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Authors: Murray J. D. Leeder
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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 Thunderbeastseven 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 bookswhy 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
“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 Thunderbeastseven 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 bookswhy 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
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