"And Sauk?" said Berun. "Why spare him and the others?"
The half-elf smiled. "Truthfully? I like Sauk. Make no mistake, he's a bloodthirsty killer, but if there is malice in his soul I have never found it. He does not prey upon the weak. To do so would be the gravest sin, in his mind. To him, glory is hunting and killing those stronger than him. In our new world, we will need hearts like his."
"New world?" Lewan looked to his master, hoping for an answer, for guidance of any sort, but he saw nothing.
"Yes, my son," said the half-elf, and he laid a hand on Lewan's shoulder.
Something in the half-elf's touch made Lewan want to pull away. It reminded him of the time out on the steppe when he and his master had made their camp too close to an old hill that housed a colony of snakes. Lewan had woken with one in his blankets.
"And here we come to the reason I have summoned you," said the half-elf. "I intend for the two of you to rule by my side. We are about to see the birth of a glorious new world, a world free of the corruption of civilization, where the peoples of Faerun live in harmony with their world. Tell me, Lewan. The night after your vigil, you dreamed, did you not? Tell us of your dream."
"What?" said Lewan, and his breath caught in his throat. How could Chereth know? If he knew of the dream, then he also knew of Lewan's mother… and how she had died. Had he told Berun?
"Long ago my own master taught me the art of communicating through dreams," said Chereth. "It is not something I have forgotten. I was able to contact you, Berun, that night in the Khopet Dag, yes? And you, Lewan, on the night after your vigil. I was able to send you a vision of my goal. You saw the mountain, did you not? Sentinelspire?"
"I… I did, master," said Lewan. "I saw Sentinelspire. But not from here, from the Fortress. It was as if I saw it from a great height. Like… like an eagle might see it, far up in the clouds."
"Yes," said Chereth. "Yes, that was it! Now, Lewan. Now is the time we spoke of on the mountain. I told you I would need your witness, your word. It is time to give it, my son. Tell your master what you saw. Tell him everything."
Lewan closed his eyes, trying to recall every detail of the dream. It had been so strange, yet so vivid, and as he searched his mind the memories came back easily.
"I saw the mountain… fall. It just collapsed, like a tent whose pole snaps. Much of it was still falling when it all exploded. For an instant, I saw fire in the center of it, white-hot like the sun, then rocks, dirt, ash, and fire… so much fire… spreading outward. Spreading and spreading. It didn't slow. Miles and miles, almost like the ripples of a pond. And then… then the darkness and fire filled everything.
"But then I could see again. I was still up above the world-but higher than any eagle. Higher even than a dragon could fly, I think. Hundreds of miles stretched out under me. I could see the edge of the world curving away into blue sky and black night. But below me-far, far below-I could see the smoke and ash from the mountain. It spread over hundreds, maybe thousands of miles, the wind carrying it far. It spread like… like a brown haze over the world, and then… then I was back down, closer to the land. I could see forests covered in ash. Rivers turned to mud and sooty muck. Fish died in the streams, animals on the land. Summer did not come. Beasts and men starved. Disease crippled entire cities. Entire realms burned as kings made war on their neighbors for food and unpoisoned fields. Then the armies turned on one another.
"Seasons passed. Winds and rains cleansed the air, more every month. Forests grew where once entire villages tilled fields. Trees and vines grew in the midst of castles fallen to ruin. Animals lived in the shells of dead cities. Rivers ran clean again. Lakes became clear. No more did fires burn in cities, their smoke turning sunsets brown. And… and here, the mountain… gone. Blasted away. Only a great hole in the ground remained, and over the years it filled with rain and snowmelt, forming a lake clear as diamonds held against the sky. It was…" Words failed him.
"Beautiful," said Chereth. "Perfect. The very image and heart of that for which our Order strives. Men, elves, dwarves, and all thinking peoples will survive, will even thrive in time. But the stink of civilization will be pushed back for hundreds of generations. The wild will recover. We shall breathe free air again."
Lewan looked on the half-elf, the horror of what he meant beginning to dawn on him. "You mean that you are going to going to cause this? All those people-"
"Dead, yes," said Chereth. He hung his head, but Lewan did not sense any real sadness or regret in the gesture. "So it must be, much to my sorrow. To save the body from infection, sometimes one must cut off a limb."
"But all those innocent people…"
"People die every day, my son," said Chereth. "Innocent and guilty alike. This, too, is part of the Balance. You yourself have been used by people who profit from murder. That is the world that people have made. But it was not always so. Before the rise of cities, of rivers of sewage and sludge… people lived as one with the wild, giving and taking in equal measure. Today, we have a world of rot, and you know that the only way to save a tree from rot is to prune the sick limbs."
"One who tends the trees must prune, yes," said Berun. "But you aren't talking about trimming a few rotten branches. You are talking about burning the whole wood! And what good to us if we prune ourselves? If what Lewan saw is true, we will not be around to see your vision fulfilled."
"Oh, but we will!" said Chereth. "You know full well that we stand in the midst of a fortress riddled with portals to points across all of Faerun-and beyond. Once I wake the mountain at last, we will go elsewhere. I have prepared a place for us. I have not sat idle these years, but I have even taken many of the animals from this world and sent them there so that we may bring them with us when we return. Return as-"
"Conquerors?" said Berun.
"No," said Chereth. "As teachers. Guides. We will lead by example, not force."
"Destroying civilization," said Berun. "That isn't force?"
Chereth scowled. "Of course it is. A necessary force. Necessary to cleanse the world, to establish paradise."
Lewan had no idea what to say. He sensed the wrongness-more, the vileness-of what Chereth planned. But he could find no reason or argument to refute it.
"Murder," Chereth continued, "greed, blind ambition… destroying innocent lives. Were the both of you not orphaned by the greed of those more powerful than you? Filth, corruption, the sacrilege of undeath holding sway over entire regions-it must end, my sons. We must end it."
"Vengeance," said Berun, and an odd expression lit his face, almost like epiphany. "AH this talk of justice, of cleansing, it all comes down to simple vengeance. Vengeance in the Tower of the Sun."
Chereth scowled at his odd choice of words. "No, my son," he said. "Vengeance is hurting one who has wronged you."
"And civilization-the stink of cities and their sewage, as you put it-has not wronged us? Has not wronged the wild we love and swore to defend?"
"No, my son!" Genuine distress clouded the old half-elf’s features. "The desire for vengeance, for retribution… those are the desires of lesser men. I speak of the Balance, of righting the scales so long wronged by"-his lip curled round the word — "civilization. We must be above such petty concerns." "But Sauk said… I was told-"
"Lies!" said Chereth, and his face flushed with anger. "That murdering bitch and her half-orc lackey told you nothing but lies. Ask your beloved disciple. Lewan"-the half-elf turned his gaze on Lewan, who flinched away-"tell your master. Have you not been well treated, even pampered, during your entire stay? Your every desire"-he glanced in Ulaan's direction-"quenched?"