Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [6]
Crouched amongst the tall grasses and thin trees, Berun looked down upon his hand. The scars from that oath had long since healed-he had worn off many calluses in the years since-but the oath held him still.
He had sworn blood upon thorn not to seek his old master, save on Chereth's word alone. And that word had never come. But what now? He had never sought Kheil's old paths. But now it seemed someone else had. They'd come to him. It was flee or fight. Hunt or be hunted.
Berun strung his bow-a long curve of yew, runes burned the entire length of the wood-and chose a special arrow, the one whose sharp steel head had three tiny holes near the shaft, threaded through with tiny bits of blue hemlock. Not fresh. It had been two days since he'd threaded the fibers, but they'd still do the trick if it came to that. Berun nocked the arrow and took up the trail.
Time to hunt.
Chapter Three
The tracks led into the deep wood, where the trees grew close, branches from dozens of trees tangling with their neighbors as they fought for the sunlight. Down in the valleys and along the hillsides, the ground was a solid mass of hundreds, perhaps thousands of years of dead leaves, shattered twigs, and trees rotted back to soil.
Berun slowed, proceeding at a careful crouch. The sun had begun its long arc toward the horizon, and the bits of sky that managed to peek through the canopy of leaves and branches had grown pale, thickening the shadows beneath the trees. The tracks were very fresh here-the top layers of leaf-fall were shredded and overturned to reveal the moist humus beneath. If the tiger was growing hungry again, this would be the time of day she'd hunt. The lizard, still riding Berun's shoulder, sensed his master's tension. Berun felt the tiny claws tighten, digging through his shirt and pricking his skin.
"Easy, Perch," he whispered. The lizard flicked his tongue, tickling Berun's ear.
Part of Berun's gift as a disciple of the Oak Father was a unique link to the lizard-a sort of bonding. Perch had the intellect and limited reasoning of his kind, but the Oak Father had blessed the pair with a special connection. Even though Perch's brain could not form words, the comrades had shared the bond so long that Berun had learned to interpret the lizard's will almost as clearly as words in his mind.
But now, the only sensations coming through were unease and inquisitiveness. The bond went both ways, and Berun's fear was leaking through to Perch. What-what-what? What-scared-what? Where-what-scared?
Berun did his best to comfort Perch. Easy. Watch and watch. Taste the air. Watch for danger.
+++++
The land rose as the forest thickened around the broken foothills of the Khopet-Dag. The trees were taller, older- some so massive that Berun couldn't fathom how the winter storms hadn't toppled them. He began to see cobwebs thickening the hollow remains of old logs. Small leaf spiders, mostly. Their larger, more dangerous cousins generally kept to the mountains and higher foothills.
The tracks paralleled a small stream, and Berun followed the trail uphill. Water coursing over thousands of stones drowned out most other sounds, so Berun was very close when he heard-it-a growl, so low that it hit his gut more than his ears. He froze. The scream that followed, high and harsh, broke through the gurgle of the stream. A man's scream.
Berun climbed a steep incline of rock broken by tufts of grass and a few bushes with branches tough as iron bands. He pushed his way through a thick cobweb and came to a level clearing about halfway up the hill. The stream filled a small, shallow pool that fed two smaller streams. The smaller rivulet spilled into the stream he had been following. The other fell over the opposite side of the hill.
Crouching amidst the brush, Berun wiped spider silk from his face. The growl hit him again, louder this time. It reverberated in both his ears and the spot between stomach and heart that was the first to flutter when fear hit. Another shout followed-definitely from