Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [136]
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.