Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [4]
But the link never came. The Thunderbeast pulled away from Keirkrad and the altar mound, turning instead to the throng at the mound's foot. Its flaring eyes scanned the tribe, examining Sungar and many others as it slowly gazed upon the assembly. At last the creature came to rest in midair, its eyes trained directly on Vell.
Though his limbs trembled, Vell did not look away. The sounds of the world around him-the gasps of the warriors standing alongside him, the gentle wind blowing overhead-vanished. The unblinking gaze pulled Vell in. Something inhuman awakened in him, and he began to scream as he felt his own identity milked away. But his scream was cut short, and he stood rigid as a post: his face blank and his eyes empty.
Above, the bones of the Thunderbeast hovered but did not move, and the brown light vanished in its eyes. Most of the Uthgardt could not see Vell or the beast. A wave of confusion spread through them. Sungar pushed his way through the gawking Uthgardt to reach Vell.
"Can you hear me?" the chieftain cried, grasping Vell's face.
Keirkrad rushed down the altar mound to join them, his old bones carrying him through the throng with surprising speed. The shaman looked carefully into Vell's brown eyes.
"The beast has chosen a receptacle," he declared to the assembly. "This warrior-one of you-has received the beast's blessing. Let Uthgar be praised." His voice was tinged with astonishment and disappointment.
Sungar looked to Keirkrad for confirmation. "Speak to him," the shaman said. "Speak to him. He is the voice of the Thunderbeast."
Sungar looked Vell straight in the eye. "We beseech you. Our tribe needs guidance. We must know your will."
Vell's features remained impassive, and he showed no sign of comprehending or caring.
"What should we do to please you?" Sungar pleaded.
Vell's lips opened slowly. Sungar leaned closer.
"Find the living," Vell said. The voice was his, but the words were not.
"Find the living?" repeated Sungar. But no explanation came, nor any further words from Vell's mouth. His eyes closed, and he fell backward into the arms of some of his fellow warriors. Keirkrad leaned forward to tend to him. Above, the hovering construct tore apart in a whirlwind of bone, the skull taking its place on the pike once again, and all the other massive bones resuming their original places around Morgur's Mound, set and immovable in the earth once again.
"Is he safe?" Sungar whispered to Keirkrad. Keirkrad nodded. Sungar climbed the altar mound and looked out over the massive assembly of his tribe, all waiting for his words.
"The spirit has spoken!" he shouted. "It has told us to find the living."
A murmur of confusion spread through the throng.
Sungar yelled, "And find them we shall!"
A cheer went up, rolling off the distant crags and echoing into the night. The orders of the Thunderbeast were rarely forthcoming. Even words as cryptic as these were cause for much celebration.
* * * * *
A strange rattle sounded-faint at first, but growing louder as it echoed off the stone walls. It disturbed Kellin Lyme, asleep at her desk before a stack of books, her candle burned down to a stump. Since early morning she had been studying the account of Yehia of Shoon and his interactions with the Uthgardt during their early history, attempting to assess its historical veracity. Now, out of her window, she could see that the Way of the Lion was dark. But large portions of it would soon be awake if that rattling kept up.
Shaking the fog from her mind, Kellin paced the library-her father's own writings plus his collection, mixed with an increasing number of her own additions-looking for the source of the sound. She traipsed down the stairs into the archives,