Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [78]
"The heart of mystery," agreed Royce, admiring the vista of the mountains in the failing light. He added, "The others would have loved to see this," not bothering to hide his sadness.
In the few days that they had traversed the Star Mounts, the surviving Antiquarians felt both at their best and worst. While they could not forget their dead companions, they were also doing something they had always wanted: exploring the hidden places of Faerun and plundering their secrets. They could think of no more enigmatic place than these peaks. They had already seen the legendary crystals, large as houses, growing from the upper slopes and catching the light to cast blue and green patterns all through the valleys. There were towers, too-strange, needle-thin white ziggurats rising from high mountain spurs, far too high to be accessible.
Were the towers long abandoned or inhabited still? What treasures might they contain? Perhaps they were as old as Netheril, or contained artifacts more mighty than those they sought at the Sanctuary. But for Royce and Gunton, the mysteries of the Star Mounts would remain mysteries.
Two long days of walking had placed them just beyond one of the smaller mountains that stood in their way. To their great unease, they found themselves relying on Gan, who indeed had an excellent sense of navigable passes and could forage for food. The three of them sat around the fire, carving up their latest meal.
"My mistress is overdue," said Gan, scanning the valley for any sign of Ardeth.
"Ardeth can protect herself," said Royce. "Probably better than any of us. Honestly, Gan, I don't understand you at all. Geildarr's responsible for sending your whole tribe to die needlessly in the Fallen Lands. But you serve him nevertheless."
"I sought out strength," Gan replied.
"I wouldn't have guessed that servility was a hobgoblin trait," said Royce, safe in his assumption that Gan wouldn't understand the word.
"This was after you found Berun's axe?" asked Gunton.
"Yes." The hobgoblin's hand involuntarily reached out to touch the axe's shaft as it rested in front of him.
"I wonder if it's an effect of the axe's magic," said Gunton. "It's a weapon of great leaders-the Bey of Runlatha, and from what Geildarr said, even Uthgar."
"I wield it on Geildarr's behalf," Gan explained. "He is a great ruler."
"Yes," said Royce, "so you keep saying. That must make it so. But what are you getting at, Gunton?"
"This is speculation, but…" Gunton stroked his beard. "Perhaps the axe responds to its wielder. When wielded by a leader of men, it might confer great power. But in the hands of a born follower…"
Gan looked puzzled.
"An interesting speculation," said Royce. "But would that mean…"
Suddenly, Gan pointed into the sky. Gunton and Royce looked up to discover the largest dragon they'd ever seen, a vast mass of green scales silhouetted against the evening light. The carcass in its claws was enormous. Huge hairy legs dangled limply, but the dragon's meal was beyond recognition. As large as a cottage, it dripped blood into the valleys below.
Without flapping its wings, the dragon soared through the Star Mounts, higher than even the mysterious towers. The size of it left Gan, Gunton, and Royce staring agape; the dragon's apple-green form was as large as a galleon on the Trackless Sea. There was no question that they were looking upon a dragon of legend-an ancient wyrm that made all of the North its hunting fields. Royce muttered its name: "Elaacrimalicros."
The sighting of the dragon did not set their minds at ease. They knew of the ongoing Dragon Rage burning throughout Faerun.
Gan jumped to his feet, snatching up the axe and scanning the valley for his mistress.
"Ardeth!" he shouted.
"Quiet!" Royce whispered. "She's probably taken cover, just like we should."
But it was too late. Though the dragon was several mountains away, its face turned in their direction, locking its gaze on them across all that