Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [96]
Lightning struck somewhere up the mountain, bathing the Fortress in harsh light for a moment. The ensuing thunder was so loud that it drowned out even the sound of the wind and rain.
"Because those sweet fumes would kill you within five beats of your heart." Velugis turned again to face the darkness.
The three guards muttered amongst themselves a moment, occasionally sparing a withering glance at the Thayan.
"Why you standing over there, Velugis? Don't care for our company?"
"Two reasons," said Velugis. "First of all, we are supposed to be standing guard. And second, the coals do smell like scalded horse piss."
"You aren't cold?"
Velugis said nothing, but his posture went suddenly very stiff and he leaned forward into the darkness. "Hey! You hear me, Velugis?"
The Thayan drew his dagger with one hand and reached into his large belt pouch with his other. "Someone is coming," he said.
The other three men spread out and drew their own weapons. Two had heavy cudgels and the third a sword.
More thunder rumbled from somewhere far off on the eastern grasslands. When it faded, all four men could hear it-footsteps coming up the tunnel.
Velugis stepped back amongst the other three, so that all four guards blocked the tunnel.
"Who approaches?" called out the guard with the sword.
No answer.
More lightning struck, and if anyone answered from the darkness, they could not be heard over the thunder.
"Name yourself!" the swordsman called.
A man stumbled into the light cast by the brazier. He wore no cloak or coat, and his left sleeve was a bloody tattered mess. It was hard to tell ripped cloth from shredded skin, but the sliver of bone protruding from his forearm was quite clear. What had once been his left eye now hung out of the socket, and the entire left side of his face was a cut and torn wreck.
He looked at the four guards with his remaining eye, which went wide, then he fell to his knees.
"Oh, gods," the man said. "Sound the alarm. Hurry!"
Part Four
The Old Man of the Mountain
Chapter Thirty
25 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning
Storms (1374 DR)
The door between the balcony and the room opened, and for a moment it was Lewan's mother who stood there, outlined by fire.
Death comes. When death comes for you, you must see clearly. You must not run. You must find your courage.
But then the dream faded. His mother was gone-many years gone-and it was Ulaan standing there, the thick fur coverlet from the bed wrapped around her shoulders, a dim, flickering light outlining her. Not the light of burning thatch and timber-she had lit a lamp in the room behind her, its yellow glow weak and guttering from the wind of the storm.
"What's happening?" asked Lewan as he struggled to bring his mind out of the dream and back into the world around him.
"The Fortress is under attack." Ulaan's voice held a slight tremble.
"Attack? I-?"
"Those horns are the call to arms," she said. "Please come inside, Lewan. We should lock the doors."
Lewan stood and gathered his blankets. He was dripping wet, his hair sodden and clinging to his forehead, and his blankets were heavy with water. How had he slept through such a storm? Still, his body felt strangely hot. Not fevered, for he felt strong and full of vigor. "Lewan, please come inside."
He did, and Ulaan pushed the balcony doors closed behind him. Lewan's mind still felt foggy.
The knob of the hallway door rattled, startling Lewan. Finding the door locked, whoever was on the outside pounded on the heavy wood. "Open!"
Lewan recognized Sauk's voice.
"Open the door or I'll kick the damned thing down!" said Sauk.
Lewan looked to Ulaan. She stood very still, huddled up to her chin in the blanket, a look on her face like a denned rabbit who can hear the fox coming down the hole.
"Stay here," said Lewan, though he wasn't sure where else she could go.
He walked to the door, raised the iron crossbar, and twisted the latch that opened the main lock. He reached for the knob, but the door flew open before he could twist it. The edge of it caught him in the knee as Sauk pushed his way