never get past Taaki. Even that bow of yours will only annoy her before she gets you.'
Berun stood, looking at the assassins gathered round them. Lewan's gaze flicked between his master and the assassins, waiting for a cue. All eyes were on Berun. His move.
Berun's shoulders slumped, he looked to the ground, and a great sigh went out of him. A look of utter relief washed over Sauk.
'Master…?' said Lewan.
Still keeping the width of his body between the band of assassins and his disciple, Berun turned and looked at Lewan. Nothing Lewan had seen in all their years together, not even the terrifying events of the past day, had ever frightened him like the look he saw on his master's face. Lewan had known that Berun had been deeply afraid yesterday on the trail upon finding the name Kheil scratched into that print. His master had been worried after their capture, but even then, Lewan had seen the careful calculations, the scheming, going on behind his master's eyes. But the look he saw just then was complete and utter despair. That look in Berun's eyes drained Lewan of all strength. It was a feeling he had not felt since… since that day in his village when he'd heard the raiders, listened to the screams of the dying, smelled the smoke in the thatch of the house where he lived with his parents, found his mother…
'Mas-?' Lewan began, his voice trembling.
Something lit in his master's eyes. A defiant fire. The corner of Berun's mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile. Watch this, it said.
Sauk must have sensed something too, for the look of relief froze on his face, the words he had been about to say caught in his throat, and surprise-and more than a little fear-lit his gaze.
'Spears!' shouted Sauk, reaching for his sword.
'Lewan, run!' Berun's right hand rose, an arrow balanced between the fingers. He laid the shaft across the bow and shouted, 'Down the hill! Run!'
Shocked and confused, Lewan froze. Sauk's men fanned out, each holding a spear in hand. They moved with practiced ease. Trained killers, every one.
'Master, I-'
'Lewan, run!' Berun cast a glance over his shoulder, then pulled the arrow to his cheek, bending the bow taut, and pointed the steel tip at Sauk. 'The boy leaves. As soon as he's safely away, I'll come in peace.'
Kerlis stepped forward. 'There's twelve of us. You can't get us all before we get you.'
Berun pivoted, his left arm with the bow coming round. He aimed for only an instant, and the fingers holding the string opened. The bow twanged, and the arrow took Kerlis in his left eye. By the time his body hit the ground, Berun already had another arrow across the bow and the shaft against his cheek.
'Eleven now,' said Berun. 'Next one who makes a move is the next one to die.'
No one moved. The Vaasans were grinning and flexing their hands around their spears. Merzan's face held no expression whatsoever, but his eyes were trained on Berun, and he stood ready. Valmir had one hand firmly around his spear, but the other was hovering near an open pouch at his belt. Ready to reach for spell components most likely. The other assassins all stood ready. Except for Sauk, all had spears, but like none Lewan had ever seen. The shafts were plain and unadorned, but rather than a head or barb, they ended in a sharp spike, no larger than a horseshoe nail. An oily paste coated each spike. Poison.
Sauk shook his head, then smiled and swiped his blade in front of him, cutting the air with a harsh swish. 'Spear 'em, boys!' he shouted, and leaped forward, low and ready.
Berun pivoted again and loosed at the half-orc. Sauk swung his sword down in front of him, swiping the arrow aside in midair, snapping it in the middle. The fletched half slapped into his shoulder, but it didn't even slow him. He came at Berun like a bull, his grin twisted into a snarl, muddy water spraying around each step.
Lewan knew his master would never have time to nock another arrow. Berun knew it too. He stepped back and flung his bow at Sauk's legs. The half-orc tried to leap aside, but he slipped on the slick ground and went down in a great splash of mud and water, giving Berun time to back away.
Berun tore his cloak off, dropped it on the ground, and drew his knife. 'Lewan, I said run!'
Lewan drew his own knife. 'I'm not leaving you, master.'
Sauk rolled to his feet. Merzan and one of the Vaasans were closing on Berun with their spears raised.
'I can handle them if you'll-'
The Vaasan threw. Berun twisted to the side and his left hand shot out to grab the spear as it passed where his chest had been only an instant before. He regained his posture and brought the spear around in guard position. The Vaasan drew his knife and backed away to make room for the other spearmen.
Sauk swiped his hand across his face to clear away the mud. 'Damn it, Kheil, stop this! I don't want to hurt you.'
'My name is Berun.' He feinted with the spear, causing Merzan to back up a step.
The others were closing in. In moments, Berun and Lewan would be encircled. The other Vaasan, still holding a spear, was only a half-dozen paces from Lewan.
'Val?' called Sauk, though he never took his eyes off Berun. 'You got your spell ready?'
Val reached into his pouch and grinned. 'Ready and waiting, boss.'
'Then do-'
Berun stepped forward and thrust as if to throw at Valmir. It was a feint, but the assassin fell for it. He tried to sidestep but slipped in the mud and went down cursing. Berun followed through with the feint, and brought the spear round in a throw. This one he let fly. It took the second Vaasan just below the ribs. The man screamed and fell back, but he kept hold of his spear.
The assassins charged, Sauk leading them, but Berun was already on the move, running for Lewan. He grabbed his disciple by the clasp of his cloak and pulled him along, running downhill and away from the assassins.
Lewan felt a spear catch in his cloak, but in three strides it pulled loose. He and Berun didn't slow. They ducked around the grove of aspens that formed their shelter. Lewan's foot slipped in a pile of rain-slicked leaves and he started to go down, but Berun hauled him up and pushed Lewan onward with a whispered, 'Go!' Berun hugged the edge of the aspens with his knife held low.
Lewan stopped, holding his own knife ready. He saw a look of anger cross his master's face at the disobedience, but there was no time to argue. Gerrell, the man whom Sauk had used to bait Berun into the ravine, came round the aspens. He had a spear in one hand and a knife in the other. He caught sight of Lewan, his eyes lit with success, then Berun brought his own knife up. The strength of the strike combined with Gerrell's own momentum doomed him. Four inches or more of sharp steel passed through his throat. Blood sprayed across Berun and the white aspen bark, and a great fountain of it drenched Lewan as the man crashed to the ground. Gerrell punched and kicked, splashing mud and red-tinged water as his lungs filled with his own blood.
Berun jumped over the man and grabbed the clasp of Lewan's cloak. He ripped it off and turned to face Dren. Sauk and the others were right behind him. Berun held his knife in guard position and whipped the heavy wet cloak before him. It wouldn't stop a spear, but it might tangle and deflect it.
A shadow moving at the edge of his vision was the only warning Lewan had. He turned in time to see one of the assassins-he must have come round the other side of the aspens-a malicious grin on his face and the spear coming forward.
Lewan tried to fall away, but it was too late. The poison-coated spike plunged into the muscle between his left shoulder and chest. Through skin and flesh, he felt it scrape along the bone then plunge deep. He screamed, more in shock than pain, for his left side around the wound went suddenly numb.
Without thinking, his other hand with the knife lashed out. His blade opened a deep gash up the left side of his attacker's face. The man shrieked and backed away, but the spear remained lodged in place.
Screams came from behind him, but he couldn't make out their meaning. The numbness was spreading up his neck and into his face, and a loud hum was growing in his ears.
'Masss…' he called out, but it faded into a groan as his knees buckled.
His master came into his field of vision. Lewan's cloak was gone, and Berun's right hand was a mass of wet redness from his elbow down to the tip of his knife. He yanked the spear out of Lewan, tossed it in the direction of their attackers, and pulled Lewan after him down the hill.
Something hit him. Lewan didn't see it coming, but he felt a massive weight smash into them, and even as his master's grip broke and he went down, the thick scent of the tiger hit him. The world spun round Lewan, but he
