Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "That feels like a full-blown snowstorm in the making." He hadn't been that cold since he climbed Shana Laal to reach Kara-ket.

  "Nah, tisn’t half as bad as it looks." Rassek dismissed it with a wave. "The winds be kickin’ up every day around sunset, but they die out quickly, see. Odd phenomenon, but as predictable as a miser on payday."

  Darillon shook his head. "I told you we needed to move faster."

  "And we did." Rassek grinned. "All that worryin’ fer nothin’, eh?"

  Darillon rolled his eyes. "At least one of us has to worry. We can't all go through life as if we're kissed by the Mistress herself. Luck runs out in the end, even for you."

  Rassek shrugged. "Until then, my friend, I'm just goin’ to keep on enjoyin’ every minute of the Mistress' good fortune."

  Darillon and the Hunter tended the horses while Evren and Rassek set up their simple camp. The hard-packed earth within the cave resisted their efforts to drive the tent's stakes into the ground, and Darillon abandoned his care of his horse to lend a hand.

  The Hunter checked on Ash and Elivast, making sure they hadn't twisted a leg or nicked a hoof on their hard ride. The horses seemed tired but otherwise unharmed, and they welcomed the apples he produced from his pack. He'd learned that Elivast, in particular, proved more obliging after being plied with treats.

  He gave one to Evren's horse as well. The thief's mount was as scruffy and gaunt as its rider, with a shaggy mane, rough coat, and drooping fetlocks. It seemed surprised to be receiving a treat, but munched the apple—the last of the Hunter's supply—with no less delight than Ash or Elivast.

  True to Rassek's words, the howling wind died within half an hour, and an almost stifling calm settled on the mountains around them. The absence of sound felt eerie, as it had after the storm in the Whispering Waste. The Hunter welcomed the noise of Darillon and Rassek's conversation; anything to avoid the silence.

  Hailen seemed to emerge from his trance as the wind abated. A shadow hung behind his eyes, but his face broke into a smile as he saw where they were.

  "Cave!" he squealed, and promptly set off exploring every nook and cranny of stone. The Hunter let him run free; the cave had barely enough space for the five of them, their horses, and their camp. Hailen would be safe enough in here.

  "Anyone feelin’ in the mood for a late-night swim?" A huge grin spread Rassek's face, and an almost childish excitement sparkled in his eyes.

  "In this cold?" Evren asked. He'd gone stiff at the word "swim".

  "Like I said, the lake's an odd place. Once that wind dies down, ‘tis warmer than a Praamian summer." Rassek motioned to the mouth of the cave. "See fer yerself."

  The Hunter stepped outside and was shocked to feel the balminess of the evening. A warm breeze rippled across the surface of the lake, and the chill from just minutes before had disappeared. It truly could have been a summer in Praamis.

  He turned to Rassek. "How long does it stay warm?"

  The man's brow furrowed. "Two, three hours or so. Long enough fer a dip in the lake, says I. And trust me, ye won't want to be missin’ it."

  With a loud whoop, Rassek took off running down to the lake. Darillon snorted and followed at a much more dignified pace.

  "Hailen," the Hunter called, "time for a swim."

  Hailen's face filled with delight as he raced toward the Hunter. "A swim? Hooray!" His little legs carried him down the trail in Rassek's wake.

  The Hunter jogged after the boy. Hailen's moments of lucidity proved fewer and farther between with every passing day. He had to make the most of them while they lasted.

  The stars overhead reflected off the surface of the lake, setting the water twinkling with an odd blue light. Yet, as he approached, the Hunter was surprised to find an added glow beneath the surface of the water. Strange blue flowers grew on the rocky bottom of Sapphire Lake. They bore a strong resemblance to water lilies, but clung to the stones on the lake bed rather than floating on the surface. They seemed to glow with their own inner light.

  The Hunter had seen something similar glowing in Graeme's shop on one of his visits. The alchemist had used the word "phosphorescent" in his explanation, though it was enough for the Hunter to know that it glowed in the dark because it absorbed sunlight during the day.

  "This is why ‘tis called Sapphire Lake," Rassek said with a grin. "Like a million gemstones twinklin’ in the heart of the lake itself."

  The mountaineer stripped down to his breeches and waded into the water without hesitation, Darillon a few steps behind him. Hailen splashed around with a child's glee, and the Hunter found he couldn't resist the urge to enter the lake as well. He stripped out of his heavy cloak, leather armor, and sword belt, and dropped them all in a bundle before following the others into the lake. The water proved deliciously warm, and his tension melted away as he relaxed in the crystal clear lake.

  Evren, however, remained on the lakeshore, well back from the water. He brushed off Rassek's invitations to get in the lake, but instead took a seat on a large, round stone. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and watched them play.

  "Hardwell!" Hailen called. "Bring me a glowy fish."

  "They're not fish," Rassek corrected. "They're plants, see."

  "Bring me a glowy plant, then.”

  With a grin, the Hunter dove into the water and swam toward the nearest shining blue flower. The stem resisted his tugging, and it took a surprising amount of effort to rip it free. He swam to the surface and held his trophy up.

  "Look what I've got, H—"

  "Hey!"

  The cry brought the Hunter spinning around.

  "W-What's happenin’ to him?" Evren stammered. The fear in the young thief’s eyes mirrored the panic in his voice as he stared down at Hailen.

  The Hunter's gaze snapped to the boy. His blood turned to ice as he saw Hailen lying on the floor, writhing, twitching in a seizure. The Irrsinnon had claimed him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Horror held the Hunter frozen in place. A memory he'd had in Kara-ket flashed through his mind.

  The young man writhed in his grip, screaming incoherence into the night.

  "The Irrsinnon has taken him." Anguish lined Master Eldor's sun-darkened face as he wrestled with the dark-haired youth's wildly waving arm. "Hold him tight until it passes. We cannot let him hurt himself."

  Together they wrestled Aerden to the ground. He wanted to cover his ears against the shrieks of terror that echoed across the mountain, but he dared not release the twitching, jerking arm.

  A whimpering cry burst from Hailen's lips, and the sound snapped the Hunter back to reality. He raced toward the shore as fast as he could manage, his eyes never leaving the little figure writhing on the lakeshore. He raced up the rocky slope toward the boy and seized Hailen's wrists in strong hands.

  "Help me!" he shouted to Evren.

  The young thief stared wide-eyed, rooted in place by shock.

  "Evren!" The Hunter's voice cracked like a whip. "Give me a hand here, now!"

  Evren met the Hunter's gaze, then something seemed to click into place behind his eyes and he leapt over a heavy stone toward them.

  "Grab his ankles," the Hunter instructed. "Hold them fast so he doesn't hurt himself while thrashing around."

  Evren caught Hailen's flailing legs and wrestled them under control. The Hunter gripped Hailen's wrists in one hand and cradled the boy's head in his other arm. His mind raced. What could he do to help the boy?

  His eyes went to Hailen's bare chest, and horror spiked in his gut as he realized the boy had removed Soulhunger to swim. He whirled and scanned the rocky shore for the dagger. It lay twenty paces away with the rest of their clothing.

  "What's bein’ the matter with him?" A dripping Rassek rushed toward them, his brow furrowed in concern.

  "Bring me that dagger!" the Hunter shouted. He didn't dare release Hailen's wrist, so he jerked his head in the direction of their clothing.

 
; A confused look crossed the mountaineer's face. "Dagger? Why would—"

  "Hurry!" The Hunter's gut clenched as Hailen cried out, and a stream of unintelligible shrieks and confused words poured from the boy's mouth. "Come on, Hailen. Stay with me, lad." He gritted his teeth and clutched the boy tighter.

  Time passed in an achingly slow crawl as Hailen jerked and twitched in his arms. The Hunter cradled the boy's head to prevent him knocking it against the rocks, but he couldn’t prevent the stones from cutting the boy's legs, elbows, and bare back.

  Relief flooded him as Rassek raced toward him and held out Soulhunger. "Here!"

  The Hunter released his grip on Hailen's wrists, snatched the sheathed dagger, and pressed it against Hailen's chest.

  Come on, come on! To his relief, Hailen's convulsions slowed, until, with a final shuddering jerk, he lay still.

  The Hunter let out a long, ragged breath. The sight of Hailen had filled him with terror. For a moment, he'd feared he had lost the boy to the madness forever. But the gemstone in Soulhunger's hilt, handiwork of the Serenii, had pushed back the Irrsinnon. For now, at least. A stopgap, not a cure.

  He looked up at Evren. "You can let go of him now. It has passed."

  Evren released Hailen’s legs, but stared at the boy with surprise and fear written in his eyes. He backed away slowly and returned to his seat on the rock, his gaze never leaving the little body lying in the Hunter's lap.

  Rassek, however, moved closer and crouched over Hailen. "What's the matter with him?"

  The Hunter hesitated. "The healers at the Sanctuary offered no answer." It was easier to lie than explain the curse of the Elivasti.

  Darillon had come up behind them, and his brow furrowed as he stared down at Soulhunger. "Why did the dagger stop whatever it was?" He lifted his eyes, his gaze searching. "What aren't you telling us?"

  More than you could possibly know. Though the Hunter had returned his features to normal, he had expended enough energy to keep his eyes a deep brown instead of their usual midnight black. No sense giving his companions anything else to be suspicious about.

  "Something about the steel helps to calm whatever affects the boy." Another lie, another simpler explanation than the truth of Soulhunger's true origin and abilities. "It's why he carries it with him at all times."

  Darillon's expression grew skeptical, but the Hunter met his gaze without hesitation. After a moment, the mountaineer gave a small shrug. "Do we need to turn back? Get him back to a healer?"

  "No," the Hunter said, perhaps a little too quickly. "We press onward. He will be fine."

  To forestall further questions, he gathered Hailen's little body into his arms and strode toward the cave. He set Hailen gently inside their tent, ensuring Soulhunger remained pressed close to the boy’s chest. Physical contact with the dagger wasn't necessary, but the Hunter wouldn't take any chances.

  I can't let that happen again. He's not strong enough to survive it.

  Even now, he had no idea how the seizure had affected Hailen. When the boy woke, would he be lost in his own mind, his eyes as empty and blank as his expression? He could only hope Soulhunger kept the Irrsinnon at bay a little longer.

  He checked Hailen's back, ribs, and limbs for injuries. Nothing but scratches, thankfully. He wiped the blood from the boy's body and took extra care to clean his nails. The others had to have seen the boy's fingernails bleeding, but hopefully they'd write it off as another injury from the convulsions. If not, it would be one more thing too complicated to explain.

  He sighed and sat back on his heels, watching the slow rhythm of Hailen's chest. The boy slept, doubtlessly exhausted by the seizure. He ached to help Hailen, but he was helpless against a curse passed down through the boy’s Elivasti blood. He could only hope Hailen would rest the night through and awake in the morning with no memory of what had happened.

  And what if he doesn’t wake at all? Or his mind is gone, claimed by the madness?

  His couldn't erase the image of Hailen's twitching, jerking body from his mind. He'd seen this before with Aerden, Master Eldor's son. The boy had died from the opia, but the Irrsinnon would have killed him had he not been subjected to the Expurgation, the Elivasti ritual of cleansing. Hailen would share the same fate if he didn't find a cure soon. With Kara-ket far behind, his only hope lay in reaching Enarium. The Warmaster had mentioned a source of the opia bloomed in the Lost City. If he couldn't find a way to cure the boy without exposing him to the dangers of the Expurgation, he might have to risk it. No way could he let Hailen suffer this again.

  But he didn't know how to reach Enarium. All he had was a hint from the Sage. He reached for the Taivoro book that, according to the demon, contained the secrets to reaching the Lost City. He crawled out of the low tent, sat before the little fire Darillon had built, and opened the book. Right now, it didn't matter if Rassek, Darillon, or Evren saw him with the stolen volume. They had come too far from Vothmot for it to make a difference. But he had to crack its secrets for Hailen's sake.

  He forced himself to ignore the story, despite his interest in finding out what happened to the bard. Instead, he focused on finding something, anything that could help him decipher Taivoro's hidden messages. He studied the shape of the letters, the spacing between the lines, even the colors of the paper upon which the story was written. Minutes bled into hours as he pored over the pages, seeking a clue.

  His frustration mounted with every passing minute. Each time he turned a page, he hoped this would be the one that revealed the book's hidden secrets. Yet, by the time he reached the hundredth page and the Journeyman's tenth paramour, he had found nothing.

  His mind raced over the code Bardin had mentioned back in Malandria. The Taivoran shift, he called it. The code involved shifting the letters of the hidden words a certain number of characters to produce a new word that appeared as gibberish to anyone who didn’t have the correct cipher. But there was no way the Hunter could use it on every page of the book. There were simply too many letters, words, and paragraphs for him to know where to begin. He had no idea how many letters he'd have to shift, or if Taivoro had used some other code unknown to him.

  He stood with a frustrated growl, and it took all his willpower not to hurl the book against the wall of the cavern. He settled for clenching his fists until his forearms trembled with the effort. He would have ripped the book apart if it didn't contain the information he so desperately needed.

  No, not that I need. That Hailen needs.

  He’d sworn to protect the boy from harm. He had refused to deliver him to Father Reverentus, even though he had known the Beggar Priests would care for him. What happened to Hailen was on him now. If the boy died or succumbed to madness, that burden would rest squarely on his shoulders. After Farida, Bardin, and Master Eldor, he wasn't certain he could bear another loss, another death because of his actions and choices.

  He felt eyes burning into his back. Looking up, he found Evren’s gaze fixed on him. The young thief's gaze flashed once to the book in his hand, but he focused on the Hunter's bare chest—and the scars etched into his flesh.

  The Hunter glanced down. Once, he’d had hundreds of scars, each for a death at his hands. Soulhunger etched a new mark in his flesh for every life he took. In Voramis, something—he still wasn’t quite certain what—had erased the scars. He’d accumulated dozens more in his journey through Malandria, Al Hani, and Kara-ket. Yet, as he emerged from the passages beneath Shana Laal, he’d once again found his scars expunged, with only five remaining to mark the deaths of the six Abiarazi he’d killed. A single, double-marked scar for both the First and the Third in Voramis. One each for Toramin and Garanis in Malandria, Queen Asalah in Al Hani, and the Warmaster in Kara-ket.

  On the road between Shana Laal and Vothmot, he’d added two more to the collection. The first belonged to Master Uqio, the tavernkeeper that had turned Hailen over to the Sage. Though he’d resisted the demon's and the dagger's demands for death as they crossed the Whispering Waste, he
had finally succumbed in Saltfall. The village stockade hadn’t presented much of a challenge to the Hunter, and Soulhunger had fed on the lifeblood of a man scheduled to face the hangman’s noose for murder.

  Yet now those two scars were gone. Only the five scars from the demons remained.

  When Evren realized he was caught, he quickly returned to setting up his meager bed beside the two tents. He had chosen a sheltered corner where Darillon and Rassek's tent blocked any wind. Without a word, he slipped under his ragged blankets and lay still.

  “Kill him,” the demon's voice whispered in his mind. The presence was faint, the mental wall he'd built the previous day keeping the demon at bay. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could never fully block out the voice. “He's seen too much.”

  The Hunter pushed back against the voice, shoving it into its confinement. He used the Sage's technique to envision himself fortifying the wall in his mind. The demon tried to fight back, angry and stubborn, but he'd had enough practice in the last few weeks that his will proved superior.

  He stared at the bundle of blankets that concealed Evren. The thief had proven himself clever—from recognizing him as an assassin to his knowledge of the Master's Temple to somehow procuring a horse and travel gear at a day's notice. Yet the Hunter sensed no threat from the young man. Evren was fleeing the Wardens of the Peak, just as the Hunter fled Sir Danna, the Cambionari, the Illusionist Clerics, and everyone else that wanted him dead. The young man wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his place in their little company.

  That didn't mean he could be trusted. Evren was hiding something. The Hunter knew the signs—he'd spent his life concealing his identity and everything about himself from the people around him. The life of a thief could account for the haunted look in the boy's eyes, but something told the Hunter there was more beneath the surface.

  None of that mattered. The people traveling with him were unimportant beyond their ability to get him where he needed to go. Rassek and Darillon were there to guide him toward Enarium. Evren was there because the Hunter hadn't denied his request to travel. Yet, when it came down to it, Hailen was the only thing that mattered.