Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [127]
"What are you doing, master?" said Berun.
The druid lowered his staff, leaned upon it, and opened his eyes. "Sending forth my loyal servants. The ones who brought you both here tonight."
The dark things. Lewan shivered at the thought. He had watched them tear those four assassins to pieces. If they were going after Talieth's blades… the poor souls wouldn't stand a chance.
"What of those among the blades loyal to you, master?" said Berun.
Chereth smiled. "I have you and Lewan. I have the only ones I truly need."
"What of Talieth?" said Berun. "You said you'd saved her. For me."
The half-elf closed his eyes a moment, then looked at Berun, almost sadly. "That is up to her now."
"Master!" said Lewan. "You can't-"
"Be silent," said Berun. But the look from Chereth truly silenced him.
"And you, Lewan?" said Chereth. "Your master begs for his woman. Do you wish me to spare your little whore? Were the Oak Father's daughters not worth waiting for?"
"Don't kill her," said Lewan. "Please."
"Purified yourself, have you?" said Chereth. "You think so? Washed her scent and sweat from you? You heard what I said. To save the body, one must cut away the corruption."
"Please!" said Lewan. "Let her go. I beg you. I'm sorry. I'll never touch her again. Just… don't kill her. Please."
"Oh, I will not kill her," said Chereth, and the malicious smile returned. "You will. Prove your loyalty to me now. To the vision the Oak Father gave me. Kill this vile thing and enter into bliss."
Lewan's knees trembled. He tried to steady them, but all strength left his legs and he fell to his hands and knees. He dropped the bundled bow and the arrows he held. Unbalanced and top heavy, the hammer fell out of his belt and thunked on the leaf-covered floor. "No," he said.
"My son," said Chereth. Lewan heard the shuffle of feet, and when he looked up the druid was looking down on him, sadness in his eyes. "You have done it before. To spare those you love from pain. Now you will do it to purify yourself." Chereth nudged the hammer with his foot, pushing it toward Lewan's hand. "And if it helps you… to save her from pain."
The druid walked away and raised his staff.
"No!" Lewan cried.
"Naur illeth!" the druid cried out.
Thick smoke billowed from the vines encasing Ulaan, and Lewan could see tiny tongues of flame catching in the foliage. Ulaan screamed.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Valmir led a half dozen assassins-four men and two women-through the storm-slick streets. He knew he was very likely heading toward his own death, but it was not the thought of death or even life that was running through his head.
The thought that kept coming to mind was that the gods of magic, despite being feared and revered throughout Faerыn, must have one sick sense of humor. He'd at least halfway understood Talieth's lessons on the necessity for components to spells-how their inherent qualities, both natural and arcane, helped summon and strengthen certain magical forces. But the fact that one of the main ingredients of one of his most deadly spells was something that came out of the south end of a northbound bat often made him wonder if the gods were more than a little insane, or if they just liked to test the mettle of their servants. They were hundreds of miles from the nearest apothecary, so Valmir had to search the caves for his own bat excrement, and that only made it worse. Still… he knew the effort would be worth it.
The night is red! The night is red! The ni-
The call had come not long ago. He'd feared it since Talieth first laid out their plan this morning-feared it and prepared for it. Still, that it had come not from Talieth or Sauk but from one of Talieth's pets that was currently sharing the boy's bed… that bothered Val. It meant things had gone from bad to worse to-
"What in the unholy hells is that?" said the man walking behind Val.
Valmir had been so lost in his