Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The Sage shrugged. "It was a test. I had to gauge your abilities, your resourcefulness, and your will to survive."

  "That test," the Hunter spat, "almost got me killed!"

  "And your death would have been proof of your weakness. A weak man—or Bucelarii—is worthless to me." The Sage turned to the Hunter, excitement in his empty eyes. "But you lived! You survived the attempt, and destiny has reunited us. Abiarazi and Bucelarii. Working side by side, we will be unstoppable. You, my right hand of death, carrying out my will across Einan. It will be glorious indeed."

  The Hunter hid his disgust. "And what of the Warmaster? What would he say to all this?"

  The Sage scowled. "The arrogant churl believes himself my equal, simply because he commands the Elivasti." His obsidian eyes blazed, and his lip curled. "Now that I have you, he has outlived his usefulness. But until we can do away with him, rest safely in the knowledge that I have saved your boy from death."

  "And I will not forget it."

  The Sage bowed, and his expression brightened. "Now, I find myself in need of some refreshing wine and food. Will you join me? If I remember correctly, you promised our next game of Nizaa would prove more challenging." He chuckled.

  The Hunter nodded. "I would be honored."

  "Good. Then let us adjourn to my chambers."

  The demon strode down the garden path, the Hunter a step behind. Before he closed the trapdoor, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. In the middle of the marvelous Serenii garden, bathed in the light of the setting sun, he caught a glimpse of the tiny opia fruit—the fruit that would soon save Hailen's life.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Hunter stared at the board, mind racing. An hour of cautious play, and neither he nor the Sage had gained a clear advantage. Both held advantageous positions, with a roughly even number of pieces. After a moment of hesitation, he moved his Watcher three spaces to capture the Sage's Apprentice. The piece—a fat man clutching a heavy purse—joined the others in the bloodwood box.

  "Too clever by half." The Sage stroked his narrow, clean-shaven chin.

  The Hunter grinned and folded his arms across his chest. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

  With an answering smile, the Sage moved his Swordsman—a powerful warrior wielding an enormous broadsword—to the space occupied by the Hunter's Bloody Minstrel. The Hunter's heart sank as the Sage deposited the piece—a troubadour leaking blood from his eyes, ears, and mouth—beside a half-dozen of the Hunter's captured serfs.

  Damn it! He ground his teeth in frustration. His strategy relied on the Bloody Minstrel, and its elimination had effectively crippled his offense. He studied his opponent. The Sage returned his scrutiny with a blank, unblinking stare. He's not an easy one to read.

  Impatience pinged within him. The sun had only set an hour before; he had at least another four hours until Master Eldor's man would come for him. It seemed every second dragged. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but if he didn't complete the game of Nizaa, the Sage might grow suspicious. He had to keep up appearances.

  Finally, after another interminable hour, the game finally concluded—with the Hunter's loss, inevitably.

  "A well-fought battle, Hunter." The Sage gave him an approving smile.

  The Hunter nodded. "Next time, Sage." He thumbed one of the pieces. "That trick you played with the Beggar Priest will only work the once."

  The Sage's smile grew sly. "Perhaps, but you will find I have many more." He chuckled. "Not much else to do up here, isolated from the world below."

  Was that a hint of wistfulness in the demon's voice?

  Yawning, the Hunter stood and stretched. "Now, if you will excuse me, I find the call of my bed too strong to ignore." He winced at the pop of his spine. "Master Eldor expects me at first light once more."

  "Good." The Sage folded his slim fingers. "The more the Elivasti accept your presence, the less wary they will grow."

  "I will do my best to overhear everything of importance." With a short bow to the Sage, the Hunter took his leave.

  He returned to his rooms at a slow pace, his feet as heavy as his eyelids. His fatigue hadn't been an act. Master Eldor hadn't gone easy on him that morning. Perhaps he could take a quick rest while he waited. Just close his eyes for a few moments.

  Who am I kidding? There's no way I'll be able to sleep. Apprehension and excitement warred within him. Master Eldor's man would show him the way to slip in and out of the temple unseen—a way that he could use when it came time to eliminate the Sage. He knew as much of the temple's interior layout as he could learn. He would be ready to make his move soon.

  The thought of killing the demons brought its own nervousness—after all, the Abiarazi were notoriously difficult to kill, even for him—but the true source of his anxiety was Hailen. He had to be certain the boy was safe. Or as safe as possible, given that both the Warmaster and the Sage knew of his existence.

  His fists clenched at that thought. The Sage had claimed he'd saved Hailen from the Warmaster, but the Hunter had no doubt the demon would use the boy. And he could only trust Master Eldor so far. If the Sage gave a direct command, Master Eldor would have no choice but to obey.

  Which meant he had to find a way to keep the boy safe. The question of how nagged at him as he settled into a cross-legged position, Soulhunger and whetstone in his lap.

  Solutions evaded him. Up here on Kara-ket, he was surrounded by enemies, with no one he could fully trust. That was no different than usual. He'd been alone since he could remember. He had to find a way to protect Hailen himself.

  His frustration mounted with every stroke of the whetstone on the blade. The action, usually so calming, grated on his nerves. After a few minutes, he'd had enough. He hurled the stone away, sending it skittering across the floor to clink against the glass window.

  Keeper's teeth! What the hell am I supposed to do?

  He couldn't keep Hailen with him—he'd never be able to kill the two demons with the boy at his side. So what, then? Leave him in the enclosure? Master Eldor had said it would keep the Irrsinnon at bay, but he would still be within the Sage's reach.

  Only until I get the opia and take him away from here. The fruit would ripen within a week, but that would be too late. The Warmaster's army would have arrived. So he had to eliminate the larger demon before then. He would try to find another way into the Warmaster's temple. If all else failed, the Sage had promised to get him access.

  Which left the question of what the Sage would do when the Warmaster was dead. Without the other Abiarazi to keep him in check, what would he do? Continue to rule from the shadows and slowly conquer Einan using his puppets and figureheads, or go the route of invasion? He still had to find out the Sage's intentions. By agreeing to help root out the traitors among the Elivasti, he hoped he'd bought the demon's trust. Now he had to use that trust to convince the Sage to divulge his plans.

  The Sage saw him as a tool to use against the Warmaster. When he no longer needed the Hunter, would he do as Queen Asalah of Al Hani had and discard him? From what he'd seen of the Abiarazi, that was the more likely scenario. The moment the Hunter's liability outweighed his value, the Sage would order his death.

  He'd kill the Sage first. If possible, in the middle of the chaos brought on by the Warmaster's death. The Masters of Agony would be in an uproar, lost and leaderless. The Sage would have to send the Elivasti to maintain order. If he could catch the demon alone, without his guards and their iron-tipped staves, he stood a chance of eliminating him.

  Too many things needed to fall into place for the plan to work. He didn't like it, but he didn't have much choice. The Sage pulled all the strings on Shana Laal, and the Hunter had to make his moves without catching the demon's attention. Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with the Warmaster, too—the larger Abiarazi believed he was looking for an opportunity to kill the Sage. Which he was.

  He scooted toward the wall and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. The soft glow of the room dro
ve back his anxiety. Tonight, a few pieces would fall into place. Best of all, he'd see Hailen. The thought of the boy's smile, his bright and cheerful laughter, and the way his eyes lit up filled the Hunter with warmth. It was an odd sensation. Though he'd only been apart from Hailen for a few days, he actually…missed him.

  * * *

  The Hunter's eyelids snapped open as a soft tapping sounded at his door. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. He'd fallen asleep waiting for Master Eldor's man.

  He leapt to his feet, ignoring the twinges in his lower back and legs. Retrieving Soulhunger from the bed, he padded to the door and pulled it open a crack.

  A cloth-masked Elivasti stood outside. "Master Eldor sent me," the man whispered, his violet eyes darting up and down the hall. "Let's go."

  The Hunter slipped Soulhunger into its sheath and slid out of his room, pressing the door shut silently behind him. With a nod, the Elivasti turned and hurried down the hallway on silent feet. The Hunter followed a step behind.

  The Elivasti led him toward the main staircase, down one floor, and toward the jade statue. The Hunter stared up at the eerie, unblinking eyes as they passed. No matter how many times he saw the creature—an Abiarazi in its true form, if the Sage could be believed—it still sent a chill down his spine. He shuddered to think of what would happen if he ever had to face an Abiarazi in this form again. Even the hulking Warmaster seemed puny and pathetic by comparison.

  His guide paused at the statue, casting furtive glances in all directions. No sign of anyone else strolling the halls at this late hour. Satisfied, the Elivasti reached around the sculpture, his hand disappearing into a small hollow between the creature's serpentine tails and the spines jutting from its back. A quiet click sounded. A moment later, the enormous jade figure rumbled to one side.

  The Hunter gaped. The Serenii and their secret tunnels, indeed.

  The Elivasti motioned for him to enter first. Once inside, the man pressed a stone embossed with one of the arcane symbols of the Serenii and the statue slid back into place.

  They stood on a landing, with a staircase a short distance away. The stairs continued upward, disappearing around a bend—no doubt to the top of the tower, or at least the Sage's rooms—but the Elivasti led them down. They moved in silence, with only their steady breathing and the soft glow of the walls for companions.

  They descended for at least five minutes before they reached a break in the staircase. The Hunter caught a glimpse of bare stone walls and a wooden door, but the Elivasti didn't pause. Three more landings they passed, each with the same plain hall leading toward a simple door. The Hunter ached to find out what lay beyond. His guide never stopped, leading them eternally down, down, down.

  The Hunter lost count of the number of stairs. They had a long way to go—not only the distance from his rooms near the top of the tower, but down into the earth to the city of the Elivasti built into the shadow of the temple. Kara-ket stood atop a cliff at least thirty paces tall.

  Thankfully, the meal and rest had driven back his fatigue. He smiled at the sound of his guide's breathing; at least he wasn't the only one working hard.

  The Elivasti stopped at the eighth landing down. The Hunter stifled a relieved sigh and followed the man down the simple stone corridor toward the wooden door. Beyond, they entered another identical corridor, which ran for a hundred paces. When the Elivasti pressed on the stone to open the door, the Hunter was greeted with a gust of chill night air.

  He stepped into darkness broken only by the light of a faint moon and the stars. He instantly regretted leaving his cloak in his room; the wind had a nasty bite that sent a shiver down his spine. But when the Elivasti turned to glance at him, he only nodded and motioned for the man to lead the way.

  After the soft glow of the staircase, the city of the Elivasti seemed ominously dark. Even the poorest sections of Lower Voramis had had some illumination—if not the oil lanterns installed by King Gavian, at the very least the occasional flicker of candlelight, torchlight, or the fires over which huddled beggars. Here, however, it seemed as if all life died with the descending sun. Not a glimmer of light shone through the windows and doors of the Elivasti homes.

  His guide seemed unbothered by the darkness. He slipped through the deserted streets with a steady stride, gliding from shadow to shadow. Clearly he was not taking any chances of being spotted tonight.

  The Hunter had no problem with the secrecy. He'd spent most of his life in gloom, under cover of night. He was going for a secret meeting in a city filled with dangers—save for the total absence of odors that made Voramis so distinctive, he could be right at home.

  The reek of metal reached him before the smithy came into view. Master Belros' hammers had fallen silent, but it was as if the eternal plume of smoke rising from the chimney coated the houses around it with a permanent layer of metal shavings.

  Instead of leading him toward the front, the Elivasti slid around the side of the house and tapped on a cellar door. After a moment's pause, he tapped again, a rhythmic code repeated from within. When the wooden doors opened, Master Belros' heavy face appeared, etched in the light of the dark lantern in his hand.

  "Come in, come in," he whispered and hustled them down the steps into a simple earthen room.

  The Hunter's eyes widened at the sight of hundreds of swords, spears, and metal-tipped staves stored in racks along the hard-packed dirt walls. They had enough weapons stockpiled here for a small army.

  All thoughts fled as he caught sight of Master Eldor—and the small figure standing beside him.

  "Hailen!"

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hailen's violet eyes lit up, a smile widening his face. "Hardwell!" He rushed toward the Hunter and threw his arms around his waist.

  The Hunter returned the gesture, albeit awkwardly, but quickly pulled free of the boy. Prolonged contact with the Hunter caused Hailen's nails to bleed. He had no idea why, but it was something that set the boy apart from the other Elivasti. Just one more way Hailen was unusual, even among his own kind. Sort of like me.

  Either way, the Hunter didn't want to do anything to draw more attention to the boy.

  "How are you?" He crouched, placing his face on level with the boy's. "Are they feeding you well here?"

  Hailen nodded. "They are." His face scrunched up. "I like it here better than with Master Uqio. He was always busy, and he never let me leave my room to play."

  "Is that so?" The Hunter had paid good coin for Master Uqio to care for the boy. "But what about Irrana? Where was she?" The innkeeper's daughter was only a year or two older than Hailen.

  Hailen's face fell. "He wasn't nice to her. He yelled at her, and hit her once. I thought he was going to hit me, too."

  Heat surged in the Hunter's chest. Perhaps I owe Master Uqio a visit once I'm done here.

  The boy brightened. "But here I get to play all day, and Goodie Eriath brings us all treats. I like her. She's nice."

  "I'm glad to hear it." The Hunter swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. The pain surprised him. He'd only left Kharan-cui a few days ago, so why did he feel like he hadn't seen the boy in ages. What was it about Hailen that made him feel…lighter? It had nothing to do with the silence in his mind. Being near Hailen made things better. Ridiculous! He, the Hunter of Voramis, killer-for-hire, slayer of demons, had become reliant on this child for his happiness.

  He glanced around the cellar. Master Eldor, Master Belros, and the masked Elivasti had retreated to the far end of the small earthen room to give them what little privacy they could.

  The Hunter found himself uncertain of what to say. He wasn't accustomed to the emotions roiling within him, much less expressing them in front of an audience. He was just glad to have the old Hailen back. The withdrawn, sullen, distant child had gone, replaced by the boy he'd known before the Advanat Desert and the change.

  "Hunter." Master Eldor spoke in a low voice. "We must take him back."

  The Hunter stiffened. "Already? Su
rely we have a few minutes to—"

  "No. The longer he is away from the enclosure, the greater the danger." The old Elivasti's face filled with concern. "The Irrsinnon could take him at any time."

  The Hunter's heart sank. He didn't want to let Hailen go, but dared not put him at risk. He pulled the boy into a quick, tight hug. "It's time for you to return, but I promise I will visit you tomorrow."

  Hailen nodded, but his smile had disappeared. His eyes had taken on a distant, unfocused look, his face muscles slack and expressionless. The Hunter had seen this on the road to Kharan-cui—he'd chalked it up to the mental and emotional scars of the boy's captivity at Il Seytani's hands, but the truth was so much worse.

  "Hailen?" He gripped the boy's shoulders and shook him. "Can you hear me?"

  Hailen's violet eyes rolled back, showing the whites. His legs sagged and he collapsed into the Hunter's arms.

  "Hailen!"

  A piercing scream tore from Hailen's throat, sending a shiver down the Hunter's spine. His arms and legs convulsed. He writhed on the cellar's earthen floor.

  The Hunter seized Hailen's arms, and Master Eldor grappled with his legs.

  The huge blacksmith clamped down on the boy's chest. "Turn him onto his side." White foam dribbled from Hailen's mouth, cutting off his shrieks.

  Horror surged within the Hunter. In his memories, he'd seen a young man in the grip of the Irrsinnon. To see Hailen suffering so tore at his heart. "Help him!"

  Master Eldor shook his head. "While the Irrsinnon has him in its grip, there is nothing we can do. But it will pass." His jaw muscles worked. "It will pass."

  "When?" The Hunter struggled to keep a hold on the boy's flailing arms. "How long?"

  The old Elivasti said nothing, not meeting the Hunter's eyes.

  For what seemed an eternity, they wrestled with Hailen's jerking, writhing body. The masked Elivasti joined the effort, holding the boy down until the convulsion slowed and stopped altogether.