Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The Sage nodded, his face a mask of serenity. "Yes, but you are not the one in the pit." His expression turned smug. "Do you trust your assessment of your pit fighter against my Bucelarii?"

  A dagger twisted in the Hunter's gut. Keeper's icy breath! The Warmaster's gaze darted to him, and rage burned in those midnight eyes. The Sage had just claimed the Hunter as his. That one word had the potential to destroy the modicum of trust the Warmaster had in him.

  "I stand for myself." The Hunter crossed his arms. "You wish for sport? Then I will give you a battle such has not been witnessed on Einan for centuries. I will show you what happens when a Bucelarii steps into the ring. I will prove myself worthy."

  Worthy of what, he left unspoken. He hoped both the Warmaster and the Sage would hear what he wanted them to: that he was proving himself worthy of their plans for him.

  "Unless, of course, you wish to send one of your Masters of Agony into the pit."

  "My Masters fear nothing!" the Warmaster roared. Half-hearted cheers and shouts echoed around him. Clearly none of the scarlet-clad torturers wanted to be selected to face Gallidus.

  He turned to the Sage. "Or one of your Elivasti?"

  "Yes!" Delight shone in the Warmaster's eyes. "Your minions cannot defeat me, but perhaps they stand a chance against a brute like Gallidus."

  The Sage's expression remained unreadable. "Thank you, but I am content to watch the Bucelarii best your man." He patted the enormous Abiarazi's arm. "Besides, it's nothing more than a friendly wager, Warmaster. No need to take it so personally." He returned to his seat, the barest hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

  The Warmaster stood staring after the Sage, mouth agape, fists balled in barely-restrained rage. The Hunter said nothing. One wrong word, and the demon would snap.

  After a moment, the Warmaster seemed to regain control. He turned to the crowd and raised his arms. "Heed me! We have a challenger." He placed an enormous hand on the Hunter's shoulder. "One of us believes himself worthy to face the champion of Hrandari. What say you? Should we permit him to throw his life away?"

  The crowd roared in delight, and the room swelled with their cheers and cries for blood.

  The Warmaster's smile failed to reach his eyes. "One last chance, Bucelarii. I can still call it off."

  The Hunter met the Warmaster's icy gaze without hesitation. "Only a coward runs from battle." His eyes indicated the Sage, who sat on his stool sipping delicately from his goblet. "And would you call a coward 'ally'?"

  Surprise filled the Warmaster's eyes. He studied the Hunter a long moment, as if trying to figure out his play.

  The Hunter clenched a fist. "We are warriors. Only the strong survive."

  The Warmaster nodded. "Might is power." He straightened and raised his voice so all in the chamber could hear. "Gallidus, what have you to say to the man who challenges your dominance?"

  Gallidus rose from his seat atop the dead cave bear. His eyes went to the Hunter, then back to the leg of roast lamb a servant had brought him. He sank his teeth into the meat, ripped a chunk loose, and spat it into the sand.

  The crowd's approval set the walls trembling. Gallidus stared at the Hunter, a feral light in his eyes. The bloody juice running down his mouth and trickling into his thick chest hair made him appear more bestial than human.

  The Warmaster added his booming laughter to the din. "You have your answer." He thrust a finger at the beast pit. "Your adversary awaits."

  With deliberate slowness, the Hunter removed his jacket, leather belt, and the baldric holding Soulhunger's sheath. The Warmaster's fingers twitched as he stared at the dagger, and even a hint of lust peered through the Sage's calm demeanor. Ignoring the demons, he added his tunic to the top of the pile and strode shirtless, unarmed toward the beast pit.

  Gallidus hurled away the hunk of meat he had been devouring and howled at the Hunter's approach. The man's scent—an overpowering mixture of unwashed man, bloody meat, and the fungal infection common among the sailors that stumbled out of the more odious houses of ill-repute in Lower Voramis—nearly made the Hunter gag as he dropped into the walled pit.

  That stench will kill me before I get within striking range. He'd have to avoid the man's armpits, and definitely stay well away from Gallidus' scant loincloth.

  The spiked mace looked small in the fighter's hands, though the ball had to be at least the size of the Hunter's head.

  Gallidus stalked toward the Hunter with bared teeth and wary eyes. The fight with the cave bear had showed the Hunter a good deal about the huge fighter. Gallidus lacked the Hunter's speed, but he used his immense strength to devastating effect. The steel weapon wouldn't kill the Hunter, but it would pulverize bone.

  He raised his voice so all in the room could hear. "Look at him! The mighty Gallidus, so terrified of a man half his size he has to carry that great big bloody weapon!"

  The scarlet-robed Masters of Agony booed and jeered. Gallidus hurled the weapon away, and the crowd's derision turned to delighted cheers and shouts of approval.

  The Hunter swept a deep bow to the enormous man. He hid a smile. Perfect. By taking away his weapon, the Hunter had eliminated his greatest strength. And exposed his weaknesses: the slight limp in his right leg, the stiffness when his arms rose above his head, the tightening of his jaw every time he twisted to the left. Gallidus had survived every fight thus far, but not unscathed.

  Still, the Hunter had no illusions that the fight would be easy. Gallidus towered almost a full head over him, with long arms, a massive barrel chest, and shoulders broad enough to build a house on.

  The Hunter clenched his fists. Let's get this over with.

  He held his ground as Gallidus stalked toward him, a low growling in his throat. The huge pit fighter broke into a run and leapt through the air. His arm cocked for a devastating flying punch. The Hunter scornfully slipped aside, and Gallidus flew past to collide with the pit wall.

  The crowd cheered and whistled, but the Hunter paid them no heed. He had eyes only for his enormous opponent. He won't make it that easy again.

  Gallidus came on again, slower and with more caution. His massive hands flexed, as if aching to wrap around the Hunter's throat. At his sudden intake of breath, the Hunter danced backward, out of reach of the massive man's lunge.

  He's fast, I'll give him that. A predatory grin spread his face. Unfortunately for him, not fast enough.

  He ducked beneath a clumsy swipe and slammed his fist into Gallidus' gut. Pain flashed through his hand. Striking the big man's stomach felt like hitting a wall of steel, and had about as much effect.

  Gallidus' face creased into a massive grin, and he spread his arms wide. "Is that all, little man?" His voice came out slurred and barely coherent, as if he snarled more than spoke.

  The Hunter refused to be goaded into foolish action. Taunt away, big man. There's only one way this can end.

  He circled Gallidus, moving on the balls of his feet. When the fighter rushed him, he twisted beneath the grasping arms and drove a knee into the bigger man's thigh. Gallidus stumbled past with a sharp intake of breath—the only sign the Hunter's attack had any effect.

  Damn! The Hunter danced out of reach. He'd attacked Gallidus' injured knee, but it didn't slow the fighter.

  Gallidus charged, arms spread wide. Back against the wall, the Hunter had only one way to escape his grasp: forward.

  Pushing off the pit wall, he leapt high into the air. He brought his knee up into Gallidus' face. An audible thump sounded as bone slammed into flesh. Cartilage bent and cracked, and blood sprayed from the big man's nose.

  The crowd's shouts and jeers swelled to a roar as Gallidus stumbled backward, groaning, hands clasped to his dripping nose. The Masters of Agony seemed shocked that their champion could face defeat at the hands of a smaller, weaker newcomer. Cries of "The mace!" echoed through the room.

  Both the Hunter's and Gallidus' eyes darted to the spiked weapon at the far end of the pit.

  Can't let
him get his hands on it.

  He spat. "What's the matter, Gallidus? Afraid?"

  The taunt worked. Instead of lunging for his mace, the brute charged. The Hunter managed to duck under the grasping hands, but the charge had been a clever ploy. Gallidus pulled up short and drove his foot into the Hunter's side. Ribs bent beneath the impact, and the Hunter's breath whooshed from his lungs. He staggered backward, sucking at air.

  The jeers turned to cries of encouragement as Gallidus wrapped enormous fingers around his throat, and his muscles bunched as he lifted the Hunter from the ground.

  The Hunter struck at the man's elbow, but the arms holding him were hard as iron. His body cried out for air, and the strength of the grip on his neck crushed his windpipe.

  In desperation, he kicked off the wall, swung a leg over the big man's arm, and brought his heel down atop Gallidus' head. The pit fighter's knees wobbled, and the Hunter's weight dragged them both to the sand. Knees across the big man's chest and neck, the Hunter thrust his hips upward to trap Gallidus in an arm bar. With enough force, he could shatter the man's elbow.

  The Hunter heaved on the huge forearm, throwing all his inhuman strength into the effort. Gallidus' enormous biceps coiled like a snake, but slowly the arm straightened. Bellowing, the fighter slowly pushed up to his feet. The Hunter's eyes widened as he felt himself being lifted bodily and slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force. He gasped with shock, and his vision wobbled.

  Gallidus ripped his arm free of the Hunter's grasp and lashed out with a kick. Something snapped beneath the force of the blow, and the Hunter curled around the pain in his left side. He rolled out of the way of another vicious kick and struck out. The blow, intended to strike the fighter's injured knee, rebounded off the muscle of Gallidus' thigh and drove into his rock hard stomach. It did little more than knock the man back, but it was enough for the Hunter to leap to his feet.

  Keeper take it! He winced at the agony lancing his side. Gallidus' kick had broken at least one rib and bruised another. The injuries would heal in minutes, but the fight could be over before then.

  I can't lose. Not now! He'd invested far too much time and effort into gaining the Sage's confidence. He'd even made progress with the Warmaster, gaining a measure of the huge demon's trust. To survive in Kara-ket long enough to get the opia—and secure Hailen's freedom—he had to win this fight.

  He returned his attention to Gallidus just in time to meet the fighter's charge. He retreated from the man's wild swings until his back struck the pit wall. With nowhere else to go, he slid between Gallidus' legs and kicked his heel up into the man's groin. Gallidus roared in pain, and his knees wobbled. Without hesitation, the Hunter drove his elbow into the base of the big man's skull.

  Gallidus dropped like a pole-axed bull. His enormous body hit the ground with a dull thump that echoed in the chamber, which had fallen deathly silent. The Hunter leapt astride the big man, seized his right arm, and wrenched the huge shoulder free of its socket with a sickening pop.

  The pit fighter came to with a scream. He tried to struggle upward, but the Hunter kicked his hand out from beneath him. Driving his knee into Gallidus' spine, he wrestled the man's other arm upward into an arm lock. Gallidus tried to break free, but the Hunter's weight held him pinned.

  The demon shouted in his thoughts. “Kill him!” Desire flooded his mind, and Soulhunger's pounding voice joined in the tumult.

  The Hunter raised his head and met the Sage's eyes. Before the Warmaster could stop him, the Sage ripped Soulhunger from its sheath and tossed the blade into the pit. The Hunter's fingers closed around the dagger's hilt.

  "What say you, Masters?" The Hunter raised Soulhunger above his head and shouted. "In the beast pit, only one leaves alive!"

  The Warmaster's face was a mask of fury, but he said nothing. The crowd cried for death. They would not be denied.

  Without taking his eyes from the demons on the dais, the Hunter drove Soulhunger into Gallidus' side. He felt the moment the tip of the blade entered Gallidus' heart. The man's terrified, agonized screams added to the tumult of the chamber. Soulhunger's gemstone flared to life, staining everything with crimson light.

  The Hunter threw back his head and roared in triumph as power washed over him. A finger of fire etched a new scar into his chest, but he welcomed the pain. The death made him feel alive!

  The crowd's cheering faded into the background as his gaze fell on the two Abiarazi. Hatred, rage, lust, and pride flashed across the Warmaster's face. His features writhed in that brilliant ruby glare. For all his anger at losing to the Sage, he reveled in the blood and death. His fingers twitched as if in remembrance of that rush of power.

  The Sage, too, leaned forward. He sat with his mouth open and eyes closed, a faint smile teasing the corners of his mouth. He clearly enjoyed the death as much as the Warmaster.

  The sight sent a shudder of revulsion down the Hunter's spine. He killed because he had no choice— Gallidus had died to silence the voices in his mind and to gain the demons' trust—or as an act of vengeance. But to the demons, death was a pleasure. They sought to bring about wholesale carnage and destruction—and they would enjoy every moment of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Hunter lounged in his chair beside the Warmaster's throne, sipping at the goblet of chilled wine an attendant had brought him. He hadn't bothered to wipe his hands clean of Gallidus' blood. The chamber rang with the din of revelry, but a welcome silence filled the Hunter's head. He'd held up his end of the bargain. Dagger and demon gave him peace. For now.

  His eyelids drooped, heavy with the languor that followed every kill. Though he wanted nothing more than to give in, to yield to the warm, soothing fatigue, the Hunter pushed back against the torpor. Rest would have to wait. He needed his wits about him.

  He'd fought to prove his strength to the demons—and silence the voices in his head. As expected, the Warmaster slumped in his throne, a cloud of rage in his midnight eyes as he bellowed for a servant to refill his empty tankard.

  I have to play this carefully. I can't afford to have him as an enemy, not yet. He had to stay in the huge demon's graces for a few more hours. Long enough to leave the temple alive.

  How can I make this work? He studied the Warmaster. He looks ready to kill someone.

  The Hunter leaned over and pitched his voice low so only the Warmaster could hear. "Your man fought well. A mighty foe, for a human." He allowed disdain to edge his words.

  The Warmaster's eyes flashed. He fixed the Hunter with an angry glare, a grunt his only reply.

  "I trust I've demonstrated my value as an ally?"

  The Abiarazi's eyebrows rose skyward. "You killed my prized fighter, yet have the gall to pretend you are a comrade?" he growled.

  The Hunter met his gaze evenly. "Our kind values strength above all else." A cold, hard smile spread his face. "Surely the aid of a Bucelarii is worth the life of one man."

  The big demon's scowl softened slightly. "Perhaps."

  "Then let us drink to strong allies." The Hunter tapped his tankard against the Warmaster's and drank deep.

  "Allies." The Warmaster followed suit.

  The Hunter leaned closer to the Abiarazi. "But remember this: I am no man's servant. I stand as equals, by your side, or not at all."

  The Warmaster fixed him with his intense glare. "You said nothing when he called you his man."

  The Hunter snorted. "The Sage could call me a 'pretty princess', but do you see a crown on my head?"

  A smile tugged at the Warmaster's lips.

  "Come now, Warmaster. You said it yourself: we are warriors, men of passion and blood. Did you truly think I would take orders from one such as the Sage?"

  The Warmaster rounded on him, fury in his obsidian eyes. "Then why side with him? Why remain in his accursed temple? Look around you." His gesture encompassed the beast pit, the Masters of Agony, the carved images on the chamber walls. "I have so much more to offer you."

  "I do not
doubt it." The Hunter forced a wide grin. "I remain in his temple because he is in possession of something important."

  "What's that?" The Warmaster's unblinking eyes met his.

  The Hunter lowered his voice. "Opia." The lie was as good as any. He needed the fruit—which only grew at the top of the Sage's tower—-from the curse of the Irrsinnon.

  "Is that it?" The Warmaster threw back his head, his laughter booming through the room. All eyes turned to him, but at the Abiarazi's glare, the Masters of Agony returned to their hushed conversations.

  He held out his tankard. "Taste this.

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes. The Abiarazi's face showed no deceit—anger, lust that bordered on blind desire, and arrogance aplenty, but no deceit. He took the tankard. "What is it?" He'd never encountered a rich, heady scent to match. Not even the finest vintages of Nysl held such fragrance, such complexity.

  The Warmaster's voice rumbled deep in his chest. "Precisely what you seek."

  The Hunter's eyebrows shot up as fire raced down his throat, setting him coughing. "Keeper's teeth!" Heat spread through his chest to his stomach. Just the small mouthful set his head spinning.

  The Warmaster smiled. "Opia. Distilled by my own hand."

  "But how did you get it? Isn't it rarer than any fruit on Einan?"

  "It is." The demon gave a sly smile. "Yet I have my ways…"

  If he has enough opia to make alcohol, surely he can give me some for Hailen.

  "Do you have more?"

  "Not yet. But soon."

  The Hunter leaned closer. "If I needed some, how soon could you get it for me?"

  The Warmaster's brow furrowed. "A week, ten days at the outside. But why would you need—"

  "Call it a favor for a new friend. Give me the opia, and you will have my blade at your service."

  The Hunter met the Warmaster's gaze, his face as hard as the stone of Shana Laal. If all went as planned, he'd have the fruit from the Sage's tower by night's end. He would be long gone before the week ended, and Einan would be rid of two more Abiarazi.