Sentinelspire c-4

by Mark Sehestedt

  "Chereth!" Berun called out. "Master! Stop this! Stop it before it's too late!"

  Chereth turned to face him, an exultant smile on his face, but he did not cease his chant. He was still smiling when a dusky brown shape hit him in the face, all biting teeth and scrabbling claws. The druid's voice broke and rose into a shriek. He dropped both staff and relic and slapped at the treeclaw lizard ravaging his face. As soon as the staff left his grip, Berun felt the vines around him lose their strength, and he dropped to the floor. He could feel the tower shaking, but the rumble in the air was quieting, and the tremors losing their strength.

  Berun thrashed and kicked. Broken twigs and thorns jabbed his skin, cutting bloody swaths in his back and arms, but he didn't care. He kept fighting.

  Chereth's cries stopped, and Berun dared to look up as he continued his efforts to free himself. The half-elf's face was a ruin-bright red blood surrounding darker patches of shredded skin and flesh. Both eyes were intact, and they burned with fury.

  "Damn you!" Chereth shrieked.

  Berun heard a screech and saw Perch nor far away, standing on his hind legs amidst the leaves. His forepaws hooked into savage claws, Perch looked up at the druid with his jaws open in a fierce show of aggression.

  Chererh bent and retrieved his staff. He raised it, but even as he took in a breath to summon his spell, Sauk plowed into him from behind. They hit the roof hard, and Perch had to scramble away to keep from being crushed beneath them.

  It gave Berun the distraction he needed. He lunged forward, tearing loose from the last of the vines, half rolling and half stumbling, then he dropped the hammer and reached out. His hand grabbed Erael'len.

  "No!" screamed Chereth.

  Berun looked up. Chereth stood again, staff raised, his face a mask of blood. Behind him, a tangle of vines had wrestled Sauk to the ground. The half-orc thrashed and cursed and screamed, but he could not break free.

  Even as Berun watched, Chereth flicked his staff at Perch, and a smaller tangle of vines shot out and engulfed the lizard.

  Chereth turned his bloody visage upon Berun. "Give that to me!

  Berun stood. Even as the last tremor passed through the tower and the stone stilled, Berun could feel Erael'len coming to life in his fingers, its warmth spreading through his hand and arm.

  "No," said Berun. "This madness ends now."

  Chereth's chest heaved from exertion and pain. Blood dripped from deep cuts on his forehead and cheeks. His eyes seemed very bright, even savage. His lip curled into a snarl and he turned, pointing his staff at Lewan, who was huddled with the girl not far from the stairs. Vines shot out with so much force that some cracked through the air like whips.

  They struck the boy, tearing skin off his face and hands, then wrapping around him. Lewan screamed but the vines kept coming, wrapping him tight and lifting him off the ground. One wound round and round his neck, then constricted, cutting off Lewan's screams.

  The druid turned to Berun. "Give me Erael'len," he said. "Give it to me now, or the boy dies."

  Berun stood, wincing at the pain from the burns across his skin. Erael'len's power was pulsing through him now, like blood, only a thousand times more alive, more vital, more powerful. "If I give you Erael'len, the boy dies anyway."

  The vine around Lewan's neck tightened even more. His face was turning purple. Ulaan began screaming and pulling at the vines, but her efforts were futile.

  Chererh risked a glance at the boy, a flicker of indecision passed across his face, then the vines round Lewan's throat slackened. Just enough for the boy to draw in breath.

  "It need not be like this, my son," said Chereth. His words were soft, cajoling, but Berun could see the cunning in his eyes. "I threaten, you relent. You threaten, I relent. Such are the ways of lesser men. They are beneath us. Give me Erael'len, Berun. Its glory is beyond you. Give it to me, and I will leave you to whatever you wish. You may follow me-or not. Give me the relic and let me go my way."

  "Your way is death for us all," said Berun.

  Chererh's eyes hardened, and the vines tightened round Lewan's throat again. Ulaan yanked at them and began to sob.

  "Your way is death for the boy," said Chereth. "A slow, agonized death while you watch. While he knows in his final agony that it is all your fault. His last choked breath, his last sight of the world as it fades to black… your fault. I'll have my way, anyway. Or you can give me the relic and go as you will with the boy. Your choice."

  Berun swallowed. The top of the tower was strangely quiet. Even the drizzle had stopped, and there was no wind. So quiet that Berun could hear the vines tightening round Lewan's throat. Through his heightened senses from Erael'len, he could even hear the thorns tearing through the skin of Ulaan's fingers as she tugged at the vines. "Talieth!" Berun called.

  She was still trapped in vines. She looked up at him, and even from so far away Berun caught her scent. The sight of her and the scent of her skin brought a flood of memories to Berun. Kheil's memories, true, but they hit him still-he and Talieth in the height of their passion had often come here at night, where they could enjoy the clean air, the sight of the open sky, and the quiet. It had been dark during their first visits, which did not hinder their purpose. But later, Talieth had learned to use the portals crafted by the Imaskari, calling up water and cool air through the tubes to the top of the Tower, to cool the lovers as they enjoyed each other's company. Even in winter, when dark came early, the moon rose pale and clear over the steps to bathe them in her cold light, and frost gripped the tower from top to bottom, Talieth had called forth fire from other worlds, the flame roaring up the sides of the Tower to bathe them in light and warmth.

  Berun could see that she was hurt, disoriented. He knew that she had seldom faced such a desperate situation. But that was good. Berun knew that Talieth was never more dangerous than when she was desperate.

  "Remember the winters, Tali!" Berun called out. "Remember our nights by the fires."

  "Enough of his!" said Chereth. He spared a glance at Talieth. Apparently deeming her no further threat, he returned his attention to Berun. He clenched his fist and the vines round Lewan's neck tightened further. His face was a deep red, darkening to purple. Ulaan screamed.

  Berun took a deep breath and concentrated on the power flowing through him. It was not a part of him. Not exactly. More like a conduit, it joined his lifeforce and his will to all living things around him-including the vines and plants that Chereth was bending to his will. Berun felt their life, their vitality, their anger But that was Chereth. Berun knew that plants were far more complex than most people believed, but anger… no. That was the half-elf. Berun felt that fury, understood its contours within the web of living things around them, then formed his own-a sharp, direct point of will-and struck.

  The vines holding Lewan went limp, and the boy struck the ground and gasped for air. The mass of branches and creepers round Talieth slackened, and she fell forward, free at last. Berun felt the will giving strength to the plants that had buried Perch. He struck that power, shattering it, and the lizard scrambled out of the leaves. In the deep part of his mind, Berun sensed Perch's confusion and terror. Fighting steppe tigers was one thing, but plants that crawled like snakes… too much. Still, he could not bring himself to abandon his brother. Perch sat in the leaves, frozen by his own fear and indecision.

  For a moment, Berun considered freeing Sauk as well… but no. In his present state of mind, the half-orc would be just as likely to attack Berun as Chereth.

  Chereth looked at Berun in wide-eyed shock. Even Sauk, still pinned to the ground by the vines, only able to move his head, stared at Berun, disbelief and wonder warring with the rage in his eyes.

  "I fear I wasn't entirely truthful with Sauk some days ago," said Berun. "I am no master, certainly, but I have had nine years to study and commune with Erael'len. I have unlocked more than a few of its secrets."

  Chereth stiffened again, the haughty arrogance returning to his posture, and he said, "
Pray it will be enough."

  Time slowed for Berun. All around him, he felt the very substance of the air, and within those millions of tiny eddies and flows, he felt a charge swelling, crackling, and building as it gathered. Cheteth pointed his staff at Berun and spoke a word of power. The charge in the air coalesced and lightning shot out from a half-dozen directions, every bolt arcing right for Berun. But through Erael'len, Berun's will was tied to the power, and he turned the bolts away. Some struck patches of vegetation, shattering them in an explosion of scorched vines and leaves. One narrowly missed Lewan and Ulaan, striking the top step and cracking the stone.

  Chereth stepped closer, his staff held at the ready. "Impressive," he said. "Your faith, your power, would be worshiped in my new world, Berun. Berun-'Hope,' I named you. Do not betray that hope now. You have so much to offer a fresh world, a world of life, a world ready to grow according to our will."

  "Your will, you mean," said Berun. "You're no different than any tyrant or upstart warlord. Your way or no way. That is not the way of the Oak Father. That is not the Balance."

  Chereth snorted. "Stupid fool," he said. "You know so little. Your half-orc is subdued, your boy and his whore are whimpering on the ground, and your woman"-he turned to look at Talieth, who had stumbled over to the statue of the Imaskari hero holding the sun — "mad, apparently. You stand alone, Berun, and you have made me very, very angry. Give me what is mine now, and I will grant you the mercy of dying beside your friends. Otherwise, I'll kill you here, take what is mine, and I'll take little Lewan with me as a pet for the killoren. They have developed quite a taste for manflesh here at the Fortress."

  "Lewan!" Berun called out, but he did not turn to face the boy.

  "Yes, master?"

  "You remember two summers ago, hunting the bear?" A short silence, then, "Yes, master."

  "Take my bow and go, Lewan! Run! Get out of here, now!"

  A longer silence this time, then, "Yes, master."

  Berun saw Chereth glance toward the stairs. He did the same. Just in time to see Lewan-Berun's bow in hand-leading Ulaan down the stairs.

  "You think I will not find him?" said Chereth.

  "Threats," said Berun, "cruelty… those are not the ways of the Oak Father."

  "The wild can be cruel," said Chererh. He stopped only a few paces from Berun. "Must be cruel to survive."

  Something grabbed at Berun's legs and he went down. He was halfway to his feet when the vines that had tripped him began to wrap themselves around him. Rather than struggle and fight them, he calmed his mind, concentrating on the power flowing through him by his connection to Erael'len. He sensed the power controlling the vines. Bending them to his own will would have meant a war of minds with Chereth-a war Berun wasn't sure he could win-so he snapped the connection. All mobility left the vines, and they were ordinary vegetation once more.

  Berun rose to his feet. Chereth stood only a few paces away. Berun eyed him, needing him to move to his left a bit. Talieth stood ready beside the statue, her hand poised to begin her spell. The golden sun in the hands of the statue connected to the Imaskari rube, a window-sized portal that wound its way down and around the exterior of the tower before plunging deep into the heart of the mountain.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on Chereth, Berun called out, "Ready, Talieth?"

  Silence. For a moment, Berun feared she was dumbstruck-or worse, misunderstood his reference to the winter nights and the fires. But then he heard her, her voice haggard and rough, beginning the incantation.

  Erael'len in one hand, knife in the other, Berun charged. He kept the relic behind him-well away from Chereth-and brought the knife around in a swipe aimed at the druid's throat. Chereth took a half-step back and blocked Berun's first strike with his staff, the second with his forearm, then countered by jabbing the end of his staff at Berun's face. Berun dodged and the blow merely scraped the side of his check.

  Berun stabbed, forcing Chereth to leap back to avoid the blade. Berun backed away to catch his breath-and to keep Chereth right where he stood.

  "You could have been a king in a new world," said Chereth. "Now, only I will remember you, and I will not mourn you, Berun. I was wrong to name you Hope. In all my years, you have proved my greatest disappointment." He shook his head, raised his staff, and said, "Ebenethl"

  Most of the vines in which Berun stood did not move, but one strand shot forward, quick as a cobra, and snatched Erael'len from his grasp. He let it go, his senses returning to normal, and the vine slapped it into the open, bloodied palm of Chereth.

  The druid's eyes lit with exultation, and the madness in that gaze was clear to Berun. How could he not have seen it before?

  "You have defied me for the last time," said Chereth. "You will-"

  Berun shouted, "Now, Tali!"

  Fire-a great river of it, like a dragon's fury-erupted from the stone sun where Talieth stood. It shot outward, straight for the old druid. Perch screamed and ran to the edge of tower.

  Chereth simply smiled and raised Erael'len. The fire washed over him, so hot that it singed Berun's skin from several paces away, but Chereth did not move, and his smile did not falter. He simply stood there, letting the flames wash over him.

  The fire sputtered and died, a few flames dancing around the sun-disc before flickering away. The stench of burned vines and leaves filled the air, and near the edge of the tower, Talieth slumped to the feet of the statue. "I'm… sorry," she gasped. "I… could not hold it… any longer."

  Chereth shook his head as he walked over to Berun. "You think I didn't hear your little signal?" he said. " 'Remember the winters! Remember our nights by the fire!' How touching. But I have had years to study and master what the Imaskari left behind. Nothing in my tower can harm me."

  Holding Erael'len in one hand and raising his staff in the other, Chereth summoned two great masses of vines forward. One wound round Talieth and bound her to the statue. The other grabbed Berun, sharp thorns shredding his clothes, and threw him against the bole of the oak tree in the center of the roof. Berun's breath exploded out of him, and he felt and heard his ribs break. The vines kept coming and coming, wrapping round him and the tree, binding him there with arms outstretched.

  Simply breathing was agony. The vines constricted, grinding Berun's broken ribs together, and darkness threatened to overwhelm his vision. But then the foliage slackened slightly, and the pain eased. Still, Berun could hear a cracking sound. It took him a moment to realize that it was not his bones or even the vines, but someone approaching. He looked up and saw Chereth walking over the carpet of leaves. Blood and gore still covered the druid's face from Perch's attack, and his hair and robes were a tattered, tangled mess from the fight.

  "Damn you," said Chereth through clenched teeth, and Berun saw that he was trembling with fury, tears mingled with the blood on his cheeks. "Damn you to the darkest, deepest hell, you ungrateful, ignorant whelp. Your futile attempt, your… foolishness! " Words failed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, then looked at Berun again. "The world has turned too far. It will be months before I can complete my plans. Months!"

  Berun said nothing.

  "But you haven't won," Chereth continued, "only delayed the inevitable. You have done something else, though." The half-elf’s eyes narrowed, and he looked upon Berun with hatred and contempt. "You know what I am going to do while I wait? I'm going to kill your woman over there. Then I'm going to hunt down that little pup of a disciple of yours-him and his whore. I'll kill him last, after he's watched me kill her. And I'll kill him slowly. And the whole time he will know it is you that brought this upon him, when he could have had paradise-or at the very least, a quick death in glory."

  "No," Berun said, though it was agony to speak. "You… won't."

  "Oh, but I will." Chereth smiled, a truly horrific sight through the mask of blood. He raised his staff, and the vines binding Berun's left arm tightened and stretched, so it seemed that Berun was holding the knife out to Chereth. "First I'm g
oing to take care of you. Once and for all. You've been too full of surprises today. Best to end it now. What was it you told Talieth's little bed warmer out in the Shalhoond?"

  Berun's eyes widened.

  "Oh, yes," said Chereth. "I have watched you for many long days, and once Sauk found you, I watched closely. That night by the fire during your escape, what was it you said? 'The greatest weapon is the weapon at hand and the willingness to act.' The first thing the Old Man ever taught you, you said. After all you have done to me, I certainly have the willingness to act. And look"-he reached out and took the knife from Berun's hand — "a weapon, literally 'at hand.' Let's put it to good use."

  Chereth brought the knife up and slammed it down, plunging it through the vines and deep into Berun's flesh, right where his neck joined his shoulder, right into the large vein. Chereth pulled out the blade and blood spurted all over them both. It seemed to fuel the druid's fury. He turned the knife and stabbed "I-!"

  Again.

  "— am-!"

  Again.

  "— through-!" Again, "-with-!" Again.

  "— you!"

  He stopped and let go, leaving the blade stuck between two of Berun's ribs. The second-or had it been the third? — strike had pierced one of Berun's lungs, and he could feel blood beginning to fill his chest. He coughed once, bringing out a spurt of blood. He could hear Talieth crying.

  Berun smiled.

  "What?" Chereth stood there, panting from exertion. "Why are you smiling?"

  "The… second-" Berun coughed again, spraying more blood.

  "The second?"

  "— thing!" Berun had to pause between each word to gather enough air, and even then each one came out wet with blood. "The… Old Man… taught… me."

  A small spark of curiosity overtook the fury in Chereth's eye. "And what was that?"

  "Al-" Another cough, this one so hard that blood filled Berun's nose and leaked out. "Always… watch… your back!"