Then something roared off to his right. The tiger.
Lewan ran, pumping his arms, heedless of the branches and leaves. He'd run perhaps two dozen steps when the ground fell away beneath him. He hit the down slope, biting his cheek as he did so, and continued a long slide down a hill covered in generations of leaves and fallen branches. When he finally came to rest at the bottom, the avalanche of detritus he'd caused kept coming, burying him.
And so Lewan used it, keeping absolutely motionless, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths rather than the gasps his body demanded. From somewhere above he heard men crashing through the brush.
"Here!" one shouted. "This way!"
"No." This voice fainter. "He'd keep to the ridges where the ground is surer. Can't you see?"
"I can see. But he can't. He's got no light, and look how all the leaves are disturbed."
Lewan's heart hammered, and he tensed, preparing to run again.
"A tracker now, are you? Just 'cause you follow Sauk don't mean-"
"Move, you idiots," said a third voice, and Lewan heard something coming down the hill.
Close now. Lewan could feel the vibration through the ground. The man stopped, probably no more than a pace or two above him, then began moving again.
A toe struck Lewan's shoulder.
"Got him!"
Lewan erupted from cover, put all his strength behind one fist, and brought it up into the fork of the man's legs. A pained gasp escaped the man, then he folded in on himself, dropping the torch.
"Ha!" said a voice from above. "That whelp got him again. Same damned place!"
The man lurched onto his knees as his companions started their way down. Lewan snatched the torch from the fallen leaves and thrust it at the man's face. The man saw it coming and slapped at the fire, then began to fall forward. He screamed in agony as the burning pitch stuck to his fingers, but the thrust had swiped the brand from Lewan's grip.
Lewan turned and ran, following the course of the valley between the two hills.
"After him!"
"My-hand!" said a voice that was half sob.
A harsh laugh, then, "That ain't the part I'd be worried about. I'd-holy gods!"
Lewan heard a rustle of leaves on the slope above him, then a mammoth weight hit his back and crushed him onto the leaf-covered ground.
+++++
When awareness began to seep back in, Berun saw the blond man-the one Sauk had called Val-standing over him, holding his bow and quiver. The man wore an insolent, almost pleased smile. Another man, shorter and darker, stood behind him. Sauk was crouched beside him, one fist clutching Berun's torn shirt. The other fist jerked back, and Berun felt fingers scrape the back of his neck just before he heard a snap. His necklace!
Sauk stood, a broken leather braid dangling from one fist. On the end of the braid was tied an intricate knot work of hardened vines. Something in the midst of the vines caught the firelight and sparkled, almost as if an ember burned there. Erael'len.
"No!" said Berun as he lunged for it.
Sauk stepped back, almost casually, as Berun's hand swiped at empty air. Then the half-orc stepped forward again and brought the toe of his boot into Berun's side, just below the bottom rib. Biting back pain, Berun swiped at the necklace again, but Sauk caught his wrist and twisted. Berun struggled, but it was no use. His free hand reached for his knife The half-orc twisted harder, tough nails breaking through
Berun's sleeve and piercing skin. Bones in his wrist scraped together, then Sauk wrenched, bringing the entire arm around behind Berun's back.
Sauk planted one foot in the middle of Berun's back and said, "You draw steel on me and I'll tear your arm off. Understood?"
Berun poured the rest of his strength into a final attempt to pull his arm free.
Straightening the leg planted on Berun's back, Sauk pulled the arm tighter. Though he tried to hold it in, tried to clench his jaws shut, a scream escaped Berun.
"Understand now?" said Sauk.
The tension in the arm loosened. Not enough that he could move it, but just enough that Berun no longer felt as if muscles were tearing.
"Don't think he heard you." That was Val's voice. Berun couldn't turn his head enough to see, but he felt someone yank his knife out of the sheath.
Sauk let the arm go and put his full weight into the foot on Berun's back. His ribs creaked and he could only take shallow breaths.
"Just remember," said the half-orc, "you brought this on. If you'd behaved yourself, you and the boy would be sitting round the fire sharing some soup. Now-"
Shouts of men out in the woods. Berun could hear them. But beyond that, he heard the deep thunder of the tiger's roar, more shouting from the men, and then screaming. A boy screaming.
"Lewan!" gasped Berun, and he tried to push himself up. It was like pushing against a mountain root.
"You just stay down," said Sauk. "Taaki isn't going to kill the boy. But she will catch him, and she's not nearly as gentle as my men."
"Let"-Berun could barely take in enough air to speak — "boy-go."
"No," said Sauk.
"Why?" He wanted to ask, What is he to you? He isn't involved. Let him go and I'll come along, do whatever you say, and a dozen other things, but he couldn't find the breath to form any words.
"Right now? 'Cause you caused me a lot of trouble. Put my men to a lot of trouble. And you tried to hit me with your bow." Sauk stepped away, turned his head, and spat. "That wasn't nice, Kheil."
Sweet air filled Berun's lungs, and he rolled over onto his back. Breath was coming easier now, but his gut still hurt-a little higher with that first punch, and Berun knew he'd be holding broken ribs right now-and his arm felt like splinters were tumbling through his veins. Sauk stood a few paces away, arms across his chest. What he'd done with Erael'len, Berun couldn't see. Val stood beside the half-orc, Berun's bow and quiver cradled in his arms, the knife in one hand, and the insolent smile on his face. Gerrell stood behind them, spear in one hand, looking as if he didn't quite know what to do.
"Berun," said Berun.
"Berun," said Sauk. "Kheil. Leaf-lovin' blight-beater, I don't care what you call yourself. Keep this up and Berun might join Kheil, and they can bicker over who is who in the afterlife. But to finish my answer-even if I weren't annoyed with you, I'd still keep the boy. It'll give you incentive to behave yourself. I have nothing against the boy. But understand, I've got no love for him either. You play nice-no more flyin' lizards in anyone's face, no more trying to slap me with your twig-tosser-and you and the boy can go your way once our business is done. You try any more of this nonsense, and I'll let Taaki have her way with little Lewan. Might even make you watch."
Berun stayed on the ground. He didn't want another boot on him just then, but he looked up and glared at the half-orc. "Dukhal."
Berun had never been fluent in the language of Sauk's orc tribe, but he knew enough to give a good curse. Dukhal. A bastard whelp. A vile enough insult to any orc, but for Sauk it held a particular barb. He was the son of the clan's chief and a human slave. His mother had died before Sauk could walk, and he'd spent his childhood competing for-and never winning-his father's affection and respect among the chieftain's legitimate sons.
Sauk's eyes went cold and hard. "There you go hurting my feelings again," he said. Then his visage seemed to soften a bit and something happened Berun would never have predicted. The half-orc looked almost… sad. Truly hurt. "I see now that Kheil my brother is dead indeed. I was not wrong to bleed for him. Still, we need you. I didn't lie. Help us with this… Berun. Help us, and you and the boy can go wherever your new god takes you." He turned to Val. "No need to tie him, but don't give his weapons back. As soon as he can sit up, put him by a fire and feed him. And keep an eye out for that lizard. Don't know where it got off to."
"The lizard?" said Val, looking annoyed. "What do you want me to do with a damned lizard?"
"Give it to him," said Sauk. "If he can get it to behave, fine. If not, throw
it in the soup." He turned to walk away.
"Where are you going?" asked Val.
"Taaki can catch the boy," said Sauk over his shoulder. "But I don't know if she can bring him in without hurting him. I don't want to be up all damned night stitching up a mewling boy."
The half-orc sauntered off, and the dark of the wood soon swallowed him.
The blond man tossed away the unstrung bow and quiver, then held the knife up and knelt next to Berun. His insolent grin widened. "Name's Valmir," he said. "You can call me Val. Most around here do. You just listen to Sauk and behave yourself, and you and me'll get along just fine."
Berun considered bringing his leg up and jamming his boot in Valmir's face-the man was close enough-but he knew that even if that worked, he stood little chance of finding Lewan in the dark before Taaki and Sauk. This wasn't over. But something Sauk had told him earlier came to him-I have hunted enough prey to know when it is time to strike and kill and boast, and when it is best not to draw attention to yourself. Calling down doom… that's just foolish. And so Berun let his head fall back into the cushioning grass. He could still hear the tiger roaring, but the screams had stopped.
Chapter Seven
15 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
The northern Shalhoond walked. Sauk roused the camp when dawn was no more than a pale shade of gray in the east. Lewan had barely slept. The events of the previous night had hit him hard. The tiger had not harmed him-at least not physically. Master hunter that she was, she'd forced him to the ground, much as she would a deer, but she'd kept her claws in, and her teeth had held his neck without piercing the skin. That had been the worst. In his travels with Berun, Lewan had seen cats hunt. Once the prey was subdued, they took it by the neck, and with a quick snap, it was all over.
He had lain there, crushed leaves filling his mouth, the breath of the tiger filling his ear and rushing all the way down his shirt, and had waited for those jaws to end him. He'd wondered if there would be pain, wondered if he'd be able to hear his own neck snap, or feel his throat cave in, or the teeth tear through the blood vessels of his neck.
But the snap hadn't come. The tiger had held him there, her massive paws pinning his back while her jaws gripped his neck. He had no idea how long he'd lain there. He thought he might have screamed, but afterward he couldn't remember. His first clear memory after the initial attack was the jaws loosening, moving away, then the great weight of the tiger was gone. Lewan had looked up, leaves clinging to his face, and the half-orc and his men were standing around him.
"Don't try that again," said the half-orc.
And that was it. No beating. No warning. No threats of punishment.
Except from one man, the one whom Lewan had hit with the torch. He came at Lewan, one hand clenched tight and trembling at his side, but the other holding a torch. In pain as he was, still he was quick, and he lunged with the flaming torch.
"Burn me, whelp? I'll-!"
Sauk's boot took the man in the gut, doubling him over, and the half-orc snatched the torch.
"You'll do nothing," said the half-orc. He looked down on the man, who lay near where the tiger had pinned Lewan. "Dren, see to his hand. Kerlis, you'd do well to stay away from the boy. I'm setting Taaki to watch him. You come at him, and Taaki will take you. And I won't stop her."
And that had been it. The half-orc had made sure Lewan wasn't hurt, even brushed off the clinging leaves and twigs, then brought him back to camp where he was fed, allowed to clean up, and given warm blankets by the fire. Still, after the events of the day, he'd lain awake long into the night, unable to stop his trembling. The only thing resembling punishment was that he was not allowed near Berun. He'd seen him, huddled near a fire on the far side of the camp. The way his master sat-hunched over, stiff, and favoring one side-Lewan knew he was hurting, but the two times Lewan rose and tried to walk over, the tiger came and stood in front of him with a growl so low that Lewan felt it in his boots.
And so it was the following day. As they walked deeper into the wood, the country becoming rougher and climbing with every mile, Lewan walked near the front of their procession, Sauk beside him or just ahead, the tiger following. In the few places where the forest paths broke through clearings, Lewan caught sight of Berun, walking at the very rear of the line, surrounded by three men, two of whom held naked blades. The third, the blond one Sauk had called Val, kept a wary eye on their surroundings and seemed to be trying to engage Berun in conversation, but to no success. "Thirsty?"
Lewan turned around. Still walking at the easy pace he set, the half-orc held out an open waterskin.
When Lewan just stared at it, Sauk said, "Just water. Won't bite you."
Lewan took the skin and squeezed a few sips into his mouth. Just enough to keep him going. He tied it shut and handed it back to the half-orc.
"Keep it," said Sauk.
Lewan nodded thanks and tied the skin's cord round his belt.
"Feeling sick?" asked Sauk. "No. Why?"
"Your color's no good. You look pale, and you've been jumping at every noise all morning."
They left the clearing and plunged back into the cool of the wood. In the brush off the path, spider webs hung heavy with morning dew. A few even crossed the path, but Sauk used his scabbard to clear them out of the way.
"I'm well enough," said Lewan.
"Not afraid of spiders, are you?"
"No."
"Don't let the webs worry you," said Sauk. "Nothing too dangerous in the lowlands. The big monsters stick mostly to the mountains, especially this early in the year."
"I've been living here for several seasons," said Lewan.
The half-orc grinned. "You know this country better than me. That what you're saying?"
Lewan shrugged. "I don't know you."
Another fit of trembling hit Lewan. He clenched his jaw and fists to quell it. The half-orc laid a palm against his face. Lewan flinched back.
"Just checking for fever," said the half-orc. "I mean you no harm."
Lewan snorted despite himself.
"Truly," said the half-orc. "You have nothing to fear from me."
"Then let us go." "Us?"
"My master and I."
"Can't do that," said the half-orc. "You and Kheil are needed, whether he'll admit it or not." "His name is Berun."
The half-orc rolled his eyes, then returned his attention to their path. "He never told you?" "Told me what?"
"Your master… Berun"-Lewan heard the sneer in the word, though he couldn't see the half-orc's face-"used to go by the name Kheil. Kheil was once the best assassin west of Kora Shan. Some of the most powerful houses in Faerun paid vast amounts of gold or favors for Kheil's services. Our master, the Old Man of the Mountain, most often specialized in quiet killing. Trained most of his men to make murder look like an accident. But Kheil was… special. Kheil was used when a message needed to be sent. Kheil didn't just kill. He slaughtered-and liked it."
"I don't believe you."
The half-orc chuckled and brushed a thick web from across the path before plunging onward. "Believe what you want. Kheil and I were more than comrades in arms. We were brothers."
"You're a half-orc."
"Dam yeluk ufrum kahutat naw."
"What?"
"A saying of the orc tribe where I grew up. It means, 'Blood is thicker than milk.' Means that brothers in blood"-the half-orc raised his right arm and flexed so the muscles of his forearm pushed up an old scar across his wrist — "are closer than brothers who shared the same mother's milk. That was Kheil and me."
Lewan scowled and looked away. Just off the path, a fat brown spider sat on a magnificent web larger than a knight's shield. Even as he watched, a moth hit the web, stuck, and began to struggle frantically. The spider skittered down, stopped, and watched a moment as the moth's struggles tangled it’ further, then it struck. It didn't bother Lewan. Killing was part of life. The moth would nourish the spider. In a few more tendays, her eggs would hatch, a
nd her body would nourish her young. Struggle and death was part of living, but what Sauk was talking about-no other way to say it. It was murder, plain and simple.
"When I was fifteen," the half-orc continued, "about your age, eh? I killed my father's son. A good fight. He died well. But I did not mourn him. Hated him, in fact. Might have even danced on the ashes of his pyre had I not left him to rot by the river. But Kheil, I would have died for. I did kill for him. More than once. When I saw him taken that night in the Yuirwood, it was the blackest night of my life."
"My master," said Lewan, "isn't like that. He's not a… a murderer."
The half-orc laughed, but kept it low and quiet. The wood pressing in on them seemed to call for silence. "Not now, maybe," said the half-orc. "This… Berun isn't the brother I knew. What do you know of him?"
"Know of him?"
"You seem damned determined not to believe me," said the half-orc. "Right now, I could tell you the sky is blue and we're walking in the woods, and you wouldn't believe me-because you don't want to. Even though in your heart you know it's true. So if you're so sure your precious master isn't the killer I know him to be, tell me why. You can't have known him more than nine years. I knew him far longer than that."
Lewan looked over his shoulder. The path had gone straight for a while, and he could just catch sight of Berun, still at the end of the line between the three men.
"Berun saved my life," said Lewan.
"Now there's a tale," said the half-orc. "Do tell."
Lewan took a deep breath. Years had dulled the edge of the pain, but these were memories he still didn't like to dredge up. "Raiders-outlaws out of the Ganathwood-hit my village. Killed my parents. Took me captive. They were almost back into their territory when Master Berun and his own master came upon them. They attacked the raiders. Saved my life."
"Your master and one other killed a whole band of raiders?" The half-orc smiled. "Sounds like a killer to me."
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