Sentinelspire

Chapter Twenty-Seven

19 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) The foothills of the Khopet-Dag

Wake — wake-wake!

An urgency. A will tinged by worry.

Wake-open-eyes! Wake-open-eyes?

Then he heard-really heard, not just in his mind-the chittering, almost birdlike but harsher.

He didn't move his limbs or even turn his head. He wasn't sure he could and was afraid to try. Part of him was afraid that opening his eyes would show him nothing, only the smothering black of being buried alive in the deep earth. But he could breathe. Not well. His nostrils were clogged, and something was partially blocking his lips.

Berun opened his eyes. Blue sky. Not entirely blue, no. Clouds low and gray floated like islands in a sea.

The chittering came again, and Berun dared to move his head, looking up just a little. Jagged shapes broke his view of the sky. Branches. Blackened branches. Blackened by lightning. He was lying under the lightning blasted tree where he had agreed to meet "Lewan!"

Berun sat up. He heard a startled rustling overhead and looked up in time to see Perch scrambling down the tree.

Halfway down, the lizard leaped and alighted on Berun's shoulder.

That was when Berun got the first good look at himself. He was covered-head to fingertips to heels-in mud. It had begun to dry, and his sudden movement sent cracks across the dark surface.

Perch chittered in his ear.

Wake-wake-wake?

"Yes, Perch. I'm awake." He smiled and ran a finger down Perch's back. His arm trembled.

He felt weak, his limbs heavy, no strength in his muscles, the way he felt after running dozens of miles across the open steppe.

Berun looked around. Other than himself and Perch and a few butterflies fluttering through the grass, no one was around. No sign of Sauk and his men, nor of Lewan. The last thing Berun could remember was the earth creature attacking, seeming to swallow him and push him down into the earth. Then the green light and Chereth's face. Berun, you must help me.

And then he understood. Somehow, even from his prison far away, his master had sent him aid. Sauk would have killed him. Berun had little doubt of that. Even if Berun managed to best Sauk-and he knew the unlikelihood of that-that still left the other assassins and the tiger. He never could have beaten them all and escaped with Lewan. So Chereth had summoned some sort of earth spirit to save him.

He raised his eyes and looked to the east. Higher hills lay between him and the steppe, and beyond, a thick haze. He could not see Sentinelspire. But from where he sat he knew it was well over a hundred miles as the crow flies. Over the hills and valleys on foot, it was probably closer to two hundred. His supplies were gone. His knife, his bow, Erael'len… everything but the clothes he wore were either with Sauk's band or buried in the earth. And the clothes wouldn't count for much. He brushed at the mud on his sleeve to try to get the worst off, and the fabric ripped. His pants and boots, filthy as they were, were still useable. His shirt was a loss. The dirt grinding him down had done it in. The mud was probably the only thing holding it together.

Berun, you must help me. Had it been a panic-induced dream? Berun didn’t think so. Besides… Lewan. Sauk had taken Lewan. As far as Berun knew, the boy was still alive.

His limbs still trembling, Berun pushed himself to his feet. He winced. Mud and grit had filled his boots. He'd have to find a stream very soon and clean himself up, or walking the first mile would rip all the skin off his feet.

Berun sat down and removed the boots. He'd go slower barefoot, but until he could find a stream, he had little choice.

"Let's go, Perch," he said, "and let's hope we don't run into any spiders too big for you to handle."

+++++

A stream wasn't hard to find. The little creeks running between the hills were loud and full. Berun cleaned himself up as best he could, but as he'd feared, washing the shirt ruined it. The homespun fabric fell to pieces in the stream. He saved enough strips to braid a small roost he could sling around one shoulder on which Perch could sit. With no shirt, if the lizard insisted on riding the whole way, he would tear Berun's skin to shreds. The job done, he let the final remains of his shirt float away, finished cleaning the rest of his clothes and boots, then set out.

He returned to the place where he and Lewan had spent the night. He searched for a trail but found nothing. The rain had ruined any signs, washing away even the blood. The bodies were gone.

As he stood there in the wood, cursing his ill luck and worrying over Lewan, he considered searching for the portal of which Valmir had spoken. He knew they'd spent the day heading up into the mountains. It had to be up there somewhere. But unless he managed to find their trail, he could spend months looking for the portal, and even if he found it, without the proper key, it would be useless to him. And the farther he went up the mountains, the more dangerous his path would become. With no weapons, he'd be no match against the larger spiders-and there were worse things than spiders in the Khopet-Dag.

"East it is, then," he said, more to himself than Perch. If he ran, he might make it to Sentinelspire in a tenday-if he didn't have to spend much time foraging for food. Once he hit the steppe again, he might be able to beg or steal a horse.

He searched long enough to find a good, stout stick. Not great in terms of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. The sun was riding high in the sky, approaching midday. Berun turned east and started running.