Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The Hunter started. He'd come here to take his mind off his dilemma over Hailen's fate, and it had worked. For the last four hours, he'd thought of nothing but the precision of his movements, the fire in his muscles and lungs, and the stinging crack of Master Eldor's cane. The weight of his decision settled on his shoulders once more.

  "You're right." He set his practice blade on its rack and bowed to Master Eldor. "Until tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow." Master Eldor nodded. "One day closer to making our move."

  Mind racing, he strode from the training yard, through the smithy, and into the streets beyond. He'd thought the exertion would clarify the matter in his mind, illuminate the right course to take. He was wrong. The burden of anxiety only felt all the more overwhelming for the weariness of his body.

  The sight of the enormous wall set the Hunter's stomach cavorting. Once again, he couldn't bring himself to enter, but instead climbed the stairs and leaned on the parapet overlooking the enclosure.

  The reek of rot and decay wafted toward him, and his gaze darted to the obsidian obelisks at the far end of the enclosure. The very air around the stones seemed heavy with gloom.

  I can't leave Hailen here. Not so close to those stones. After what happened in the Advanat, he couldn't let Hailen get close to the monoliths. But that meant removing him from the enclosure, from Kara-ket itself. Once out of the shadow of the Serenii, Hailen would once again be at the mercy of the Irrsinnon. He couldn't let the boy deteriorate into madness. But was subjecting him to the opia any better?

  He leaned on the parapet, scanning the enclosure in search of the familiar figure. Hailen chased a pack of older boys.

  Look at him. Laughing, playing, happy. The boy showed no sign of his usual fatigue. His cheeks held a flush of color the Hunter had never seen. He has come to life up here. And I'm going to take that all away from him.

  It was not a matter of “if”, but “when” the Hunter would leave Kara-ket. Once he'd killed the Abiarazi, he'd resume his journey north. But that meant removing Hailen from the enclosure, where he was, for the moment, safe. He knew so little of the Elivasti curse. Where on Einan would he find a safe haven for Hailen?

  Try as he might, he couldn't convince himself Hailen was better off with him.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  "You seem distracted."

  The Hunter's head snapped up to regard the Sage, who sat across the Nizaa board, staring at him with a curious expression. Without thinking, he pushed a random piece forward.

  Tsking, the Sage captured the piece. "Keep playing like that, and you'll be out in three moves."

  The Hunter couldn't bring himself to care about the game. He'd spent the last hour in sullen silence, brooding on his impossible decision. Staring at the Sage's smug face didn't help his mood.

  He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Best we call it, then."

  Disappointment crossed the Sage's face. "Perhaps some wine?"

  The Hunter nodded. He'd barely picked at the bread, cheese, fruits, and nuts arrayed on the table beside them. Wine could help to shut off his anxiety, and he needed to be free of his worries over Hailen more than he needed a clear head to play Nizaa.

  As he sipped the sweet chilled wine brought by the Sage's servant, he took in his surroundings. The bright afternoon sunlight magnified the opulence of the demon's sitting room, giving the crimson bloodwood a deeper, richer hue. Everywhere he turned, the golden walls reflected the sun's brilliance.

  He turned his attention to his host and found the Sage staring at him with a curious expression.

  "What?"

  The Sage pursed his lips. "I find it…unusual for one of your kind—our kind—to care so much for an Elivasti. They are our vassals, yet I can sense the bond you have formed with the boy." Longing filled the Sage's midnight eyes. "Almost makes me miss…"

  He trailed off, turning away for a moment. When he turned back, the pain and sorrow had gone, replaced by a blank, expressionless mask. "Tell me, how goes the training with Master Eldor?"

  "Well." The Hunter forced himself not to stiffen. Does he know? He had spies all through the Elivasti city; had one of them overheard their plans to kill the Abiarazi?

  The Sage leaned forward and, eyes darting around furtively, dropped his voice. "We move on the Warmaster tomorrow night."

  The Hunter's gut clenched. He'd known he would face the enormous demon from the first moment he laid eyes on him, but that knowledge didn't eliminate the unease. The Warmaster wouldn't go down without a fight.

  He motioned to Soulhunger, hanging on his belt. "We will be ready."

  A sharp smile creased the Sage's face. "Excellent." Excitement shone in his eyes. "By this time next week, the conquest of Einan will be underway, with you at the head of my army. With the Warmaster out of the way, the Elivasti—and any Masters of Agony who prefer cooperation over death—are mine to command. Forgive me, ours," he amended. "Between my planning and strategy and your martial skills, nothing can stop us. If we so desire, we can conquer Einan."

  The Hunter's heart sank. He'd hoped the Sage's plans differed from the en masse invasion the Warmaster had in mind. As long as the demon operated within the shadows, his power would be limited to his network—no doubt extensive, but nowhere near as formidable as an army of Elivasti and Masters of Agony. But now the Sage spoke of conquest. If he didn't eliminate both demons before they could unleash their forces, the world would suffer.

  "But what of the Irrsinnon?" the Hunter stalled. "Surely the Elivasti would not risk their young."

  "Ahh, but I have a plan for that!" The Sage's gaze bored into him. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I have asked a great deal from you. As you have trusted me, so I will trust you." The demon's eyes darted to Soulhunger, hanging on the Hunter's belt. "It all comes down to the weapons of the Bucelarii."

  The Hunter's hand darted instinctively to Soulhunger's hilt.

  "Easy, Hunter." The Sage held up a restraining hand. "I don't mean your weapon. I mean the thousands collected by the Cambionari."

  The Hunter's mind raced. In all his dealings with the Cambionari, he'd never pondered what had happened to the Bucelarii they killed, or their weapons—the proof of their Abiarazi heritage.

  "Where are they? Surely the Beggar Priests had them destroyed!"

  "So I believed, but it turns out I was wrong." Elation tinged the Sage's words. "According to one of my lieutenants, they reside in the vaults of the Beggar Priests in Malandria."

  The Hunter's eyes flew wide. Thousands of Soulhungers. He'd stood in the enormous room not two months ago. To think, he'd been so close to all that remained of his kind and never realized it. "How is that possible?"

  The Sage shook his head. "I do not know. But his last message was filled with hope. He said he was close to discovering the location of the vaults."

  A dread chill seeped into Hunter's veins. "And did he?"

  "I haven't heard from Garanis for almost three months now."

  The Sage's frustrated expression filled the Hunter with relief. If they'd found the entrance…

  "But I sent a detachment of Elivasti to the City of a Thousand Spires. They are due to return by week's end."

  The Hunter's sliver of hope shattered. Will they discover that I was the one who killed Garanis? That morsel of information would jeopardize his efforts to win the Sage's trust.

  The throbbing in his mind gave him an idea. He spoke in a slow voice. "What if there was a way I could find the vault?"

  The Sage's eyebrows shot up. "What? How?"

  The Hunter plastered a thoughtful expression and counted out the seconds. He had to make the lie just right.

  "Soulhunger." He rested a hand on the dagger's hilt. "What if it could lead me to the other Bucelarii blades?"

  The Sage scratched his chin. "Intriguing." His eyes took on a faraway look. "Perhaps they could call to each other, draw the Bucelarii together once more."

  "Even if I can find them, how will the Bucelarii weapons driv
e back the Irrsinnon?"

  The Sage barely glanced at him. He spoke in an offhand tone, as if his thoughts lay elsewhere. "The gemstones are the handiwork of the Serenii. Their presence protects the Elivasti."

  Hope fluttered to life in the Hunter's chest. Can it really be that simple? He stared down at Soulhunger, and the transparent jewel set into its hilt. In The Numeniad, the ancient scribe Eshendun had spoken of the Serenii ritual known as the “Lament of the Fallen”. Though it didn't explain how, it had said the demons imbued gemstones with their souls.

  None of it mattered at that moment. If the gemstones can help the Elivasti, it means they can help Hailen as well. Was it truly that simple? Could keeping Hailen near one of the gemstones keep the Irrsinnon at bay?

  If so, why had the madness seized Hailen? He'd had Soulhunger tucked into his belt; why hadn't it worked then?

  Master Eldor's words had made the decision clear: he wouldn't subject Hailen to the opia. He'd been uncertain of what to do—he wouldn't gamble with Hailen's sanity, but he couldn't remain on Shana Laal once he killed the Abiarazi.

  But the Sage had just given him a solution. He didn't need the opia, the Expurgation, or the damned Abiarazi. He had Soulhunger. So long as Hailen stayed near the dagger, it would keep the Irrsinnon at bay. The Sage's desire for the Bucelarii weapons would be the instrument of his own downfall.

  The Hunter suppressed a tight, ugly little smile. He wouldn't have to fight an army of Elivasti. Not when he had the bridge connecting the two temples.

  The Sage intended it to be his access to kill the Warmaster, but it would come in equally handy for eliminating the Sage. If the Mistress' luck smiled on him, he could deal with both of them in one night.

  Better still, it gave him an alternate escape route. If, for some reason, he couldn't get down through the secret passage behind the jade statue, he could climb down the rough exterior, drop into the enclosure, and free Hailen. His walk with the Sage had led him to within spitting distance of the temple's foundation. Over thousands of years, wind, rain, snow, and sun had worn away the stone, rendering it rough. It would be a tough climb, but nothing like the ascent of Shana Laal.

  The demons' loyal Elivasti would never think to search for him in their own city. He and Hailen could be at Master Eldor's—or, if the Sage's belief about the gemstones held true, long gone—by the time they realized what he'd done.

  Excitement sent a tingle down his spine. Could it work? He had to get down to the enclosure and test the theory. Though it would put Hailen at risk, it was a small price to pay for the boy's freedom.

  He forced his expression to remain on the morose side of neutral. He couldn't let the Sage know what he'd done by divulging this particular tidbit. He'd eliminated the only leverage he had over the Hunter.

  "Come," he said, keeping his voice sullen, "I grow weary of defeat. At the Warmaster's hand on the training field, every day with Master Eldor, and you at Nizaa." He reclaimed his captured pieces from the Sage's side of the board and set about arranging them. "I believe it's time that I triumph for once."

  The Sage chuckled. "I'll say this much for the Bucelarii, you certainly inherited our tenacity." He gave the Hunter a sly grin. "Let's see if that stubborn nature does you any good against a superior opponent."

  * * *

  Every shred of willpower went into keeping calm as the Hunter bid farewell to the Sage. The sun had set hours earlier, giving the Hunter an excuse to slip away after losing—barely—the game of Nizaa. After all, he'd reasoned, Master Eldor would be expecting him before sunrise.

  The moment he rounded the corner, out of sight of the four Elivasti guarding the Sage's rooms, he picked up his pace. Excitement coursed within him. Even though he'd have to wait an hour or so until movement in the temple died down, he had to be ready. A quick journey through the secret passage behind the jade Abiarazi would bring him to the Elivasti city, where Master Eldor would help him sneak Hailen out of the enclosure to test his theory.

  He'd given it a great deal of thought in the long periods of inactivity while the Sage studied the board, deep in contemplation of his next Nizaa move. He'd had Soulhunger with him that night in the cellar, but it had been in its sheath at his back. Perhaps the solution lay in proximity to the gemstone. When he was close to Hailen, the boy's presence kept the voices at bay. The Sage's temple had a similar effect. When he moved away, the effect ceased.

  So maybe the gemstone needed to be very close to Hailen. Direct contact, even. Or, given how the Dolmenrath had reacted to Hailen's blood, a single drop could activate its effects. He would test all the potential solutions until he found the one that worked.

  And it had to be tonight. If it worked, he'd need tomorrow to plan his escape route after his attack on the Warmaster—and the Sage. He would keep up appearances for the sake of the demons' spies in the Elivasti city, but when the time came, he would be ready. He had no need to wait for the opia to ripen—he had Soulhunger.

  Slipping into his rooms, he gave his belongings a cursory examination—a habit he'd developed over months spent on the road, sleeping in taverns and inns along the caravan routes north. Finding nothing amiss, he donned simple clothing: dark grey tunic, breeches, and cloak, along with his soft-soled boots. His sword hung in its sheath beside the door, and the Swordsman's twin iron daggers remained safely wrapped in his pack. Only Soulhunger would accompany him tonight. Bardin's pendant lay on his bed; no sense risking anyone catching a glimpse of silver in the moonlight.

  He waited as long as he could, relaxing on the bed and trying in vain to meditate. Finally his excitement got the best of him. He would delay no longer.

  His soft-soled boots made no sound in the empty corridors. He moved as quickly as he dared, hugging the walls, every muscle tense. Once, he had to dart into a side passage to avoid a troop of Elivasti patrolling the halls. His heart beat a rapid tattoo as he waited for them to move on. Without a scent to mark them by, he had to rely solely on his eyes and ears. After a few anxious minutes, he peered around the corner and found the way clear.

  He slipped down the flights of stairs toward the floor with the jade statue, the tension in his shoulders increasing with every step. The scent of rot and decay grew stronger as he descended. Gut twisting, he peered out of the stairwell. The Sage swept imperiously down the hall, a pair of Elivasti flanking him. Straight toward the statue he strode.

  The Hunter darted out of sight as the Sage and his guards looked up and down the halls. A low rumbling sounded, repeated a few moments later. When he looked again, the passage was empty, the jade statue firmly in place.

  Damn it! He clenched his fists. He didn't dare risk taking the secret passage now. He'd have a hard time explaining his presence if he encountered the Sage on the way up or down. With only Soulhunger, he couldn't take on both staff-wielding Elivasti and the demon. And if he killed the Sage now, he would have a much harder time trying to eliminate the Warmaster.

  Now what? He couldn't go down that way, and the front door wasn't an option. The Elivasti would no doubt report his movements to the Sage. But he had to reach Hailen tonight.

  An idea began to form in his mind. The Hunter's balcony lay just one floor below the Sage's chambers. He could traverse the distance by clinging to the temple exterior, just as he'd climbed to the towertop a few nights earlier.

  Without hesitation, he darted back up the stairs and returned to his rooms, taking all the necessary precautions to remain undetected. Once he'd locked the door securely behind him, he hurried onto the balcony and clambered onto the railing. The ascent to the Sage's quarters proved no less difficult than it had before, but he managed it without incident.

  Now comes the fun part.

  The traverse—moving horizontally along the temple's exterior—would be more challenging. A vertical climb involved primarily the leg muscles to push upward, with the hands to provide stability. Horizontal movement required a "crossing through" of the limbs, requiring greater strength, coordination, and dexterity.
He had only a few dozen paces to traverse, but it seemed like it took hours. His muscles ached from the exertion.

  Finally he reached the corner of the temple and, pressing himself against the façade, shuffled around toward the bridge. With relief, he hauled himself over the railing and dropped into a low crouch to rest his arms and aching legs.

  At least I don't have to worry about the Sage spotting me. With the demon in the secret passage, the Hunter could make the crossing unseen from the Sage's temple.

  His eyes darted to the door at the near end of the bridge, and he struggled to control his breathing. He couldn't let the Sage discover his presence. Paranoid bastard that he is, he won't be thrilled to know I'm doing this behind his back. The demon would no doubt cry of betrayal. Not that he'd be far wrong, but the Hunter had no desire to arouse the Sage's suspicions sooner than necessary.

  Pulling his dark cloak tighter, he slipped along the bridge. A sliver of moon hung in the night sky. Together with the twinkling stars, it provided enough light to see where he placed his feet—barely. Blue-green moss rendered the stones slick. Sections of the stone bridge had crumbled. He edged carefully around the yawning holes in the bridge. Best to avoid a painful death.

  His gaze roamed across the face of the Warmaster's temple. No torches or lamps hung in view. With only the faint moonlight, he had little doubt he could reach the temple unseen by anyone below. Just to be safe, however, he kept as close to the center of the bridge as possible. It was more than wide enough to hide him from watching eyes. His dark grey cloak blended with the shadows of the bridge. As long as there were no vantage points above the level of the bridge, he would cross without anyone knowing he was there. Still, he kept his hand hovering near the hilt of Soulhunger for safety.

  Every step along the bridge only increased his anxiety. The stones under his feet seemed to hum with a life of their own. Subtle vibrations shivered up his spine and tapped into something primal, animalistic in the deep recesses of his mind. It was as if the temples pulsed with the magick of the Serenii, pulling him along on their current with inexorable, irresistible force.