As was often the case Kevesh Belmoth was surrounded and yet utterly alone. For most of his tribe this was a time of great unity but perhaps for that reason it was more apparent to him how different he was. Like everyone in the underground cave he stared, absorbed, unlike the others he stared upwards not down. On the ceiling of the cave there was a hole through which the Mother’s eye could be seen, through which the Mother’s eye could look. The Mother’s eye was a full open luminous circle on this night, they had her attention and would for two more nights before her eye began to close. For now though it peered down cold and impersonal and yet the sight of it stirred him. So he could understand the fevered screeching and excited bouncing of his fellow voth.

Even if this had not been a sacred annual blood moon, the mother’s full attention could not be ignored. It was the excitement his tribesmen got from the ritual that was about to take place that baffled him. There was no or little hunt to it, and if there was any hunt in it all, the reward was the hearts of the people which would be just as well if he could only understand why this night moved their hearts the way it did. Perhaps it was the mother’s gaze and the promise of blood to come. Perhaps years of hunts had dulled him to the pleasures enjoyed tonight but he doubted it. Even when he had been younger and completely consumed by his own desires this night had only filled him with a restless impatience to hunt.

‘Tell me Mother is this truly what you desire?’

Her silence was all the answer his errant thoughts were given and so he conceded, bending his neck to her divine self. His own wishes were second to hers, before her he was nothing but a child. The cheers grew louder still, prompting Belmoth to tear his eyes away from her own. At the centre of the circular cave was a young Beowulf, though to majority of the spectators the midnight black beast must have seemed no different from an adult. He could fault them for that, Beowulf were natural predators born to tower above other creatures, already it loomed on four feet the height of a combat ready hatchling on two. It was standing now, its jet black fur bristling with alertness and throaty growls rumbling like a cousin to thunder. These displays of aggression only served to further excite the crowd and they called for its blood with ever increasing fervour. As the beast paced agitatedly below, the head priest played at calming the crowd by explaining it was not yet time, when in truth it was their thoughtless passion he wanted.

Belmoth sneered mentally, he wondered how the crowd would feel if they knew the beast was not only under aged but drugged to hamper its more potent natural abilities. Its howl would no longer enrapture the soul with the endless void of lonesome sorrow, quiet the song and dampen the inner flame that elder voth drew greater strength from, it would not swell rapidly in size as it fed and its wounds would be slower to heal. Naturally they did not and would not know, to ignorant eyes it appeared to be in good health, vigorous and unharmed, a worthy sacrifice, and a worthy hunt.

‘The priests have fallen so low,’ Kevesh thought. ‘None amongst the kalinar are worthy of the Mother’s graces.’

Kalinar Sethroth, head priest and most favoured of the Mother’s favoured, raised both hands and there was silence. He turned a solemn gaze at the watchful eye of the Great Huntress and Eternal Mother. His single eye stared deep into the mothers own eye, searching for some sign. All at once his body shuddered as if taken by an invisible being and then with a final shake he leapt powerfully to meet the great beast in combat. The crowd was seized and then all at once they let out an ear splitting cheer.

The elder voth stood well over seven feet and his spear was little shorter. To those who were sensitive to it he seemed to give of heat, a sign that he had ignited his inner flame for strength and reach, to more common eyes the only sign of it was the unnatural way in which his tail danced and stretched, its length in constant flux. From the lightness of his breath Belmoth could tell that the Kalinar had not delved into the song… not yet, which was wise of him, his wits would serve him better in this situation. The Beowulf spared the kalinar a glance but its attention was still fixed on the ring of voth watching on from above. Sethroth did not waste the chance he charged forward deftly and powerfully with a practiced tap of his legs. The beast whipped its head at him and then snapped its massive jaws at the approaching spearhead but the voth was too skilled. With a flick of his wrists the spear tip danced away from the beast jaws and then with a second flick it dove for the beast’s eye with all the a grace of a living being. The beast hastily yanked its head away which caused the spear tip to miss its eye but it was not fast enough to prevent a cut on its snout.

Stopping his charge the kalinar made a show of presenting the bloodied spearhead to the watching crowd for verification. They cheered triumphantly in response and a second kalinar, priest of the mother, leapt down to join the hunt. He too like every voth sworn to the Mother sported only a single eye, representing the Mother’s own all Seeing Eye. Careful movements saw the beast trapped between the two voth, one ahead of it and the other behind. Not to be defeated the Beowulf swished its tail and let loose needles of hair at the flanking voth, who was forced dodge by leaping aside. Then it made a mad dash for the voth ahead of it who just happened to be kalinar Sethroth.

The kalinar was unfazed, his tail swung itself at the approaching wolf, and its bone tip gleamed wickedly. The Beowulf didn’t bother dodging the blow, intent on ending the fight quickly and so the tip of voth’s tail dug into its side but the sacrifice allowed it to close the gap between them swiftly. As a third kalinar leapt down, the beast itself pounced at Sethroth. His heart beat quickened with fear and then slowed as years of experience took control, he his inner flame blazed with heightened intensity and with a burst of great strength he attempted to slap aside the beasts paws his spear. However in the face of the overwhelming strength of a brutish beast his experience and skill came short and he was knocked back, fighting for his footing and for the grip of his spear. The beast was quick to press the attack but the newly arrived voth was quicker still. He threw his short spear in the path of the attacking beast forcing it to break of its attack and buying the precious seconds needed for Sethroth to right himself. Another short spear was dropped to the kalinar by the crowd above and the hunt continued.

What came next was much like the start of the fight only better controlled and more subdued, voth with great spears baited the great wolf and those with throwing spears tried to skewer it, the beast would howl deep and sorrowful but the brew ensured that no souls were shaken by its cry. With each shallow cut on the beast’s flanks the number of the priests increased until it would do more harm done than good for the priests waiting above to join their brothers so they waited above arms at the ready should their brothers below require it. No wounds beyond superficial were scored but it was enough to keep the wolf moving, enough that with time it would tire, long before they felt more than even the faintest touches of exhaustion. Just like they fell into a lull, a routine, there was no fear and so they became complacent.

Then it happened, it didn’t take much a spear thrown too early, a guard raised too high, one voth too slow to keep in formation, it was enough though. A moment of careless created an opportunity, and that opportunity birthed chaos. The unfortunate individual lost a leg with a single bite but he might have lived if a spear meant force the beast of him had not buried itself in his bowels whilst the creature escaped with his foot in its jaws. Spears should have rained down on the boewulf and they would have if a voth had not dashed through the centre of the cave and to the side of the brother he had surely slain. This halted many throwing arms who had never been more cautious of hitting their own and bought precious seconds for the Beowulf to wolf down its prize. Emboldened by its victory the beast howled and everyone in the cave was filled with the feeling of painful solitude, their souls literally crying for companionship. Memories glazed many eyes and the ghosts of the past returned close and yet so very far away. The beast did not waste the moment it rained long needle like hairs on the bewitched voth. The beast bolted forth uncaring for the cries it actions elicited, it jaws were ripped out the throat of a voth and pulled on the intestines of another. The effects of its howl were short lasting but even as sorrowed drained out the hearts of the voth below fear took its place, it wasn’t supposed to be able to do that, it wasn’t supposed to howl. What came next would not have been such a disaster if the priests who had been waiting above had proper leadership or had simply been prepared for a Beowulf with all its terrible powers intact. Driven by fear and shame the priests leapt down en masse, overcrowding the humble arena cum altar. They provided the beast with a sea of bodies to use as shields, and so it slipped between them tearing them apart with its claws and needles whilst they had no space to counter. It greedily fed on their flesh, taking a piece here and another there never staying still long enough to be boxed in, growing larger and stronger with each bite, until when it was impaled by a well thrown spear its sheer mass allowed it to pull out the spear and shrug of the rapidly closing wound. In the midst of the anarchy Kalinar Sethroth emerged, barking a steady stream of orders only outpaced by the rapid rate at which he threw spears. Voth cheered and for a moment it seemed, even to pessimist like the Kevesh that the priests would make a comeback. That was until Beowulf used its now massive bushy tail to push a younger voth in the way of the spears meant for it and bought the time it needed to howl again. This both good and bad news, good news because a young Beowulf could manage three howls at most in a short time frame and bad news because the howl effectively crushed the budding resistance. The kalinars and kas below lost themselves in oceans of pain and longing. When the survivors recovered their senses half their number were dead or dying and the other half injured, as if that was not enough the beast now stood twice its former height and thrice its girth but lighter still on its feet.

Spears were dropped by quivering arms and knees knocked against themselves, the fight was lost. Still a handful fought on with great fury and anger but the beast only grew stronger and their numbers grew lesser. The few who kept fighting reminded Belmoth that even though the Kalinar had fallen, the standards for entry into their ranks ensured that only the bravest and most tenacious younglings could join them. It was a shame that they would die tonight. His thoughts led him to look up at his queen and mate, a veritable beauty with large rainbow hued eyes skin clad in snow white scales and strongest of the only three masters of song, the only person with the right to save them, the right to grant the Mother’s mercy. When he stared at the swirling pool of colour that were her eyes he saw only coldness, there would be no mercy from her.

The Beowulf howled once more intent on finishing the stragglers, even from the height of his perch Kevesh felt himself sink into grief, the loss of his son threatening to overwhelm him. Only years of practice at mastering himself and his impulses allowed him to keep afloat on the tumultuous sea of emotion within himself, if only barely. The time to slay the wolf had come but there would be no one to do it. Which was why he was taken by complete surprise when he saw a youngling, barely into the third stage of his growth, charging at the Beowulf. The young one was filled with rage so potent and blinding that the eldritch sorrow only became fuel for his anger, that there was no fear in him, no hesitation. The great wolf was startled by this but not shaken. It turned its massive head at the lone priest and spread its legs slightly apart. Kevesh sighed at the loss, even if the only reason the young one had managed to resist the howl only because he had turned the grief into anger the promise of a great hunter was there. Unfortunately that promise would never come true, he simply couldn’t win.

Perhaps the Mother saw this too and placed her hand on the scales tipping them in the youngling’s favour, perhaps Kevesh simply thought too highly of himself and he was not the only one who understood the importance of timing or maybe the promise in the young voth was even greater than Kevesh first thought. Whether it was for one or all three of these reasons it mattered little only that the seemingly imminent future was averted. Two elder voth in the fourth stages of their growth leapt down, one wielding a great spear and the other a short throwing spear. They had wisely opted to hang back when they realized that the large numbers of kas and kalinar (priest and senior priests) would only benefit the wolf and patiently waited for it use its final howl. The time was now they could kill the beast and save their injured maybe even save the young prodigy but they had to move fast.

The kalinar with the spear threw it with blinding speed and accuracy, his inner flame blared in the moment before it leapt his fingertips. Yet Beowulf he faced now was its peak, somehow it managed to hop away just before the ploughed into the cave floor in a shower of debris.

‘That could have been a killing blow.’ Kevesh thought idly.

The beast may have avoided the spear but the attack had stolen the beast’s attention from the youngling for a moment and it would pay for that. The young one shrieked in rage and his soul shrieked with him, an inner flame flared to life petering out the next second but it was enough to give him a sudden boost of speed that further unbalanced the great beast. Before it could gather its wits the young voth was beside it and his spear was thrust in its torso. The beast yelped in pain and a right paw slapped the voth back reflexively, he bounced on the hard stone floor like a discarded puppet with strings cut. The pulled the offending spear out with its maw, which left it open to an attack from the great spear wielding kalinar. His own spear was guided by experience and intellect rather than rage and deadlier still for it. It pierced the beast in a hind leg and the kalinar neglected to withdraw it as danced away from the wolf’s needle laced tail. The beast was crippled, as good as dead. The kalinar’s partner repeated his opening blow with wicked fast throw and despite the massive spear lodged in its leg the massive beast managed to twist most of itself away. The thrown spear punched through its side eliciting a pained cry from the beast. More spears followed these it could not dodge so well. Kevesh watched the noble beast fight despite being skewered, no less gallant in its death throes than it was in its prime and Kevesh felt something. He was excited.

Kalinar Sethroth survived the incident with only a missing arm, although it was still anyone’s guess if his priesthood would survive the aftermath. It was the Mother’s mercy that the people hadn’t realized that it was all caused by a botched suppression brew. They assumed it was the mother fury that gave the beast its strength so that it could purge the priests of the unworthy. Although he had survived the cleansing itself some argued that he should be removed from his post nonetheless for allowing the rot to fester. He supposed he should be glad that if the worst came to worst he would be would be slaving away in the darkest depths digging new tunnels with the miners and not dead buried in the darkest depths or in the womb of a dead beast. Ahead of him was Kevesh Belmoth, he knew what the Kevesh was after anyone with a brain would. He doubtless wanted Sethroth to take the hunt of redemption, preventing him from spending the rest of his life in the deepest reaches and bolstering the Keveshs’ own reputation and the strength of the hunt. Sethroth would not do it though, by the Mother’s fangs he wouldn’t not when some amongst the voth hailed the Kevesh as Kulinesh! The audacity of such a blasphemous title caused the priest to boil with rage. A pang of pain from the stump that was once his hand returned his clarity, there was no way he could service himself to the Kevesh when such an action would imply that he had power over the priests given ammunition to the voth’s followers. None of the other members of the hunt would take him in either not with his recent fall from grace compounding the old enmities caused by years of fighting over limited resources, no they would watch with relish. Instead he needed to find a way to diplomatically decline the Kevesh’s offer so that in the off chance that he kept his position the voth wouldn’t come for blood. He might regardless, the priest mourned.

“This way.” The Kevesh said speaking up for the first time in a long time.

They found themselves in a small storage room with dim orange glowing rocks lodged in the ceiling for lighting. The room smelled of dried herbs and preservatives not the ideal place for talks Sethroth thought not at first glance but the scent of herbs would mask their own and the area itself did not see much foot traffic if would serve.

The Kevesh walked over to a crate covered in fabric. He lifted it off the crate it was placed on and took out a translucent flask filed with liquid and tossed it to Sethroth.

Who broke its seal and took a whiff.

“Geresh? Is this what you intend to sweeten the pot with? Heh! Where did you get this? ” The Kalinar asked mildly amused.

“Irrelevant. The question is whether you will be the one to give me what I want.”

Sethroth’s teeth chattered in amusement. ”They say a lot of things about you, ha-ha, but none of them bring home how insane you are. This is worthless to me, I am an elder well into the fourth stage of my growth. My arm will heal even if it takes a while.”

The Kevesh nodded. ”Yes, but what would that change down in the depths. What does it matter how many hands you have when all they will hold is a shovel?”

“It’s not cert-“

“Oh it is. Whispers will come from the shadows and the peoples anger will not die you will be replaced, you will be forgotten.”

The Kalinar heard the unspoken threat if he did not give in Belmoth would make sure he was removed. He would never be seen supporting the decision himself but his sycophants would fan the flames until only ashes were left of Sethroth’s reputation.

“And you would rather have me join the hunt? To become symbol of your mercy and power? I will not! I would rather disappear into the gloom.”

The Kalinar knew that he was supposed to be appeasing the Kevesh, that his words should have been soft but years in a position of near unchallenged power had atrophied his ability to submit.

“No I would rather you stay where you are. I would provide the geresh not just for you but for every member that remains in the priesthood.”

That stumped Sethroth he could already see it. The complete recovery of all the injured priests would be seen as a miracle, the Mother’s favour. His own reputation would skyrocket, his shaky name suddenly made pristine. The story would change completely the disfavoured would be dead and healed would be the honoured.

“And while I control the priesthood you would control me…”

To his credit the Kevesh did not deny or sugar-coat it he only stared waiting for his answer. Salinar understood now, enough geresh for all the injured. The only way for a voth could make that much without incurring crippling debt even one as wealthy and powerful as the Kevesh would be to employ as potions master and there were not many of those and even less who could be convinced to take time from creating and refine recipes to perform such a laborious and mundane task as brewing that much geresh. The suppressant consumed by the Beowulf had been crafted by such a potions master as well, which made it absurd that the brew had been wrongly made but even more so that the master did not notice. He quickly eliminated the possibility that the potion master he had given the task to had lied to him or intentionally altered the brew, no it was more likely that another potions master had made a brew that altered the suppressant when mixed together or quite simply made a second less potent suppressant to be replaced with the first. His bones chilled at the understanding of how long the nights actions where in the making, from discovering where the suppressant had been hidden to circumventing its protection all without raising alarm. This was the work of years, patient work.

“If I were to refuse you?”

“Then you would work on improving our home in a different fashion one further away from the people’s eyes. A replacement for you would be chosen, someone in above their heads and desperate to consolidate control over the priesthood and to save it, someone less inclined to turn me down.”

The Kalinar was not so stupid as to think he could simply accept this deal and go back on his word how could a plan so long in the making not have contingencies for such behaviour? He could not see them but he had not seen this either. The anger and fight had long left him hollow, so many dead and maimed and for what? Some rogue’s bid for control?

“Why me? Why this?”

The Kevesh pondered the question not for the first time or even the second for the decision had not been clear cut, a lot had been weighed and even now he was not entirely certain the decision had been the right one.

“For the priesthood” he finally said “They will need someone who knows what they are doing behind the helm and for all your flaws I that is still you.”

The second question went unanswered even though it did not go unconsidered. That alone was more than Sethroth had expected though, so it was enough.

Sethroth bit back the retort. He was beaten and scared, anger would only blind him so he would swallow it bitter as it was even if it meant taking insults from a heretic.

“I’ll do it.” Someone had to stop the mad voth and he wouldn’t be able to do it in the dark with shovel in his hands. If the Kevesh knew what he was thinking he showed no signs of it only nodding to acknowledge the Kalinar’s words. Then he begun to explain the barebones of how the priesthood would be revitalized and strengthened. The priest was surprised to find himself dismayed at the pragmatic efficiency with which it would most likely work. These where old plans indeed.

“One last thing I want the youngling. Don’t worry about how to explain it I already have a story, one that will strengthen your position. Just get the rest done.” Sethroth did not need to ask to know who the Kevesh was referring to but it did take all his control not to ask why.

“I will leave now Kalinar, May the Mother be with you.”

“Even as she watches over you my brother.”