Free Sentinelspire by Mark Sehestedt Page A

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 andevery 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,