Ardeth recognized the birdman as an aarakocra. She had seen drawings of them in Geildarr's study. She shook her head. "We have no interest in your struggle..."
"If we are to survive—" the aarakocra lowered its javelin and pointed it in Ardeth's direction "—then we need magic and weapons. We demand..."
Ardeth fired her crossbow, launching a bolt directly toward the aarakocra's feathered belly. But the missile never reached its target. It was deflected in midair by magic and bounced into the stream. Suddenly smiling, Ardeth took another shot at the aarakocra's head. It sailed through as if it were fog and struck the rock face behind it.
The aarakocra vanished. In its place stood a creature half the height of the illusionary bird. Ardeth cast a disgusted look at a red-clad gnome. The aarakocra's spear shrank and became the blackwood cane that Moritz carried. Impressive, Ardeth thought.
"Well met, Ardeth Chale," he said. "You've confirmed what I always suspected: it is in your nature to go for the kill."
"Moritz of Hardbuckler." She never changed the aim of her crossbow. "Fancy encountering you here."
"Charmed, sweet lady," he said, tipping his red tricorn. "So good to speak with you at last."
"I take it this isn't the first time we've met."
"Met, maybe," Moritz said with a chuckle.
"Now comes the part where you make a portentous threat before vanishing on the spot?" asked Ardeth. "Geildarr forewarned me. The feathers were a nice touch."
"Rather, I wanted to commend you on securing the death of Mythkar Leng for Sememmon and myself," Moritz told her, taking a step closer to the quick-running stream.
"He was a most inconvenient enemy."
"I wasn't aware he was your enemy," Ardeth answered. "And I'm quite sure I didn't do it for Sememmon's sake."
"All Zhentarim are Sememmon's enemy," said Moritz. "At least all those faithful to the Keepers."
"Does that include Geildarr?" Ardeth asked. "Why doesn't Sememmon kill him?"
"Is that your answer to everything? Why shouldn't I kill you, then?" Moritz shrugged. "You find it easier to kill a man than to let him live. Isn't that so?" He reached into his robes and produced a bone dagger, the same one she had used to kill Arthus Tyrrell. He tossed it into the stream and it gave a small splash. "He wasn't lying about his wife and children—but I don't expect that moves you any. Did you kill him to silence him? Surely not. Who would have known about your visit? The Thunderbeasts? Or was it only because you knew you could? I bet you'd slaughter the surviving Antiquarians and that great beast who carries the axe, if only you didn't need them."
Ardeth glowered at the gnome. "Where does a weakling get the nerve to lecture me on the evils of violence?"
"You intrigue me. You intrigue Geildarr, too. But unlike him, I'm not blind to what you truly are." Moritz stood straighter. "Perhaps I should bring him up to date."
Ardeth's eyes darted about uncertainly.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, staring down at the primitive bone dagger lying in the stream.
"If you find what you're looking for at this Sanctuary," he said, "whatever powerful remnant of fallen Netheril it may be, it cannot be allowed to enter the desert." He spoke blandly, for he did not need to put his threat into words. When she looked up, he was gone.
Ardeth thought about the ancient dagger. Made of bone, it probably had a long history, but what did that mean? From Elrem's cave, to Llorkh, to Newfort, this insignificant token of the past had been on quite a journey. Perhaps it deserved to lie here, undiscovered, for the rest of time.
She reached down into the cold water to claim it, but when she touched it, it vanished.
* * * * *
"Under other circumstances, this would be a fascinating place to explore," said Gunton. The group sat around a campfire, devouring a meal of roasted mountain sheep.
"The heart of mystery," agreed Royce, admiring the vista of the mountains in the failing light. He added, "The others would have loved to see this," not bothering to hide his sadness.
In the few days that they had traversed the Star Mounts, the surviving Antiquarians felt both at their best and worst. While they could not forget their dead companions, they were also doing something they had always wanted: exploring the hidden places of Faerun and plundering their secrets. They could think of no more enigmatic place than these peaks. They had already seen the legendary crystals, large as houses, growing from the upper slopes and catching the light to cast blue and green patterns all through the valleys. There were towers, too—strange, needle-thin white ziggurats rising from high mountain spurs, far too high to be accessible.
Were the towers long abandoned or inhabited still? What treasures might they contain? Perhaps they were as old as Netheril, or contained artifacts more mighty than those they sought at the Sanctuary. But for Royce and Gunton, the mysteries of the Star Mounts would remain mysteries.
Two long days of walking had placed them just beyond one of the smaller mountains that stood in their way. To their great unease, they found themselves relying on Gan, who indeed had an excellent sense of navigable passes and could forage for food. The three of them sat around the fire, carving up their latest meal.
"My mistress is overdue," said Gan, scanning the valley for any sign of Ardeth.
"Ardeth can protect herself," said Royce. "Probably better than any of us. Honestly, Gan, I don't understand you at all. Geildarr's responsible for sending your whole tribe to die needlessly in the Fallen Lands. But you serve him nevertheless."
"I sought out strength," Gan replied.
"I wouldn't have guessed that servility was a hobgoblin trait," said Royce, safe in his assumption that Gan wouldn't understand the word.
"This was after you found Berun's axe?" asked Gunton.
"Yes." The hobgoblin's hand involuntarily reached out to touch the axe's shaft as it rested in front of him.