'What have my children brought me?' spoke a strange, high-pitched voice.
On the surrounding trees, Keirkrad noticed crude trophies. Among various animal remains, he identified a hybsil's antlers and desiccated elf ears nailed into the bark. At the end of the platform sat a werebat perched on a crude wooden throne amid piles of offal. Its vast wings were folded against its middle. It was naked but covered with matted fur, and its face was a hideous amalgam of bat and man: a snarling mouth with sharp teeth and grossly oversized ears. Two red eyes stared at Keirkrad.
The werebat stepped from its throne and walked over to Keirkrad, its long toenails clicking against the wooden floor.
'Shaman Seventoes,' it pronounced. 'What a boon they have brought me. And they had no idea who you were! What luck! What luck!'
It leaned in closer to Keirkrad, bathing him in its foul breath. A pink tongue snaked out to lick its long rodent teeth.
'Do you remember me, Thunderbeast? I am now called Heskret, but I had another name. We met in battle. Have you forgotten? Beneath Thranulf's Height. Do you remember?'
The werebat transformed before Keirkrad's eyes. His wings drew into his sides and vanished, his face twisted and contorted, and the fur vanished from his chest and revealed human skin. A white-haired man stood naked before Keirkrad, and on his shriveled upper chest was a huge tattoo, one that Keirkrad recognized all too well. It was the crude form of a hulking bear.
The Blue Bear! Every barbarian believed that the most hated Uthgardt tribe had utterly perished in the fall of Hellgate Keep. Keirkrad remembered the man who stood before him—a war chief whom he and Gundar had battled long ago. The fighting was long, with many casualties on both sides, resulting in a costly victory for the Thunderbeasts. It was whispered that the Blue Bear war leader feared to return to face punishment from his chief and vanished into the forest to seek penance from Malar.
'Do not misunderstand,' said Heskret, now speaking with a human voice. His blue eyes locked onto Keirkrad. 'I am not Blue Bear, though I was Blue Bear. My former tribe proved weak and perished, but my new tribe lasts still. Now I serve nothing but the Black Blood.'
He walked closer and planted a finger on the strands of webbing that held Keirkrad's mouth shut. But instead of removing the obstruction, Heskret made a fist and punched the shaman in the side of the head. Weak and exhausted, especially at his advanced age, Keirkrad tumbled sideways, his head slamming hard into the wooden floor. When Heskret unsealed his mouth, all Keirkrad could do was drool blood onto the floor.
A clawed finger stroked Keirkrad's cheek. He knew without looking that Heskret had taken his werebat form again.
'You have lived how long now?' Heskret snarled, leaning closer till Keirkrad could feel his warm breath on his face. It stank of raw meat and rot. 'They say Uthgar prolonged your life so grotesquely because he had some destiny in store for you. I wonder if this is what he had in mind.'
Keirkrad cried out as he felt sharp teeth take a chunk out of his cheek.
CHAPTER 14
Tremendous winds pelted Ardeth, Royce, Gunton, and Gan as they slowly navigated a high mountain pass. A vicious thunderstorm had slowed them; the gray mists above had let out their store, dropping a sudden deluge that turned the mountain slopes into slides of pure mud. The foursome lost much time hunkering in sheltered spots, and their object, Mount Vision, had disappeared into the haze. The wind howled so loudly that they could barely hear each other, their clothes were soaked through, and all the while they looked over their shoulders for Elaacrimalicros to drop out of the rain clouds.
While the rain was at its worst, and they took refuge in a hollow at the base of a steep cliff, a black figure stopped at the mouth of their cave, barely visible in the gloom. Everyone grasped weapons, and Ardeth pointed her crossbow at the intruder.
Through the rain, they saw the outline of huge wings. The wings disappeared as the strange creature approached, and a copper-skinned elf stepped out of the murk, dressed in animal leathers. Short and slender even for an elf, his dark hair was matted and unkempt. His red-streaked hazel eyes darted back and forth before settling on Ardeth.
'Ardeth of Llorkh?' he asked, barely audible over the raging winds outside. His voice was high-pitched and raspy, decidedly not like any elf any of them had encountered before.
'Yes,' Ardeth answered cautiously.
'I smelled your scent on the wind. I am here on behalf of the Mayor of Llorkh.'
'Thank the gods,' Royce gasped. 'I didn't suspect Geildarr would have contact with the wood elves.'
The elf let out a disgusted grunt as his answer.
'You're a werebat,' Ardeth said. 'From Heskret's tribe. Geildarr told me there was a chance he could recruit aid from your folk.' There was no relief in her voice, only suspicion, and she kept her eyes locked on his face, scanning for any insincerity.
'My name is Halzoon,' the elf said, looking at the group, his neck twitching. 'I am to offer myself as your guide.'
'No deva, but a winged savior nonetheless,' said Gunton.
'Where are you guiding us?' asked Ardeth.
'Three great phandar trees in a triangle, alongside the Heartblood River. That is what you seek.'
'How do you know this?' asked Royce.
'Heskret extracted it—' he drooled and chuckled, '—from an Uthgardt shaman.'
'You know the best way to the Sanctuary?' asked Royce. 'These passes are difficult to navigate.'
'Forget the passes,' the werebat hissed. 'Forget them! I know a better way.'
'We don't have wings,' huffed Gan.
'Not above the mountains, goblinoid. Below them.'
'There are tunnels?' asked Royce.
'Yes,' Halzoon said, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. 'Many tunnels, all through the mountains. Dwarves built them long ago. Harpies made their nests there. But not any more.'
'How do we get in?' asked Gunton. 'It'd be a far better option than waiting here for Elaacrimalicros to eat us.'
Halzoon pointed upward. 'An entrance farther up the mountain. Winds are terrible up there, but with care, you should make it.'
'Thanks be to all the gods,' Royce said. 'I'd hug you if you didn't stink of guano.'
The elf werebat chuckled at Royce's joke. 'I will lead you,' he said. 'Heskret commands it.'
'What was his name?' Ardeth demanded.
'Whose name?' asked Halzoon.
'The barbarian shaman you captured,' she said. 'What was his name?'
'His name was Keirkrad.' A cruel smile crossed his face and he let out a high-pitched cackle. 'We were lucky to get that one. Heskret was pleased. He had some unfinished business with that one.'
'Keirkrad,' she repeated. The answered satisfied her, and she lowered her crossbow.
* * * * *
The ingress on the mountain that Halzoon described was higher and more remote than anyone expected. Ardeth and her companions summoned every scrap of will and endurance to climb through the driving rain and the roaring wind to reach shelter again. They found a knee-high drop onto an enclosed platform, its base full of water, and a stone passageway leading into the mountain.
'Fascinating,' said Gunton when they ducked into the dry passage. 'A landing platform. The dwarves who lived here must have used flying mounts, just as they do in the Great Rift.'
Ardeth lit a torch, and by its light they could see the fine stonework of the passageway. Dethek letters were inscribed in the wall and from them, Gunton translated the name of the place: Onthrilaenthor.
'Ancient mines,' said Royce. 'Built by dwarves, but with a clearly elf name. Most curious. How far is our
