Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  He gave Evren a stern gaze. "And, if such a person was bein' in our company, see, there's no way we could ensure they got turned over the Wardens if, say, they happened to be departin' all nice and quiet-like afore we passed through the city walls."

  Evren's eyes narrowed, but he gave little nod.

  The interaction surprised the Hunter. He'd always been the one concealing the secrets, and it felt odd to watch it from the outside. He'd half-expected the two mountaineers to try to capture Evren, but Rassek's words seemed to mollify Darillon. The older man's hand fell away from his dagger, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

  "Ye won't be takin' no offense if we keep a close eye on our packs, though, will ye?" A glint of humor sparkled in Rassek's eyes.

  "Not at all." Evren actually grinned. "More of a challenge, that way."

  That didn't sit well with Darillon. "Let's move. Time's wasting." He stood and stalked off toward the horses.

  Rassek watched him go, then turned back to Evren. "Yer shite, yer stink, kid. Leave us out of yer business, ye hear?" He spoke in a low voice filled with menace. "We'll be doin' whatever we have to to keep out of yer mess, we will."

  Evren stiffened. "You ain’t gotta worry about trouble from me," he said, his voice tight. "The Wardens won’t never know we met."

  "Good, says I." Rassek nodded and stood. "Well, ye heard the man. Let's be off!"

  Evren's gaze shifted to the Hunter, and something cold and hard blazed in his eyes. "What?" he demanded.

  "Nothing at all." The Hunter shrugged. "I've got no reason to judge you."

  "No, you don't," Evren snarled. "You ain’t got no idea what happened."

  "So be it." The Hunter jerked a thumb toward the two older men. "Like they said, your business is your own."

  "You ain’t gonna threaten me again?" Evren raised a mocking eyebrow. "Promise you'll put a knife in my back before I do it to you?"

  "No need." The Hunter gave him a grin. "You already know I'll do that." With that, he stood and went to collect Hailen.

  * * *

  A new tension descended on their little party, and it didn't let up throughout the rest of the afternoon. Evren rode with his shoulders hunched, his left hand hovering near his belt. Darillon and Rassek both cast occasional glances over their shoulders, unsuccessful in their efforts to be discreet.

  Hailen, however, seemed not to notice. He spent the afternoon riding Ash and kept up a constant stream of chatter. He pointed out every rock, stubby tree, cliff face, cloud, bird, and oddly-shaped stone he passed. The boy's enthusiasm for the beauty of the Empty Mountains seemed truly boundless.

  The Hunter couldn't deny the mountains were beautiful. The scrubby bushes and mountain grass sprouting from the steep slopes gave their surroundings a harsh beauty, the dull brown and green mixing with craggy cliff faces in a dozen rocky shades of grey, white, and red. The trail winding between the mountains gave the Hunter a feeling of being protected, a stark contrast with the stuffy, enclosed atmosphere of Vothmot.

  But it was Hailen that brought a smile to the Hunter's face. The boy was lucid, alert, and talking; something that had become less and less common since leaving Kara-ket. Even with Soulhunger on his belt—a fact that both Rassek and Darillon had noticed but made a point not to mention—the boy still occasionally retreated into his head. He rode with a glassy-eyed, thousand-pace stare, as if lost in a world of his thoughts.

  To see Hailen like this proved a gift in itself. The incessant chatter that had once grated on the Hunter's nerves now came as a welcome change from the sullen silence brought on by the Irrsinnon. This was how the Hunter wanted Hailen to live. Only in Enarium would he find the solution to free Hailen of the Elivasti's curse.

  Aside from Hailen's high-pitched voice, only the occasional wind and the clatter of the horses' hooves on stone broke the silence. Even Rassek and Darillon's good-natured banter had stopped since their noonday conversation. The idea that they rode with someone who murdered priests—and priests of Kiro, the Master, no less—left them unsettled.

  If only they knew how many priests I've killed, the Hunter thought. Most had been Cambionari trying to kill him, but some—like Father Pietus or Brother Securus—had simply been victims of the demons' machinations. Too many others had died because of them. No more. The Sage's death would be the first step toward putting an end to the Abiarazi's predations on Einan.

  As the sun dipped toward the mountains in the west, Darillon pushed the pace a bit faster. He kept them riding until they reached a small rocky hollow nestled between two huge boulders.

  "We camp here tonight," he said in a gruff, terse voice. "We need to move fast. It gets dark and cold quickly in the mountains."

  The Hunter and Evren pitched one tent while Rassek set up the other. Darillon set about building a fire from a few scraps of wood he'd brought. A brass tripod and matching cauldron provided the mountaineer a place to cook, and he had a simple stew going by the time the camp was pitched.

  They sat around the fire, a subdued group eating their meal in silence. Even Hailen had run out of words. He sat quietly, his bowl ignored, playing with a handful of smooth, round pebbles.

  The Hunter drew in a deep breath of the crisp night air, and was surprised to find a near-absence of smells. He caught the unique scents of the three men around him, the odorous fragrance of the horses, and the aroma of the stew, but little else. This far from people, there were few things to taint the air. Just the hard, dusty scent of solid stone and the edge of a cold wind.

  He broke the silence. "So," he asked Darillon and Rassek, "where are we supposed to find the Lost City?"

  "North." Darillon's expression was unreadable as he met the Hunter's gaze.

  "How far north?" the Hunter pressed. He could feel Her presence pulling him northward and slightly to the east, but that feeling in the back of his mind wouldn't show him the way through the mountains. He'd need the guides to get him there.

  Darillon shrugged. "If I knew, I'd be living there, not renting my services out to lead sight-seers."

  "What Grumpy Guts ‘ere means to say is that no one knows, see." Rassek shot the older man a glare. "As I'm certain ye’ve heard, all records of Enarium's whereabouts have been lost fer thousands of years, they have. Which makes it a wee bit tricky to find the way."

  The Hunter chuckled. "Of course."

  "But accordin’ to the old legends, it was said the Serenii could see Vothmot from atop the tallest tower in Enarium. No one knows how tall that tower is, so there's no way to be knowin’ how far it is, see." Rassek leaned forward and spoke in a dramatic whisper. "It's the question all great mountaineers have been askin’ fer hundreds of years. What if one of those mountain peaks is actually bein' the top of the tower? What if Enarium is actually hidin’ in plain sight?"

  Evren's eyes sparkled, and the Hunter felt his own curiosity burning. It seemed the thief, like him, couldn't resist the allure of a good mystery. He'd always loved the stories of Aegeos, the continent said to have sunk beneath the Endless Sea during the War of Gods.

  "The legends also say Enarium was bein' somewhere in the heart of the mountains," Rassek went on in his dramatic voice. "Most people take that as meanin’ it’s bein' somewhere in the middle of the Empty Mountain range. That’d be puttin' it more than a hundred leagues to the north, it would. But me, I like to be thinkin' of it in more the magical sense."

  "Magick?" The Hunter raised an eyebrow. The Serenii had wielded magical power, but magick hadn't been seen on Einan since the ancient race disappeared around the time of the War of Gods.

  "Magick, indeed." Rassek dragged a finger through the dirt at his feet, drawing four lines. "There’s those who say Enarium is bein' built on the spot where the lines of Einan's power converge, see." He drew a large circle where the lines intersected. "I’m like to be believin' the true heart of the mountain is here, where the magical lines intersect, and not the physical center."

  The Hunter's eyebrows rose. The Sage had mentioned some
thing similar. "The Serenii designed Enarium as a conduit for their power. An entire city built to channel the energies they drew from within Einan itself!" The mountaineer’s belief could be more accurate than he realized.

  "So where is this magical heart of the mountains?" he asked.

  Rassek's face fell. "Somewhere we'll never be able to reach."

  Darillon snorted. "Flair for the dramatic, you’ve got!"

  "I'm not bein' dramatic!" Rassek shot the older man a glare. "This is all part of the experience of seekin’ out the Lost City, says I."

  "Myths and legends and fairy tales." Darillon sighed. "Too many good men have gone to their deaths in search of something that doesn't exist."

  "And yet you make your living searching for it?" the Hunter asked.

  Darillon shrugged. "People are willing to pay me to take them into the mountains, and I need the coin to live. Not all of us can be driven by flights of fancy."

  "Fancy?" Rassek's face took on an expression of mock outrage. "And I suppose ye’re goin’ to be callin' the Stone Guardians myth and legend as well?"

  "Damned bloody right, I am!" Darillon folded his arms. "No one's seen them in person before."

  Rassek protested. "Divvik and Garith—"

  "Are bloody drunks and liars, you know that better than anyone." Darillon shook his head. "No, no one I trust has seen them before. There's no proof they exist."

  "What are Stone Guardians?" the Hunter asked, cutting in on their exchange. This seemed to be an argument the two men had had many times in the past.

  "Another myth!" Darillon snorted.

  "The protectors of Enarium," Rassek said, shooting his partner a venomous look. "Them charged with guardin’ the path to the Lost City, they are."

  "A path no one seems to be able to find," Darillon said with a shake of his head.

  "Because the Stone Guardians are protectin’ it!" Rassek's expression grew triumphant, as if he'd won a significant victory.

  Darillon rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to retort.

  "The Stone Guardians," continued Rassek, "are bein' great grand beasts of stone, set by the Serenii to guard the way to Enarium, they are. ‘Tis said only the truly worthy will ever see them, fer only the worthy will be findin’ the path to the Lost City."

  "Or, only a man capable of scaling a sheer stone cliff two hundred paces tall," Darillon muttered.

  "What cliff?" the Hunter asked. Despite the argument, the mountaineer's stories held a hint of information that might prove useful.

  "Go ahead," Darillon prompted Rassek, eliciting a scowl. "Tell them where your theory falls flat."

  With a sigh, Rassek drew a broad circle around the lines he'd etched into the dirt. "I can’t show this disbeliever where the magical heart of the mountains is because there's no way to reach it, see."

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes.

  "Too many impassable cliffs with sheer rock faces too difficult to scale, even fer experienced climbers like Darillon." Rassek shot a hard look at the older man. "We've gone circlin’ that section of the mountain a dozen times and never found a way through, we haven’t."

  "Waste of time," Darillon said, rolling his eyes. "And good equipment. One time, the horses spooked and bolted. Cost us a fortune in equipment, and we barely got out of there alive. Had to live off the rations in our packs. We only survived because we were lucky enough to stumble across another group of mountaineers."

  "But don’t ye see?" Excitement glimmered in Rassek's eyes. "Tha’s bein' the proof! The horses spooked because of the Stone Guardians, says I."

  "I didn't see any monsters of stone," Darillon retorted.

  "Neither did I, because they were made of bloody stone on a mountain of stone." Rassek shook his head. "But that's the only reason Blackwing and Heartfire here would run off, see. They've been solid, calm horses for ten years, yet one day out of the blue they just spook? Nothin’ else makes sense!"

  These words triggered a memory in the Hunter's mind. Queen Asalah, the demon in Al Hani, had spoken of the curse of the Empty Mountains. It was said the curse toyed with the minds of the Abiarazi, turned them into mindless beasts. It was why the Sage had chosen to give up his power and become human in order to reach Enarium.

  But what if the same curse that affected the Abiarazi had somehow influenced the horses’ minds as well? The Serenii magick could have different effects on different creatures. Ash and Elivast had hated the Dolmenrath, the magical standing stones erected by the ancient Serenii. Was it such a stretch that the curse placed on the Empty Mountains would have similar effects?

  "Where did that happen?" the Hunter asked. It was a huge gamble, but it was the closest thing he had to a clue.

  "About two days' ride from here," Rassek said.

  Darillon shook his head. "Don't believe a word he—"

  "That's where we go," the Hunter said. "That is where we'll find the way to Enarium."

  Chapter Seventeen

  The dreams returned in full force that night.

  "We have spoken of this before, Az'nii." He paced around the room, the frustration in his voice echoing the irritation in his gut. "You cannot send me away from Enarium. I must be here by your side when our child is born."

  "And, in doing so, risk both of our lives!" Her eyes flashed, and a stubborn expression crossed Her face. "You have seen what happened to all the others that returned. I will not see you or me succumb to the same madness that twisted them."

  He knelt and took Her hands in his. "But what of our child? What life will he have without a father?" His nostrils filled with Her unique scent of jasmine and honey, cinnamon and berries.

  "A better life than he would have without both parents." Sorrow twisted Her face. "The danger to us both is too great. The curse will come for us, and we will be driven insane like the others. It is only by being apart that we are safe. You know this in your heart, my love."

  "No! It cannot be!" He threw himself to his feet and paced again. "I cannot believe that we would be spared from death only to be condemned to a fate far worse: a life apart from each other. The Beggar wanted us to live, to experience life on Einan the way our human parents did. Without you, without our child, there is only misery and solitude waiting out there."

  "You say you care for our child?" Her voice hardened. "You wish to protect him? Or her?"

  "With all my heart."

  "Then, for the child’s sake, you must leave. Should the Cambionari find you here, with me, they will do to you what they did to the rest of our kind. Look out there, and tell me you would not share the same fate."

  His gaze drifted out the window, past the beautiful spires and towers of Enarium, toward the burning pit in the distance. A shudder ran down his spine at the memory of what had happened that night in Khar'nath. They had both come within a heartbeat of death and only the Beggar's intercession had saved them.

  From his vantage point, he couldn't see the simple stone markers dotting the mountains around Khar'nath, but he knew they were there. Four hundred and sixty-seven of them, at last count. Four hundred and sixty-seven brothers and sisters slain by the Cambionari and laid to eternal rest within sight of the portal to hell.

  "Let them come!" The rage burning in his gut matched the blazing intensity of the flames pouring from the pit. "We have faced them before, you and I, and they could not stand between us."

  "Now there is one more life to consider." She placed a slim hand on Her bulging belly. "We must be willing to lay down everything for the babe’s sake. Our love, even our very life, if so required. This is all that matters, my love."

  * * *

  The Hunter awoke with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat. His eyes found only darkness, and it took a moment to realize he no longer sat within the city of Enarium. The dream—the memory—faded, taking with it the face he knew so well yet could never fully recall.

  He let out a long, slow breath. Sweat soaked his tunic, his blankets, and the rolled-up shirt pillowing his head. The air within their
little tent was cold, but he felt no chill. The images might fade, but the emotions burned like a fire within him.

  What happened in the end? Why did I have to leave? His mind raced. The dream had only given him fragments to work with, vague hints of a curse that had affected the others of his kind, the threat of the Cambionari. But not enough to answer the burning question of why She had betrayed him to the Illusionist Clerics.

  She had made it clear in the dream: his departure from Enarium was necessary to protect their child. But why? Why would his presence there, with Her, have been such a danger that She would send him away? What could be so horrible that it would convince Her to stab him and deliver him to the servants of the Illusionist to erase his memories?

  A shiver ran down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the cool mountain air. The questions nagged at his mind. He'd get no sleep this night.

  He cast a glance at Hailen, curled up in the bedroll beside his. The boy slept fitfully these days, the Irrsinnon plaguing his dreams as well as his waking hours. The Hunter left Soulhunger tucked beneath the boy's pillow. Hailen needed the dagger's presence more than he did. The gemstone, crafted by Serenii magick, would keep the madness from overwhelming him completely. Sooner or later, however, even that would fail.

  The Hunter tugged his vest on over his tunic and slung his leather armor atop it. He didn't bother with the myriad straps—he'd have time enough to tighten the armor throughout the night. He dug into his pack for the volume he'd taken from the Master's Temple, grabbed his heavy cloak, and crawled out of the small tent.

  A chill darkness hung thick around their little campsite. Stars twinkled in the sky high overhead, and a faint sliver of moon peered out from behind a jagged mountain peak. The light of the dying fire revealed two figures. Evren lay curled in a bundle between the pair of two-man tents. Darillon and Rassek shared the other, meaning the young thief had no choice but to brave the elements. His ragged blankets looked pathetically ineffective at keeping out the mountain wind.