By Volk-Oboroten'
That evening, Herman and Lowenherz met outside Caralore's stables, discussing their plans. Not far away, they could see Pryftan and his draconian guards, watching the gates of the city. No bears had been spotted since the morning attack, but the townsfolk were still worried.
"Lowenherz, do you still think this is a good idea?" asked the stoat-man. "I don't think we can trust Bertolf with our mission. Artela wouldn't want me to deal with anyone who was linked in any way to Lilith."
"But we know he opposes the Malachites," replied Lowenherz. "I've met Valaric before, and I believe he genuinely wants peace in the Giantdowns. Valaric opposes the Black Claw . . ."
"Valaric!" interrupted Herman, looking askance at Akkala's servant, "He's a foul beast, a dire wolf who serves Vampire Queen! Even worse, I've heard he's killed men before and stolen their shape . . . umm, assumed their forms. I want no part of any plan involving him."
"I've dealt with Valaric before," said Lowenherz in a reassuring tone, "You shouldn't be so worried about him. Even if he wears Lilith's ankh, Valaric is still a hero to many of the villagers - here in Caralore, down south in Bremen, and most of all, in Lik, his home town. If we could only get him on our side, so much could be accomplished."
"Shhh, someone's coming," advised Herman, pointing toward the draconian guards. "Over there on the path, not far from the lizard demons. I think a man is walking up to them, although there's something not right about his smell. Something doglike, I reckon . . ."
As Lowenherz moved behind a stable post, he silently thanked Akkala for granting him hearing far more keen than that possessed by humans. At least that relic of his manticore curse was a true blessing now. He focused on his ears, striving to pick out what was being said nearby.
"Where did you get that gem?" asked Pryftan. "Was it something you found in the minesss? Lilith likes to keep an inventory of all magical items discovered in Lik. Ever since mithril was spotted, we've been very concerned . . ."
"Rrright now, I don't want to talk about it," growled Bertolf. "I can't speak in this form unless I wear the amulet. It's difficult to make it work for more than a few minutes at a time."
Lowenherz noticed a person standing next to Pryftan, his outline faintly visible in the torchlight. Was it Bertolf, Lowenherz wondered? Pryftan's guest seemed to be clutching something near his neck, just below his pointed, elongated ears.
"Fine, I have no desire to inquire further into Lord Valaric's doingsss," hissed Pryftan suspiciously. "Some other time, perhapsss. But for now, we have much to discusss. Why were you so critical of the Malachitesss? They have been loyal servants of the Queen. She is well pleased with their experiments on the lutinsss . . . those karuvati are a great successs."
"We see things differently in Lik," said Bertolf forcefully. "You wouldn't think the karuvati were a success if you had to look at them every day. Those cat monsters are blindly loyal to Gorthaur! We're afraid he's building an army there. Gorthaur . . ."
"The Black Claw doesn't like people to use his true name," interjected Pryftan. Bertolf snarled briefly, deep in his throat, causing Pryftan to retreat back a few steps. "Still, he must be watched. I understand your concern, for any mage with such uncanny power could be a threat. Lilith does not tolerate any hint of insubordination in her servantsss."
"But there's more," continued Bertolf. "In Lik, our miners have worked with lutins for many years. We had no problems with them, even before Nasoj came. No one ever had to fight with the lutin tribes. But now, the Malachite Order is causing a lot of trouble!"
"From what I've heard," protested Pryftan. "The Malachites have only taken lutins from rebel bands. Groups who disobeyed the queen or refused her ankh. You shouldn't . . ."
"Shouldn't what?" objected Bertolf. Before Pryftan could answer, he continued speaking, "Lutins are fleeing from Lik, fearing they'll be the next ones abducted by Gor . . . ummm, the Black Claw. The group of lutins who came with me to Caralore said he's performing new experiments on lutins at Cirith Morgul, using bizarre spells to turn helpless captives into obscene, twisted creatures. Horrible things he can use for his own sinister schemes."
"Aren't these just rumors spread by rebelsss?" suggested Pryftan. "How can you trust the word of someone who doesn't serve the queen. Your lutins don't wear . . ."
"Don't you understand!" exclaimed Bertolf. "Valaric is sure they have designs on Lik! The Black Claw wants to take over, seizing control of the mines for himself. He has no real loyalty to Lilith or anyone else. He's just biding his time until he can attack!"
"That's a very serious charge," observed Pryftan. "Once there's proof, we can . . ."
"I'm not sure how much time is left," continued Bertolf, sounding rather concerned. "Valaric wants military aid. Well . . . he needs mages. We must have magic to fight magic."
"I'll see what can be arranged," said Pryftan. "Valaric's already filed a number of reportsss. A few have even reach the Great Sivikian, the draconian general who leads our army in the Forest of Darkness. But we must first help the Lom Shi'Un . . ."
"Help them grab a few more towns from Nasoj?" complained Bertolf. "Isn't Lik still important to the Queen? Just imagine how much power the Black Claw could amass if he had full control of the mines! His karuvati are already quite numerous, spreading fear among all the miners, especially the lutins. Something must be done!"
After gnashing his sharp teeth, Pryftan hissed for a moment, and then said "The Lom Shi'Un have worshipped Lilith for many yearsss, so we must tend to their demands first. But Lik is also important to the Queen. She will send her army soon."
"How soon? She's a goddess, so she doesn't measure time like most humans."
"Within a year."
"By spring," insisted Bertolf. "No later than that! We need help now!"
"I'll see what can be done," concluded Pryftan, who then walked away to confer with the other draconians. Bertolf also left, storming past the stables in an angry mood. Herman and Lowenherz saw his bare feet pass their hiding place, noticing their resemblance to wolf claws.
"By Artela!" exclaimed Herman, once the emissary from Lik was a safe distance away, "Bertolf's a werewolf! One of Lilith's foul lycanthrope minions. How could you ever consider working with him! Didn't Akkala warn you about this?"
"He's not a werewolf during the daytime. Only his left hand . . ."
"I don't care!" muttered Herman. "Artela wouldn't want me to deal with evil beasts."
"Somehow, I sense that we will need his help," observed Lowenherz. "Perhaps it is a message from Akkala. Or maybe it's because I know what it was like to be afflicted with an unnatural form. For five years, the manticore curse . . ."
"I remember what you said. But it still doesn't smell right," replied Herman. "Err . . . I mean something really stinks around here! And it's not just the stables - it's something new. If I didn't have a stoat's nose I probably wouldn't notice it, but there's a very foul odor around the horses. A fetid stench that makes me think of sorcery. It even reminds me of the time I was a prisoner in Nasoj's Citadel."
"Really? How so?" asked Lowenherz, raising his eyebrows. While Akkala had granted him magical powers of vision and hearing, he had no special skill at detecting smells. "Perhaps I should check with Perun. The old man told me to see him this evening. Said there were some scrolls I should look at . . . scrolls that might help us against the Malachites."
"I'll meet you back here later tonight, when the first watch has ended. But I really need a breath of fresh air," observed Herman. "Something simply reeks around here! It's fetid!"
With that, Herman rushed off, clutching his paw over his nose. Lowenherz looked around the stables, curious at what smell could have upset his friend so much. The horses seemed relatively calm, save for one black animal at the far end of the corral. He could have sworn it wasn't there a few minutes ago.
Lowenherz heard it snort and whinny, noticing flecks of green light coming from the dark horse's long mane. Was this some sort of magic? He'd have to ask Perun about this . . .