"I wonder if it's an effect of the axe's magic," said Gunton. "It's a weapon of great leaders—the Bey of Runlatha, and from what Geildarr said, even Uthgar."
"I wield it on Geildarr's behalf," Gan explained. "He is a great ruler."
"Yes," said Royce, "so you keep saying. That must make it so. But what are you getting at, Gunton?"
"This is speculation, but..." Gunton stroked his beard. "Perhaps the axe responds to its wielder. When wielded by a leader of men, it might confer great power. But in the hands of a born follower..."
Gan looked puzzled.
"An interesting speculation," said Royce. "But would that mean..."
Suddenly, Gan pointed into the sky. Gunton and Royce looked up to discover the largest dragon they'd ever seen, a vast mass of green scales silhouetted against the evening light. The carcass in its claws was enormous. Huge hairy legs dangled limply, but the dragon's meal was beyond recognition. As large as a cottage, it dripped blood into the valleys below.
Without flapping its wings, the dragon soared through the Star Mounts, higher than even the mysterious towers. The size of it left Gan, Gunton, and Royce staring agape; the dragon's apple-green form was as large as a galleon on the Trackless Sea. There was no question that they were looking upon a dragon of legend—an ancient wyrm that made all of the North its hunting fields. Royce muttered its name: "Elaacrimalicros."
The sighting of the dragon did not set their minds at ease. They knew of the ongoing Dragon Rage burning throughout Faerun.
Gan jumped to his feet, snatching up the axe and scanning the valley for his mistress.
"Ardeth!" he shouted.
"Quiet!" Royce whispered. "She's probably taken cover, just like we should."
But it was too late. Though the dragon was several mountains away, its face turned in their direction, locking its gaze on them across all that distance. For an awful second Elaacrimalicros flapped its wings, breaking its glide, then changed its mind and rose on the drafts out of view, behind one of the great mountains.
"Thanks be to the Helping Hand," said Gunton, putting his hand over his heart.
"His hunger outweighed our intrusion," said Royce. "But now Elaacrimalicros knows we're here."
"How long till he comes out again?" asked Gan.
"Did you see the size of him?" said Gunton. "Do you think even a feast that size will keep him satisfied for long? And if he's afflicted by the Rage... this is not good news."
Gan lifted Berun's axe into the air.
"Let him come," Gan said. "The axe craves dragon blood! For Geildarr's glory, I will slay Elaacrimalicros myself, then haul his head back to Llorkh as a trophy!"
Gunton and Royce looked at Gan with a mix of concern and amusement. Was it the axe's influence that gave him this wild confidence?
"If it's all the same," Royce said, "I think we should get out of these mountains as swiftly as possible."
* * * * *
Under the guidance of Rask Urgek, the Thunderbeast party traveled through the deep woods of the High Forest. The leaves on the trees rippled like fire. Only occasionally did a glimpse of the fog-shrouded Star Mounts, their destination, appear through the dense canopy. They made good time, and the ground became more level as they traveled farther south, as if it had been smoothed by some ancient woodworker's plane.
Three days of travel had passed without incident, but late on the fourth night, their rest was disturbed by a cacophony of high-pitched squeals in the woods.
"Bats," said Rask. Only traces of Selune's light filtered down through the leaves, illuminating the thick trunks of the overgrown trees. Flashes of movement teased their eyes, and soon the whole forest seemed alive with them.
"Are they dangerous?" asked Thluna.
"The High Forest is home to some carnivorous bats," Rask said. "But they live far to the northeast, in the area of Hellgate Dell and Stone Stand."
"The most dangerous part of the High Forest," Thanar elaborated. "Only marginally more dangerous than the rest."
"There must be thousands of them," said Kellin, watching the trees. The swarm came closer and closer, and they could see an occasional bat darting overhead.
"They find their way by sound, do they not?" Keirkrad asked Thanar. The druid nodded. "Then I know a simple way to keep them away." The shaman motioned with his ancient hands and suddenly, the chiropteran squeals seemed to cease, and with them, all sounds of the night.
"What did you do?" asked Vell, but his question was answered when he opened his mouth and no sound came out.
Kellin smiled. "Clever," she mouthed, and even dared to pat Keirkrad on the back.
Their camp was unearthly, deathly quiet. The bats, perceiving the silence as something solid, avoided the protective shell around the Thunderbeasts. Though the area above was thick with bats, Keirkrad's spell had created an island of calm.
Then the silence turned deadly. Without warning, a jagged spear hurtled down from the trees above. Crudely aimed in the darkness, it nevertheless found an unsuspecting Thunderbeast, striking his chest and driving deep. Grallah collapsed backward, blood trickling from his mouth. Thluna and Hengin reached him to deliver aid, but they could only lower him to the leaf-strewn ground. Grallah's lips moved, but no one could hear his dying words—perhaps a final prayer to Uthgar. The others scanned their dim surroundings, especially the branches of the trees. Amidst the shards of moonlight, they saw flashes of movement, larger than the bats—man-sized forms swooping between the trees.
"Werebats," mouthed Rask.
The group knew that if they huddled closely, they would be easy targets. Worse the lycanthropes didn't seem to be inhibited by the magical silence. A few Thunderbeasts broke away to put their backs to the tree trunks, forming a perimeter.
Vell looked at his hands, seeing flesh and not scales. He summoned the scales and he felt the restless behemoth spirit within him eagerly rising to the surface. He grimaced at first as the lizard scales sprouted and crawled across his flesh, but it was not painful. Lanaal's teachings have had an effect, he thought. He understood the advantage of calling on these powers, but worried about feeling so natural while wearing a behemoth's skin.
Every inch of his human form was quickly covered with a layer of brownish scales. Vell walked away from his group until he was beyond the protection of Keirkrad's spell, finding tumult outside. The air was warm and humid from the swarm of bodies. Dozens of bats immediately set upon him, landing so tightly that his whole body seemed to writhe with their presence, but their teeth could not penetrate his natural armor. He reached out and grabbed handfuls of them, crushing them in his grip.
A figure swept down on him from the trees—a slender, human shape with thick bat wings and sharp white teeth on a hideous rodent face. Kellin jumped beyond the silence and, inspired by Keirkrad's manipulation of sound, howled in the werebat's direction. A tremendous shriek tore from her throat: a low-pitched boom of fantastic intensity that echoed off the trees. The blast struck the creature in midair and sent it careening against a tree, its thick claws grasping at its enormous bat ears. Vell ran over to it and delivered a bare-fisted blow to its head that crushed its skull. Its crumpled, leather-winged form collapsed in a twisted heap. All around, stunned bats plummeted from the sky like fat raindrops.
Unnoticed, a strange pellet fell from the trees. It landed next to Keirkrad and erupted into a mesh of thick, gooey strands like spider silk that wrapped around the ancient shaman, binding him in an instant. Within the sticky wrapping, his hands were held in place and his mouth was covered. The more he struggled, the tighter he was bound within the cocoon.