Darkwell - Douglas Niles [16]
* * * * *
"The children of the goddess were her most potent allies in the struggle against Kazgoroth. The Leviathan of the deep shattered our ships and scattered our fleet, but the power of the Beast slayed the great fish in the end. The Pack pursued the army of the northmen over the land, howling madly with their wolfen voices and tearing flesh with their great fangs when they brought the army to bay."
Hobarth paused in his narration, sensing Bhaal's keen interest in the tale. In truth, the cleric was surprised at how little the god knew about their adversaries.
"But the Pack, too, is gone, scattered to the far corners of the isle. The druid told me her goddess lacks the will, or the might, to summon it again." Genna had indeed provided the cleric with a wealth of information. She apparently retained all the memories of her former life, with none of the spiritual values that would have prevented her from disclosing them to one such as Hobarth.
"Now," he continued, "only the unicorn, Kamerynn, remains of the children. He is strong – I have faced him myself – but his might is nothing in the face of your own."
Of course, the cleric did not speak out loud. Instead, he formulated the information in his mind, where his god claimed it for his own. This, too, is how Bhaal spoke with his servant.
These children you speak of… the children of a god. The thought of them brings me pleasure.
Hobarth waited, confused.
I, too, shall create children – the Children of Bhaal. They will stalk the land beside you and bring death to all the corners of the world!
"What form shall they take?" asked the cleric nervously.
His answer came in the form of a bubbling maelstrom forming in the center of the Darkwell. The black water foamed upward, releasing a stench of foul gas into the air. Then the froth moved across the surface as rings of ripples spread outward from the turbulence.
The surface of the water parted in a soft eruption, and a figure emerged. Oily water trickled off a broad, flat head, streaked across a feathered face, dripped from a short, blunt beak. Then the great brown body emerged, lumbering onto the shore and hulking over the cleric. Patches of shaggy hair, in places torn to reveal bare and scabrous skin, covered the creature's lower body. Hobarth looked up at a ghastly apparition, a nightmare thing that did not belong on this world.
He recognized the shaggy body of Grunt, the bear. The thing stood on its hind legs, twice as tall as a man, in the hunching pose of a great brown bear. But the face dispelled any notions of normalcy. It was flat and covered with feathers, with a short, downward pointing beak – a beak! It was the head of an owl, grown hugely out of proportion and placed upon the body of the bear.
The words of Bhaal came into the cleric's mind. My owlbear. You shall call him Thorax.
Scarcely did Hobarth have a chance to register his shock, remembering a large owl that had died from the poisonous touch of the waters shortly after the bear's demise, than he saw the water foaming and swirling a second time. This time, a pair of bizarre creatures splashed forth, pulling themselves into the air on the broad wings of eagles. They were followed by several more, and they all flew with the grace and power of that most regal of birds.
But the heads of these hideous things were all like the head of a proud stag. A broad rack of antlers spread above each of them. Only the mouths were unlike deer, as they parted in flight to reveal rows of sharp, wolflike fangs.
The perytons. Witness the birth of my flock.
Again the waters of the Darkwell churned upward and away, and the cleric stared dumbfounded as the next creature came slinking from the muck and the slime. It rose from the water with a heart-numbing growl, its yellow eyes flashing hatred. Its black coat glistened, and its wicked eyes held Hobarth enthralled as the monster crept toward him.
Shantu, king of my children.