Darkblade Assassin: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Hero of Darkness Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  The voice accompanying the scent was harsh and cold.

  "Sodding Hunter," snarled Celicia, Fourth of the Bloody Hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Celicia's steel-toed boot slammed into his face. Blood trickled from his lips, mingling with the gore staining his face. A vicious kick to his ribs knocked the wind from him. He willed his limbs to respond, but nothing happened. Celicia's blade had sliced through his spine.

  "You bastard!" Celicia shouted. "You've killed him!"

  Strong hands gripped his right arm and turned him over. He stared up into the rage-filled face of the Fourth.

  "You've destroyed everything!" she shouted.

  He tried to speak, but his swollen lips and bloody mouth made it difficult.

  "You'll pay for what you've done!" Spittle flew from Celicia's mouth. She gripped a dagger in her right hand, the blade covered with the Hunter's blood.

  She kicked him hard, this time between the legs. He felt the urge to vomit and tried to curl up in a protective ball, but the pain signaled that his spine was healing—albeit slowly.

  "Wait!" The Hunter's swollen lips mumbled his words.

  "No," she growled. "You die now!"

  "Hold," came another voice, this one belonging to the First.

  The voice froze Celicia, and surprise showed plainly on her face as she stared at her master. She made no move as the First slowly climbed to his feet—the Hunter's sword still embedded in his eye.

  "Damn," the First said, his voice thick and clumsy. He pulled the blade free and threw it to the ground with a scowl of contempt. "That actually hurt."

  Crimson leaked from the demon's eyeball, trickling down his cheek, but the man seemed not to care. He casually dabbed at the seeping blood with a handkerchief. In open-mouthed horror, the Hunter and Celicia watched as the demon's eye slowly re-knitted. The eyeball rolled around loose in its socket for a moment before coming to rest on Celicia, who still knelt atop the Hunter's chest.

  "Thank you for the assistance, my dear," he said, nodding to her and extending his hand. Celicia cringed away from him, still staring open-mouthed. She tried to speak, but seemed too shocked for words. Only a strangled choking sound came out.

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I suppose you had to find out the truth at some point," he said, his voice resigned.

  This surprised the Hunter.

  She didn't know?

  He found it hard to believe, but couldn't let the opportunity slip to drive a wedge between the Fourth and her master.

  "He is a demon, Celicia," shouted the Hunter, spitting blood. "Your master is a demon. Think about that!"

  Celicia's expression remained one of stunned disbelief, though she managed to close her mouth. "Yes," said the First, rolling his eyes, "I am a demon, as are you, Hunter."

  Celicia's amazement doubled as she stared down at the Hunter. He could see her mind working, struggling to accept the truth of what she had seen. It was a lot to grasp, but he had to hope that she would come to the right conclusion.

  "D-Demons? But…"

  "Demons are no more than legends?" the First asked. He spoke in the patient voice of an adult addressing a child. "Not quite true, I'm afraid."

  The First stepped forward, and though Celicia flinched away from him, he took her hands in his.

  "Look at me, Celicia," he said, towering over her. "Look at my face. Feel my hands. You know me."

  "B-but," she stammered.

  "Listen to me," the First said, his voice forceful. "I am the First of the Bloody Hand, and you are my Fourth. You once swore to serve me to the death. Do you remember your oath?"

  She stared up at him, her eyes fixed on his face. "Y-yes," she finally managed to say. She swallowed, and when she spoke again, her voice was strong and clear. "Yes. I am the Fourth, and you are the First. I serve you, to the death."

  "Good." The First squeezed her hand in a reassuring gesture. "That's good. Now, bring me that dagger." He pointed to Soulhunger, still tucked into the Hunter's belt.

  Celicia looked as if she wanted to say more, but something in the First's eyes stopped her. She swallowed her question and walked over to the Hunter. Stooping, she reached for the knife in his belt. The Hunter seized the moment to strike. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her atop him, slipping his left arm around her throat. The First seemed poised to step forward, but the Hunter glared at him and only squeezed tighter.

  "Don't do it, Demon," the Hunter snarled. "One step and I'll snap her neck."

  The Hunter tightened his stranglehold on Celicia's neck until she cried out in pain. She struggled to break free, but he wrapped his legs around her waist, locking her in place.

  Hesitation warred on the First's face, as if he was unsure if the Hunter would keep his word. Then, hesitation gave way to contempt.

  "Please, Hunter," the First said with a cold, calculating sneer, "you think I care what happens to her? She is just one more pawn in my game. Her death means nothing to me, and it will not stop me from breaking you."

  Heedless of Celicia's choked cries, the demon stepped forward and reached down to retrieve his demonic blade. The Hunter felt her struggle in his arms, but her strength was no match for his.

  "If she dies here," the First said, "it matters little. She is only human, after all." He stared down at her, his eyes devoid of pity. "I'm truly sorry, my dear. This is not how I wanted it to end, but sacrifices must be made." He strode toward the Hunter and raised his demonic blade high to strike.

  Celicia jerked in the Hunter's arms, her body stiffening in fear. For some reason, the Hunter felt a flash of pity for the woman in his arms. She was being betrayed by someone she had trusted—a sentiment all too familiar.

  With all the strength he could muster, the Hunter threw her out of the path of the descending blade. She slammed against the nearby wall of the cavern and lay still.

  At the same time, he rolled in the other direction. The First's blade missed him by less than a finger's breadth, and the horrible voice whispered in his mind as it sparked off the stone floor. He kept rolling in an attempt to put distance between himself and the First's long sword. Ignoring the weakness in his legs, he struggled to his feet. Pain raced along his spine, and though his knees wobbled, they held him upright. He forced his stiff, numb fingers to grip Soulhunger's hilt firmly.

  "Shame that," the First said in a voice filled with disdain. "She was useful, though she refused to work as a back-bedder." His admiring gaze ran over her body, sending a shudder of revulsion down the Hunter's spine. "She would have been good at it, no doubt."

  His eyes returned to the Hunter, who had drawn the Swordsman's second blade and now gripped it in a shaky left hand.

  "Look at you, Hunter," said the First, shaking his head in exasperation. "You can hardly stand, and yet you want to fight? Just surrender now, and when I have finished with you, your death will be quick and painless. It is the best you could hope for under the circumstances."

  The Hunter, trying to hide the weakness in his legs, said nothing. He stared into the empty eyes of the First, wary of any sudden moves.

  "Very well," the First said with a sigh. Then his face creased into a feral grin, and with a snarl of rage, the demon attacked.

  The First pressed the Hunter hard, and the Hunter found himself forced to retreat before the First's slim sword. He moved sluggishly, and it took every shred of skill to stop the demon's blade from touching him. Even a small wound would sap his strength; he could hardly stand as it was. The sword's voice echoed in his thoughts. It cried out for his blood.

  Driven back by the flurry of blows, the Hunter sensed the tunnel wall immediately behind him. With nowhere to retreat, he launched himself forward, striking out with a powerful blow that caught the demon by surprise. The iron blade in his left hand lashed out at an opening in the First's guard, and he slashed Soulhunger at the demon's face. Somehow, the First managed to twist out of the way. His slim sword whistled through the air, forcing the Hunter to duck and step bac
k.

  His momentum checked, the Hunter again fought a desperate defensive battle. The First's long sword seemed to be everywhere at once. He knew he would not quickly recover from the wounds left by the demon's sword. While his body could heal, the blade fed on the very essence of his being. Too many wounds, and the Hunter would have no strength or will to fight.

  The back of his heel struck something solid—the prone, unmoving form of Celicia—but before he could recover, the First slammed into him. He fell hard, the wind whooshing from his lungs, the back of his head striking the ground with enough force to make him see stars. Blackness filled his vision, and he heard the distant clatter of steel on the stony floor. His fingers scrabbled in the dirt for his weapons, only to find them out of reach.

  "It is over, Hunter." The First's voice sounded distant through the aching in the Hunter's head. "Yield or die."

  Blinking to clear his vision, the Hunter saw the First standing over him. The tip of the demonic blade rested against his throat. He saw no pity in the endless void within the demon's eyes. There was no question about what would happen to him if he yielded.

  "It's not over yet, Demon!"

  He kicked out, striking the back of the First's knees with enough force to throw the demon off balance. In that heartbeat when the First wobbled, the Hunter rolled out of reach of the accursed sword. He leapt for the Swordsman's blade, seized it, and launched himself to his feet. Moving with all the speed he could coax from his tired body, he thrust the iron dagger toward the demon's throat.

  Before he even came close, the First whipped his sword across his body in an elegant movement that blocked and cut in synchronous motion. The Hunter, his upper body extended in the thrust, had no time to avoid the blow. Pain flared in his neck. Blood gushed down his chest, soaking into the front of his tunic.

  "Please, Hunter," the First said, contempt filling his voice. "You think something so elementary would work? I walked this world long before you were spawned. My true form is more powerful than you could ever hope to be, and even in this frail human form I am more than a match for your skill."

  The Hunter fought to speak, but his lungs refused to fill with air. He coughed, a wet cough that spattered the First's boots with blood.

  It cannot…end…like this! I…will not…let him win.

  He struggled to retain his grip on the iron blade, but it slipped from nerveless fingers. He couldn't feel his legs. Soulhunger seemed to sense the Hunter's heart slowing, and the blade screamed in his mind, thirsting for his blood.

  Feed me, it whispered.

  The First seized the Hunter's hair and violently jerked his head back, exposing the gaping wound in his neck. The Hunter clasped his hands to the tear in his throat in an attempt to quench the torrent of blood. He struggled to breathe, fighting to retain consciousness even as his life ebbed away.

  Farida's face flashed before him, her eyes filled with pity. Even as darkness filled his vision, his eyes remained locked on the child's face.

  I'm sorry, he told her. I'm sorry I failed you.

  Suddenly, the hand holding his head released him, and he slumped to the floor. A scream echoed from somewhere in the distance, but dimly the Hunter realized it was not his own. Raising his head, he saw the demon's face contort into a mask of pain, bone and flesh rippling in a horrible wave. An iron blade protruded from the thing's neck. The creature's face matched the horror of his depthless eyes, his breath as foul as the stench that had wafted from the portal to hell.

  "You bitch!" the demon gurgled through bloodstained teeth. "What are you doing?"

  The thing that had once been the First stared at Celicia, who leaned dizzily against the wall of the cavern. The veins of the First's neck had begun to blacken, and smoke bubbled from the wound. A horrible odor filled the tunnel. When the creature reached up to grip the iron blade, the skin of its fingers withered. With a horrifying shriek of pain, the demon pulled the blade from his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, but the flesh began to slowly knit itself back together.

  "Bastard!" snarled Celicia. She pressed one hand to her head, and gripped a dagger in the other. "You tried to kill me!"

  "And now I'll finish the job," the First shouted, lunging toward her.

  Celicia's dagger carved the demon's flesh with ruthless efficiency. But even as she sank her blade to the hilt in the First's chest, her eyes went wide in horror. Her mouth hung open, and she coughed weakly.

  "Traitorous back-bedder," the First snarled, blood-tinged spittle flying into Celicia's face as she slumped to the ground. When the demon stepped back, the Hunter saw the Swordsman's iron blade buried in her side. Though the First clutched his scorched and withered hand to his chest, he stared down at the gasping Celicia without a trace of pity. He watched with remorseless eyes as her movement slowed, then stopped altogether.

  The Hunter felt that same surge of unfamiliar emotion that had washed over him as he cradled Farida's dying body in his arms.

  Celicia may not have meant to help him—doubtless she only intended to enact revenge on the First for trying to kill her—but inadvertently she had. And now she would die because of it.

  Whatever you touch dies a horrible death, whispered the voice in his head. You are death to all around you, Hunter.

  She is no innocent, but she didn't deserve to die.

  Celicia coughed. It was weak, but she still lived. He could save her. He had failed Fari and the others, but perhaps there was time to do something for her.

  The Hunter's arms and legs felt too heavy to move, but he climbed to his feet despite the pain. Slowly he stooped to retrieve Soulhunger and the Swordsman's blade from the ground.

  The First turned at the sound and stared at the Hunter with a look of disbelief. "Give it up, you fool! I can do this all night, and you're barely able to stand."

  Yet the Hunter sensed his words were a pretense. Black blood oozed from the wound in the First's neck. The demon had somehow managed to retrieve his accursed sword, but its point rested on the floor as the thing visibly struggled to stand.

  He's just as weak as I am, he thought. It's now or never.

  Forcing his feet to move, he lurched at the First with a lunge that felt far too slow. The demon knocked Soulhunger aside, but the Hunter struck out with the iron blade. Its razor edge bit deep into the First's knee, severing tendons and muscles, and striking bone. The demon's face registered disbelief, dumbfounded confusion, and pain.

  The Hunter's legs gave out, but as he fell to his knees, he ripped the sword from the First's knee. Unable to support his weight on the leg, the First slumped to the floor. The Hunter twisted the dagger in his hand, placing its pommel against the cavern's stone floor and pointing the tip of the iron blade upward. The First's full weight collapsed onto the Swordsman's blade, and it sank deep into his groin.

  A cry ripped from the demon's mouth, a hellish sound of nightmares that echoed around the massive cavern, increasing in volume as it reverberated from the hard stone walls. Blood gushed from his groin, spilling over the Hunter and sizzling as it flowed down the iron dagger. A horrid stench of charred flesh filled the Hunter's nostrils. The demon fell forward onto the Hunter, knocking him to his back.

  The Hunter shoved the First from atop him, rolling away from the pool spreading beneath the fallen demon. Pushing himself to his elbows, he stared at the screaming, writhing creature beside him.

  "Stings, doesn't it?" he asked with a mocking smile. More blood spurted from his throat, and he clamped his hand over the wound. With effort, he struggled to his knees. A chill stole over his limbs, robbing them of strength and sensation. His left hand, weakening, fell away from the wound in his neck, slumping lifeless by his side. His legs refused to hold him up, so he crawled, supporting his weight on his right arm.

  The First's screams rang out, and real fear filled the demon's eyes.

  "I…don't need…iron…to kill you." The Hunter choked out, his voice wet with blood.

  Soulhunger screamed in his mind, throbbin
g with such force that it ripped through the numbness filling his limbs. It begged for blood; his blood, the First's blood, any blood.

  Feed me, it pleaded.

  The Hunter forced his back to straighten and his head to remain upright though he wanted nothing more than to collapse. Hot warmth trickled down the front of his tunic. He couldn't feel his left arm, but he gripped Soulhunger tightly in his right hand. The familiar weight of the dagger strengthened his resolve.

  This is for you, Fari, he thought.

  "Wait," begged the First, his expression fearful, his eyes locked onto the dagger's razor edge gleaming in the flickering torchlight. "I'll—"

  "Choke on this, you bastard," the Hunter growled.

  Rage lent strength to his arm as he rammed the dagger deep into the First's eye. The blade passed through soft tissue, its tip striking the bone at the back of the First's skull, but the Hunter pushed until the weapon's hilt slammed against the demon's cheekbone.

  The First's remaining eye went wide in shock and horror. The Hunter twisted the blade, and the demon shrieked. Blood poured down the First's face, and the Hunter shouted in triumph as Soulhunger drank deep of the demon's essence. A scar etched itself deep into the flesh of his back, eliciting a cry of pain.

  Power flooded the Hunter, rushing through his veins with such force that it set every fiber of his being afire. Flesh and bone re-knit, but the pain of his healing body immobilized him. His lungs burned, and his heart beat far too fast. Agony overwhelmed his mind and ripped his consciousness into tiny fragments. Molten metal raced through his veins, burning through him with wave after wave of torment. He squeezed his eyelids shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

  Through eyes blurred with tears, he watched the flesh of the First's face blacken and scorch. Skin burned away to reveal the demon's horned, scaled face. The thing screamed up at him, grasping for him with twisting fingers. It clawed at his face, his chest, its anguished cries threatening to shatter his ears.

  He slumped atop the corpse. His body writhed and twitched with the torment racking every muscle and bone. He fought to remain conscious, refusing to give in to the weakness. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he feared his heart would explode, until its beating gradually slowed and the pain coursing through him retreated.