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 managed to push himself to his hands and knees and look up. Only a few paces away, his master held the tiger at bay with his knife. Sauk and his assassins were just beyond the great cat.
The tiger snarled and swiped at the knife with one paw. Berun avoided the blow and stepped back.
Lewan could see Sauk shouting something, but he couldn't hear the words. The roaring in his ears had drowned out all other sound. He could no longer feel his left arm. His jaw hung open, and try as he might, he could not close it.
The tiger backed away a step and crouched, flexing her muscles to pounce. Her lips curled back over her teeth, her haunches lifted in preparation to launch her massive body at Berun And a small missile hit her on the head. Perch, biting and clawing. The tiger roared-Lewan could feel it in his chest and the ground beneath him even though he could not hear it-and shook her head back and forth. But the little lizard held tight. The tiger only managed to shake him down onto her face.
The tiger ceased shaking and swiped her right paw, claws extended, at the lizard. Perch leaped at the last possible instant, and the tiger's claws raked through her own eyelid and gouged the eye beneath. She screamed, and Lewan saw Sauk's eyes go wide, first in shock, then in fury.
Maddened by pain, the tiger barreled away, plowing right into Valmir and sending him crashing into a thorn bush.
Sauk descended on Berun. Lewan saw that all mercy and all remembrance of their friendship was gone, replaced by complete rage. The half-orc brought his sword around in a backhand sweep that would have beheaded his master had Berun not thrown himself back. But the move cost him. On the slope in the slick mud, Berun slipped and fell. He hit a carpet of leaves made slick by the rain and seasons of rot. He slid several paces down the hill and might have gone all the way to the bottom had a large brake of holly not caught him.
Color was fading from the world, and shadows were closing in round the edges of Lewan's vision. Still the roaring filled his ears, but in those last moments he thought he heard a voice behind the roaring-a raspy, smoky voice chanting a rough sing-song. An incantation, almost.
Lewan's left arm collapsed under him and he rolled to one side. But he kept his eyes open, fixed on his master, who was rising from the holly, covered in mud, leaves, ages-old pine needles, and blood. Sauk was still coming down the hill, right for him.
A huge patch of ground erupted before Berun, scattering leaves, branches, and the rotted remains of an old tree. The ground rose up, almost three times taller than Sauk. Shaped almost like a man it was-or a half-formed shape of a man, like the beginning of a sculptor's statue. It dripped mud and leaves, and branches protruded from its torso and head.
Stunned, mouth agape, Sauk slid to a stop only a couple of paces from the shambling mound of man-shaped earth. But the thing fell upon Berun. In the final instant before it struck, Lewan could have sworn he saw a mouth open at the crown of the man-shaped earth. It grew and grew until the mouth took up most of its torso. It closed over Berun, and the mound lost all shape, becoming nothing more than a wave of undulating earth and detritus.
The earth settled again, but Berun was gone. Blackness closed over Lewan, and he didn't feel his face strike the wet ground.