Sentinelspire

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Lewan grabbed the hammer and forced himself to his feet. Gripping the weapon tightly, he charged Chereth.

He'd gone only three steps when a heavy shape bowled him over. Lewan went down hard, the breath knocked out of him and his shoulder bruising even on the carpet of leaves. He rolled up and saw Berun standing before the smoldering net of vines around Ulaan. His master held his long knife in his hand and raised it.

"No!" Lewan shrieked.

Berun brought the knife down in a ferocious arc-but not at Ulaan. He struck low, hewing at the braided vines that held her off the floor. One swipe, and a thick mass of vines parted as easily as old cloth. Berun's backhand chop cut another thick, smoking bundle. The weight of the girl was too much for the remaining vines, and she toppled. Berun caught her with his free hand and sliced through the last of the greenery.

Chereth simply stood there, leaning upon his staff and watching.

But Berun ignored the half-elf. Ulaan was still screaming, her voice becoming shrill and almost inhuman as tangled vines and her clothes still burned. Berun grabbed her and dragged her to the nearest fountain. Five long strides, and he heaved her in. She landed with a splash and a hiss as the water drowned the flames. Still encased in smoldering vines, the girl kicked and thrashed, but Berun forced her all the way under the water.

Lewan pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to his master. Berun pulled the girl and mass of scorched foliage out of the water. Ulaan was coughing up water, which Lewan took as a good sign. Coughing meant alive. Many of the leaves and vines were withered and burned, but still firmly wrapped their victim.

"Thank you, master," said Lewan.

Berun set the girl on the ground and looked up, an expression of profound sorrow upon his face. He still held the knife in one hand.

Lewan's blood was pounding in his ears, but as it began to calm, he heard screaming. For a moment, he thought it was Ulaan again. Her screams and the smell of burning dredged up memories of Lewan's mother, but he squeezed his eyes shut and forced them away. He could still hear the screaming-faintly, but there was no mistaking it.

Then he realized it was coming from outside, far down below. Men and women screaming. Chereth's dark creatures had found Talieth and her assassins, and the bloodbath had begun.

Talieth's plan had worked. Even more amazingly, Valmir's spell had worked. He'd spoken the incantation, completed the last of the hand motions, and a tiny ember had shot forth from his fist, growing in size to a great globe of fire before striking the thick mass of foliage to the left of the tower's main doors.

The arcane fire burned fast and hot, and as Valmir and the other blades stood just outside the main gate, watching the woods begin to burn, Sauk-wrapped in vines and branches- had fallen from the canopy. He hit the leaf-covered pavement hard and began thrashing and roaring. None of the assassins-Valmit included-were bold enough to go inside the courtyard yet, especially with an enraged Sauk. With the base of the vines in flames, the tops of the plants had been reduced to no more than ordinary vines, and though they reduced his clothes and some of his skin to shreds, the half-orc managed to free himself in short order.

He stomped over to the nearest corpse, retrieved a long knife from the belt of one of the dead assassins, spared Valmir a glance that was pure rage and disdain, and disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

A similar strike released Talieth, though she demanded help in freeing herself from the thorn-thick vines. With the fires destroying the main clusters of vines, several of the assassins had worked up the courage to venture into the courtyard.

Standing, Talieth was bruised and her exposed skin was bloody from dozens of scratches and cuts inflicted by the thorns, but the wounds only strengthened her resolve and stoked her fury.

"We must get inside that Tower," she told her assembled blades, "and we have to do it fast. Before-"

"Lady Talieth!" said Merellan, pointing up to the tower.

Talieth and the gathered assassins looked up. Dozens of shapes were shambling down the outer walls of the Tower.

"What are those?" said someone behind Valmir.

"I think those are what happened to Dayul," said Valmir.

Chereth still leaned upon his staff, watching Berun and Lewan. He heaved a great sigh and said, "I am most disappointed in you both. Lewan cries for a lying whore, and my trusted disciple rescues her from justice."

"This was not justice." Berun stood. Water from Ulaan's thrashing had splashed onto him, and the runes and holy symbols were running off his skin in long, dark streaks. "That was simple cruelty."

"Cruel?" said Chereth. "That would imply she didn't deserve it. Pitiless? Perhaps. But justice must often be pitiless, lest it become weak."

Berun held his master's gaze a long time, then looked at the knife in his hand. "Do you remember the autumn before we left the Yuirwood?"

"What of it?" said Chereth.

"Blight had infected the Seventh Circle's grove. It was beyond saving, so we burned the grove. Trees that had been old when our ancestors were young… we had to kill them. When this grieved me, do you remember what you said?"

"That was many years ago," said Chereth, his voice still cold. "But I know what I would say now. Corruption must be rooted out, rot destroyed, blight burned. Yes?"

"Yes," said Berun. "But do you remember why?"

"What?"

"You told me why it had to be so. Because an infected tree, once it is beyond saving… its greatest danger is in nurturing the corruption that might spread to others."

"Quite true. All the more reason to kill corruption whatever we find it."

Berun fell to his knees. He still held the knife, but in a limp hand, and there were tears in his eyes. "Don't you see? This place… this cursed place… is corruption. It is death and murder and"-Berun looked around, the eldritch lights reflected in his eyes as he searched for the right word — "pitilessness. To kill without mercy. Without thought for the life ending. To kill only for what the killing will gain. Can't you see it, master? You cannot live in such disease without becoming infected by it. I… I know this better than anyone. Oh, master, it has infected you."

Chereth's eyes narrowed, and at first he paled, but then blotches of color-purple, in the arcane light-began to rise in his cheeks. "You impertinent, ungrateful little… whelp! You presume to rebuke me? "

Berun, still on his knees, fell into a deep bow. His wet braid fell on the leafy floor before him. "Forgive me, master. I… beg you. Destroying so many… killing thousands… thousands of thousands! That is not our way. That is not the Balance of the Oak Father. Please, master, let us go far from here. Tonight! Far away and we will take a vigil together to seek our Father's guidance."

"You think I have not sought the Oak Father's guidance? I have taken more vigils in my life than you have taken meals. And yet you presume to counsel me." Chereth slumped, and he shook his head. "I see that I left you too long, my son. You have forgotten-"

"Nothing," said Berun. "I have cherished your every word, master. Everything you ever taught me. Not a day has gone by since you left me in the Ganathwood that I have not meditated on your Teachings. Those teachings guide me now. Death, killing, murder… cannot be the will of the Oak Father. This is not the wisdom that guided me."

"You little fool," said Chereth. He threw back his head and laughed, but it was a burst of exasperation, not humor. "I made you. You would be nine years to rot if it were not for me. And this is the gratitude you show me." The half-elf stood straight, then, his staff held in a firm hand, no longer leaning upon it. "This is your judgment, then? You will not join me? You will not aid me?"

Berun went even lower, putting his head upon the floor. "Forgive me, master." He looked up, his cheeks wet with tears, but a fierce resolve filled his eyes. "If I cannot turn you from this madness… I must stop you."

Chereth laughed again, this time in mockery. "You? Oh, Berun, I do admire your foolish courage. The day I left you, I was ten times stronger than you. My power has grown since then. What makes you think you can stop me?"

"Bring vengeance to the Tower of the Sun."

"What…?"

"The night of the Jalesh Rudra," said Berun. "A servant of the Oak Father came to me. Those were her words, the Oak Father's command to me. I understand them now. Bring vengeance to the Tower of the Sun."

Sadness filled Chereth's face. Genuine regret. But then his eyes hardened. "This is your final word, then?"

"Not mine," said Berun. "The words of the Oak Father. I am merely his hand. I am vengeance."

" 'I am vengeance,' " said Chereth. "Those are the words of Kheil the killer, not Berun, son of the Oak Father."

Lewan could see his master's gaze turning inward as he considered the old druid's words. But then Berun blinked, his eyes cleared, and he said, "It seems then that Kheil must become the son of the Oak Father. Berun Kharn kienelleth. Hope must become vengeance."

"Then I have no choice," said Chereth. "I am so sorry, my son. I must destroy you."

The druid took in a breath, raised his staff with both hands And a dark shape hit him. The half-elf went down under the dead weight. Eyes wide, Lewan saw that it was one of the druid's dark creatures.

But quite dead. Broken and bloody, in fact, its throat a mangled mess. Not cut, it had been ravaged by teeth.

"Oh, no," said a hoarse voice. "That bastard is mine."

An even larger form dropped down from the ledge at the edge of the roof, then stood up. What was visible of his skin showed greenish gray under the floating lights, but he was covered in a black wetness that Lewan knew was blood. More coated his heavy blade and the hand that held it.

It was Sauk.