Chapter Eight
Nauk pushed them hard. They ate and drank while they walked, and by mid afternoon they began their climb into the broken foothills of the Khopet-Dag. The trees in this region were small, but their branches and leaves were thick, darkening the forest floor beneath them. Birdsong ceased, but the air was alive with newly-hatched insects, and spider webs of every sort festooned the wood.
Some of the trees, long dead from blight or drought, were completely enshrouded in webs. Others were entirely free of the sticky strands, and Berun knew that treeclaw lizards were near. Part of Berun was glad, knowing that Perch would feel right at home, but part of him worried that his little friend might become distracted by the abundance of food. Most of the spiders were no larger than a man's knuckle, but Berun saw a few larger than his hand, and he knew that Sauk's men saw them too. Everyone walked with weapons in hand, and they scanned the forest canopy as often as they watched the path. Kerlis had gone pale as a dead fish's eye, and the fist that gripped his short sword trembled.
Even Valmir had gone silent. Whether it was because the forest seemed to call for silence, his wariness of the spiders, or the exertion from walking the steep hills, Berun neither knew nor cared. He simply thanked the Oak Father and every benevolent deity that the man had finally ceased flapping his jaw.
As the sun fell behind distant peaks, their procession topped a small rise where the rocky ground gave only enough soil for stubborn grasses and thorny bushes, giving them a view of the sky for the first time since late morning. Larger foothills stood before them, and the canopy of the great Shalhoond lay behind and to either side. The southern horizon was dark-a storm building over the Ghor Nor. Looking eastward, Berun could see all the forest laid out beneath them, and the Amber Steppes painted a deep gold out of the mountains' shadow. Beyond the grasslands, jutting from the horizon like a broken tooth, stood a mountain. Sentinelspire.
'Keep moving,' whispered Valmir. 'We don't want to get separated from the others.'
'Spiders bother you?'
No grin from Valmir this time. In fact, his face was downright grim. 'There's worse than spiders in the Khopet-Dag these days,' he said. 'Now move. We're out in the open.'
Berun quickened his pace until they were just behind the next man in line. When they descended the opposite side of the hill and were once again beneath the trees, Berun turned to Val and said, 'Sentinelspire is east. Why are we walking west?'
'Sentinelspire's two hundred miles east,' said Val. 'You really want to walk all that way?'
'Beats all these damned spiders,' Kerlis muttered.
'We aren't walking?' asked Berun.
For once, Val seemed annoyed at the chatter, his scowl deepening. 'There's a portal in the foothills,' he said. 'I never knew of a portal in the Khopet-Dag.' 'There's lots of things you don't know,' said Val. 'Meaning what?'
'Meaning you've been away a long time. Things have changed at the Fortress. Lots of things.'
Night hit the woods fast. Though it was still dusk above the tree canopy, the thick leaves blocked out what little light bled down from the sky. Wind from the south had picked up, thunder rumbled in the distance, and Berun could smell the storm coming. Sauk stopped and ordered them to camp at the first sizeable stream they found-a small rivulet that cut its way through steep banks and over the black rocks of the hill before them.
The men set to work, building a few fires and preparing their meager meals. No tents. Each man carried blankets, and they would sleep beside the fires. Berun was thankful for his oilskin cloak. By the sound of the thunder and the smell of the wind, they would have a significant rain before midnight.
Seeing the work well underway, Sauk called out to a man to whom Berun had not yet spoken. Tall and swarthy, he had the build and complexion of a Thayan, but he wore the fine clothes of a westerner. Although he was in need of washing, it was evident he took pride in his appearance; his beard was well trimmed, and his hair was just growing out of what was obviously a carefully chosen cut.
'Merzan,' said Sauk. 'Me and Benjar and Hama are going out to scout. You're in charge.' He looked at Lewan and Berun. 'You two just sit by the fire and rest. No talking. Merzan, take appropriate action if they try to speak to each other.'
'As you say, Sauk,' said Merzan. He gave Lewan and Berun a look of complete indifference. That bothered Berun. A grin might have shown overconfidence-something Berun could use. A bluster or boast might have meant he was dealing with someone too keen on who was in charge-something else Berun could use. But the complete lack of emotion likely meant that Merzan was an iron-cold killer, who didn't care one way or the other whether Lewan and Berun lived or died. That meant trouble.
Berun settled himself beside the fire that Benjar and Hama-Vaasans, by the looks of them-had left. His shoulder felt better. Perhaps all the walking had helped to stretch it. But his side where Sauk had kicked him still throbbed with pain.
Valmir sat across from him. The blond man looked tired, but the easy grin was back. 'Hungry?' 'A little,' said Berun.
Val rummaged through a heavy canvas pack. 'No servants out here. We'll have to make our own.' — 'Sauk took my pack.' 'No worries,' said Val. 'I got you.' 'Very kind.'
'You haven't tasted my cooking yet. May not think me so kind after.'
Berun shrugged out of his cloak and loosened his belt a notch. He winced at the pain in his ribs. 'Still hurting?' asked Val. 'I'm fine.'
'Have it your way. Tea'll be ready soon.' Berun watched Val set a small iron kettle near the fire and rummage through his foodstuffs.
'What kind of changes?' asked Berun. 'What?'
'Back on the hill. You said there've been lots of changes at Sentinelspire. What kind of changes?'
Val's smile widened. 'So you admit that you used to live there?'
'I never denied it.'
'Never admitted it, either.'
'Why give you answers you already know?'
Valmir nodded. 'Fair enough, I suppose. Let's just say the Old Man's been busy all these years. And not always in good ways. That man could give Sauk lessons in cunning.'
'Then won't he know we're coming?'
'Don't you worry about that,' said Val. 'Sauk is still as much a cunning hunter as he ever was, and the Old Man still trusts him. We might have to disguise you a bit, though I'd wager that you look nothing like you used to. Am I right?'
'I'm… not the man I used to be.'
Val laughed. 'Who is?'
Berun glanced to the other side of the camp. Lewan was sitting beside a fire. He accepted a bit of food and a small tin cup of water from one of the men. It bothered Berun that the boy seemed so at ease.
'Don't underestimate your old friend Sauk,' Val continued. 'He could get King Haedrak into Sentinelspire if he wanted to.'
'But you said the Old Man was even smarter. 'Could give Sauk lessons in cunning,' you said.'
'True enough,' said Val as he continued to prepare the tea. 'But I also said that the Old Man still trusts him- and we aren't on our own. We got us some… what you might call 'inside help.' '
'You mean Talieth.'
Valmir's movements suddenly became very careful and precise. Very intentional. 'What do you know about Talieth?'
'Another one of those questions to which you already know the answer?'
Val's grin didn't falter, but the good humor left his eyes. He shrugged and said, 'People talk.'
Berun knew that was enough on this subject. Kheil and Talieth… to say they had a history together would be only the beginning of a long tale, and it was not a happy one. And this was obviously a sensitive point for Val. That intrigued Berun.
'How long have you been at the Mountain?' said Berun.
