Mark Sehestedt: Sentinelspire

"Lewan!" Berun called out, but he did not turn to face the boy.

"Yes, master?"

"You remember two summers ago, hunting the bear?" A short silence, then, "Yes, master."

"Take my bow and go, Lewan! Run! Get out of here, now!"

A longer silence this time, then, "Yes, master."

Berun saw Chereth glance toward the stairs. He did the same. Just in time to see Lewan-Berun's bow in hand-leading Ulaan down the stairs.

"You think I will not find him?" said Chereth.

"Threats," said Berun, "cruelty… those are not the ways of the Oak Father."

"The wild can be cruel," said Chererh. He stopped only a few paces from Berun. "Must be cruel to survive."

Something grabbed at Berun's legs and he went down. He was halfway to his feet when the vines that had tripped him began to wrap themselves around him. Rather than struggle and fight them, he calmed his mind, concentrating on the power flowing through him by his connection to Erael'len. He sensed the power controlling the vines. Bending them to his own will would have meant a war of minds with Chereth-a war Berun wasn't sure he could win-so he snapped the connection. All mobility left the vines, and they were ordinary vegetation once more.

Berun rose to his feet. Chereth stood only a few paces away. Berun eyed him, needing him to move to his left a bit. Talieth stood ready beside the statue, her hand poised to begin her spell. The golden sun in the hands of the statue connected to the Imaskari rube, a window-sized portal that wound its way down and around the exterior of the tower before plunging deep into the heart of the mountain.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Chereth, Berun called out, "Ready, Talieth?"

Silence. For a moment, Berun feared she was dumbstruck-or worse, misunderstood his reference to the winter nights and the fires. But then he heard her, her voice haggard and rough, beginning the incantation.

Erael'len in one hand, knife in the other, Berun charged. He kept the relic behind him-well away from Chereth-and brought the knife around in a swipe aimed at the druid's throat. Chereth took a half-step back and blocked Berun's first strike with his staff, the second with his forearm, then countered by jabbing the end of his staff at Berun's face. Berun dodged and the blow merely scraped the side of his check.

Berun stabbed, forcing Chereth to leap back to avoid the blade. Berun backed away to catch his breath-and to keep Chereth right where he stood.

"You could have been a king in a new world," said Chereth. "Now, only I will remember you, and I will not mourn you, Berun. I was wrong to name you Hope. In all my years, you have proved my greatest disappointment." He shook his head, raised his staff, and said, "Ebenethl"

Most of the vines in which Berun stood did not move, but one strand shot forward, quick as a cobra, and snatched Erael'len from his grasp. He let it go, his senses returning to normal, and the vine slapped it into the open, bloodied palm of Chereth.

The druid's eyes lit with exultation, and the madness in that gaze was clear to Berun. How could he not have seen it before?

"You have defied me for the last time," said Chereth. "You will-"

Berun shouted, "Now, Tali!"

Fire-a great river of it, like a dragon's fury-erupted from the stone sun where Talieth stood. It shot outward, straight for the old druid. Perch screamed and ran to the edge of tower.

Chereth simply smiled and raised Erael'len. The fire washed over him, so hot that it singed Berun's skin from several paces away, but Chereth did not move, and his smile did not falter. He simply stood there, letting the flames wash over him.

The fire sputtered and died, a few flames dancing around the sun-disc before flickering away. The stench of burned vines and leaves filled the air, and near the edge of the tower, Talieth slumped to the feet of the statue. "I'm… sorry," she gasped. "I… could not hold it… any longer."

Chereth shook his head as he walked over to Berun. "You think I didn't hear your little signal?" he said. " 'Remember the winters! Remember our nights by the fire!' How touching. But I have had years to study and master what the Imaskari left behind. Nothing in my tower can harm me."

Holding Erael'len in one hand and raising his staff in the other, Chereth summoned two great masses of vines forward. One wound round Talieth and bound her to the statue. The other grabbed Berun, sharp thorns shredding his clothes, and threw him against the bole of the oak tree in the center of the roof. Berun's breath exploded out of him, and he felt and heard his ribs break. The vines kept coming and coming, wrapping round him and the tree, binding him there with arms outstretched.

Simply breathing was agony. The vines constricted, grinding Berun's broken ribs together, and darkness threatened to overwhelm his vision. But then the foliage slackened slightly, and the pain eased. Still, Berun could hear a cracking sound. It took him a moment to realize that it was not his bones or even the vines, but someone approaching. He looked up and saw Chereth walking over the carpet of leaves. Blood and gore still covered the druid's face from Perch's attack, and his hair and robes were a tattered, tangled mess from the fight.

"Damn you," said Chereth through clenched teeth, and Berun saw that he was trembling with fury, tears mingled with the blood on his cheeks. "Damn you to the darkest, deepest hell, you ungrateful, ignorant whelp. Your futile attempt, your… foolishness! " Words failed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, then looked at Berun again. "The world has turned too far. It will be months before I can complete my plans. Months!"

Berun said nothing.

"But you haven't won," Chereth continued, "only delayed the inevitable. You have done something else, though." The half-elf’s eyes narrowed, and he looked upon Berun with hatred and contempt. "You know what I am going to do while I wait? I'm going to kill your woman over there. Then I'm going to hunt down that little pup of a disciple of yours-him and his whore. I'll kill him last, after he's watched me kill her. And I'll kill him slowly. And the whole time he will know it is you that brought this upon him, when he could have had paradise-or at the very least, a quick death in glory."

"No," Berun said, though it was agony to speak. "You… won't."

"Oh, but I will." Chereth smiled, a truly horrific sight through the mask of blood. He raised his staff, and the vines binding Berun's left arm tightened and stretched, so it seemed that Berun was holding the knife out to Chereth. "First I'm going to take care of you. Once and for all. You've been too full of surprises today. Best to end it now. What was it you told Talieth's little bed warmer out in the Shalhoond?"

Berun's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes," said Chereth. "I have watched you for many long days, and once Sauk found you, I watched closely. That night by the fire during your escape, what was it you said? 'The greatest weapon is the weapon at hand and the willingness to act.' The first thing the Old Man ever taught you, you said. After all you have done to me, I certainly have the willingness to act. And look"-he reached out and took the knife from Berun's hand — "a weapon, literally 'at hand.' Let's put it to good use."

Chereth brought the knife up and slammed it down, plunging it through the vines and deep into Berun's flesh, right where his neck joined his shoulder, right into the large vein. Chereth pulled out the blade and blood spurted all over them both. It seemed to fuel the druid's fury. He turned the knife and stabbed "I-!"

Again.

"— am-!"

Again.

"— through-!" Again, "-with-!" Again.

"— you!"

He stopped and let go, leaving the blade stuck between two of Berun's ribs. The second-or had it been the third? — strike had pierced one of Berun's lungs, and he could feel blood beginning to fill his chest. He coughed once, bringing out a spurt of blood. He could hear Talieth crying.