"Why go to all the trouble? Why rescue me and risk his wrath?"
The Sage smirked. "His wrath?" He gave a dismissive wave. "The Warmaster is blinded by his lust for power and battle. He only remains alive because some of the Elivasti remain loyal."
"Which is where I come in." The Sage had rescued him because the demon needed him to eliminate the Warmaster.
"Precisely. Once the Warmaster is dead, even the Elivasti loyal to him will serve me. But for that to happen, you must heal."
The Sage rang a bell, and a pair of servants rushed into the room. One carried a tray laden with steamed vegetables, a bowl of broth, thick grain porridge. The other bore a tray upon which sat two silver goblets and a bottle of chilled wine.
The Sage stood. "I will leave you. I have much to do if we are to be prepared. But when you are rested, seek me out. There are things we must discuss."
The Hunter inclined his head, a movement that felt awkward and sent spasms of pain along his spine. "I will."
He didn't move until the door closed behind the demon and his servants. Sitting upright proved near-impossible, but he managed with much grunting and straining. His bound arms were stiff, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled at the food. With great effort, he managed to scoop some of the bland porridge into his mouth. He'd never tasted anything so good. The wine helped to dull the pain and loosen the rigidity in his healing body.
He had fought until the limits of his endurance, but the demon had broken him. With terrible precision, the Warmaster had sliced him apart one piece at a time until he begged for death. A wave of hopelessness surged over the Hunter, amplified by the effects of the wine. His defiance and anger before the Sage had been nothing but a show. He had nothing left.
With these dismal thoughts in the forefront of his mind, the images of horror and torment floating before his eyes, the Hunter drifted out of consciousness.
* * *
The daylight had changed from the crisp bright of dawn to the gold of midday when the Hunter awoke. He moved without thinking, rolling to his feet and reaching for his daggers. Too late he remembered the bandages restraining his movement. He grunted as he hit the floor, his head striking the stone wall.
Pain lanced through his arms and legs, but it was a duller ache than he remembered. When he finally managed to climb onto the bed, he found he could draw his attention inward without being overwhelmed by the sensations of his recovering body. The food, drink, and sleep had restored some of his energy. Gritting his teeth, he willed muscle, bone, skin, and blood vessels to re-knit.
The effort left him exhausted, but the pain faded to a muted throbbing. He devoured the remnants of the tray left by the Sage's servants and repeated the healing process. Removing the bandages, he found he could move his arms and legs without discomfort. Pink flesh showed where the Warmaster had carved long, jagged gashes into his legs. The wounds had all but healed—only the scars left by Soulhunger remained—but a bone-deep weariness settled on his shoulders.
He'd half-turned to search for Soulhunger when he remembered. The Warmaster had the dagger. He bit back a curse. So how am I to kill him without it? His eyes dropped to his bags. At least he still had the Swordsman's iron blades. They would suffice until he recovered Soulhunger.
But without Soulhunger, could he face the Elivasti and their iron-tipped staves? The dagger was the only thing that could keep him alive. His first order of business would be to recover it. To do that, he would have to face the Warmaster. He had no desire to face the massive Abiarazi. The demon's skills with a blade outmatched any he'd faced. But he had no choice.
The Sage had asked for two days. He had two days to prepare for the fight against a foe he had little hope of defeating. So be it. Even if he spent every waking moment training with Master Eldor, he would be ready when the time came.
But to train, he would need to heal fully. That meant more food and rest, perhaps even a full night of sleep. He couldn't take his ease until he was certain of Hailen's safety. And he had to talk to Master Eldor.
Did he dare leave the Sage's temple? He doubted the Warmaster could reach him here. But if he walked around the Elivasti city, surely one of the Abiarazi's spies would see him.
If only I had one of my old disguises. A pair of violet-colored featherglass lenses for his eyes and some alchemical plaster would conceal his Bucelarii features. He'd only need an Elivasti outfit and he'd—
Fool! He smacked his forehead.
He strode to the door and yanked it open. As he expected, a pair of the Sage's masked Elivasti stood in the hall beyond.
At least their backs are to the door.
They whirled, their purple eyes locking on to him, but said nothing.
"I need a set of your robes and a mask."
The Elivasti tensed, the eyes behind the cloths narrowing.
"Your master will be displeased if I wind up dead. To avoid that, I'll need to travel in disguise." He gave the Elivasti on the right a wide grin. "You look about the right size."
The Warmaster would never think to look for me among the Elivasti. This way, I'll be able to walk among them unseen. The disguise could come in handy when the time came to move against the demons.
Chapter Forty-Four
Though he hunched to conceal his height, the Hunter couldn't help feeling like all eyes in the Elivasti city were fixed upon him. It took a great deal of effort to keep his hands away from the hilt of the sword Master Eldor had given him.
He felt naked without Soulhunger. And concerned. In the past, the Abiarazi had gone to great lengths to procure a Bucelarii blade. Their plans for returning the Great Destroyer to Einan had hinged around getting their hands on such weapons. The Sage needed them for his Elivasti. What would the Warmaster do with one?
He shuddered at the memory of the unsocketed gemstone the Warmaster had used on him. Of all the demons he'd encountered, only the huge Abiarazi had showed no interest in using the blade to bring back Kharna. If anything, he'd wanted to avoid it at all costs. So perhaps Soulhunger would lie abandoned and forgotten somewhere in the Warmaster's temple.
No! The Hunter couldn't let that stand. He needed Soulhunger; it was as much a part of him as his midnight eyes or his right arm. Though he hated the insistent demands for death, the dagger served its uses. It had kept him from death more times than he could count. He would need it to survive a direct confrontation with the Warmaster and the Sage.
Longing tugged at his heart as he caught sight of the enclosure wall, but he had another stop to make first. Master Eldor would be expecting him.
Master Belros pulled open the smithy door as he knocked. "What?"
"I've come to see Master Eldor." The Hunter twitched his mask upward.
"Get in here." Master Belros hurried him inside, casting worried glances up and down the street before pulling the door shut behind him.
The Hunter strode through the smithy—the forges silent, the air no longer reeking of scorched metal and hair—and into the training yard beyond. Master Eldor sat cross-legged in the middle of the straw-covered ground, eyes closed in meditation.
At Master Belros' cough, Master Eldor looked up. His eyes widened as the Hunter lifted his mask. "Where have you been?"
The Hunter's lips twisted into a snarl. "Unwilling guest of the Warmaster."
"Ahh, so it was you they rescued?" The old Elivasti winced. "According to Dasim, the man they pulled out of the Warmaster's tower was unrecognizable."
The Hunter suppressed a shiver. He'd endured much at the demon's hands—for that, he would have vengeance. "I'll have to thank him next time I see him."
Master Eldor studied him. "You look better. Somewhat."
The Hunter shrugged. "I'll heal." Movement no longer sent pain racing through him, but it would be days before the phantom pains disappeared.
"Good." Master Eldor stood and brushed off his robes. There was something stiff, icy about his manner.
"Where do we stand?"
The old Elivasti turned with
a raised eyebrow. "On?"
"The plan to eliminate our mutual problems." The Hunter jerked a thumb at the twin towers blotting out the sun.
"We were prepared to move last night. Men I trusted were in position in both temples." His eyes slid away. "It's how we were able to get you out."
"But?"
Master Eldor's face hardened. "The opportunity to strike has passed. I don't know when it will come again."
The Hunter frowned. "Surely it can't be that difficult to get your men in place. The Sage never has more than four guards around him."
"But those four are always Elivasti more loyal to him than to their own kind." Master Eldor's lip curled. "Short of killing them and replacing them with our own, we won't—"
"So do it," the Hunter said, his voice cold. "For the sake of the rest of you."
Master Eldor's expression hardened. "So like the Abiarazi, that way of thinking. Kill anyone who stands in your way and excuse it as 'the greater good’. Such justifications cover a whole lot of sins, don't they?"
The Hunter met the old Elivasti's glare with his own vehemence. "When you are in a situation where you must kill or face death, only a fool chooses to lie down and accept fate."
"Is that what you think we're doing?" Master Eldor's voice rose. "That we're blindly letting the demons use us because we're too cowardly to do anything about it?"
"What else would you call it? You cling to your oath of service to the Abiarazi, use it as a shield to excuse your actions." He bared his teeth. "I know why I put the dagger in my enemies. I don't have to hide behind the orders of a creature I call my master."
"You know nothing!" Master Eldor thundered. "You know nothing of the sacrifices we have made in the name of survival. How for millennia we have been enslaved to the capricious whims of the demons just so we can keep our children from the curse of the Irrsinnon." He stalked toward the Hunter. "You have never had to watch your children waste away, trapped behind a stone wall for fear of the madness. What you saw the other night was just a taste of what will happen if your boy is not cured. When you hold the lifeless body of your son in your arms…" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, sorrow mixing with the anger in his flashing eyes. "You come and talk to me of cowardice once you've known that pain."
The Hunter didn't back down. "I know of pain, Master Eldor. I know the pain of loss. A child I loved died in my arms, never knowing who I was. I watched a demon plunge a knife into the only person who had ever shown me kindness expecting nothing in return. I listened to the screams of an innocent boy being hauled away by bandits." He loomed over the short blademaster. "The difference between us is that I hunted down the bastards responsible and made them pay. I took action, eradicated the plague from the face of Einan. Just as I will do with the Sage and the Warmaster. My hand will wield the blade that frees your people from their slavery to the Abiarazi. The least you can do is help me make that happen."
For long moments, they remained in that position, gazes locked like two fighting wildebeests. Neither willing to back down, neither budging an inch.
"Eldor." Master Belros' quiet rumble echoed in the training yard. "He is right."
The old blademaster whirled on the smith.
The huge Belros actually flinched at the fire in Eldor's eyes, but he didn't retreat. "He's doing us a favor. We owe him what assistance we can."
"I know that!" Master Eldor snapped. "But I will not have Elivasti raise a hand against Elivasti unless there is no alternative."
"Even if it means the demons live?" The Hunter folded his arms. "The Sage will clear the way for me to eliminate the Warmaster in two days, but I don't know how—"
"Two days?" Master Eldor narrowed his eyes. "You're certain?"
The Hunter nodded. "That's what he said."
Master Eldor stroked his chin. "He's making his move before the Warmaster's army arrives."
A chill ran down the Hunter's spine. "You know about that?"
The old Elivasti gave a dismissive wave. "It's my men bringing the Sage reports. Of course I know about it." He frowned. "They're massing on the Hrandari Plains, a day's ride from Kharan-cui. The Sage knows the Warmaster will be untouchable once they arrive. If his plan to eliminate the Warmaster fails, he will set us to blockade the Torturer's Path. Our few hundred can hold out against thousands, but eventually we will be overwhelmed. And that's without them using the tunnel system honeycombing Shana Laal. The Sage would have us fight to the last man."
"Now you must ask yourself, Master Eldor, are the lives of a few Elivasti worth more than thousands?"
Master Eldor glared.
"If you have to kill a few of the Sage's most loyal servants—those who have essentially turned their backs on your kind—wouldn't it be worth it? Without the Warmaster and the Sage, you would have control of Kara-ket. The Masters of Agony will have no chance against you." The Hunter had faced the torturers on the bridge outside the Warmaster's temple; he hadn't been impressed with their skill. "You could take the temples, control the opia. All for the cost of a few lives."
"Elivasti lives," Master Eldor emphasized.
"As you say." The Hunter shrugged. "But remember: it is sometimes worth getting your hands dirty for the sake of others."
He had no illusions as to his true nature. He was no hero, but an assassin—a damned good one, at that. But in recent months, he had found a purpose beyond killing for gold. He had saved Celicia's life in the tunnels beneath Voramis. The deaths of Garanis and Il Seytani had been necessary to keep Hailen alive. And every demon he wiped off the face of Einan made it a safer place for innocents like Farida, Bardin, and the others he had lost.
The anger and tension in Master Eldor's face drained away, leaving only sorrow and a profound weariness. "We will be ready," he said in a quiet voice. "Two nights from now, when the Sage makes his move, so will we. And if there is no other way, we will do whatever is required of us."
"Good."
Shoulders drooping, Master Eldor turned to leave. The Hunter almost called out. He had hurt the old man; he'd seen the pain filling the violet eyes. But he could apologize later, after he'd eliminated the Sage and the Warmaster. Right now, he had more important things to do.
* * *
Taking a deep breath, the Hunter entered the enclosure. Anxiety twisted like a dagger in his gut, and he was glad he'd remembered to put on Bardin's pendant before he left his rooms. The warmth of the featureless metal always soothed him.
The onyx obelisks of the Dolmenrath called to him like a lodestone. He'd warned Hailen to stay away, but would the boy heed? He couldn't risk a repeat of what had happened in the desert. The closer he drew to the standing stones, the stronger the stench of ancient decay grew. The circle radiated an almost-tangible malevolence. The voice in his mind grew louder and more strident with every step, setting his head ringing. The ring of death sent a shiver down his spine.
Children shouted in the distance. With relief, the Hunter turned away from the standing stones. The pounding behind his eyes intensified to a painful volume. His fingers dug into his palms as he pushed back against the shrieking presence.
You'll have your death soon enough. He envisioned the moment Soulhunger plunged into the Warmaster's chest. The demon would be fed, and he would have his vengeance.
A few streets down, the Hunter found a small group of youths playing in the dirt. Mud streaked Hailen's face, hands, and clothing. Dried blood stained his knees, visible through the rips in his breeches. His high-pitched voice rang out clear and strong.
He's happy here, in his element. This is how it should be.
Hailen wasn't a normal child; he'd known that since the beginning. But here, among the Elivasti—his own kind—he was no different than the others. The Serenii temples protected him, gave him strength, and provided him shelter. Once again, the question burned into the Hunter's mind: would Hailen be better off in Kara-ket?
He knew the answer this time. Even with the Warmaster and Sage gone, the temples would be a place
of violence and bloodshed until the Elivasti had driven out the Masters of Agony and gained control of Shana Laal. He wouldn't risk Hailen's life by leaving him in the enclosure, within striking range of the torturers.
But that didn't make his decision easier. Once again, I'm forced to pull him from a place of peace. He needed to keep Hailen close, as much for his own sanity as for the boy's protection. After all that Hailen had endured because of him—in Malandria, Al Hani, and now here—the Hunter had to find someplace the boy would be safe. Once he had recovered Soulhunger, he would take the boy away.
Hailen looked up, and a smile wreathed his face. He leapt up from his mud sculpture and rushed to throw filthy arms around the Hunter's waist.
"Hardwell! You came!"
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Hunter chuckled. "Easy, Hailen. You're going to get me all dirty!"
Hailen pulled away with a worried expression. "I'm sorry, Hardwell."
The Hunter winced—the words had come out with more force than he'd intended. His gaze darted to Hailen's fingernails in time to see the last traces of crimson fading.
"How are you doing, Hailen? Everyone here treating you well?"
"Oh yes!" Hailen nodded, a wide grin splitting his face. "I've been playing with Iridan, Kaitlin, Orpheth…" He recounted a long list of names, pointing at each child in turn. The Hunter listened to the boy's recounting of his training with Master Eldor, the games he played with the others, and other mundanities. He basked in the simple comfort of being in Hailen's presence. The voice in his head had fallen silent; for these few minutes, he would have peace.
"And you're staying away from the stones like I told you, right?"
Hailen nodded, his forehead wrinkling. "I am, but the other boys tease me. They say I'm afraid." He shook his head. "But I'm not! I'm just doing it because you told me to."
Darkblade Guardian Page 33