'You dare raise your voice to a shaman?' Keirkrad snarled. Vell shrank away like a chastised child. 'Have you found enlightenment out here, away from your people? Has the beast given you guidance?'
'No,' Vell confessed.
'That's because you're not following its instructions. It did not tell you to set yourself apart from our tribe. The beast despises such arrogance, and the more you resist the call, the worse your anguish will become. Uthgar is an accepting deity. Why else would he allow himself to be worshiped through so many different forms—the Thunderbeast, the Sky Pony, the Black Raven, and all the others. Perhaps in Uthgar's halls at Warrior's Rest we shall all be united as brothers, friend and foe alike. But the beast does not accept defiance of its instructions.'
'You said the beast had a greater purpose for me. A destiny. That I was set apart.'
'That may be so,' Keirkrad admitted. 'But you seem to believe that the gift of Uthgar was meant for you. This is not so—the gift is for our tribe. You are merely the vessel. I know the burden you bear. Perhaps I alone can help you through it. I have spent my life serving the beast and Uthgar, and I know full well what you're feeling.'
Vell shook his head. 'You say you know, but how can you?'
'I should have left the world decades ago,' Keirkrad admitted. 'I feel unnatural, an aberration. Some call me 'Uthgar's freak.' My skin crawls with age. Sometimes,' he smiled grimly, 'I wish I could just die, but if I live still, I must have some further function. I have not yet fulfilled my role for our tribe, for Uthgar. I must keep living until I do.'
Vell looked Keirkrad square in the eye. 'It's not the same thing. I don't know who I am any more. I feel the most precious part of myself slipping away.'
'You have power, Vell!' Keirkrad shouted. 'You've saved our tribe already, and you can save it again. Our tribe faces a crisis that goes far beyond a few Black Ravens with too much ambition. It's what brought us to Morgur's Mound. You carried the message—'find the living.''
'I don't remember saying that,' said Vell. 'But I do remember what happened at Grunwald. I remember exactly how it felt as my mind lost control of my body. The scales took my will with them. I don't know who or what brought down the King's Lodge, but it was not Vell the Brown.'
'It's a rare gift to have the Thunderbeast act through you. Such an honor to be our totem's vessel!'
Vell turned away. 'Then the beast made a mistake. It chose too weak a vessel.'
Keirkrad placed his ancient hand on Vell's shoulder. 'The beast makes no mistakes. Do not doubt yourself— place your faith in the divine. If it chose you, that must mean you're strong enough to accept the burden. Pray to the beast for strength.'
'I pray that it takes this power from me.'
Keirkrad snarled. 'It is not for you to question this! Sungar makes plans for our expedition into the High Forest. You cannot refuse your destiny any longer.'
'Do you hate Sungar?' asked Vell.
The question took Keirkrad aback. 'What do you mean?'
'Gundar made him chief instead of you,' Vell said, overcome with an inner strength that made him speak words he would never dare to say otherwise. 'You scheme to take his place. This is known to all. But you're too old. So you need a champion to become chief and act on your behalf...'
'Insolent child!' Keirkrad shouted so sharply that it echoed off the valley walls. 'Your gift is being corrupted by the wickedness in your mind. That is why you cannot bear it; you refuse to turn your will over to your totem. Let the Thunderbeast into your heart and you shall know peace again.'
Each word cut Vell like a dagger and sucked away the strength he felt. He fell on his knees before the shaman, supplicant and weeping for forgiveness.
* * * * *
In a way no one had expected, the trip to Grunwald proved worthwhile for the Thunderbeasts. Not only did it provide a taste of the warfare and the prideful thrill of victory that some of them craved—it also helped erase Grunwald from their collective memory. Everyone realized that it was not the place they once knew, and it would never be home again. They made the path back, some to whatever corner of the North they claimed as their hunting ground, most following their chieftain to a pleasant bend of the River Rauvin, east of Everlund. They were free once again to roam and move with the ebb of the seasons and the herds of deer and rothe, but mostly they stayed at the river, in what was inevitably known as Sungar's Camp.
Life slowly returned to normal. Tents were pitched again, children played among the meadows, and the hunting teams brought home elk, deer, and even a ghost rothe—considered a good omen for the upcoming expedition.
Sungar met with Thluna in his tent. 'I have chosen the men I need with me in the High Forest. I want you to inform them of the honor. We will need the druid Thanar as a guide in the forest, as well as Hazred the Voice, and the warriors Grallah, Torgrall, Hengin, Ilskar, Stenla, Flagdar, Delark, and Draf the Swift. Tell them to make themselves ready. Once Keirkrad returns with Vell, we shall not delay.'
'Very well,' Thluna said. 'But I ask that you reconsider. I think my place is with you. There are others that might act as chief.'
Sungar shook his head. 'I cannot deprive my daughter of her husband for such a long time. And I trust no one more than you to lead the Thunderbeasts.'
'How long do you think the quest shall last?' asked Thluna.
Sungar shrugged. 'Days, months, years. The Thunderbeast has sent us on an epic task, and such glory comes at a cost. This task could claim all our lives.'
A Thunderbeast arrived at the tent flap. 'Forgive me, chieftain,' he said, 'but a civilized outlander has arrived at our camp seeking to speak with you. She claims to have an offering for your audience.'
'She?' asked Sungar. 'A visitor from Everlund?'
'I think not,' came the answer. Sungar bade him to bring her, and he and Thluna heard whispers outside. When she stepped forward, they realized why.
Dressed in comfortable traveler's leathers with a slender sword dangling from her waist, the woman was tall and almost as solidly built as Uthgardt women. Long-limbed and agile, there was something pleasantly deerlike about her. Black hair flowed down her shoulders in curls, but the hue of her skin transfixed them most. It was considerably darker than most folk in the North, certainly among the insular Uthgardt. Only a few southern merchants who visited Grunwald over the years had displayed such a dusky skin tone.
'Sungar, son of Moghain, I greet you,' she said. Astonishingly, she spoke in the tongue of the Uthgardt! Though her accent slightly favored the Common tongue, her diction was flawless.
'What magic is this?' asked Thluna, having seen translation magic at work before.
'You may wonder that I speak the language of your people. I am not skilled at it, but I hope I have learned enough not to insult. I am Kellin Lyme, daughter of Zale Lyme.' Her words and her posture were appropriately respectful for someone seeking an audience with a chief of the Thunderbeasts—even those born to the tribe could have done no better. In her hands she carried a parcel wrapped in wolfskin. She laid it at Sungar's feet and unwrapped it, revealing a large piece of old bone.
'What is this?' asked Sungar, this time in Common. He leaned over to pick it up.
Kellin joined him in Common. 'A piece of bone from the Thunderbeast itself, stolen more than a century ago by unknown raiders. It has been away from your tribe too long, and now I return it to you.'
Sungar inspected it closely. 'This was stolen from Morgur's Mound? How did you come to own it?'
Kellin swallowed. 'My father purchased it from an antiquarian in Baldur's Gate. It has spent several decades in the archives of Candlekeep, Faerun's greatest library.'
'Library?' asked Thluna. 'Those are for books—why should it hold a bone?'
'Candlekeep collects many things. My father spent his life learning about tribes like yours. It was his specialty. He visited your tribe at Grunwald once, met with King Gundar, and even drank in the King's Lodge with victorious warriors who had broken an orc horde near Shining White.'
'Yes,' said Sungar. 'Yes, I remember. I was young then, and I could not understand why one of the civilized folk would want to learn our customs. But I remember him as a good man, nevertheless.'
'You honor his memory,' said Kellin graciously. 'I follow in his footsteps. I am a sage like him, and I, too, study your people. You interest me very much and I've made it my life's work to learn more about you.' With some
