Darkblade Savior

by Andy Peloquin

  He went to her, but she seemed to pull back from him, almost shy. He reached to take her hands in his, lifted them to his lips, and kissed them. She turned her wrists and ran fingers along his jaw, up the sides of his face, and into his hair.

  “Let me look at you,” she whispered, and tilted his face up to her.

  For a long moment, they remained like that. The Hunter stared into her midnight eyes, drinking in every detail of the face he barely remembered yet seemed to know so well. She ran her hands down the sides of his neck, across his chest, over his shoulders. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, just as he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Impossible as it might seem, she was real and standing in front of him.

  His hands curled around the back of her head and slowly, gently, their lips met.

  The kiss was shy, tentative at first. Thousands of years had passed since last they’d seen each other, yet the Hunter’s heart held the memory of the woman before him. He drowned in the sweet taste of her lips and the scent that had followed him for a lifetime. He wanted to luxuriate in the aroma of honey, cinnamon, jasmine, and berries for the rest of his life.

  The kisses grew more passionate, and the fire once again burned through the Hunter’s veins. Taiana’s body melted into his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and back to pull him closer. A tingle ran down his spine as he felt her warmth against him, the strength of her presence. This was the woman he remembered from his dreams, from a time long past. This was his wife, and his heart swelled with the memory of his love for her.

  They remained locked in that embrace for a minute, an hour, an eternity—the Hunter would never know. He held her close, afraid that if he released her, she would disappear into the mists of his past. Yet there she was, and nothing could change the perfection of that moment.

  She broke off the kiss, her breath coming hard. He felt her heart hammering against his chest, the excited rhythm matching his own. He lifted her into his arms and lay her down on the bed. He brushed her lips with his own, trailed down her neck, and covered every bit of her soft, smooth skin with gentle kisses. He had spent a lifetime apart from her; he wanted to take his time to explore her body.

  Her moans grew louder and her breath came faster, her fingers entwined in his hair. Finally, she lifted his face up to hers and pulled him on top of her, and he complied. His body ached to feel her as he had all those years ago. This was the memory that had kept him alive for hundreds of years, even if he could not remember it. This longing for her touch, the warmth of her soft flesh, was all he had ever wanted.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him toward her. The world around him seemed to fade, forgotten. In those heart-pounding, time-shattering minutes, nothing else mattered but the woman beneath him. The woman he had crossed a world to see. His wife, the mother of his child.

  The world could end tomorrow, but for now, nothing would tear him from her side. She was his world, and he wanted nothing more than to feel their bodies joined together in a fiery passion that not even a thousand years apart could dim.

  Chapter Seven

  They lay in bed together, the sheets tangled around them, the sound of their gasping filling the room. Blood pounded in the Hunter’s ears, and the fire in his veins had yet to dim as he stared into the black eyes and perfect face a hand’s breadth from his own. He knew this bliss couldn’t last forever, but perhaps it would endure for just a while longer.

  Taiana seemed disinclined to speak as well, as if she too understood that even a single word could shatter the fragile moment. She entwined the fingers of her right hand in his as her left index finger traced the scars etched into his chest. Her touch sent little waves of pleasure through the Hunter, and he could feel his body stirring in response. She raised an eyebrow and smiled coyly, and a matching grin wreathed the Hunter’s face.

  It felt…perfect. There was no throbbing presence in his mind, no insistent voice driving him to kill. In that moment, he had peace, silence.

  That realization puzzled him. The voice of his inner demon had fallen silent since his arrival in Enarium, and even Soulhunger hadn’t spoken to him. The shrieking, pleading, demanding, begging had simply faded.

  What had changed? Not even the Serenii temples in Kara-ket had silenced the voices completely. Something about Enarium itself, perhaps?

  A hint of hope surged within him. Perhaps here, he could be rid of the voice. Enarium offered so much more than just a chance of defeating the Sage. She was here, right beside him. If he could find a cure for Hailen’s Irrsinnon, he could be free of the burden of concern for the boy. Once the Sage was defeated and Kharna imprisoned for good, perhaps they could make a life here together. A life much like the one they once had, before she betrayed him for the sake of their child.

  Our child. Our daughter. The thought still brought a lump to his throat. He hadn’t been present to see the child born or grow. What fate had befallen the life he had helped bring into this world? The sadness in Taiana’s eyes made him dread asking the question he desperately wanted to. Though he hated to shatter their peaceful moment, he had to know.

  “Where…is she?”

  Taiana stiffened, and her grip on his fingers tightened until his bones creaked. “He took her,” she growled. “The bastard ripped her from my arms before he locked me away!”

  “Who?” Rage turned the Hunter’s blood to ice. “Tell me who did it so I can hunt them down and tear them to pieces.”

  “The Warmaster.” Fresh tears slid from Taiana’s eyes, but beneath the sorrow simmered anger as hot and bright as the sun. “He took her from my arms and made me watch as he locked her away in a Chamber of Sustenance, then did the same to me.”

  Acid rose to the Hunter’s throat. Our child, locked in a Chamber of Sustenance. The same Chambers that harnessed the power of the sun, and which would turn their occupants to ash the moment the Keeps were activated. No wonder she was so driven in her desire to open the Chambers.

  The Hunter sat up. “Which one?” He searched her gaze. “Tell me where she is, and we’ll go there right now. I have Soulhunger, and we can use the gemstone to get into the Keep and free—”

  “I don’t know.” The words were spoken in a voice almost too quiet for him to hear.

  “What?” The Hunter’s voice rose to a shout.

  Remorse burned in Taiana’s eyes. “I…cannot remember. My memories are…”

  Fury sparkled bright and hot in the Hunter, but not directed at her. “The Illusionist Clerics!” he growled. “By the Keeper, I’ll find every last one of those mad bastards and shove their heads so far up—”

  “No.” Taiana placed a hand on his chest. “I have not undergone the Ritual as you did.” Again, a hint of remorse flashed across her face. “My time in the Chambers of Sustenance…changed me.”

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Changed you?” He scanned every inch of her perfect body. “You are exactly as I remember you.”

  “Taller,” she said with a little smile. “Taller than even you, Drayvin.”

  “So you grew a hand or two.” He shrugged. “I can live with that.”

  “It’s more than that.” Taiana met his gaze, and he saw something new burning in her eyes. There was something she hadn’t yet told him, something important. “My mind, my memories, they are…different. Changed.”

  The Hunter found himself involuntarily recoiling back from her at the thought of her being reduced to Arudan’s unfocused, forgetful mental state.

  She sighed and sat up beside him. “How can I explain this?” Her brow furrowed in concentration. “The Chambers of Sustenance are linked to the conduits through which the magical energy of Enarium flows.” She held up a hand. “Don’t bother asking me to explain much more than that. Arudan was the one who spent time studying under the Serenii, so he will be the one to give you more details on that.”

  The Hunter’s eyebrows shot up at those words. It seemed impossible that even a Bucelarii had been alive at the same time as the long-dead Serenii,
yet she had spoken of them with the same familiarity as she spoke of Cerran or Kalil.

  “Suffice it to say, the Chamber in which I was imprisoned connected me to the magical energies of Enarium, but also…” She hesitated. “…to something else.”

  “Something else?” the Hunter asked. “That’s not at all vague.”

  Taiana sighed. “It is best you experience it for yourself.”

  The Hunter tensed. “You want to lock me away in the Chambers of Sustenance?”

  “No! Never!” Her eyes flashed. “But there is someone you must speak to. Someone who will make everything clear to you.”

  “Who?”

  Taiana drew in a deep breath. “It is better you speak with him for yourself.”

  The Hunter’s eyes narrowed.

  “I know it’s asking a lot,” Taiana said as she took his hands, “but for the sake of what we once shared, can you trust me?”

  Her hands felt warm in his, her fingers as strong as the will that kept her going.

  “For the sake of our daughter,” she whispered. She reached under her wool-stuffed pillow and drew out a soft blue cloth. Despite the stains, Taiana pressed it to her face and drew in a deep breath through her nose. “For Jaia.”

  The word hit him like a blow to the gut. He’d heard the name spoken once before, in the memory he’d had while trapped in the darkness beneath Shana Laal.

  She held out the cloth, and the Hunter took it. He caught her scent there: raspberries, fresh rain, violets, and wild grass. The scent of his daughter.

  “Jaia,” he breathed.

  “It was the name you wanted for her.” Taiana smiled, but it was a sad smile that brought fresh tears to her eyes.

  The words tore from his mouth with a force beyond his control. “I trust you.” He had to. He needed someone to hold on to in the madness they faced. “For her sake.”

  She kissed him, hard, and he tasted the salt on her lips. When she pulled free, she scrubbed the moisture from her eyes.

  “So, you were telling me that you cannot remember where to find our daughter,” the Hunter prompted.

  Taiana nodded. “The Warmaster’s men found me hiding here and attacked me. I took down as many as I could, but I had to protect Jaia. That was my undoing. They overwhelmed me and knocked me out. When I awoke, I was in one of the Keeps, and the Warmaster had Jaia.”

  Acid churned in the Hunter’s gut at the thought of his daughter cradled in the hands of the cruel, bloodthirsty Abiarazi.

  “He laughed as he locked her in a Chamber of Sustenance, then had me blindfolded and rendered unconscious so I could not find where they had her.” Anger flared bright in her expression, and her fingers tightened painfully around his. “I do not know what happened next, but I believe they locked me in one of the Chambers while I was unconscious.”

  “How long?” the Hunter asked quietly. “How long were you locked away?”

  A shadow flashed across her eyes. “At my last count, four thousand, eight hundred, thirty-four years.”

  The number staggered the Hunter. His memories had shown him the life they shared together long ago. Those same memories proved that they were alive during the War of Gods, but hearing it put into words drove the reality of his existence home like a dagger to the gut.

  “What…how…” He could not find the words.

  “What do you remember?” Taiana searched his eyes. “How much of your past was…erased?”

  The Hunter hesitated a long moment before speaking. “All of it.”

  Taiana’s face went pale, and she slumped back against the pillows. “All?”

  “All but a few fragments,” the Hunter said, his voice heavy. “My memories stretch back fifty years or so. I remember walking through the city gates of Voramis. I knew nothing of myself, of my past. I had no name, nothing but Soulhunger. Thanal Eth’ Athaur.” He reached for the dagger.

  She studied him, but remained silent.

  The words poured from his mouth in a rush. “I had nothing to tell me who I was, where I had come from, even what I wanted. I had only the instinct to survive, to fight when I was threatened. I killed a man to save another, and in doing so discovered I was skilled at dealing death.”

  “You always were the best soldier in our company,” Taiana said with a little smile and squeezed his hand. “I remember that much, and I also clearly remember you pissing off your commander more times than I could count. You have no idea how many times I had to talk them out of executing you for insubordination.”

  He pushed on; he couldn’t think about the implications of that discovery now. “Over the last fifty years, I have made my living as an assassin-for-hire in Voramis, a city far to the south of here.”

  “An assassin?” Taiana raised an eyebrow. “The Drayvin I knew was a gentle soul, his warlike Bucelarii nature tempered by what he’d witnessed, what he’d done, during the War of Gods.”

  The Hunter swallowed the lump in his throat. “I did what I had to in order to survive. I became known as the Hunter of Voramis, feared by all in the south of Einan.”

  “The Hunter of Voramis,” Taiana repeated. “Definitely a catchy ring to it.”

  “I certainly thought so.” The Hunter grinned, though it felt forced. “I always knew there were gaps in my memory, and that something was missing. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered what that was.”

  Taiana nodded, encouraging him to continue.

  “I never lost the memory of you,” he whispered. “Your face, your hair, your scent.” He took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “They were all I had to cling to when everything else was darkness and despair.”

  Tears of remorse glimmered in her eyes. His story only added to the burden she carried, the burden of knowing what she’d done to him.

  “But in the last few months, more and more of my memories have returned,” he continued. “I remember bits and pieces of our life, of your being pregnant with our child.” He swallowed. “And what you did for the sake of protecting that child.”

  Her lip trembled, and shame burned bright and hot on her cheeks. “I…I know I cannot expect forgiveness—”

  “But I understand why you did it.” The Hunter gripped her hands tight. “I know the feeling of doing everything in my power to protect the ones you love. And the torment of seeing it all ripped away from you. You see, there was a little girl in Voramis…”

  His throat grew thick, his voice tight as he spoke of Farida. The words came harder when he spoke of what the First had done to her, but he forced himself to continue. He spoke of the deaths of Old Nan, Jak the Thumb, Twelve-Fingers Karrl, and all the other beggars. Those deaths weighed on him, and simply telling the story reminded him of the burden of guilt he carried.

  His anger returned full force when he told her of what he’d done to the Bloody Hand and the Dark Heresy. She winced as he detailed the plot by the First and the Third to bring the Abiarazi to Einan.

  “But after I killed them, something changed within me.” He drew a deep breath. “I could feel your presence calling to me from far away, and my memories began to return.”

  Hope shone in her eyes. “What memories?”

  “Memories of the love we shared.” He kissed her lips gently. “Of being excited for the birth of our child. And it was those memories that sustained me in my journey here.” His eyes burned into hers. “I have crossed half a world to be reunited with you, and nothing, not even an army of Elivasti will tear me away from you.”

  She returned his kiss, and fresh tears streamed down her face. Yet these were tears of joy, not sorrow.

  After long moments, she broke off the embrace with a little smile.

  “Then,” she said, “let me tell you all you do not remember.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Start at the beginning,” the Hunter said. “The very beginning, of our story.” He had nothing beyond his vague memories of her, and found himself aching to know everything.

  “That far back?” She ra
ised an eyebrow.

  “I have nothing of our lives,” the Hunter said earnestly. “Nothing but emptiness. I need to know.”

  “So be it.” Taiana nodded. “I will tell you all.

  She adjusted her position until she reclined against the wall then drew in a deep breath.

  “We met in the war camps of the Abiarazi.” She spoke in a slow voice, as if struggling to tap into faint threads of memories. “Much of that time is lost to the shadows of the past, but I remember thinking you were the most bull-headed, self-confident, irritating soldier in an army of Bucelarii. Trust me, that’s saying a lot.”

  The Hunter grinned. He’d gotten a glimpse at that part of his life mere hours ago, but he could remember the way he felt about her as vividly as he felt it now.

  “You were also the bravest and most loyal man I had ever met.” She fixed him with a piercing gaze. “And from the moment we met, I knew I’d either murder you or marry you.”

  “I’m pretty sure I prefer this outcome.”

  She gave a little laugh. “I have faint memories of the War of Gods, of the earth shattering and the heavens threatening to split at the seams. But there is one night that stands out above all.”

  The Hunter knew of which night she spoke. He had knelt on the hard stone beside her as the gods prepared to cast the Bucelarii into Khar’nath, the pit into the fiery hell. Yet how much of that had actually been true? If, as Father Reverentus had told him in Vothmot, the gods truly were a fabrication meant to give the people of Einan something to believe in, could he trust his memories? Had the gods really cast the demons into the fiery hell? Had the Beggar God truly saved their lives?

  “You were beside me that night, the night we faced the end of our kind.” She smiled at him, and her smile spoke of a lifetime of love. “The night we were saved from destruction.”