Sentinelspire c-4

by Mark Sehestedt

  Berun hesitated. If he could feather the spearman, he might make it down the ravine. Maybe. But even if he could, he'd never outrun the steppe tiger.

  Berun lowered the bow. He let the tension leave the string, but he kept a good grip on the arrow between his fingers.

  "Well met, Kheil!" said the half-orc. "Been a long time."

  Chapter Four

  The half-orc took his time climbing down the rocks, the other men-and they were all men, as near as Berun could tell-kept watch from above, their hands lingering hear their weapons. One had a crossbow, latched and ready, two others held bows with arrows on the strings. Even though Berun could see no hard details, only suggestions of substance amidst the silhouettes and shadows, he could read the tension in the men's stances. Five stood there at the moment, and Berun worried that more might be on the ridge above him. The tiger lounged with them. She crouched on the boulder the half-orc had left. She looked around, the only one at ease.

  The half-orc jumped the last distance into the pool then waded to shore. Dripping from the waist down as he emerged from the water, his eyes never left Berun. He walked near and stopped an arm's length away. The half-orc stood a full head taller than Berun, and where Berun was lean, the half-orc was a mass of muscle. He grabbed Berun by the chin and forced him to look up.

  "It is you," said the half-orc, almost in a whisper. "Talieth swore, but I never thought…" The half-orc studied Berun's features. "I saw you. Saw you taken. How…?"

  Berun jerked his chin out of the half-orc's grasp and looked him in the eyes. "What do you want, Sauk?"

  The half-orc flinched. Hurt sparked in his eyes, then ii kindled and his gaze turned to anger. "What do I want? That's all you have to say to me?"

  Berun glared at Sauk, holding the half-orc's gaze. "What do you want, Sauk?"

  The half-orc glared back, breathing like a bellows, then he swung his fist. It felt like a knotted log as it struck Berun on the side of the face, and he went down hard. Floating orbs were just beginning to leave his vision when the top of Sauk's foot caught him in the ribs, driving all air from his body.

  "What do I want? " the half-orc shouted.

  Berun struggled to take a breath, and what little he managed caught in a ragged cough. The punch had driven the inside of his cheek against his teeth, and blood filled his mouth. Coughing and retching, Berun fought to regain his breath. When he opened his eyes, he saw his bow and arrow on the rocks beside him. He couldn't remember dropping them.

  The half-orc grabbed Berun's vest above the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Stars swirled his vision, but Berun could see that Sauk's rage was spent. Regaining his breath, Berun turned and spat blood onto the rocks, then shook himself free of the half-orc's grip.

  "Why are you here, Sauk? How did you find me?"

  He glanced up, wondering if he was in for another beating, but the half-orc only looked down at him, a mixture of sorrow and anger playing on his features.

  "I thought you dead, you ungrateful bastard. I mourned you a year. I bled for your memory." He pointed to a scar that ran from his forehead to his cheek. It was a luzalunba mark, a ritualized scar of Sauk's orc clan, a self-inflicted wound cut down the face in remembrance of a lost brother. "How did I find you? I didn't. Talieth did. Saw you in her scrying pool. Swore to me that you were alive after all these years. I called her a liar."

  "You were not wrong. Kheil died in the Yuirwood. I am called Berun now."

  "Berun?" Sauk snorted.

  "It means 'hope' in the tongue of Aglarond. The druids gave me the name."

  "The same druids who killed you?" j "The same druid Kheil was sent to kill."

  The two stared at each other, Berun holding the half-orc's gaze, Sauk flexing one fist. Berun knew the half-orc was giving serious consideration to beating him again, "What happened to you?" said Sauk. The half-orc looked down on him, his gaze hardening with each breath until his gray eyes stared out, hard as flint.; "Kheil died." r "You don't look dead."

  "I told you. I am not Kheil. I am Berun."

  A moment of tense silence, then, "That's how it is- then? After all we shared…"

  Berun didn't want to antagonize Sauk any further, and mostly he felt… not compassion. Not quite. Not for Sauk. But neither did he take any pleasure in deepening another person's pain. Not even Sauk.

  He swallowed and said, "Kheil is dead. Nine years dead."

  "Let him rest easy," said Sauk. "Is that it?"

  "Kheil will never rest easy."

  Sauk snorted and looked down on him. He reached into a large pocket of his vest and pulled out what looked like a thin green strip leather. He held it out to Berun, who realized at once what it was. Perch's tail.

  "I had to pull your lizard off Taaki," said Sauk. "But the damned thing's tail snapped right off."

  "Where is he?"

  "Your lizard?" Sauk shrugged. "You tell me. Little bug-eater ran off. You really care that much?" "You care about Taaki?"

  Sauk blinked and his eyes widened. For him, that signified shock. "You have an arumwon?"

  Berun took the tail. "Something like that."

  Among Sauk's orc clan, arumwon meant "beast brother," an animal friend meant to serve and protect. Berun suspected it was very much like his own bond with Perch.

  Sauk shook his head, a smile threatening to crease his face. "Kheil the assassin turned zuwar. Never would've thought." He banged his chest with a tight fist. "Kumash damunl Taste the blood! Eh, Kheil?"

  Blood had filled Berun's cheek again, but he knew that if he spit now, Sauk would take it as a grave insult. Berun swallowed. "The Beastlord did not call me, Sauk," said Berun. "I serve the Oak Father."

  A look that was half smirk and half scowl twisted Sauk's face, as if he'd bitten down on a bitter root. "That explains why you hunt with a lizard instead of a tiger."

  "That lizard whipped your tiger."

  A dangerous glint lit Sauk's gaze. "Taaki did as she was told. She got you down here. She'd've eaten your little lizard had she wanted. Little thing like that, she probably wouldn't have bothered chewing."

  Berun opened his mouth to say, She d have had to catch hint first, and she was doing a poor job of that, but good sense took hold of his tongue and he clamped his jaw shut.

  "You hungry, old friend?" asked Sauk.

  "Not really."

  "You always were a master liar, Kheil, but I could always see through you. Me and Talieth, we were the only ones, eh?" Berun said nothing.

  "We have things to discuss," said Sauk. "Many things. And tongues always wag better over a full stomach. Come."

  Berun unstrung his bow and carefully slid the arrow back into his quiver. It would be no use against so many. If it came to a fight, it would be bladework.

  One of Sauk's men tossed a knotted rope over the rocks so they could climb up. Sauk went first, then Berun, followed by the spearman. When Berun came up over the ledge, the steppe tiger crouched an arm's length away. Taaki looked down at him, her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared and the lips pulled back over her teeth. Again the growl seemed to hit the gut more than the ears.

  "Ragh ala, Taaki," said Sauk, calming her. He looked down on Berun. "She remembers you. Still doesn't like you much."

  Berun stepped aside to give the spearman room to get up-and to put the half-orc between him and the tiger. "She never liked Kheil," he said. "She doesn't know me."

  "Hunters know their own," said Sauk. He turned away, and the tiger followed.

  Berun kept a careful eye on the underbrush and treetops as they walked. Perch was close but keeping himself hidden. In the early evening with the shadows thick, it was easy for Perch to stay out of sight. Not once did he show himself, but Berun knew he was there all the same.

  The loss of his tail hadn't really hurt Perch. It was a gift of his species-the tail snapped off to distract a predator long enough to get away. Given proper nourishment, he'd grow a new one soon enough.

  They walked less than a quarter mile, to a place where
an offshoot of a stream fed a reed-choked pool. Sauk and his men made their camp just where stream met pool, so they were surrounded by water on two sides. Full dark had fallen, and Sauk's men busied themselves building fires.

  Taaki padded off into the woods, and Sauk motioned for Berun to sit opposite a small fire from him. The half-orc seemed grim, his brows low and his jaw tight. Berun knew that he had probably spent their walk going over their conversation, getting angrier with each retelling in his mind.

  Berun sat and put his unstrung bow across his lap.

  Sauk glanced down at it. "A fine weapon. You always hated the bow," said Sauk. "Called it a coward's weapon. You liked to get in close for the kill, see your prey's eyes as the light dimmed. One of the things I liked about you."

  Kheil had once said those very words-and meant them. Berun said, "I don't kill for pleasure."

  "You seemed ready to kill Gerrell down by the water. And you've been hunting Taaki for days."

  "Your man was about to kill me-or so I thought. I was hunting Taaki only because I thought a beast had come out of the Khopet-Dag. She's been killing sheep, you know. Took a shepherd. And the hunters sent after her still haven't been found. Had I known it was Taaki, I-"

  "What?" said Sauk, heat rising in his voice. "Turned tail and hid in the woods, hoping I'd go away?"

  Berun looked into the fire. The barb struck. He'd been thinking those very thoughts after sending Lewan away.

  "I believe you," said Sauk. "You told me Kheil died. I didn't believe you. Didn't want to. Thought perhaps my brother had returned by some miracle. Now I see that I was a fool to hope."

  Lifting his gaze from the flames, Berun looked up and said, "Kheil is dead. I am Berun now."

  "Berun, sworn of the Oak Father," said Sauk, his upper lip lifted in a sneer. "A damned leaf lover. A blight beater."

  The world came into sudden, sharp focus. Even the sounds of the stream and men talking as they went about their business seemed clear, every ripple of the water and companionable jibe distinct. Berun recognized the sudden awareness in him for what it was. Anger. He'd been holding a lid on his fear since seeing those letters scratched in the boot print. Fear that Kheil's old life was catching up to him after nine years of trying to bury it. But Sauk's casual curse of the Oak Father and his servants had lifted that lid off his fear, and here in the nighttime camp, Berun found himself filled with anger. No, not anger. Pure, cold rage. Nine years! Nine years of burying the past, and here it was again, spitting in the face of all he now held precious.

  "You never answered me," said Berun, his voice careful and controlled. "What do you want? Why this ruse to draw me out here? 'A fool to hope.' Please. You didn't go through all this for a reunion. You want something. You said Talieth found me. Did she send you? Are you still her father's favorite lapdog?"

  The rest of the camp had gone quiet halfway through Berun's speech. Every man now stood watching, some sitting paralyzed with bits of food held before open mouths. Others were caressing the hilts of their weapons. All eyes were on Sauk,

  The half-orc's eyes had narrowed to slits, and he was grinding his teeth as he watched Berun. v

  One of the men standing behind Sauk, a tall man with dirty blond hair who looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, said, "I think we ought to teach this one some courtesy. Eh, Sauk?"

  "Val, that you?" said Sauk, not turning around. "Yes."

  "If I want to know what you think, I'll ask you. You want to lead this party? All you have to do is get through me. Understood?"

  Much of the boldness went out of the man's gaze, and he looked away from Berun. "Understood. You're the boss."

  "Am I?" said Sauk, still not taking his eyes from Berun. "Or am I the Old Man's favorite lapdog?"

  Berun said nothing. He forced his muscles to relax. He sat less than five feet from one of the fiercest hunters he'd ever known, and he was surrounded by seven armed men, all watching and ready to kill him, awaiting only their master's word. And there was still the tiger to consider. Hopeless. If he'd had some distance and more cover between him and the men, if his bow were ready, if, if, if…

  If it came to that, he wasn't going back to the grave alone.

  Then Sauk did the last thing Berun expected. He threw back his head and laughed, rocking back and forth on his rump, his hands on his knees. Confused, Berun looked around. A few of the men relaxed, but most still stood tense, hands on weapons. The looks on their faces showed that they were just as confused as he was.

  "Oh, Kheil," said Sauk, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of one hand. "Pardon me. Berun. Berun, it must be. Kheil was never such a damned fool."

  "Fool or not, Kheil is dead," said Berun. He tried to hold on to his anger, but he could feel it slipping away. "I'm sitting here alive."

  Sauk went still again, though the mirth did not leave his countenance. "Well, for now anyway," he said. "You think the Old Man sent us, is that it? Sent his favorite lapdog after his favorite assassin? Bring the naughty boy back home? The little runaway?"

  "Isn't it?"

  Berun saw several men exchanging amused glances, and the one Sauk had called Val grinned and shook his head, like a favorite uncle amused at his nephew's latest foolishness.

  "Not even a little," said Sauk. "Wrong on all counts, in fact. Berun, you are sitting surrounded by conspiracy. Every one of these men, this half-orc included, has sworn to see the Old Man of the Mountain dead. Or die trying. Now sit and listen."

  Chapter Five

  You spoke truly about one thing," said Sauk. "I didn't come for a reunion. Gerrell?" The half-orc looked to one of his men, the one who had held the spear on Berun down in the ravine. The man's wounds were all cleaned, though filth still covered his clothes. "Food ready yet?"

  "Almost, Sauk."

  Sauk returned his attention to Berun. "Not much, I'm afraid. We haven't hunted in days. Bits of smoked venison stewed with whatever else they throw in. Doesn't taste like much, but it'll fill you. There's bread, too, though you might have to pick out the bugs."

  "Tell me what you want with me," said Berun, "then I'll decide whether to accept your hospitality."

  "What makes you think I'm giving you a choice?"

  "There's always a choice, Sauk."

  "Not always a good one."

  Sauk rummaged through the leather satchel at his belt and pulled out a half-eaten hunk of brown bread. Seeing that, a flood of memories hit Berun. He knew that no matter how hungry Sauk became, if anyone offered the half-orc meat, he would not eat it. Sauk served Malar, the Beast-lord, and he would eat no flesh that he himself had not hunted and killed. He'd choke on moldy, maggot-infested bread first.

  Sauk bit into the loaf and spoke as he chewed. "That druid. The one the Old Man sent us to kill nine years ago." "Chereth," said Berun.

  "Yes," said Sauk. "Or as we in the Fortress have come to call him: 'The one who got away.' "

  A few of the men, listening in, laughed at this.

  "He the one who killed y-uh, killed Kheil, that is?"

  "No," said Berun. "The rangers executed Kheil. Chereth called me back to serve the Oak Father."

  Sauk nodded and swallowed, and Berun caught a glimpse of a strange look that the half-orc quickly hid. A knowing, pleased expression. Another memory hit Berun. Something Talieth used to say. The best way to catch a liar is to ask him questions to which you already know the answer. Was that Sauk's game here?

  "And then?" asked Sauk.

  "Then?"

  "After you were… 'called back to serve?' Chereth brought me to the Oak Father and taught me the ways of the wild."

  "His ways," said Sauk.

  Berun knew that Sauk was thinking of Malar. Sauk was zuwar, a hunter sworn to the service of Malar the Beastlord. The Beastlord was also of the wild, but only of its more bestial aspects-the hunt, the kill, survival of the strong. The Oak Father did not deny those aspects, but Chereth had taught him that these were only one leaf on a tree that grew many branches.

  "
You knew Chereth well, then?" asked Sauk.

  "He was my master," said Berun, and left it at that. In truth, he had known the old half-elf as well as anyone, which was to say he'd seen only the surface of a pool that ran very deep.

  "Did you know that five years ago Chereth came to Sentinelspire?"

  "I… suspected."

  Sauk's eyebrows shot up. "And you let your beloved master go? Knowing what you know? Knowing us?"

  Berun clamped his jaw shut and stared into the fire.

  "Your Oak Father breeds odd disciples," said Sauk. "Your master walks headlong into death, and you don't so much as go after his body, much less vengeance."

  Berun said nothing. He knew that Sauk was trying to provoke him, partially to see what information another torrent of angry words might reveal and partly out of his own personal disgust for the so-called "leaf lovers" and "blight beaters"-druids and their ilk who did not embrace the savagery of the wild.

  "Do you know why your master came to Sentinelspire?" said Sauk.

  "He"-Berun swallowed to keep his voice from breaking — "wouldn't tell me."

  "Ah," said Sauk. "Old leaf lover wanted to protect his precious disciple. That it? Well, you know more than I thought. But this I'll bet you don't know." The half-orc smiled and took another bite of bread. He chewed, swallowed, and took a sip from a waterskin. "Your old druid came to Sentinelspire to kill the Old Man of the Mountain." Sauk paused, giving the words time to sink in-or perhaps letting the hook dangle before the fish. "Imagine that. An old leaf lover coming to the most impregnable citadel east of Thay and hoping to kill the king of killers. Now there is a tale!"

  Sauk's words didn't really surprise Berun. He'd long known that there was some sort of history between Chereth, Master of the Yuirwood, and Alaodin, Old Man of the Mountain. What exactly that history had been, he had no idea. But nine years ago, Alaodin had sent Kheil, the best assassin in his arsenal, to kill Chereth in his homeland, surrounded by hundreds of allies. Such a desperate mission could not have been a random act, nor even a job bought and paid for by some western lord or lady. It had to be grave and personal for the Old Man to have sent Kheil. In the five years since Chereth had left him, Berun had not passed a day without wondering of his master's fate. All those days of wandering through villages, seeking other druid Circles, looking for word from the old half-elf, hoping for any rumor but finding none. To now have it confirmed…