Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [18]
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Lewan used the fall. He'd been running as fast as he dared. But beyond the light of the campfires, all was pitch black, and through the trees he had to cast his arms in front of him and run more by feel than sight, each headlong sprint broken by stumbles over the uneven ground, roots, and rocks. Shouts from behind spurred him on.
Branches scratched his clothes and scraped skin off his face and hands. After a bad stumble that left his shin bloody, Lewan risked a glance back as he pushed himself to his feet. The men had stopped long enough to light torches. He could see two of them amongst the trees, and the distance from them to himself made hope flare in his heart.
Then something roared off to his right. The tiger.
Lewan ran, pumping his arms, heedless of the branches and leaves. He'd run perhaps two dozen steps when the ground fell away beneath him. He hit the down slope, biting his cheek as he did so, and continued a long slide down a hill covered in generations of leaves and fallen branches. When he finally came to rest at the bottom, the avalanche of detritus he'd caused kept coming, burying him.
And so Lewan used it, keeping absolutely motionless, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths rather than the gasps his body demanded. From somewhere above he heard men crashing through the brush.
"Here!" one shouted. "This way!"
"No." This voice fainter. "He'd keep to the ridges where the ground is surer. Can't you see?"
"I can see. But he can't. He's got no light, and look how all the leaves are disturbed."
Lewan's heart hammered, and he tensed, preparing to run again.
"A tracker now, are you? Just 'cause you follow Sauk don't mean-"
"Move, you idiots," said a third voice, and Lewan heard something coming down the hill.
Close now. Lewan could feel the vibration through the ground. The man stopped, probably no more than a pace or two above him, then began moving again.
A toe struck Lewan's shoulder.
"Got him!"
Lewan erupted from cover, put all his strength behind one fist, and brought it up into the fork of the man's legs. A pained gasp escaped the man, then he folded in on himself, dropping the torch.
"Ha!" said a voice from above. "That whelp got him again. Same damned place!"
The man lurched onto his knees as his companions started their way down. Lewan snatched the torch from the fallen leaves and thrust it at the man's face. The man saw it coming and slapped at the fire, then began to fall forward. He screamed in agony as the burning pitch stuck to his fingers, but the thrust had swiped the brand from Lewan's grip.
Lewan turned and ran, following the course of the valley between the two hills.
"After him!"
"My-hand!" said a voice that was half sob.
A harsh laugh, then, "That ain't the part I'd be worried about. I'd-holy gods!"
Lewan heard a rustle of leaves on the slope above him, then a mammoth weight hit his back and crushed him onto the leaf-covered ground.
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When awareness began to seep back in, Berun saw the blond man-the one Sauk had called Val-standing over him, holding his bow and quiver. The man wore an insolent, almost pleased smile. Another man, shorter and darker, stood behind him. Sauk was crouched beside him, one fist clutching Berun's torn shirt. The other fist jerked back, and Berun felt fingers scrape the back of his neck just before he heard a snap. His necklace!
Sauk stood, a broken leather braid dangling from one fist. On the end of the braid was tied an intricate knot work of hardened vines. Something in the midst of the vines caught the firelight and sparkled, almost as if an ember burned there. Erael'len.
"No!" said Berun as he lunged for it.
Sauk stepped back, almost casually, as Berun's hand swiped at empty air. Then the half-orc stepped forward again and brought the toe of his boot into Berun's side, just below the bottom rib. Biting back pain, Berun swiped at the necklace again, but Sauk caught his wrist and twisted.