Mark Sehestedt: Sentinelspire

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."