Troy Denning - The Sentinel

Kleef’s boots came down squarely atop a limb. Then the limb bounced and his knees buckled. He toppled off backward and went tumbling down through the branches, falling from bough to bough almost gently, his descent gradually slowing until he felt almost under control. Finally, he landed face-down on the tip of a particularly long limb, which slowly dipped until it had deposited him feet first on the forest floor.

Once the branch had risen out of the way, Kleef found himself looking at the base of an enormous duskwood tree. Though he stood less than five paces away, the forest gloom was so thick that he could barely make out what he was seeing and thought his eyes must be deceiving him. With a heavy beard of moss and a pair of horizontal ridges that looked like lips, the trunk resembled the profile of an old man’s face-complete with a heavy brow ridge and crooked branch-stub that looked like a hooked nose.

Then something stirred above the branch-stub nose, and a pair of pale ovals appeared beneath the brow and swung in Kleef’s direction.

Eyes.

The eyes seemed to study him for a moment, then blinked and swung away, looking in the opposite direction.

Kleef was too stunned to react. He had heard of treants, of course. But in the tales sailors told, treants were not kindly beings who caught hapless men as they fell from the sky. They were huge walking trees who guarded their forests against loggers and farmers and all manner of fire users-and who always seemed to be attacking some poor ship’s crew as it tried to replace a broken mast.

An impatient rustle sounded from the far side of the treant. The pale ovals swung back in Kleef’s direction and lingered on him expectantly, then a low creaking noise came from within the moss beard. Kleef may not have been able to understand the word, but its meaning was clear.

Go .

Kleef drew Watcher from its scabbard and started in the direction the treant had indicated. After a moment, a wall of dappled light appeared through the trees, and he soon realized it was moonlight reflecting off the cliff beneath the citadel. Standing in a small clearing at the base of the cliff were two figures, both holding swords and facing each other. They were not fighting, but the shorter figure was waving his blade around angrily and complaining in a whiny, nasal voice.

Malik and Arietta-both alive.

Kleef was about to call out to them when he glimpsed silhouettes moving through the undergrowth around them. He feared for an instant the shapes were orcs or shades, but they had curled horns on the sides of their heads and a strange bouncing gait that seemed more beast than humanoid. Uncertain of quite what he was watching, Kleef dropped into a crouch and paused to study them-only to have the figures glance in his direction, then vanish as quickly as they had appeared.

When the agate on Watcher’s crossguard remained dark, Kleef decided that whatever the creatures were, they weren’t Shadovar. He started forward again and began to make out Malik’s complaints.

“… almost killed me,” the little man was whispering. “As it is, I can barely draw a breath.”

“It’s your own fault,” Arietta hissed back. “You’re the one who pushed me.”

Pushed ?

Kleef felt his stomach clench. He could not imagine why Malik would want to push Arietta off a cliff, but there was no doubting what he had just overheard-not with the pair holding weapons and facing off. Kleef stepped into the clearing and pointed Watcher at Malik.

“Throw down your sword,” he ordered. “And stand away.”

Malik looked in Kleef’s direction, then his eyes bulged and he turned to flee. Giving the little man no time to use his ability to vanish, Kleef leaped after him.

“Kleef, wait,” Arietta whispered. “Don’t hurt-”

Kleef ignored the order and caught Malik by the wrist of his weapon hand. “Drop it, you worm.”

When Malik shifted the sword to his other hand, Kleef lifted him into the air and heard a joint pop.

“Last chance,” Kleef warned. He gave Malik a little shake. “Drop the sword.”

“Stop!” Malik’s voice was pained, but he continued to hold onto his sword. “You’ve broken my arm!”

Kleef doubted it was true, but the complaint was enough to make Arietta lay a hand on his arm.

“Stop,” she ordered. “We still need him in one piece.”

“A man can walk with a broken arm,” Kleef said. “Right, Malik?”

Malik squirmed in Kleef’s grasp, trying to swing his body around so he could bring his short sword to bear. Kleef brought Watcher’s blade around to guard himself-and heard a female voice call out from near the base of the cliff.

“Kleef, no!”

Kleef glanced over to find Joelle stepping out of the undergrowth, Arietta’s bow slung across her shoulders. She was still breathing hard from the long climb down the cliff, but that did not prevent her from rushing to protect Malik.

“You can’t kill him,” Joelle said. She took the sword from Malik’s hand. “You can’t even hurt him.”

Kleef frowned. Joelle was the one who had told him that Malik and Arietta had fallen into the forest, just before she slipped over the parapet to climb down the cliff face. But she had not said anything about Arietta being pushed-and she did not seem all that surprised to find Kleef ready to lop off an arm.

After a moment, Kleef said, “You knew.”

“That Malik pushed her?” Joelle hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. “I thought it was possible.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was afraid of how you would react.” Joelle waved at Malik’s still-dangling form. “Apparently, I was right about that. Besides, I couldn’t be sure of what I had seen.”

“Because this is all a tragic mistake,” Malik said, quick to seize on her doubt. “The shades were coming, and there was nowhere else to go. I was only trying to save her.”

Kleef looked to Arietta for a denial, but she was studying the gloom-shrouded forest around them, clearly more interested in keeping watch than anything Malik had said. He turned back to find Joelle rolling her eyes at the little man’s latest lie.

“I was right behind you, Malik,” she said. “The shades were nowhere near when you went over.”

Malik’s gaze flickered away. “Perhaps not,” he allowed. “But the oaf and his noble lady are a threat to the Eye. You saw how they worked together to steal it from me.”

“First you’re saving Arietta’s life, then you’re protecting the Eye?” Kleef demanded. He was beginning to understand why Joelle had wanted to protect Malik from his wrath-because he could feel himself growing angrier by the moment. He shook his head in disgust, then turned to Arietta and Joelle. “Under Helm’s Law, a man who attempts murder can be cast out or have a hand taken. Let’s pick one and be done with it before the shades show up again.”

“What?” Malik cried. “I need my hand to protect the Eye!”

“I can carry the Eye,” Kleef said. He was still holding Malik up by the wrist.

Joelle shook her head. “Not for long,” she said. “And even if you could, you’re not a Chosen of Myrkul. When the time comes, how will you retrieve the Eye from the Fugue Plane?”

Kleef had no answer for that, of course. He hadn’t even realized that was where the Eye went when Malik slipped it into his robe.

“And that would suggest we can’t cast him out, either,” Arietta said. She took Malik’s sword from Joelle, then stepped close to the little man. “I can only imagine you attacked me because of some of the things that have passed between us on the trail. For that, you have my regrets.”

A look of triumph came to Malik’s face. “Did I not warn you to watch your tongue?”