The Thunderborn's Destiny

"Let me see," Allander said, and Hammer offered the sheet to him. Allander proved to be more worldly as far as banditry contracts went. "It's written in code," the man said, using his free hand to run a finger over the sheet, going from word to word with meticulous care. "I believe these men were to meet with their direct superior this very day. They were likely on the way to see him when they came upon us with an apparent numbers advantage."

Hammer chortled.

"If I understand their code correctly, their lair is due east of here. We could be there in the hour," Allander said, and showed Vespire what he saw.

"Gods, that's on the edge of the Evermoors," Vespire said. "That must reference the Startop."

"And they were to rendezvous nearby, to the west of the Startop," Allander said.

"Only giants dwell in the Evermoors now," Hammer said. Lark couldn't tell if he was excited about that prospect or was simply warning them all. She figured he was probably excited. "If we run into them, we can expect a fight. They don't take kindly to trespassers."

"What do you know of the Evermoors? You're kind don't extend that far south," Allander said suspiciously.

"I ventured there once," he said.

"Alone?" Vespire and Lark asked simultaneously.

"Aye," Hammer said, and when he realized they were awaiting an explanation, he said, "I was trying to impress a woman."

"That's a story I'd like to hear," Allander said, a bit of mirth in his voice. The women smiled as well, and Gungir huffed with impatience.

"When we rest again, perhaps," Hammer said. With that, he began searching bodies for more clues and—wait, what's this?

Hammer marched away to where a half-orc laid atop something gleaming with power. "This shouldn't be here," he said, his voice sounding frantic.

"What is it?" Allander asked amidst the confused questions of Lark and Vespire. Gungir, as usual, watched in silence.

Hammer did not respond, he merely began throwing corpses out of his way until he fell over the half-orc. Kneeling, he pushed the hulking body off the massive, mighty sword that lay under it.

"Spirits of my Ancestors," he breathed, his heart lurching into his throat. He put his hands palm-down on either side of the thick, leather-wrapped hilt, not quite ready to touch it. "Uthgar..."

His companions were near him, then, and he bowed his head, closing his eyes. He whispered prayers of thanks to whatever gods would listen, to his ancestors. He breathed heavily, his broad back and shoulders heaving as a grin crawled across his face. Planting one foot on the ground, he grasped the hilt of the sword and stood, bringing the massive, six-foot blade up to his face. It felt heavy, but perfectly balanced in his hands, the counterweight of the pommel putting the weapon's center mass just above the hilt.

"Hammer," Lark said, taking a step back. For indeed, the barbarian did look fearsome just then. Flashes of inborn fury coursed along the gleaming blade, and Hammer's grip turned his knuckles white with lack of blood.

"This is the blade of my father, and my father's father, and his before him. This is Rekavani, the Avenging Blade, Slayer of Wyrms, the Mancleaver. By the tales told of our village elders, the sword would seek out the next scion of my line, if ever its bearer died. Or it would go to the most worthy warrior, should no scion ever live. It has come to me at last."

With a brutally quick movement, he upended the blade, driving the blade into the soft dirt and knelt as if at an altar. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to the heavy steel hilt, crafted in the likeness of twin dragons, twisting up to face each other above the hilt. His long dark hair flowed in the breeze around the blade. The barbarian wrapped his thick hand around the blade, and said, "By the spirits of my ancestors, by Uthgar, by Tempus, by the Red Knight, I will wield you with honor and might. I will honor my tribe and my companions. This I swear."

With that, he ran his hand down the length of the blade, slicing open his palm and sending rivulets of blood down the gleaming length, staining the earth red. The blade, itself, never seemed to touch the blade. It wicked off clean. Hammer drew the sword out of the earth, his hand bleeding around the leather-wrapped grip, and leaned it against his shoulder.

There was a moment of silence, and then Allander spoke up. "You need a scabbard."

After such a grave moment for the barbarian, the almost off-handed way the man said that evoked a grin and a bit of laughter from the barbarian.

"I'll sheath it in many bodies before I find a scabbard. Let us go. In Silverymoon I will procure a sheath for my blade."

As the companions began wrapping up their business, Vespire breezed by the barbarian, her voice a whisper, but one that rode the winds to his ear: "I've a sheath you can plant your blade in."

Hammer froze, glanced at Lark, who was oblivious, then watched the genasi's slight form saunter away, her lean flanks beckoning him, her slender hips seeming much more womanly than they had originally. There was something...arousing about a willing, eager lass, he ruminated.

*****

Allander caught up with Lark after Hammer had wrapped his blade in torn shreds of cloth scavenged from the bandits. Lark and Gungir were also looking for clues, though by the way the genasi was staring at Hammer here and there, the paladin surmised that it was more for show than anything. He could tell she wanted the barbarian, and the thought sent a pang of jealousy through his guts.

"It's easy to feel...diminutive, with those two," he said to the cleric, nodding at the two massive warriors. Lark glanced at him, a bit surprised, then at Hammer and Gungir. She, too, noticed Vespire's hungry gaze, cast in Hammer's direction.

"I'm sure," she said.

"You do not?" he asked quickly. He bit his tongue immediately.

"Not particularly," the heartwarder said, ignoring the urgency of his question. "I trust Hammer. Though I have not known him all that long, he is an honorable soul, and more a lover than a fighter, though in both he can be quite fearsome. Physically, yes, I am smaller, but diminutive?" She shrugged. "I can handle Hammer just fine. Perhaps it is jealousy that fires your reaction to their combined presence."

The battleguard stared at her hard, brow knit together in consternation. "Yes, perhaps you are right. I was raised to appreciate a bedmate, even if she was just that, and to respect her. I'm not the kind of person that goes from bedchamber to bedchamber, regardless of my lovers' feelings on the matter."

"Then it seems you've fallen for the wrong woman," Lark said, turning her attention full on Allander. He looked up into her eyes, the emerald pools gleaming and glittering underneath long lashes. For a moment—he wasn't certain how long—he found he couldn't look away. There was a feather soft touch on his forearm, and he knew it was her hand. Ruby light caressed his flesh, emanating from the holy symbol hung around the woman's neck, and the auburn-haired beauty smiled softly at him.

Her smile turned to a frown an instant later.

"What is the matter?" Allander asked, tilting his head slightly.

"It's strange," she said softly. "Normally, Sune lets me read the hearts of men and women alike, their desires and weals. With you, I sense...nothing."

"Perhaps Tempus has guarded my heart," he said, shrugging. The warm touch of Lark's hand on his forearm vanished, and the warmth he realized was radiating from her retreated, leaving the relatively cool breeze of his immediate vicinity.

"Perhaps," Lark said, her frustration replaced by her usual glowing smile. Her pale red lips curled up into a smile and she took the paladin's hand, this time the warmth replaced by something akin to urgency. "Come." She turned to Hammer. "We go ahead to scout. Thoroughly," she said. Hammer gave her a cursory wave of his hand.

"What are we doing?" Allander asked with a hushed voice.

"Breaking your infatuation," Lark said, grit of determination in her voice. Her lip curled up at the corner in a smirk.

Allander caught on. "What of Hammer? Is he not your lover?"

"Not particularly," she said. "Yes, we lay together, but we are not what you would consider...mates."

"Ah," Allander said, giving her a sidelong look as he turned to walk with her. "I'm still not sure I quite approve of what you have in mind."

Lark paused and turned to face him. "So noble?" she asked.

"I don't want to get burned again," he said flatly. "Tempus hardly cares for our carnal conquests. And the Red Knight is not, so far as I can tell, concerned with her followers remaining chaste. Vespire was my last lover, and you can see how she treats her past dalliances."

Lark nodded, the path of Sune laying out before her quite clearly. "I am a heartwarder," she said, coming close to him as they moved out of sight. "Do you know what that means?"

"All I know of Sune and her followers are that they are a promiscuous lot, and their goddess has more than once tried to seduce Tempus. Or so say the tawdry tales."

Lark shrugged. "Some see us as naught but mere slatterns, but it is far more than simple sex. We heal the heart, ward the heart, and grow the heart. We spread love, in whatever manner best suits our...ah, clients."

"So...we weren't necessarily going to have sex?" Allander asked, seeming very innocent in that moment.

Lark laughed, probably too loudly, but she cared not. She put a hand on the paladin's breastplate and smiled endearingly at him. "Oh, Allander. Yes. I was going to ride you until you forgot all about that windsoul trollop." Laughing more, she walked away from him, making sure her hips swayed just right, and her auburn hair bounced just so.

After all, sometimes the tease and the prospect were more effective than the actual act.

*****

The rest of their day's march went along in relative silence. Every now and then, Vespire would call for a halt, or for extra stealth, to make certain there were no enemies about if she'd heard something suspicious. For the most part, though, it was nothing more than a forest animal skittering away. On a couple occasions, they had to intimidate a territorial beast, a bear and a wolf, out of their way. Vespire, it seemed, was loathe to simply slaughter woodland creatures that were not actively threatening them.

They all agreed on that point, at least. By the time sunset fell on them, they'd set their camp within view of Silverymoon's walls. The River Rauvin was before them, glittering under another clear night sky. The moonlight gleamed on its rippling surface as it rushed under various bridges. Hammer found himself caught up in the sight, simply facing away from the campfire and watching the scenery before him. Thus, he was the first to notice their visitors.

Marching up the small hill they rested on, four armored guards.

"Vespire, Lark," Hammer said, nodding at the soldiers as he stood. "Well met!"

"Well met," the lead soldier said, sliding his helm off his head. "Who are you and what is your business?"

Vespire and Lark approached them, standing at Hammer's side. "I am Vespire Wintersoul, these are my companions. We are merely travelers seeking to visit the Gem of the North. It has a reputation, you know."

"Indeed it does," the soldier said. His armor gleamed silver in the moonlight, as if glowing with magic. "But most visitors do not simply camp on the outskirts of the city, so I ask again, what is your business?"

"We are simply enjoying the view," Hammer said, holding his hand out at the western wall of the city and the gleaming river flowing through the magnificently constructed city. "It is quite...awe-inspiring."

The soldier smiled, but did not look. "Yes, it is. But what of him?" The soldier held his free hand out to point at Gungir. The minotaur stood up to his full height, towering over the man even at a distance. The fire crackling before him cast shadows along his fearsome bulk, and did little to make him seem non-threatening.

"I am Gungir, Warden of Mielikki. Her worship is accepted here, is it not?" The minotaur's voice was surprisingly intelligent and well-spoken. So much so that Hammer wondered if someone hadn't cast a bit of magic on him. Allander stepped forward quickly.

"And, since my introduction seems pending still, I am Allander Foresworn, Sorcerer-Knight of the Foehammer and his exarch, the Red Knight, Battleguard of Battledale, to the east."

"I know of the Dalelands and their neighbor, Cormyr," the soldier said. "I was once a Purple Dragon Knight from that fair country until circumstances pulled me into the Silver Marches. A fair land."

"Less fair for our absence," Allander said with a crooked smirk. The knight laughed. "Well met, then. I welcome you all to Silverymoon, the Gem of the North, on behalf of High Mage Taern Thunderspell. Forgive the brusque approach. Our commander, Sernius Alathar has grown wary of travelers that merely stop outside the city. It is a standing order to approach and question visitors, but I can see you five mean no harm. Still, you did not answer my question.

"What business do you have in Silverymoon?"

"I am Lark Veradusk," the woman next to Hammer said, brushing her auburn hair out of her face and surreptitiously setting her symbol of Sune to swaying at her chest. "Heartwarder of Sune. We seek her festhall and its matron, Miria, a paladin of some renown, last I heard."

"Miria the Silverheart?" the soldier asked excitedly before grasping his wits again. Some of his soldiers coughed and smirked at his expense. "Aye, we know of her and the Dancing Rose Festhall. Would you like an escort?"

Lark looked to Vespire, who shrugged her slim shoulders, then to Hammer, who only smiled back at her. "Lead on," she said. They broke camp quickly, and Lark remained at the soldier's side as a show of good faith. "What is your name, soldier?"

"I am Knight-in-Silver Dorn Drax. These are my cohorts behind me. Spellguard Vondor should have been with us, but apparently he was detained. Likely in the selfsame place you mentioned. The Silverheart has made it well-known that she appreciates the services of the city's protectors. And we are all too willing to spend our fortunes on her and her's. We'd all lose our wives if it weren't for her discretion and rules. No married man is allowed in there without his wife's permission—permission that is required to be given in person. Truly, Sune favors Miria."

Lark only smiled, her memory of the elf distant and fleeting. Truly, she'd never met the elf before, but she knew enough of her reputation among Sune's followers to bluff her way through the guardsmen. And after all, they were sister heartwarders. Miria would not turn her out.

A gust of frosty wind signaled the fire's death, freezing it over completely before melting from residual heat of the surrounding ground. Vespire was next to her, the menfolk behind them with the camp packs slung over their shoulders, small as they were. Knight-in-Silver Drax smiled a strange smile, one that set Vespire to wondering...

Then he turned, his soldiers turning simultaneously with him.

In fact, they turned in perfect synchronicity. Vespire stopped cold, drawing steel. "Warsoul," she gasped. Her companions stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her proclamation. But their surprise lasted only as long as it took the "knight" to dispel his magic, revealing himself and his three mirror images for an elven warrior, garbed in dark black leathers, bristling with blades, and death riding his eyes. Shadows flashed, and he was gone, vanished, until he reappeared behind Vespire, a wicked dagger slicing for her kidney.

Hammer was the first to act, the barbarian grasping the eladrin's wrist in a crushing grip. Wide eyes looked back at him, and he was gone, flashing through the Feywild to reappear in front of Vespire. He stabbed again, but the genasi was ready for him. Her rapier slashed across, batting his thrusting dagger away and lashing at him with arcane light, searing his eyes and blinding him.

He cried out, and Allander rushed forward next. He interposed himself between the assassin and Vespire as Hammer and Lark rallied beside the genasi, Gungir behind her. His spear was held high for a throw. But before he could, before any of them could react, fire blossomed from Allander's sword in the wrong direction. It scattered the knot of warriors, sending Hammer and Lark reeling to the side, and putting Gungir in a defensive retreat. Vespire wasn't touched by the fire, as her genasi nature shielded her. Indeed, the fire seemed to caress her as her skin took on a ruddy hue, sky silver lines shifting to blazing orange. Her crystalline hair melted away into a wreathing corona of licking flames. Her bald scalp was visible beneath it, and the genasi, now firesoul, roared with fury.

"Betrayer!" she shouted, thrusting her sword into the paladin-sorcerer's shield, into his parrying sword, and lashing at him with steel and spell alike. Allander only laughed, retreating in measured steps as darkness wrapped around him.

Hammer caught sight, recovering quickly, and watched in horror as the paladin turned on them. Shadow wrapped him, took him away, and he, too, reappeared behind Vespire, sword poised for a killing blow.

The barbarian roared, drawing his massive sword in a savage motion, and charged. He slammed into the unsuspecting paladin, knocking him prone and slamming his sword down into the earth. The paladin moved too quickly, evading his killing stroke. Scurrying like a rat, the man was on his feet and charging after Vespire. The other man, the assassin, engaged with Lark, deftly evading her dashing sword. The assassin far surpassed the priestess in martial combat, Hammer knew, but he couldn't disengage with this betrayer. He hounded him as Vespire turned her sword on Allander.

Gungir saw where he was needed. Roaring, he threw his spear with all his might, catching the assassin in the shoulder, sending him spinning away as the polearm slid easily through his lightly armored shoulder. His arm dangled limply at his side, but death hovered around him, ready to strike at his target. As he rose, though, Gungir stamped a hoof and charged.

He gored the assassin through the spine, lifting him high into the air, the body flopping around limply as he thrashed his horns within the man. Blood showered over his head, staining his horns, covering his fur in gore. The beast relished in it. Gungir gripped neck and leg and his back and arm muscles snapped tight, rippling under his skin. The body fell apart in a shower of bone and sinew.

Hammer heard the tearing of flesh, and smiled in satisfaction. But that was shortlived as Allander and Vespire faced off in a vicious clash of steel. Grinning like a predator, like a young man on his first Hunt, Hammer stalked the assassin. They each lashed out with sword and spell, guarding with shield and magical barrier. But Hammer had the advantage. With Vespire occupying the man, he could easily flank. Without bothering to charge, he summoned the magic within Mancleaver and swept it down. Rage fueled the strike, burning his muscles with vigor as the weapon swept down in a diagonal arc. Allander must have sensed it, for he turned away from Vespire, sword raised to parry.

But his steel was weak. His faith in Tempus was weak. The Red Knight, the Foehammer, were with him. He hewed through the steel, creased the man's armor, and blood flowed out from under the plate.

Vespire's rapier thrust through his chest, blazing with fire that burned him from within.

Allander gasped, fell to his knees, and breathed no more. The man's face melted into the angular form of an angry eladrin, revealing his true identity as the Warsoul, murderer of genasi.

They all four stood with eachother, staring at the corpses.