The Hunter fixed him with a hard glare. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing." The priest gave a dismissive wave, trying hard to be nonchalant. "Forget I said anything, and depart in peace."
"Tell me," the Hunter growled.
The Lectern set his jaw and shook his head. "I have said too much already."
"Speak, Priest." The Hunter took a threatening step forward, but once again, the look in the priest’s eyes told him his threats would not cow the man into breaking. After a moment, he nodded. "So be it. I have what I came for. The time has come for me to leave."
Fear flashed across the priest's expression, and he threw up his hands. "Please! You promised—"
The Hunter's hand flashed up and out in a blur, slamming the rounded pommel of his dagger into the base of the priest’s skull. The Lectern sagged to the ground in an unconscious heap.
He crouched to check for the priest's pulse. His blow had been hard enough to render the man senseless, but he'd wake in a few hours—with the worst headache of his life, but alive.
"Don't just leave him like that," the demon shrieked. "Kill him!"
The Hunter shook his head. It’s not necessary, he told the voice. I promised I would let him live.
"You are losing your edge." The presence in his mind radiated fury and disgust. "That boy is making you soft."
A low growl rumbled in the Hunter's throat. I do not grow soft. I simply refuse to give you what you desire. The harder you push, the more I will fight you. I kill when I choose to.
"Pathetic human," the demon snarled. "You think yourself strong, but it is the act of a willful, stubborn child. You waste your strength denying the truth."
And what truth is that? The Hunter's fists clenched. You seek to turn me into a mindless, savage beast like you.
"A predator, born to hunt, to kill! Even your name bears witness to who you really are. When you deny it, you only deceive yourself." The force of the demon's rage had set his hands trembling.
Enough!
The Hunter closed his eyes and focused on constructing the mental barrier, fighting against the relentless assault of the presence within. He steeled his will and forced the wall in his mind to rise and lock the demon’s voice away.
The throbbing in his head receded to a dull ache as the last brick fell in place, and he drew in a deep breath to calm himself. It took a moment for the rush of blood to subside and his heart to return to its steady rhythm. With one last glance at the unconscious Lectern, he hurried back toward the stairs and the way out of the vault.
He paused at the bas-relief of Kharna the Destroyer. “Entombed against the return of the Devourer” the Sage had called it. The more he looked at it, the odder it seemed. Something about the image felt …off.
The weight of the book tucked into his robes brought a grim sense of satisfaction. He'd gotten what he came for. Sure, he still had to find the instructions in the book, doubtless well-concealed by the Illusionist Clerics' codes. But the first step, getting his hands on the tome, was complete.
Now to get the hell out of here and back to Hailen. They'd depart Vothmot with Darillon at dawn. He and the boy could both use a good night's rest before beginning their arduous trek through the Empty Mountains tomorrow.
Relief filled the Hunter as he reached the entrance to the Vault of Stars and found it empty. He dove head-first through the opening, landed in a roll on the bare stone floor, and came to his feet in one smooth movement. He didn't bother closing the wall panel behind him as he hurried up the stairs.
He'd learned a lot in the Vault, more than his mind could digest at once. He would have to go over everything later, once he had a few moments of peace. For now, he had to focus on getting out of the Master's Temple.
He climbed the six floors to the main level and paused at the entrance to the staircase. The confusion of the arriving priests had diminished, but apprentices, Lecterns, and other visiting clerics filled the halls of the temple. With a grin, he slipped out into the hall and into the commotion. He should have no problem leaving in all the chaotic flow of men and women. Hells, he could probably walk out the front gate, and everyone would be too busy to notice him.
His path led across the main basilica, and he marveled at the breathtaking beauty of the crystal dome high overhead. It filled the room with dazzling sunlight that seemed to set the white marble aglow with an ethereal light. For a moment, it almost felt like he stood in the heavens, with the power of the Thirteen humming through the stone around him.
The feeling passed as he moved through the colonnades and into one of the temple’s aisles. He hurried toward a corridor that looked like it would lead him south, toward the front of the temple. He walked with his head bowed to hide his features, his hands concealed in the voluminous sleeves of his green-and-silver velvet Lectern’s robes.
When he stepped into the Chapel of Radiance, he couldn’t help pausing at the sight. The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the enormous stained glass window that covered the entire southern wall of the chapel. The Master stared down at him, an expression of noble dignity on the white-bearded, kind-eyed face. The yellow stained glass filled the air with a golden glow, accentuated by the reds, blues, and greens of the Master’s divine robes.
It truly was as beautiful as people said.
But enough. No time to dawdle. Daylight faded fast, and he still had to cross the entire city to get back to the brothel. He'd spent enough time enjoying the view.
He turned to leave the Chapel of Radiance and collided with a short, slim priest entering. He mumbled a hurried apology, then his eyes went wide as he recognized the man—a man he thought he'd left far behind him with the shattered remnants and haunting memories of his past.
"Forgive me, Lectern, I didn't see you there," said Father Reverentus, Beggar Priest, and Cambionari of Voramis.
Chapter Eleven
There was no mistaking it. He would recognize the man’s lined and weathered face, the liver spots dotting his bald scalp, his long white beard, the stooped back, and the sharp, intelligent eyes anywhere. The scent of vellum, dust, and arthritic joint balm confirmed what his eyes told him.
"Are you well?" Father Reverentus' brow furrowed in concern. "You look like you've seen…" He trailed off, and his eyes narrowed.
Time slowed as the Hunter stared at the emaciated, age-worn man who had set him on this fateful journey. Until the day he'd met Father Reverentus, he'd been ignorant of the Abiarazi, his demonic heritage, Soulhunger's true purpose, and the threat of Kharna’s return. This man, this forceful, vengeful priest, had recruited him into his war against the demons as penance for killing Brother Securus, the only able-bodied Cambionari in Voramis.
Yes, he would recognize the man anywhere. And, judging by the suspicion written in the Beggar Priest's eyes, the man would recognize him as well.
The Hunter's gut clenched as two Wardens strolled past, their mirrored metal armor turned a rosy red by the glow of the stained glass window. If the priest said anything to attract attention, he'd be putting too many people at risk. The Hunter had no desire to fight his way out, but there was no way he'd let the Cambionari, the Illusionist Clerics, or any other Keeper-damned priest stop him.
He stepped close to the priest and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Say the wrong thing, do anything to draw attention, and everyone in the chapel dies."
"It is you," Father Reverentus hissed. Fury flashed across his age-lined face. "How dare you show your face here after—"
The Hunter seized the old man's arm and tugged him toward a doorway at the rear of the Chapel of Radiance. Father Reverentus tried to break free, but the Hunter's iron grip held him fast. When he opened his mouth to cry out, the Hunter pressed the tip of his dagger against his throat. "Don't make me do it, Priest."
His heart thundered a furious beat as he and Father Reverentus strode toward the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder and found the Wardens eying him with barely passing curiosity. They had more
important things to worry about than an Under-Lectern and a Beggar Priest.
The Hunter had to lower his dagger to open the door, but dragged Father Reverentus inside before the old man could raise an alarm or call attention to them. The room was small and lit by a single window set high on the bare stone walls. The only furnishings were a closet filled with Lectern robes, a wash basin, and a table with two wooden chairs.
The Beggar Priest whirled on him. "What in the Keeper's name are you doing in Vothmot?" He rubbed his throat with his arthritis-twisted hands, but blazing fury filled his blue eyes.
"I could ask you the same thing, Priest." The Hunter spoke in a flat voice. "You're a long way from Voramis."
"As are you," Father Reverentus snarled. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Your kind always did manage to find your way back here."
"Wait, what?" This surprised the Hunter. "What are you talking about?"
"Vothmot, the first step on the journey to Enarium." The priest's eyes burned with a piercing intensity. "You Bucelarii always returned here, one way or another. It's why you always proved so easy to eliminate. Like dogs to your vomit, you are."
The vehemence in Father Reverentus' voice came as a greater surprise than the revelation about the Bucelarii. He and the priest hadn't parted ways as friends, but they'd been allies of a sort. Yet now, the man who stood before him looked ready to kill him. Indeed, Father Reverentus' younger days as a Cambionari seemed to be ingrained in him, given the way he reached for a weapon that likely hadn't hung on his belt for the better part of three decades.
"I should have ordered Brother Securus to kill you back in Voramis," the priest spat. "Your death would have spared a great deal of suffering."
"What are you talking about, Father?" The Hunter's brow furrowed in confusion. "I killed the First and the Third, like you wanted. Since then, I've killed every Keeper-damned demon I've encountered." All but the Sage, who had managed to escape. The priest didn't need to know about that, though. "I kept my word to you. Of anything, you ought to be thanking me for—"
"Thanking you?" The priest's voice rose to a furious roar. "After what you did to the Cambionari in Malandria? To Father Pietus?"
The Hunter's gut clenched. He hadn't wanted to fight, but they had forced his hand. Garanis, the demon masquerading as an Illusionist Cleric, had given the order through Father Pietus, and the Cambionari had obeyed. No one could fault the Hunter for choosing to live.
He opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but Father Reverentus spoke first. "And then there was Visibos."
"What of him?" The Hunter shook his head. "I didn't kill him."
"No, you sentenced him to a fate far worse." Hatred blazed in the Beggar Priest's eyes. "You locked him in that vault to starve to death."
The Hunter's blood ran cold. His mind flashed back to that night in the House of Need in Malandria. He'd told Visibos he would tell the other Beggar Priests the apprentice was locked in the vault, but that promise had fled his mind in his desperate fight for his life.
"No," he said in a quiet voice.
"Yes," Father Reverentus snarled. "They found his body three weeks later. He'd eaten his boots, his clothing, even bits of his own flesh in a vain attempt to stay alive. You condemned him to that horrible fate." His age-lined face twisted into a sneer. "Back in Voramis, when you agreed to help hunt the demons, I told myself that there was something decent in you. I can see now how absolutely wrong I was."
The words hit the Hunter like a blow to the gut. He truly had intended to ensure Visibos was released from the vault, yet with everything that had happened—the fight with Lord Knight Moradiss and the Cambionari, his encounter with Garanis, the desire to get Hailen away from the horrors of the bloodshed—it had slipped his mind. And Visibos had died because of it.
The demon tried to break free of the wall he'd erected in his mind, but he gritted his teeth and forced the barrier to hold fast. He had no need to hear that mockery in his head. It didn't matter that Visibos had tried to kill him and would gladly do so again. The apprentice hadn't deserved that death.
"It was an—"
"Don't you dare say accident!" Father Reverentus' gnarled hand actually came up to strike him. The Hunter caught the old priest's emaciated wrist, but didn't retaliate. The Beggar Priest had every right to the fury burning through him. The Hunter would feel exactly the same were their roles reversed.
"I was going to say," the Hunter growled through clenched teeth, "an unfortunate outcome, but I was put in a position where I had no choice." He released the priest's hand roughly and glared at the smaller man. "Sixteen Cambionari surrounded me, and I fought for my life. I am sorry for their deaths, but they left me no other way out."
"And what of the boy, Hailen?" The priest's voice was cold, hard. "Did he leave you no other choice but to murder him, as well? What did you do with his body, Hunter? Did you even bury him, or did you leave him on the steps of some building like with Farida?"
The Hunter's hands balled and it took all his self-control not to drive his fist through the priest's face. "I did not kill the boy."
"Then where is he?" Father Reverentus stabbed a crooked finger at him. "What have you done with him?"
The Hunter spoke in a quiet voice. "He is safe."
"With you?" The Beggar Priest barked a harsh laugh. "Do you even know what he is, or is he simply another wayward child you are using to delude yourself into believing you're human? Look how that turned out for the last—"
The Hunter gripped the priest's throat in a move so fast Father Reverentus couldn't even flinch back. "Don't. Ever. Speak. Of Her. Again." His teeth clenched with such force his jaw ached. "That was not my fault."
"Is that what you tell yourself, Hunter?" the priest choked out. "That her death isn't on your head."
"It is on my head," the Hunter snarled. "The First killed her to goad me into destroying the Bloody Hand and the Dark Heresy, and, in doing so, gather enough power for his dark ritual to summon an Abiarazi to Einan."
Father Reverentus' eyes flew wide.
"Oh, yes, Priest," the Hunter spat. "You have no idea what happened after I left your accursed temple. All you know is that you humans lived another day. But you will never know what it cost me, what it is still costing me to this day. So do not presume to lecture me on what you perceive to be my shortcomings. After all, isn't it your duty as Cambionari to hunt down the demons? From what I've seen, you're doing a terrible job."
He released his grip on the priest's throat, and Father Reverentus fell to the ground with a gasp. He stared at the Hunter, his weathered face red, a mixture of fury and remorse in his eyes.
"I am sorry for what happened to your fellow Beggar Priests," the Hunter said in a quiet voice. "I did not mean for Visibos to die. He was simply doing his duty, as were the others. But they left me no choice. I could not let them capture or kill me, not when there were demons roaming Einan." He stabbed a finger at the priest. "You were the one to recruit me to that mission. I am simply doing what you and yours cannot."
Father Reverentus picked himself slowly up off the ground. His anger had diminished from raging inferno to a low simmering, and he was once again the age-worn, stooped man. He tugged at his robes to straighten them, and he ran a gnarled hand over his bald head as he sat heavily in one of the simple wooden chairs.
"And what of the boy?" he asked after a long moment. "How does he factor into your mission to kill the demons?"
"The boy is…"
The Hunter hesitated. He didn't need Hailen to help him hunt down the Abiarazi, but he did need to find a way to protect the boy from the Irrsinnon slowly claiming him. Did the priest know the truth of the boy's heritage as Elivasti? Or, what was it the Sage had called him, Melechha?
He fixed Father Reverentus with a hard stare. This priest had told him the truth of his own heritage, and had set him on this path. He was Cambionari, yet he had chosen not to follow his divine orders to kill the Hunter. Maybe, just maybe, he could be trusted to an
extent.
He drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "The boy is not human. He is—"
"Elivasti, yes." Father Reverentus gave a dismissive wave. "His mother told Father Pietus that much the day he found her lying on the steps of the House of Need in Malandria."
The Hunter's eyes went wide. He'd never thought to ask how Hailen had come to be in the temple.
"At first," the priest continued, "we believed the woman's purple eyes marked her as a Bucelarii, but she showed no vulnerability to iron. But she was weak, suffering from the Bloody Flux. She could not return to her people in the Chasm of the Lost, so she asked us to care for her son. Her final words to the priest were, 'This child is special'."
"You have no idea how true those words are." The Hunter met the priest's gaze without hesitation. "Do you know what a Melechha is?"
"What?" Father Reverentus jerked backward as if struck.
The Hunter raised an eyebrow at the forceful reaction. "You recognize the word?"
"How do you know it?" the priest demanded.
The Hunter hesitated. "I heard it from the lips of a demon."
Father Reverentus' face went ashen, and he leaned heavily on the wall. "Blessed Beggar, can it be?" he breathed. His eyes glazed over, his gaze unfocused.
"What does it mean?" the Hunter asked, taking a seat across from the priest. "What in the fiery hell is a Melechha?"
Father Reverentus raised his eyes, and the Hunter was shocked to see tears shining there.
"The Melechha," he said, "are the hope of the future."
Chapter Twelve
Father Reverentus' tears weren't of sorrow, but joy. "We had thought them all eradicated or died out, yet is it possible that the boy truly is what you say?" Hope filled his expression. "I know he's got the purple eyes of the Elivasti, but—"
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