Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [94]
"Who are you?" asked Thluna.
"We are the Thunderbeasts," the Shepherd replied, pronouncing the word like a curse. "All others are but pretenders to the noble name." He huffed. "As are you, who dare travel with the blood of an orc-a creature even more debased than yourself." He pointed to Rask.
"This is an Uthgardt of the Tree Ghost tribe you offend," Thanar warned.
"We know of no Tree Ghost tribe, and hold little esteem for any of the Ruathan race that poisoned your spirit twelve hundred years past," the Shepherd said. "Uther Gardolfsson and his island race invaded our lands and polluted our strain."
They all knew that it was Uthgar-called by his mortal name-he defamed, but the warriors did not know how to react. Such a brazen insult to their god provoked wars among tribes, but what war was possible against these creatures?
"What fools we were to place our protection in your hands " cursed the old woman carrying the axe. She stepped from the water and dropped it at Vell's feet, then pointed an angry finger in his face. "You carry the power of us all-we stripped ourselves bare for you! And you failed us."
"Your powers," Vell said, suddenly understanding. "You bestowed them on me at Morgur's Mound on Runemeet." He looked over all the ancient faces. "All of your powers, into me."
"True," the man said. "Many of us have not worn our human forms in many centuries. We had hoped that you, who carry more of the pure bloodline than any other of your tribe, would retain the nobility to handle it properly." He looked at Vell with unalloyed disgust. "A poor choice on our part."
Vell looked him in the eye. "It is only an accident of birth that I have any relationship to you." There was absolute conviction in his voice.
"Let us understand," Kellin said, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Are you descended from the Thunderbeast tribe as it was before the coming of Uthgar?"
"Not descended," the Shepherd answered. "We are they." He looked at Kellin more closely. "And you-you have the blood of dragons. Why do you deign to travel with these mongrels?"
The barbarians looked at her in puzzlement. "Sorcerers carry the blood of dragons," she said. "Or so some sages say. But how dilute must the blood you speak of be? And does that not make me a mongrel myself? Why praise some and condemn others?"
The Shepherds frowned at her.
"Let me introduce myself," said Thluna. "My name is Thluna, Chief of the Thunderbeast tribe, son of Hagraavan…"
"And many dozens of generations past, son of the traitor Tharkane," the Shepherd said, unimpressed. "The same Tharkane who took this axe of legend-" he prodded it with his foot "-and made it an offering to the conqueror Gardolfsson."
"Gardolfsson?" asked Thanar. "Uthgar wielded the axe?"
"Indeed. With it he slaughtered one of our kind, who dared venture forth from the forest to contest him. Several centuries passed before we regained the power lost to us that day. Our fallen fellow's bones surmount Gardolfsson's grave."
"Morgur's Mound," said Vell. So that was it! The bones of the beast were not of any natural behemoth, but of one of the Shepherds transformed into a behemoth. And through those bones, they transferred their powers to him.
All of their powers. No wonder he could not wield them-they were not meant for an individual, but for many persons. Like the treant Duthroan had said, Vell was a receptacle.
"So Uthgar defeated him," Thluna said proudly. "Killed him."
"He did," the Shepherd confirmed. "And so our Thunderbeasts became his Thunderbeasts. But we have kept watch from behind the Sanctuary's walls where we could, through the bones of our fallen fellow, and through this axe. We felt such sadness as our children mated with other tribes and the Ruathans, as our blood weakened into something we no longer recognized. Under Uther's hand, all memories of us were steadily winnowed."
Thluna and his followers stood quietly for a time, letting the