Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [117]
Chapter Thirty-Six
Befun lay on a bier of fresh leaves and flowers. The creatures had carried him here. Trussed in vines like a caterpillar in its cocoon, Berun had not even struggled as they grabbed him and bore him up the stairs. Up and up and up to the roof atop the Tower of the Sun. Open to the air as it was, still the scent of rampant vegetation permeated the air. A stone table lay near the northern ledge. There, they laid Berun upon a bed of new leaves and blossoms, his head cushioned by soft larch branches.
He had been too stunned to resist, to even wonder where they might be taking him and why. Over and over again, he saw it in his mind and heard the words. Chereth, his beloved master, the man who had restored him to life-and more importantly taught him how to live-standing there saying, Welcome to my tower.
… my tower.
… my tower.
And then, Bring him.
And the creatures had obeyed.
… my tower.
It couldn't be true. Chereth was master of the tower. Impossible. And yet it was the only explanation.
All he had been through in his life-both lives-An orphan in Elversult, living as a thief, scrabbling for survival. Fighting. Beating and being beaten. Running. Hiding. His first kill.
Alaodin, the Old Man of the Mountain, finding him and taking him in. Giving him a life. A life of murder.
Sauk. The brother he'd never had. One to fight beside. One to die for. And kill and kill and kill and kill…
Talieth. Love? No. Neither Kheil nor Talieth had really known love. But they had known passion, had connected in a way that Kheil never had with any other woman.
And then death. Death by Chereth's word. And life. Again by Chereth's word. And more importantly, a way of life. Something to believe in. Something to strive for. Meaning. He became Berun.
But Chereth had left him. Left him to… to what?
"Questions," said a voice. Nearby. Very close. Chereth's voice. "You have questions, I'm sure."
Berun felt the vines around him loosen, heard the rustle of the leaves, then they fell away.
"Your questions shall be answered," said Chereth, still unseen but very close. "And if the answers spawn questions, those shall be answered as well. But first we must see to your wounds. Sleep now. Olirith."
The last word held the tinge of magic, and Berun's awareness fell away.
+++++
Berun slept beyond dreams, but he did not sleep for long. Slumber fell away from him. He heard thunder shaking the sky far away, and he opened his eyes. It was still dark, but wispy, glowing orbs filled the air over the roof, floating like cottonwood seeds on a breeze. Berun sat up. His shirt was gone, and all of the cuts he'd taken under Sauk's assault were no more than lines of white scar tissue. Runes and holy symbols covered his arms and torso. The paint, smelling faintly of pine resin, was still damp. He could feel more on his face and forehead.
Berun took in his surroundings. Kheil had been here many times, the rooftop that was the highest level in the Tower of the Sun. The Imaskari had named it the Eye of the Four Winds, for standing at any of the waist-high ledges, one could see for miles in every direction. The stone tubes that wound their way up the tower connected to portals deep beneath the mountain-portals that opened to the elemental planes. With the proper spells, one could funnel both fire and water to the heights of the tower, so that in high summer, the fountains were always fresh and cool, forming falls that went over the heights of the tower. In the cold of winter, fires burned for light and heat.
Water flowed, giving off a clean scent, its song inherently soothing as it bubbled out of fountains, one at each corner of the roof. Fires burned, not from the tubes, which sat quiet and cold, but from a few braziers and several lamps, their flames low, their glow an orange as a dusty sunset. The light cast as many shadows as pools of light. In the nine years since he had last been here, the Eye of the Four Winds had been