Chereth, Master of the Yuirwood, and Alaodin, Old Man of the Mountain. What exactly that history had been, he had no idea. But nine years ago, Alaodin had sent Kheil, the best assassin in his arsenal, to kill Chereth in his homeland, surrounded by hundreds of allies. Such a desperate mission could not have been a random act, nor even a job bought and paid for by some western lord or lady. It had to be grave and personal for the Old Man to have sent Kheil. In the five years since Chereth had left him, Berun had not passed a day without wondering of his master's fate. All those days of wandering through villages, seeking other druid Circles, looking for word from the old half-elf, hoping for any rumor but finding none. To now have it confirmed…
Berun felt… what? Tired. That was it. All those years of hoping had given him purpose. To have that hope crushed left him feeling lost and weary.
'But,' said Sauk, his voice going quiet, scarcely more than a whisper, 'here's the thing I bet you didn't know.' He smiled. 'Chereth is still alive.'
Breath caught in Berun's throat. 'Alive?'
'As you and me.'
'But… the Old Man?'
Sauk smiled. 'Hale as ever.'
'But you said that you and your men have sworn to kill him. I don't understand.'
'You want to know about your master or about the Old Man?'
Both, Berun realized, and he didn't like that.
'Truth be told,' Sauk continued, 'you need to hear both. That's why we came for you. Your master made the same mistake the Old Man did-he hunted prey in its own den. Nothing is more dangerous than a wild animal cornered in its home. Long tale cut short, the Old Man captured your master and has held him prisoner all these years.'
'Prisoner?' said Berun. The thought of old Chereth locked in the stony cells of Sentinelspire…
'At times,' said Sauk, 'the Old Man spends half the day and night talking to the old leaf lover. Enjoys his company like a favorite uncle. Other times, the Old Man questions him. Questions him hard.'
Sauk didn't have to explain. Berun knew all too well what an interrogation by the Old Man of the Mountain entailed.
'Sometimes,' said Sauk, 'the Old Man uses his… arts'- the half-orc scowled as if he'd tasted something sour — 'to leech power from the leaf lover.'
Berun's anger turned cold. The Old Man had once been a devoted follower of Bhaal. The death of his god had hit him hard, made him desperate in his search for a new source of power. He'd never been too particular about where the power came from.
'Other times,' Sauk continued, his voice dropping low, 'the Old Man hurts your master. Hurts him just for the pleasure of it.'
'What?' said Berun. 'Why?'
' 'Cause that's what the Old Man does.'
'No,' said Berun. 'Not Alaodin. He's a killer, but it's… business. Even the Old Man never hurt just to hurt.'
'You've been gone a long time,' said Sauk. 'Almost nine years. Things have changed at the Fortress. Things happen now that…' The half-orc's voice faltered and he shook his head. 'Dark things. Vile.'
'What kind of things?'
Sauk scowled into the fire and made the sign of the Beastlord-three fingers hooked like claws, which he dragged down his face and heart. 'Not here,' he said. 'Not in the dark.'
'You? Afraid?'
'Afraid?' said Sauk, thinking as he chewed a large hunk of bread. He swallowed. 'If you mean am I made weak at the thought of dying, then no. I don't know that kind of fear. Not anymore. But there are worse things than death, and I have hunted enough prey-many stronger than me-to know when it is time to strike and kill and boast, and when it is best not to draw attention to yourself. Besting those stronger than you… that is honor. Calling down doom… that's just foolish.'
Sauk chewed his lip and stared into the fire. The rest of the camp had gone quiet, caught up in Sauk's tale.
The half-orc broke the silence. 'But that's not why we came for you. This is about that old druid locked in the Fortress.'
'His name is Chereth,' said Berun. 'And why do you care?'
Sauk looked down at his bread, as if considering another bite, but he grimaced and put it away. 'About the half-elf?' he said. 'I don't. Old leaf lover means nothing to me. But the Old Man… he's gone mad. You know me, Kheil. I have no qualms about killing when there is profit in it, or a fair fight. But a bloodlust has seized the Old Man. He's gone beyond simple murder-for-hire to massacres. The old fool is killing for pleasure or just plain meanness. He's put our entire operation in jeopardy. Last winter, he killed three of our best clients-western nobles who paid well. But Talieth…'
'What?' Berun cursed the eager tone in his voice. Very few days had gone by over the years that her face, her scent, the feel of her skin did not come to his mind, but every time he thrust them away. Kheil had loved her. And Kheil was dead.
'Talieth suspects something darker is at work. She fears her father is on the verge of doing something… irreversible.' Sauk ground his jaw and looked away. His nostrils flared and he slapped the ground. 'Damn it all, we want him dead.'
Berun held Sauk's gaze. The half-orc looked back, unflinching.
'We?' said Berun.
'Me, Talieth, and every man here. A few others at the Mountain.'
'So kill him,' said Berun, his voice hard.
Sauk snorted, but there was no humor in it. Only disgust. 'We tried,' he said. 'Talieth sent her best blades but the Old
Man killed 'em all. The Old Man has been using your master's power to set new guardians. Things I've never seen before. Things that haunt the dark places of the mountain. Things that scare even Talieth, and I've never seen anything frighten that woman.'
A smile threatened to break over Berun's face but he held it back.
'But it doesn't end there,' said Sauk. 'The Old Man rooted out any who had colluded with the assassins. Didn't just kill them. He tortured them. Till they begged for death. When we left the Fortress, their bodies were still on the walls. Some dead and rotting. Even the crows won't touch them. But some… some were still alive.' He took a long swig from the waterskin and swallowed with a wince. 'Wrapped in thorns and vines, bleeding, their skin rotting away even as they begged for someone to end their pain.'
Berun shuddered. 'Talieth…?'
'The Old Man suspects her. He's no fool. But she is his daughter. She's still alive-or was when we left-but she walks the razor's edge. She's all but a captive in the Fortress, and the Old Man might kill her any time the whim hits him.'
'How did you get away?'
Sauk spared a glance at his men and a smile, sly and pleased, crossed his face. 'Well, I said the Old Man rooted out the assassins. I should have said 'any he could find.' He found several. Too damned many. But not all.'
'As far as you know,' said Berun.
The grin froze on Sauk's face, faltered, then fell. 'Yes, as far as we know.'
'So the Old Man could just be biding his time. Playing you like a cat pawing at a mouse.'
Sauk's eyes narrowed. 'I'm no mouse.'
'What about your men?'
The tall blond man behind Sauk bristled and scowled at this, but he held his tongue.
'You aren't half as smart as you think you are,' said Sauk. 'Talieth's always had a gift for magic-more than a little touch of the seer's gift.'
'Don't tell me what I already know,' said Berun.
'Really?' Sauk's eyebrows rose, but Berun saw the mockery in the expression. 'Kheil knew Talieth well-in
