Sentinelspire (38 page)

S
auk roared, his own cry of grief fierce as any tiger’s, and raised his fist to smash the treeclaw lizard. His arm was halfway through its descent when Berun tackled him. The two combatants struck and slid across the pavement in a great splash of rain and blood.

Sauk used the momentum to throw Berun off and away. Berun hit the courtyard wall—had it not been thick with green ivy and moss, he would have had broken bones—and then fell to the ground. The half-orc scrambled for his sword, and Berun regained his feet.

Talieth turned to her men. “Stop them! Hurt them if you must, but do
not
kill them!”

But Sauk was beyond reason. The rage of a maddened beast filled him, and he came at Berun swinging with all his strength, no longer using the flat of his blade. It was all Berun could do to avoid each strike, stab, and swipe.

The assassins advanced, none of them exhibiting any enthusiasm. Lewan had no idea where Perch had gone.

Sauk and Berun’s battle took them under the arch of the gateway and inside the courtyard. The lights seemed to gather round them, bathing the combatants in eerie green light.

One of the assassins ran forward and tried to grab the half-orc’s free arm. “Sauk, plea—”

Sauk plunged his blade into the man’s gut up to the hilt,
roared in the man’s face, and pushed him away. Another man tried to grab the half-orc’s sword arm, but was either too slow or Sauk’s rain-soaked skin was too slick. A backhand swipe, and the man was missing a hand. Screaming and spurting blood from the stump of his wrist, the man fell back onto the pavement.

Talieth ran toward them, but stopped well out of range of the combatants.

“Sauk!” Talieth screamed. “Stop this at once! I command you!”

Sauk ignored her. Lewan wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. The half-orc’s face was twisted by grief and fury, and his eyes were fixed on Berun.

Talieth twisted the clasp of her cloak, threw it off, and raised both hands, her fingers twisting in an intricate pattern. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said,
“Targelu engethlimek!”

Sauk hesitated in his advance.

“Sauk,” Talieth said, forcing calm into her voice. “Listen to me, Sauk. We need him.”

Sauk snorted like a bull and shook his head, almost like a sleeper shaking off a fading dream. His lip twisted in a snarl, the green of the lights gleaming off his silver tusk, and he leaped at Berun.

But the distraction had given Berun time to back away. He tried to make it out of the courtyard, but one of the assassins lunged for him. Quick as a serpent, Berun’s knife-hand shot forward and back, but then he had to turn to face Sauk.

The assassin lurched backward, both hands at his throat. He turned and stumbled into Lewan. The hands gripping his throat were dark with blood. He opened his mouth as if to scream, but he only made a choking sound as he fell to his knees, one hand at his throat while the other clutched at Lewan’s shirt. His death grip and heavy weight pulled Lewan to his knees. The man’s body was trying to breathe, but he was drowning in his own blood.

Horrified—more at his own actions than the dying man—Lewan brought his hand with the hammer around in a swing.
Crack!
went the assassin’s forearm …

The sound of the arm breaking brought it all back to Lewan—his mother’s pleading, agonized face. The look, almost of relief, in the moment before Lewan brought the black iron kettle down on her skull. That day, he’d thought all hope of happiness had left him forever. With Berun, he’d found, if not happiness, then at least hope. Perhaps even meaning. And all of that hung like a heavy stone caught on a spider’s web, sinking and about to snap at any moment—

Lewan pulled himself to his feet and backed away. The assassin fell to the ground, squirming and kicking as his body fought for air that would never come.

Only two of Talieth’s guards were left. One of them, holding a bow, ducked round Talieth to get a good aim. He raised it and brought the arrow to his cheek, the steel point aimed right at Berun.

All of the fear—fear at being hunted, captured, at the future of the world supposedly hanging in the balance—poured out of Lewan then in a desperate cry. He charged. The bowman adjusted his aim as Berun and Sauk’s battle danced about the courtyard. Lewan brought the heavy weight of the hammer around, putting all his strength into the blow. The stone hammerhead struck the bowman’s left shoulder. Bone shattered like chalk and the man went down, his arrow flying into the leaves.

The momentum of Lewan’s charge would not allow him to stop, and he stumbled over the fallen archer. He managed to keep his feet, and when he’d regained his balance, he found himself face to face with the last of Talieth’s guards. The man—his eyes glistening brightly under the green light—looked at the hammer in Lewan’s hand, glanced at his mistress, back to the hammer, over to Berun and the half-orc … and then he turned and fled.

Seeing him go, Talieth turned the full weight of her gaze on Lewan. “This ends now!”

Talieth began to weave another incantation, even as Sauk brought his sword arm back for another strike. But his fist and blade caught in a thick tangle of vines dangling from an oak branch. The half-orc yanked his hand free and continued his advance.

But then Lewan saw that the half-orc had not simply tangled his hand in the vines. The greenery above and behind him was moving of its own accord—branches flexing like stiff fingers, vines and creepers writhing like charmed snakes. So intent was Sauk on killing Berun that he didn’t see the danger upon him.

“Sauk, get out of there!” Talieth shouted, and Lewan realized that she had seen the slithering vines as well. Her hands stopped moving. Confusion and horror passed over her face, and Lewan realized that the moving vines were not her magic at work. This was something else.

Berun stumbled and went down. Sauk stopped, towering over Berun, and swung his sword arm back. A leafy vine shot out and wrapped around Sauk’s wrist. Shocked, the half-orc pulled, but the vine held tight. Judging from the amount of blood that began to run down Sauk’s arm, Lewan thought the vine must have been thick with thorns under all those leaves. Sauk reached up with his other hand to try to free the sword, but more vines snaked down, wrapping both hands together. Roaring in anger and frustration, Sauk began to thrash, trying to dislodge his arms, but he only succeeded in bringing more of the vines down upon him. In moments only his legs were visible, and then the vines contracted, lifting the half-orc up into the branches of the oak. Even after his legs disappeared into the tree canopy, Lewan could still hear the half-orc screaming and cursing.

Talieth, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, looked up where Sauk had disappeared. But then she shook her head and rushed for Berun.

“Kheil, I—”

More vines shot downward, ignoring Berun and aiming for Talieth. She shuffled backward, her hands and fingers moving in an intricate pattern.
“Gerulu tserulek!”
she shouted, then clenched her right fist and punched the air. An orange light glowed round her fist, flared, then shot forward in a shaft so bright that it burned its after image into Lewan’s eyes.

The shaft of light hit the vines, and they exploded in a burst of ash and smoke. But more were coming, snaking along the ground or undulating through the air in several directions. Three more times Talieth invoked the magic and sent it shooting outward to burn and shatter the foliage. But for every strike she made, more vines took their place.

She backstepped as she struck, trying to keep the vines in sight, but one was too quick and wrapped around her left forearm. Talieth yanked at it, but the more she struggled, the more the vine tightened and pulled back, dragging her step by step into the thick foliage.

“Erbeluth draglen!”
Talieth’s free hand shot out, hurling a tiny ember of fire that gathered momentum as it sailed through the air. It tumbled upward, growing in strength and fury as the air around it caught fire. It was the size of a knight’s shield—and still growing—when it struck the thick bank of foliage from whence most of the vines had come.

Fire caught in the leaves and branches, and the vines reaching for Talieth fell to the ground, lifeless, their ends smoldering.

His eyes had adjusted to the dim light cast by the floating orbs round the tower, and all of the sudden brightness made Lewan wince. The stench of the burning greenery filled Lewan’s head, making him choke and gag. The scent was … 
wrong
somehow, whether from the arcane flames or something twisted and unnatural in the foliage itself, Lewan did not know. Nor did he care much. He only knew it was time to leave.

“Where is he?”

As Lewan’s eyes began to adjust to the light, he saw Talieth standing beside him, her hair and clothes sodden, her left arm wet with rain and blood where the thorns had raked her skin.

Lewan looked past her. There was no sign of the half-orc. The bodies of the assassins lay where they’d fallen, one man still moving feebly. The archer whom Lewan had struck with the hammer was gone, though his bow still lay on the pavement next to a haphazard pile of a half dozen arrows. He saw nothing of Berun, save the cloak he’d tossed aside. Beyond the burning brush, the light from the fire only seemed to thicken the shadows in the courtyard. But Lewan could see that the shadows were moving—and not from the fall of the rain. Talieth’s spells had hurt the army of vines and creepers, but more were coming.

Lewan cried, “Lady, there—!”

Talieth whirled, bringing her right arm up to cast another spell. But it was too late. Vines shot downward, their leaves rustling like the hissing of a serpent, and wrapped around Talieth’s waist. Before she could complete her invocation, more wrapped round her arms and tightened. The Lady of Sentinelspire thrashed and screamed, but like Sauk, the more she struggled the more she entangled herself. More vines wound out of the forest to grapple her.

“Kheil! Lewan! Help me!” But then she was gone, pulled out of sight into the branches.

Lewan froze, crouched under the tree, the hammer in his hand. He was too frightened to move, afraid that more vines might come for him. But none did. He could still hear thrashing overhead, Talieth and Sauk screaming. An occasional branch or leaf fell, but no more vines dangled down.

“Lewan.”

He turned to see his master. With his knife still in hand, Berun rushed out of the shadows and embraced Lewan.

Lewan squeezed him back. “Master, what just happened?”

Berun pulled away. He glanced up at the boughs where Talieth and Sauk were still screaming. Then he looked back
at Lewan and said, “I think they have displeased the master of this tower.”

“The Old Man?”

Berun nodded. “I never knew him to possess powers such as these. It seems what Sauk told me is true. He has learned to bend my master’s power to his own will.”

“I’ve seen him, Master!” said Lewan, and it all came out in a rush. “The Old Man. He came to me. On the mountain. He said … he said that Talieth and Sauk were lying, that he was out to save the world. He said he needed my help, master! He—”

“Lewan,” said Berun. Not a shout, but enough force to cut off Lewan’s stream of words. Berun held him by the shoulders and smiled. “It is good to see you again. I feared the worst. They didn’t harm you?”

“N-no, Master. They—”

“I’m sorry, Lewan,” said Berun, his smile fading and his face becoming grim. “I pray you’ll be able to tell me all about it later. Now, you must find someplace to hide.”

“What? Where are you going?”

Berun looked up at the tower. “I was given a task. During the
Jalesh Rudra
. I must fulfill my oath.”

The
Jalesh Rudra
 … Lewan had so much to tell Berun, so many questions, so much to confess.

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

“No, Lewan. Listen—”

“No!” Lewan shouted. All of the terror and secrets and worry rose up in him, boiling over and turning into white-hot anger. “No,
you
listen! You can’t just order me to run off and hide every time it gets dangerous. Look how that worked last time! I begged—I
begged
to go with you, but you ordered me away without so much as an explanation. I’m hunted down by a bunch of murderers looking for you, dragged off and told that everything you ever told me was a lie!”

“I never lied to you, Lewan.”

“You never told me about Kheil!”

Berun flinched at that, but his heavy gaze returned to Lewan. “No. No, I didn’t. But I didn’t lie. Kheil died—and he
deserved
to die. Who I am now—”

“I don’t
know
who you are anymore!”

Berun dropped his hands but he would not drop his gaze. “I have much the same problem.”

“Then let me come with you. Whatever you’re going to face in there, we can face it together.”

“No, Lewan.”

Above them, the screaming had stopped, though they still heard occasional thrashing.

“What makes you think you can stop me from following you?” said Lewan.

“Nothing,” said Berun. “I am sorry I missed your
Jalesh Rudra
. But one thing you must learn about the difference between being a man and a child is doing the
right
thing, not the thing you want. If even half of what Sauk told me is true … we stand on the razor’s edge. If we fail …” He shook his head, and his expression hardened. “Time to grow up, Lewan. You need to realize what your limitations are. I’m more proud of you than I know the words to tell, but you must understand that if you go with me, you will limit what I can do. My concern will be for you. I can’t have that. I need you gone. The world needs you gone. Go to the Shalhoond and find one of the Circles. Beg for their aid.”