Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  "Surely we slew them all," the demon whispered, his unblinking stare fixed on Hailen. "How can it be one survived?"

  “Strike now!” the voice in his mind shouted.

  The Hunter pushed back against the insistence. The Sage might have been stunned, but his Elivasti guards showed no sign of bewilderment or inattention.

  "Kill him!" The Sage fell back with a cry, pushing through the ranks of warriors. "Kill them both!"

  For a terrifying moment, the Hunter fought a desperate battle against too many violet-eyed warriors. In the wide open chamber, they came at him from all sides. He poured every bit of speed and skill into avoiding the iron-tipped staves. He tried to disengage, but dared not let any get past him. They would not touch Hailen.

  The clang of metal echoed in the enormous chamber. The Hunter spared a glance across the room—the steel door had slammed into place, and the Sage had disappeared.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The Hunter roared his rage. "No!" He can't get away! Not after what he's done.

  The voices pounded in his head, begging him to cut down the Elivasti that stood between him and the door. They lent strength to his desire for vengeance, his need to kill. He forced himself to hold his ground. If he charged, he would leave Hailen undefended. He had to stand and fight, for the boy's sake.

  Even as he took a step backward, a second clang behind him confirmed his worst fear. The Sage had trapped him in the room with ten well-trained warriors, all armed with iron-tipped weapons. Worse still, they had orders to kill Hailen.

  Every muscle tensed in anticipation of a fight, and he studied his opponents. Ten blank masks faced him, twenty violet eyes narrowed. Dread whispered in the back of his mind.

  They won't take us. He set his jaw. Not without a fight!

  A desperate hope remained. "Elivasti!" His voice thundered in the chamber. "You would raise a hand against one of your own? A boy, no less!"

  One of the masked warriors stepped forward and ripped off his mask, revealing a scarred forehead and close-cropped hair.

  "He is no Elivasti. He is Melechha!" The warrior, a man Master Eldor had called Erianus, spat. "Even were he an Elivasti, I would not hesitate to kill him. Not after what you did to Daemos."

  The Hunter's mind raced. The name sounded familiar. "Daemos?" It hit him. Another Elivasti he'd seen sparring with the Warmaster. Perhaps this Daemos been one of the Elivasti to fall in the Warmaster's temple, or one of the warriors the Hunter had killed in his pursuit of Hailen. He held up his hands. "If your friend Daemos chose the wrong side, he deserved the fate he suffered."

  A wild light glimmered in Erianus' eyes. "My brother was loyal to the end, damn you!" His knuckles whitened on his staff. "And now he lies rotting at the bottom of a cliff."

  What in the frozen hell is he talking about? Chaos whirled in the Hunter's thoughts. I don't see how—

  Erianus didn't give him time to contemplate it further. He darted forward, staff whirling. The Hunter blocked a vicious high swing, twisted out of the path of a thrust aimed at his waist, and dropped to one knee. Erianus' wild strike whooshed over his head. The Hunter's sword took the man in the throat. Gurgling, Erianus staggered backward and crumpled.

  The Hunter stood and flicked crimson droplets from his blade. Sweat moistened his palm as uncertainty danced within him. He fixed the remaining Elivasti with a baleful glare. "Surrender now while you still live." He pointed to the lifeless Erianus and the pool of blood spreading from the gash in his neck. "Do not make the same mistake he did."

  Without a sound, the Elivasti attacked. Their metal-shod staves whirled at the Hunter from every angle. The double-ended weapons flashed faster than his eyes could follow, and only his inhuman speed and reflexes honed over decades of training and combat kept them at bay. More than one slipped through his guard to strike his chest, abdomen, and legs. He staggered backward, pushing Hailen toward the corner of the chamber. There, they wouldn't be able to rush him.

  But not unscathed. An iron-shod staff slammed into his right shoulder. Pain spiked through the shattered bone, and his arm flopped by his side. Even as a scream tore from his lips, he ducked another swing and lashed out with Soulhunger. The dagger bit into the leg of his nearest opponent, and the man stumbled forward. For a heartbeat, the sagging warrior stood between him and his foes. Seizing the reprieve, the Hunter drove Soulhunger up under the man's ribs.

  The Elivasti screamed, a terrible sound, coarse with horror. Crimson light bathed the room, and a rush of power washed over the Hunter. He grunted as the broken bones in his shoulder re-knit. But he refused to let the dying man fall to the ground. Holding the slumping body like a shield, he retreated another step. He couldn’t fight a defensive battle, but couldn't attack, not with Hailen to protect. He didn't dare risk a glance back. He could only hope Hailen remained behind him.

  Hurling the lifeless corpse at one of the two Elivasti facing him, he dove forward. His fingers closed around the hilt of his sword as he rolled and leapt to his feet, blade outstretched. The tip of the long sword took another Elivasti in the lower thigh, just above the knee. The violet-eyed man screamed and dropped his metal-shod staff to clutch at the blood gushing from his severed artery.

  Instinct screamed at the Hunter to turn. Whirling, he brought his sword up just in time to deflect a thrust that would have driven an iron spike into his gut. He lashed out with Soulhunger, and the razor edge sliced through flesh and cartilage with terrible ease. The dagger's voice screamed in his head as the blade soaked up the crimson droplets staining the steel. Another Elivasti fell, coughing and spitting blood.

  Something slammed into the back of his head, sending him to his knees. Agony radiated through him as another iron spike pierced his upper arm. Growling his rage, he hurled himself to his right and drove his uninjured shoulder into an opponent's gut. The man struck the stone wall behind him with bone-shattering force. Breath whooshed from his lungs, and Soulhunger carved a new opening in his throat.

  A cry shattered his concentration. Without thinking, he spun and lunged toward Hailen. His sword took the Elivasti in the side, punching through leather and mail. The man grunted and fell back. The Hunter screamed as an iron spike pierced his lower back. The foul reek of tainted blood washed over him. His blood.

  He struggled to stay upright, but the poison sapped his strength. Agony raced up and down his spine. His knees trembled, and his legs buckled. The iron-shod butt of a staff slammed into his cheek, shattering bone and splaying his nose across his face. Blood streamed from his nose. He cried out as another spike punched into the side of his head, and a staff crashed down atop his head. The impact knocked him back, into Hailen.

  With a cry, the boy fell. He caught himself on the wall, his bloodstained palm pressed against the Serenii markings. Power hummed through the room, and the hairs on the Hunter's arms crackled with the force. The Elivasti hesitated, weapons poised to finish him off. A weak laugh burst from the Hunter's throat. Something sucked the air from the room, squeezing his head with ear-shattering force. Then the pressure burst outward in an explosive thunderclap.

  The concussive wave hurled the Elivasti from their feet, knocking the Hunter to the ground. His face slammed into hard stone. The ground rumbled beneath him. Blood spurted from his broken lips, and his pulse raced in his ears. But he had no time to waste. Head throbbing, agony coursing through every fiber of his being, the Hunter struggled forward. He fixed his gaze on the nearest body. The dagger's lust pounded in his mind. It had fed, but it ached for more.

  Without hesitation, he drove the blade into the prone form. The Elivasti shrieked in agony as ruby light illuminated the room. Life coursed through the Hunter's veins, washing away the poison. Fire burned in his chest as a new scar joined the masses etched into his flesh. Ignoring the pain, he reached for his sword and stumbled toward another fallen Elivasti. The man had just pushed himself to his elbows when the Hunter's blade bit into the base of his skull. He flopped to the ground, helpless, paralyzed.
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br />   In vain, the Hunter struggled to pull the sword free of bone. The remaining two Elivasti climbed to their feet, shaking their heads to clear them. Dropping the sword, the Hunter seized a discarded quarterstaff and hurled it at one of the warriors. The iron spike drove into the man's chest, knocking him backward. The man screamed and collapsed, clutching at the length of wood protruding from his ribs.

  "Die, murderer!" With a scream, the remaining Elivasti charged. "For the Sage!"

  In his stunned surprise, he barely managed to grab his sword in time to block a descending blow. The impact knocked his blade aside, and the metal-tipped butt whirled up into the underside of his chin, rocking his head back. His jaw bone cracked, and a jolt ran down his spine. Stifling a scream, he charged forward, shrugged off a blow that shattered ribs, and drove Soulhunger into the man's chest. The Elivasti died screaming. Soulhunger added its joyous cries to the maelstrom whirling in the Hunter's head. Even as power engulfed him and drowned out all sensation, chaos roiled in the Hunter's thoughts.

  A thought slammed into the Hunter. Erianus said Daemos lies at the bottom of a cliff because of me. There was only one explanation. The assassin.

  Impossible! The assassin wore the robes of an Elivasti, but only to mask his true identity. He'd caught a glimpse of scarlet, the color of the Masters of Agony, before the Sage had knocked the assassin off the cliff.

  He wrestled with the conflicting information. There hadn't been enough light to see the man's eyes, but his nose never lied. The scents—blood, the stink of the iron, the Sage's putrescence, even Hailen's clean, innocent smell—had been clear. But a smell had been missing: the smell of human. The assassin had had no scent. Just like the Elivasti.

  But why? Erianus’ words flashed through his mind. "My brother was loyal to the end, damn you!" Loyal to the Sage, not the Warmaster. So why would the Sage's oathbound warrior attack him?

  The Sage ordered it.

  The demon had ordered Daemos to attack, another ploy to goad the Hunter into action against the Warmaster. The robes of the Masters of Agony had pointed the finger squarely at the massive demon, and the threat to Hailen's life had pushed the Hunter over the edge.

  Acid twisted in the Hunter's stomach. His plan worked to perfection. And, like a fool, I fell for it.

  But something still didn't make sense. Why would the Sage kill a loyal servant? The demon had hurled the "assassin" from the cliff moments before help had arrived.

  He couldn't let the other Elivasti discover the truth.

  Had the Hunter removed the face mask, he—and the Elivasti guards—would have recognized Daemos. The Sage needed him to blame the Warmaster for the attempt. Not only so he would challenge the Warmaster, but to give the Elivasti a reason to take up arms. He needed the Elivasti to believe the Warmaster had broken his oath.

  The Sage had sent Elivasti to break the Hunter out of the Warmaster's dungeon. At the time, the Hunter had believed the Sage did so out of a desire to thwart the Warmaster, and to protect a tool he planned to use against his fellow demon.

  But what if there was more to it than that? What if the Sage was behind my capture in the first place? How else could the Warmaster have known he was out on the bridge that night? He'd told no one his plan. He'd only conceived it while walking on the enclosure wall with…

  With the Sage. The Sage had wanted to speak privately with the Hunter. But the demon had made a point of telling the Hunter about the temple, and specifically drawing his attention to the bridge. Plans within plans.

  One of the Elivasti coughed, spitting blood, and struggled to rise. The Hunter kicked him in the face, ripping the cloth mask free. Horrified, the Hunter stared down at the familiar features of Dasim.

  Dasim. The young man who had stood beside Master Eldor and Master Belros as they plotted against the Sage. The one who had brought him through the secret stairway down to the Elivasti camp, who had carried Hailen to the enclosure after the madness seized him.

  With a cry of rage, the Hunter raised Soulhunger high and drove it into Dasim's chest. The traitor's screams reverberated loud and long in the chamber. The Hunter felt nothing but satisfaction at the Elivasti's agonizing death.

  Dasim had betrayed them to the Sage. He'd always known of the conspiracy, had used it to force Master Eldor to face the Hunter. All the time the Hunter had thought he'd evaded the Sage's watching eyes, he'd been speaking to the man no doubt put in place by the Sage.

  Soulhunger rose and fell again, and again. This filth had endangered Hailen, and all the children of the Elivasti. The Sage had watched him since the moment he arrived in Kharan-cui. He'd known of the Hunter's concern for the boy, and Dasim had no doubt revealed his connection to Master Eldor. The demon had used those relationships against him.

  He'd purposely carried out the Expurgation in front of the Hunter with the intention of showing the side effects of the opia. Then he'd instructed Master Eldor to warn the Hunter against the opia. All to prime the Hunter's mind to search for a way out—fertile ground for the plan he "inadvertently" revealed.

  How foolish he'd been! Every word from the Sage's lips—from the offer for the boy to undertake the Expurgation to the tale about his own family—had been a lie. The demon had seen through his attempts at manipulation. He'd allowed the Hunter to believe he pulled the strings. While the Hunter thought he played the Abiarazi against each other, the Sage used the Hunter's cleverness against him. Worse, he'd used the Elivasti to kill their own kind.

  A terrible realization struck him. The Sage killed an Elivasti! The thought sent the Hunter to his knees. The Elivasti had only raised a hand against the Warmaster once they believed he'd killed one of them. But the Sage killed Daemos. He is the oathbreaker!

  Oathbreaker. The word slammed into his mind with physical force. He reeled beneath a torrent of sorrow, anger, and hatred.

  Master Eldor, the man who had once been like a father to him, the only one who could help him fill in parts of his missing past, had died because of his oath to the Sage. The Elivasti believed he owed the demon loyalty. But the demon had broken his pledge the moment he hurled Daemos from the cliff.

  Waves of horror cascaded through him. Oathbreaker.

  A howl of rage burst from his throat, echoing in the room. He roared until his voice cracked, and his remaining strength faded. The gods mocked him, cruel to the bitter end. His fingers stole inside his cloak and fumbled at the pendant at his neck.

  Had he known, he could have turned the Elivasti against the demon. Master Eldor, Master Belros, and the others might have swayed their comrades to fight the Sage as they had the Warmaster. Instead, they had died for an oathbreaker. Master Eldor had died for nothing. And the Hunter had killed him.

  An immense burden settled on his shoulders. The voices in his head faded to a dull hum as numbness coursed through him. Languor seeped into his limbs, sapping all life and energy. Darkness pressed in on him. He wanted to curl into a ball, to lie down and let the mountain bury his grief.

  A small hand touched his shoulder. "Hardwell?" The Hunter lifted his head. Small violet eyes, rimmed with tears, met his. "Hardwell?"

  The voice pushed back the numbness, cleared the haze from his vision.

  No, he told himself. Not for nothing. Master Eldor had given his life so the boy could live. It has to be enough.

  Warmth seeped into his limbs, driving back the numbing chill, as he forced himself to stand. "I-I'm fine." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Are you hurt?"

  Hailen shook his head and wiped tears from his cheeks. "No. But when I saw you fall down, I was so scared. Did I hurt you again?" He looked down at his hands, still stained with the blood that had dripped from his fingernails.

  "No!" The Hunter held the boy's hands in a firm grip. "No, Hailen, you saved me." Again.

  A smile broadened the boy's face. "I did?"

  The Hunter crushed the boy to his chest. "Yes, Hailen. You did well."

  The boy threw his arms around the Hunter's neck and returned the emb
race. For a long moment, the Hunter clung to the boy as if to a lifeline. Hailen was the only thing keeping him from descending into grief-fueled madness.

  Enough, he told himself. No time for this. We have more urgent problems.

  Breaking off the embrace, the Hunter climbed to his feet. His gaze darted around the room. The metal doors remained firmly in place. Sheathing his sword and Soulhunger, he strode toward the door through which the Sage had fled. The reek of iron assaulted his nostrils. When he stretched out a hand, his skin crawled from the near-contact.

  Damn it!

  He studied the door for any sign of weakness. A solid sheet of metal met his questing gaze; the door had no handle, no visible hinges. He slammed a boot into the unyielding surface. He could have kicked solid stone for all the good it did.

  Now what?

  His mind raced. Perhaps he could use one of the Elivasti staves to pry open the door, or—

  A new sound reached his ears: a gentle rumbling, like boiling lead in an enormous underground crucible. What in the fiery hell is that? A tremor ran through the ground, shaking the walls.

  "Hardwell?" Fear filled Hailen's voice. "Wh-What's happening?"

  A piercing shriek echoed in the room. The Hunter whirled to face the threat, but found nothing. The shriek deepened to a hiss, and steam poured from holes in the walls. The Hunter yanked Hailen away from a jet of white shooting at his face. He threw his cloak over the boy's head.

  The room grew hotter with every heartbeat. Breathing proved more difficult as steam billowed into the room. Moisture soaked into the Hunter's clothing, his sweat mixing with the suffocating vapor.

  Panic sank fangs into the Hunter's mind. He stumbled toward the door, dragging Hailen with him. His limbs moved as if through thick mud. A dim part of his mind realized that the enclosed space would only contain so much oxygen. The more the steam filled it, the less air they would have to breathe.

  Ripping a cloak from a fallen Elivasti, he wrapped it around his hands. The scent of fresh-spilled blood assaulted him, and crimson trickled down his arms. Ignoring it, he pounded his fists in vain against the unyielding iron door.