Sentinelspire

Chapter Twenty-Nine

25 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) Sentinelspire

Janas hated guard duty. He'd been inducted into the ranks of: he Blades of the Old Man only three years ago. And he'd been involved in the Lady Talieth's little conspiracy for only a few months. He had no particular love for Talieth nor hatred for the Old Man, but he'd always been smart enough to know which way the wind was blowing and set his path thereby. Changes were happening in the Fortress, and he'd be damned if he didn't end up on the winning side. Life here was too precious to risk. He wanted for nothing. He slept in a soft bed with any woman of his choosing, drank the finest wines, ate the finest foods-which were prepared for him-and all he had to do in return was put his considerable skills at murder to good use. A good life, all things considered.

Except for guard duty. Given all the traps set about the Fortress and littered about the mountain and the Lady's particular expertise at scrying, usually only the main gate held a permanent watch. But something had happened earlier-something involving Sauk and that new whelp-that had sent Lady Talieth into a flurry of orders. The guard at the main gate was tripled. Crews went out to make sure all the traps were armed and ready. A watch was set at the head of the falls. Men watched the passageways between the main gate and the Gallery of Stone Faces, men watched the passageway beyond, and Janas hid in the rocks beyond the leering stone face.

He understood why he'd been chosen. A Nar, he had more than a little orc blood in his lineage. Not a full half-orc with true night vision like Sauk, still Janas could see better than nearly anyone else at night. Strong moonlight was almost like noonday sun to him. But storm clouds had started building around sunset, and by full dark there was no moon or starlight of any kind. Still… always be prepared, he often told himself, and was glad he'd worn the special ring that Talieth had given him upon his induction into the Blades. It wasn't much to look at, but it enabled him to see in the dark. Not as well as daylight, to be sure. He could see no colors, but his eyes drank in the dimmest light. The downside was that he was nearly always the one chosen for nighttime guard duty or a patrol outside the walls. Only Sauk could see better than Janas in the dark, and Sauk was too high up to be assigned guard duty. Sauk did not guard. Sauk hunted.

The night flickered in sharp relief under approaching lightning, and soon after, thunder shook the mountain. Smelling the breeze, Janas knew he'd be sitting in the rain before long.

As the last of the thunder's echo faded to the east, Janas heard something skittering across the rocks down the path. He flexed his fist around the ring and narrowed his eyes. Nothing. Just boulders and rocks through which little eddies of grit and dust were stirred up by the oncoming storm. Just when he was about to relax and look away, he heard it again-a light scritchity-scritchity-scrititch. Definitely coming up the path. He waited, listening as the sound grew closer.

He saw it. A small shadow moving up the path. Smaller than Janas's forearm, at first he thought it was a snake, but as he watched, he saw that it didn't move with a snake's smoothness. More like the quick, jerky movements of a grounded bird or even a lizard. But its movements seemed erratic and pointless.

Now that it was in his sight, it stopped coming up the path. It stayed near the last of the large boulders on the path, running through the dust and pebbles and twisting on its back, then flipping back around. Almost like it was hurt or having a fit of some sort.

You watch like a starving hawk, Sauk had told him earlier. Talieth says there may be trouble soon. Don't you let so much as a bat get past you.

Bats don't go through our tunnel, Janas had told him. It was true. The bats that haunted so many of the caves and crevices of the mountain never entered the tunnel leading to the Fortress.

If one does and you don't see it, Sauk had responded, it's your life, Janas. Anything gets past you, and you'll answer to me.

Janas had heard what the half-orc had done to Chiganis. There were truly very few Blades of the Old Man who frightened Janas, but the half-orc was one of them.

The thing on the path continued to thrash in the dirt. The first raindrops began to patter into the dust.

Janas slid his short sword out of its scabbard. Holding it under his cloak so that another lightning flash wouldn't gleam off the blade, he rose from his hiding place and began a careful advance down the pathway. He risked a quick glance around the canyon and back toward the leering face of the tunnel. Nothing in sight but that thing on the path and wind-tossed sand.

As he drew closer, the little thing skittered back down the path a short way, then stopped and resumed its odd twitching. Janas stopped near the large boulder. It was more flat than round-a large shard broken from the mountain in a past earthquake, most likely-and slightly higher than his waist. He placed his free hand on it and squinted at the moving shape.

Definitely a lizard. Not much bigger than a bird, though it had large claws and a tail that looked stumpy, as if it was growing back. It had a fanlike skin of some sort between its limbs. It continued its thrashing, twisting and turning its body, sometimes even flopping onto its back.

"Like the damned thing has an itch it can't scratch," Janas said to himself. "Or like it's a fish out of water."

"Or a worm on a hook," said a low voice from behind him.

Janas gasped and whirled, bringing his short sword up and out. He had a brief look at a club or hammer descending upon his face. There was a brief flash-lightning or pain? — then darkness.

+++++

Berun knelt beside the corpse. His cloak gathered in the darkness so that he appeared no more than a strangely shaped boulder next to a dead man.

Perch pattered up to him, back to his usual self. He looked up at Berun and chittered.

"Well done, Perch," Berun whispered. He reached out and the lizard climbed up his arm to burrow under the hood round his shoulders.

Berun's hands were shaking. He'd just killed a man. And not in defense. Not really. He'd lured the man out into the dark and smashed in his face with the hammer. The sound of the bones shattering had reminded Berun of a green branch snapping, but the shock of the blow the hammer had sent up his arm… that had been the worst. That's what put cold fear into his gut.

He was scared. Not because he was infiltrating one of the most fearsome fortresses east of Thay. Not because men were waiting to kill him. No. Berun was scared because after all he'd been through, after all he'd done to make sure Kheil stayed dead, here he was, back where he had reveled in his life of murder, and he'd just killed a man. Killed him. Felt the blow ending a man's life.

And Berun had enjoyed it.

The sprinkle of rain increased, falling down the mountain like a shroud drawn over a man's last glimpse of life. Berun couldn't stop his hands from shaking.

Lurom didn't like the outer tunnels during thunderstorms. The thunder itself wasn't so bad. But the roar of the rain and the howl of the wind amplified through the stone passageways so that the caverns seemed to hum a malevolent tune. He turned to Ferluk, his fellow guard. "You think we should check on Janas?"

Ferluk didn't move from where he leaned against the stone wall. Beside him at chest level, the one oil lamp they were allowed sat in a niche carved into the stone in ages past. "Just a storm," he said. "Man's got his cloak. Besides, he's a Nar. Spring rain like this probably is warm to him."

Thunder boomed outside, and Lurom could feel the stone beneath his feet shaking. They were too far inside the entrance-way to catch the flicker of the lightning, but by the force of the thunder, Lurom guessed it had been a close strike.

"We should look on Janas," said Lurom.

Ferluk scowled. "Look on him if you want. But leave the lamp."

"You expect me to walk in the dark?" Lurom looked down the passageway. It was narrow-scarcely larger than one of the servants' halls in the tower where he had his rooms. The light from their lamp reflected off the stone a good twenty feet in either direction. A few feet beyond that was only dim shadow. Beyond that lay utter darkness and the heavy drone of the storm.

"I don't expect you to take an open flame into the rain," said Ferluk. "Besides, you know the way. And if you're going out, you'll want your eyes adjusted to the dark. Janas won't have a light."

Lurom looked into the darkness. "Maybe if the storm lets up. Then we-what's that?"

He pointed and Ferluk looked.

"Just a lizard," said Ferluk. "Probably came in to get out of the rain."

"Animals don't come in here," said Lurom. "Even bats won't. You know that."

But it was a lizard. Not a very big one, all mottled brown and still glistening from being out in the rain. It cocked its head at them and blinked.

"So chase it off," said Ferluk.

Lurom took a few steps toward it. The little lizard stood on its haunches and hissed at him. Lurom stopped, not taking his eyes off the little creature, and said, "You think it might be poisonous?"

Ferluk rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall. He drew his short sword as he passed Lurom. "Won't matter if I have this," he said.

He raised the sword and approached at a careful crouch so that a strike from his blade would reach ground level. "Go on!" he said, and swiped the sword at the lizard.

It hissed back at him and flexed its front claws. They were small but looked sharp.

"Brave little thing," said Lurom, and forced a laugh.

"Not for long," said Ferluk, and he lunged, swinging at the lizard.

It shot away, but rather than retreating down the passage, it ran around Ferluk, skirting the wall. Lurom leaped back, not wanting to be anywhere near the thing's teeth and claws if it were poisonous. But the lizard ran past him, not even slowing. For a moment Lurom thought it would keep going, but it skittered up the wall, its claws finding enough grip that it scampered up like a spider.

"The lamp!" Ferluk shouted, but it was too late.

The lizard blundered into the niche, knocking the lamp out, then leaped away. The brass lamp hit the floor with a clang, oil spilling onto the stone. The flame guttered, and for one moment Lurom feared it would die and he'd be left in the blackness of the passageway that still seemed to hum to the rhythm of the storm. But then the flame caught in the spilled oil and flared. It burned low and blue in a pool along the floor, giving off only a fraction of the light the lamp had.

"Pick it up before all the oil spills!" Ferluk shouted.

The darkness moved behind Ferluk, coming for him.

Too shocked to form a coherent warning, Lurom screamed.

Too late.

An arm of shadow whipped out, the meager light glinting off something pale, like bone. Ferluk had begun to turn when the pale shard passed through his throat. Blood sprayed the wall, and over the sound of the shadow's approaching footsteps, Lurom heard a hundred tiny droplets patter to the stone like rain. Ferule’s blade clattered to the ground only an instant before his body.

Lurom reached for his own blade and drew in a breath to scream, but it died in his throat.

Berun shambled through the passageway. Hunched over inside his cloak, the tiny light of the starstone shedding a deep green light before him, and dragging a dead man behind him, he looked like some herald of Kelemvor, dragging the latest doomed soul to the City of Judgment.

The weight of the guard's corpse slowed Berun, but there was no helping it. He needed the man's key to pass through the Gallery of Stone Faces, and the key might have been anything-a ring, a medallion, a coin, a pin, or even an arcane symbol etched into the man's skin. Berun had no way to know and no time to bargain with the man for his life. So he dragged the guard's corpse behind him through the twisting tunnels. It had been years since he'd last walked this path, and it disturbed him how familiar it all seemed. His starstone lit the way before him, but he thought he might have been able to walk the way with his eyes closed. It was not a comforting thought.

In his heart, he prayed that there would be no more guards before he reached the Gallery of Stone Faces. The weight of the dead man was nothing compared to the weight on his soul. He tried to remember how many men he had killed since Sauk had come back into his life. It frightened him that he couldn't remember. In that moment, only the thought of Lewan and Chereth, both ahead of him on the far side of these dark tunnels, kept him going.

"What is that?" Galban whispered.

"Where? " said Bennig. "What is what?"

The two assassins had been assigned to watch the main passageway just outside the Gallery of Stone Faces. Bored and more than a little bothered by the oppressive dark, Galban hadn't taken his eyes off the main passage. Not too long ago, he'd thought he'd heard something skittering down the corridor, like a large insect or small lizard. That had raised his hackles, since the only things that moved in these tunnels were in the Gallery of Stone Faces-and you didn't want to see them moving. He'd never seen the source of the noise, but he'd been watching the main passage since. Bennig had been either lightly dozing or deeply snoring since they first settled in.

"Keep your voice down!" Galban rasped. "I just saw a green light down the main passageway. Damn me if I didn't."

"Then damn you," said Bennig. "But I see nothing. You must've dozed off and dreamed it."

"I wasn't the one sleeping. A faint glow. Greenish. It crossed our path. We need to have a look."

"You have a look," said Bennig. "Don't wake me when you get back."

"If Sauk finds out you were sleeping, he'll have your ears for a necklace."

"He won't find out unless someone tells him. Will he?" "There!"

This time, Bennig saw it too. A faint green glow crossing their tunnel, only this time it was headed back toward the Gallery of Stone Faces. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of a large form near the light, then it was gone.

Galban heard Bennig push himself to his feet and the whisper of his dagger coming out of his scabbard. Galban drew his own blade.

"Let's have that look," said Bennig. "Nice and quiet."

"Light?" said Galban. He had a sunrod tucked under his belt.

"It'll give us away," said Bennig. "Just stay close."

The two assassins made their way back to the main passageway, the soft soles of their shoes silent on the smooth stone of what had probably once been a lava rube. Just as they were coming to where the tunnels crossed, Galban saw light glowing on the stone walls. But it was coming from their left. They had seen the green glow going down and right, toward the Gallery. Both men stopped and waited, their steel held ready.

But it was only three of their own men coming up the tunnel. Jerumillis, a cutthroat from the Sword Coast, led them. He held a saber in one hand and a glowing sunrod in the other.

"Douse that light, you fool!" said Galban.

Jerumillis scowled. "You care to choose your words again?"

Galban looked at the saber in Jerumillis's hand, then glanced at the two men behind him. Neither seemed particularly interested in the conflict. One was eyeing Jerumillis and looked as if he were preparing to leap aside. The other was looking past them where the light from the sunrod failed and the passage continued into the dark.

Galban sighed and said, "You care to put your light away so you don't let anyone and everyone know where we are?"

Jerumillis's scowl eased, and he slid all but the last bit of the sunrod into his sleeve. He closed his fist over the rest, plunging them into the dark. "You saw it too?"

"The green glow?" said Galban. "Yes. Bennig saw it first, then we both saw it again, headed back toward the Gallery."

"What was it?" asked one of the men behind Jerumillis.

"You tell me and we'll both know. A green light. That's all I saw."

"It scarcely seemed brighter than a firefly." "You ever see a greenlit firefly?"

"Enough talk," said Galban. "Jerumillis, you have the saber. I suggest you go first. Everyone else fan out and follow."

"Narrow tunnels like this," said Jerumillis, "a dagger should go first. I say you go first, Galban."

There was a tense moment of silence, then Galban said, "Fine. But if I go first, you go last."

The five assassins spread out and began a careful, quiet walk toward the Gallery of Stone Faces. It was not a long walk, but it seemed a great distance in the dark.

Bennig felt the thunder before he heard it-a slight rhythmic hum to the air. But as they proceeded he could hear it quite clearly, and as they rounded a bend in the tunnel, he saw the flicker of lightning. Not light, really, not yet, but more of a lighter shimmer on the walls against the impenetrable dark.

They rounded the last bend in the tunnel-the gallery was no more than a few dozen paces ahead-and when they did, they saw the green glow ahead of them. Bennig was right behind Galban, and he could see the man profiled in the light. Galban stopped a moment, then continued on, his blade held behind him to keep the light from glinting off it-and to be ready to strike. Bennig followed, so close that he could have reached out and touched the tip of Gal's blade. Ahead of them, he could hear rain dripping through crevices in the gallery's ceiling.

As they entered the Gallery of Stone Faces, Bennig was able to make out more derails around the green light. A statue, a crouched demonlike figure with a horned head and wide, leering lips. Its stone tail curved around, its forked tip dangling over the lip of the pedestal. Hanging from the lower fork was a necklace. Nothing lovely, it looked like no more than braided leather or perhaps a rough thong, but the small stone on the end of it gave off a faint green glow.

Lightning flashed outside, sending down a few shafts of bright white light that disappeared as quickly as they'd come. Thunder shook the gallery, a great explosion that faded into a rumble down the mountain.

"Oh, damn," said Galban, and knelt a few feet before the statue.

Bennig stepped around him and saw the reason for Galban's curse. By the green glow, Bennig could clearly see smears of something dark along the stone and floor. It was impossible to tell for certain in the green light, but Bennig thought it looked like blood.

"What is it?" said Jerumillis as he entered the gallery last. He opened his fist slightly, and a bit of the sunrod's light leaked from his fingers. The light was meager at best, but in the green-tinged gloom of the gallery, it seemed a small sliver of the sun. As the light spread about the nearest of the statues and the back wall, Bennig saw them-two pale eyes watching from above the doorway to the main passage, and around the eyes the dark mass of a figure.

Bennig drew in a breath, but then the eyes dropped. "Jeru-!" Bennig shouted, then he saw the flare of a cloak, and Jerumillis went down beneath it, and the sunrod's light with him. The light in the cavern was again only the faint green glow.

The other assassins cried out. One scrambled away, but Galban and another man ran for Jerumillis. Bennig followed them, opening his eyes wide to adjust to the dim light.

"What-?" said Galban.

Bennig looked down at the body. It wasn't Jerumillis. It was Lurom, his skull over his right eye smashed in, blood caked round his face and down his chest. His mouth hung open and his eyes stared sightlessly at the comrades who had come too late for him.

"Where is Jerumillis?" said Bennig.

The man who had fled into the dark cried out, "Sound the ala-!" followed by a sharp crack of something heavy smashing bone. Then another sound-one Bennig had heard many times in his service for the Old Man-the sound of a body striking the floor.

The green light winked out and there was only darkness. Quick as it took him to draw a breath, hold it, and crouch, two thoughts occurred to Bennig.

One, their keys that protected them from the guardians in the Gallery of Stone Faces had failed-or someone had found a way to dampen their power. But he discounted that. If one of the guardians had been after them, all of the guardians would have been after them, and in their moments of light he hadn't seen a single one moving.

Two, someone was in the tunnels with them. Sauk and the Lady Talieth had known something was wrong and had set guards in the tunnels for a reason. A reason they hadn't explained. But Bennig realized that the reason had come, and he had to think quickly.

Two down. But Berun knew that there were three others in the room, all armed-and any number could still be lurking in the far tunnels. He'd been expecting only the three he'd seen farther up before he'd retreated back to the Gallery. Where the other two had come from, he couldn't be sure. One of the side tunnels, surely. And if there were two, there could be twenty, still waiting.

He'd been crouched on the ledge above the doorway when the guards entered. It had not been an easy climb, carrying the dead guard with him, but he knew that this was the worst place in all the mountain to be without a ward. When the guard had seen him, he'd dropped the corpse on the nearest man and followed after. He'd killed the man with the saber and took his body instead, leaving the first one, hoping it might cause some confusion among the survivors. It had, just enough for him to strike again.

He'd managed to get one man's sunrod and douse it, and after killing the leader, he'd retrieved his starstone. He had to end this quick.

The gallery lit up as lightning split the sky over the mountain, the edges of its bright light leaking through the cracks in the roof,

"There he is! By the-"

Thunder drowned out the rest.

Four guards huddled just inside the main gate of the Fortress. Two had been assigned to watch the tunnels and to sound the alarm should anyone try to pass without the proper words. The other two were to keep an eye on the grounds around the main gate. But once the storm began in earnest, the wind off the mountain driving the rain horizontally at times, all four had sought refuge just inside the tunnel. The torches set on posts just inside the gate had long since been drowned by the storm, but the brazier set inside the tunnel still gave the guards a decent light. Whatever powder Velugis had sprinkled on the coals had turned the tiny flames blue, and it kept the fife going. Three of the guards huddled near the brazier, taking comfort not only in the warmth but the light, though they all took turns complaining about the foul odor.

"What did you put on the coals, Velugis?"

Velugis, the fourth guard who stood apart from the rest, just at the edge of the circle of light, was from Thay. Beyond that, no one knew much about him, nor cared to ask. He kept to himself most of the time, shut up in his rooms when not on assignment. Word around the Fortress was that he never even asked for one of the slaves for his bed, and he never drank anything but water. But one thing everyone knew was that Velugis was a master of potions and poisons, second only to the Old Man himself.

He turned his head a bit, not so much to look at his companions as to make sure his voice was heard. "Just something to keep the coals going in the damp. They burn hot, yes?"

"Hot, yes. Like hot horse piss. Is there nothing you can do about the stench?"

"I do have something I could sprinkle on the coals," said Velugis. "A powder of my own design. It would burn with the scent of honeysuckle."

"Well, let's have it then," said one of the other men.

"I think not."

"Why not?"

Lightning struck somewhere up the mountain, bathing the Fortress in harsh light for a moment. The ensuing thunder was so loud that it drowned out even the sound of the wind and rain.

"Because those sweet fumes would kill you within five beats of your heart." Velugis turned again to face the darkness.

The three guards muttered amongst themselves a moment, occasionally sparing a withering glance at the Thayan.

"Why you standing over there, Velugis? Don't care for our company?"

"Two reasons," said Velugis. "First of all, we are supposed to be standing guard. And second, the coals do smell like scalded horse piss."

"You aren't cold?"

Velugis said nothing, but his posture went suddenly very stiff and he leaned forward into the darkness. "Hey! You hear me, Velugis?"

The Thayan drew his dagger with one hand and reached into his large belt pouch with his other. "Someone is coming," he said.

The other three men spread out and drew their own weapons. Two had heavy cudgels and the third a sword.

More thunder rumbled from somewhere far off on the eastern grasslands. When it faded, all four men could hear it-footsteps coming up the tunnel.

Velugis stepped back amongst the other three, so that all four guards blocked the tunnel.

"Who approaches?" called out the guard with the sword.

No answer.

More lightning struck, and if anyone answered from the darkness, they could not be heard over the thunder.

"Name yourself!" the swordsman called.

A man stumbled into the light cast by the brazier. He wore no cloak or coat, and his left sleeve was a bloody tattered mess. It was hard to tell ripped cloth from shredded skin, but the sliver of bone protruding from his forearm was quite clear. What had once been his left eye now hung out of the socket, and the entire left side of his face was a cut and torn wreck.

He looked at the four guards with his remaining eye, which went wide, then he fell to his knees.

"Oh, gods," the man said. "Sound the alarm. Hurry!" part Four

The Old Man of the Mountain