Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [20]
"The lizard?" said Val, looking annoyed. "What do you want me to do with a damned lizard?"
"Give it to him," said Sauk. "If he can get it to behave, fine. If not, throw it in the soup." He turned to walk away.
"Where are you going?" asked Val.
"Taaki can catch the boy," said Sauk over his shoulder. "But I don't know if she can bring him in without hurting him. I don't want to be up all damned night stitching up a mewling boy."
The half-orc sauntered off, and the dark of the wood soon swallowed him.
The blond man tossed away the unstrung bow and quiver, then held the knife up and knelt next to Berun. His insolent grin widened. "Name's Valmir," he said. "You can call me Val. Most around here do. You just listen to Sauk and behave yourself, and you and me'll get along just fine."
Berun considered bringing his leg up and jamming his boot in Valmir's face-the man was close enough-but he knew that even if that worked, he stood little chance of finding Lewan in the dark before Taaki and Sauk. This wasn't over. But something Sauk had told him earlier came to him-I have hunted enough prey to know when it is time to strike and kill and boast, and when it is best not to draw attention to yourself. Calling down doom… that's just foolish. And so Berun let his head fall back into the cushioning grass. He could still hear the tiger roaring, but the screams had stopped.
Chapter Seven
15 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning
Storms (1374 DR)
The northern Shalhoond walked. Sauk roused the camp when dawn was no more than a pale shade of gray in the east. Lewan had barely slept. The events of the previous night had hit him hard. The tiger had not harmed him-at least not physically. Master hunter that she was, she'd forced him to the ground, much as she would a deer, but she'd kept her claws in, and her teeth had held his neck without piercing the skin. That had been the worst. In his travels with Berun, Lewan had seen cats hunt. Once the prey was subdued, they took it by the neck, and with a quick snap, it was all over.
He had lain there, crushed leaves filling his mouth, the breath of the tiger filling his ear and rushing all the way down his shirt, and had waited for those jaws to end him. He'd wondered if there would be pain, wondered if he'd be able to hear his own neck snap, or feel his throat cave in, or the teeth tear through the blood vessels of his neck.
But the snap hadn't come. The tiger had held him there, her massive paws pinning his back while her jaws gripped his neck. He had no idea how long he'd lain there. He thought he might have screamed, but afterward he couldn't remember. His first clear memory after the initial attack was the jaws loosening, moving away, then the great weight of the tiger was gone. Lewan had looked up, leaves clinging to his face, and the half-orc and his men were standing around him.
"Don't try that again," said the half-orc.
And that was it. No beating. No warning. No threats of punishment.
Except from one man, the one whom Lewan had hit with the torch. He came at Lewan, one hand clenched tight and trembling at his side, but the other holding a torch. In pain as he was, still he was quick, and he lunged with the flaming torch.
"Burn me, whelp? I'll-!"
Sauk's boot took the man in the gut, doubling him over, and the half-orc snatched the torch.
"You'll do nothing," said the half-orc. He looked down on the man, who lay near where the tiger had pinned Lewan. "Dren, see to his hand. Kerlis, you'd do well to stay away from the boy. I'm setting