Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Hunter recalled Taiana’s words. “When the Keep is activated, it draws that magical energy out of its hosts. The draining will happen so quickly and with such force that it will suck all life from those within the Chambers. Not even the body of a Bucelarii could survive that.”

  With effort, he pushed aside the image of living, breathing humans turned to charred corpses in the massive burst of power required to activate the Keep. If any Bucelarii had been in the tower, they were dead now.

  And what of Jaia? The thought nearly brought him to his knees. Had his daughter, locked away by the Warmaster, been turned to ash as well? He ached to return to Taiana, to join her in the hunt for Jaia. Every instinct within him—the same instincts that had made him protect Farida, then Hailen—shrieked at him that nothing could be more important than finding his daughter.

  Yet he could not sacrifice Hailen’s life or put Einan in jeopardy, not even for Jaia’s sake. He could only tell himself that freeing Hailen and killing the Sage before he activated the Keeps would be the best way to save his daughter. He had no idea where she was, if she was even still in the Chambers, but he had to cling to hope. Right now, he had little else to keep him going.

  Hope, and a burning desire to open the Sage’s throat and watch the Abiarazi bleed out onto the white stone streets of Enarium.

  Realization struck him. If the Sage activated the Keep, that means he has left the safety of Hellsgate. The chance existed that he’d killed one of his Blood Sentinels to use their blood, but the Sage was simply callous with human lives, not wasteful. He wouldn’t kill one of his loyal servants if a few drops of Hailen’s blood served his ends.

  Hailen has to be there!

  For the first time since arriving in Enarium, he had a clear idea where he could find the boy. The Sage would be surrounded by his Elivasti, but he was out in the open, vulnerable. The Hunter’s spirits soared, and he rushed down the stairs to the street below.

  The Northwest Keep rose on the Base Echelon off to his right. He raced northeast, circumnavigating the city’s lowest ring. His shoulders tightened with every step he drew closer to his target. The Sage would undoubtedly flood the area with Elivasti, many armed with Scorchslayers. There could be hundreds of purple-eyed warriors between him and Hailen. Caution and haste, like oil and water, made a poor combination.

  Yet he couldn’t afford to go slow. If the Sage retreats into Hellsgate after activating the Keep, I can’t follow him. I’ve got to get to Hailen before the Sage flees or, worse, activates more towers. Not only for the boy’s sake, but for the Bucelarii in the Chambers of Sustenance—perhaps Jaia’s as well. And, the more towers the Sage activated, the closer he came to harnessing the power of Enarium.

  The familiar sound of clattering armor and boots pounding on stone reached him, and he threw himself down a side street. He ducked into the shadow of a two-story white building just as a company of ten Elivasti appeared around a corner two streets ahead of him. He waited, heart thundering, teeth grinding in frustration, as they closed the distance to him. Two of them looked in his direction, and he shrank deeper into cover to evade their questing gazes.

  Watcher take them! He could ill-afford the delay. Every moment spent hiding gave the Sage a chance to evade him. Yet he had to force himself to be slow, deliberate. He’d be useless to Hailen if he ended up locked in combat with an army of Elivasti, captured, or killed by a Scorchslayer.

  He counted to thirty, then peered out from his hiding place. The last blue-armored warrior was disappearing down the main avenue that ringed Enarium’s Base Echelon. Instead of returning to the thoroughfare, he ran toward the narrower lane that ran parallel to the wall. If he ran into another patrol here, he could always double back toward the broad street.

  Less than five minutes later, he caught a glimpse of blue armor up the road. This ten-man company wasn’t marching, but instead stood guard at the bottom of a stone staircase that climbed to the battlements of Enarium’s wall. A second company stood atop the wall, their purple eyes scanning in all directions.

  Keeper’s teeth!

  The Hunter let out a curse and ducked between two white-stone houses. The Elivasti on the wall would spot him on both the wall-side lane and the main avenue. He’d have to move slower and with greater caution, else risk being spotted.

  Every moment of delay only increased his frustration. Were it not for those accursed Scorchslayers—them, and the knowledge that the Sage could retreat into Hellsgate at the first sign of danger—he would have torn them all to shreds. His steel long sword, the weapon he’d spent decades of his life training and fighting with, would carve a bloody path through anyone between him and Hailen.

  Yet he knew a direct confrontation would only make matters worse right now. He’d risk a battle to get Hailen away from the Sage, but only after he’d gotten the boy safely out of the demon’s reach would he go on an Elivasti-hunting rampage. Hailen’s safety superseded all else.

  He ground his teeth in frustration and forced himself to keep his pace slow. His eyes fixed on the glowing Eastern Keep. It was closest to Hellsgate, so a logical first stop for the Sage. But where will he go next, Southeastern or Northeastern Keep? Or, will he climb to the Medial Echelon to activate the Eastern Keep on that level? Too many choices to predict.

  Between dodging patrols and avoiding the gaze of the Elivasti stationed atop the wall, it took him fully half an hour to reach the Base Echelon’s Northeastern Keep. His gut tightened as he approached, but he saw no sign of the Sage, Hailen, or the Elivasti. He drew a deep breath in through his nose, searching the air with his keen nostrils. Nothing but the scent of suspended life that permeated Enarium greeted him.

  He paused long enough to contemplate his next move. Perhaps the Sage had gone to the Southeastern Keep, still within proximity to retreat into Hellsgate should it prove necessary. Or, had he climbed the hill to the Medial Echelon?

  A moment later, the Southeastern Keep began to glow. The humming grew almost loud enough for his keen ears to hear, and the glassy gemstone structure brightened from a soft sapphire to a brilliant pale-blue light.

  He had his answer. Got you, you bastard!

  He spared a moment of pity for any poor souls trapped within the tower and forced himself not to think about whether or not Jaia had been locked within one of the Chambers of Sustenance. Taiana would expend every shred of physical and mental energy into trying to find their daughter. She’d doubtless try to analyze the Sage’s movement patterns as he had. Perhaps she’d already gone to the Southeastern Tower ahead of him and opened all the Chambers.

  He didn’t have time to worry about that. The Sage and Hailen had to be his sole focus.

  The question is, what’s the best way to reach them? If he crossed in front of Hellsgate, the Elivasti guarding the front would spot him. His only hope lay in the longer route: climbing the hill to the Medial Echelon and circumnavigating that level.

  The steep incline brought back memories of Malandria. Now that he thought about it, the entire city of Malandria had a lot in common with Enarium. Though Malandria had five Echelons instead of three, the tower that Lord Apus had claimed stood in the same location of the city as the Illumina in the heart of Enarium.

  A strange thought struck him. Was Malandria built to be a second Enarium?

  The sight of another troop of Elivasti shoved the question from his mind, and he ducked out of sight between a pair of four-story buildings made of white, red, and grey stone. When the patrol had passed, he resumed his trek across Enarium, a greater sense of urgency nagging in the back of his mind. Nearly ten minutes had passed since the Sage had activated the Southeastern Keep. That meant the Hunter had less than twenty minutes to reach the Southern Keep before it, too, came to life. Though the Sage only required a few drops of Hailen’s blood, he knew the demon wouldn’t hesitate to drain the boy dry if it served his purposes.

  The buildings here were taller, the architectural ornamentation more ela
borate. He had eyes for none of it. His worry for Hailen mounted with every pounding of his pulse in his ears, every thump of his heart.

  He hesitated within sight of Second Echelon’s Eastern Keep, but he saw no sign of Elivasti patrols. The sloping hill hid him from view of the blue-armored men at the front gate, but any atop the flat roof of Hellsgate would see him. He chafed at the delay, but he forced himself to wait until the guards looked the other way. If anyone saw him, they could raise the alarm and the Sage would be out of his reach again.

  His gut tightened as the Southern Keep flared to life on the Base Echelon. That made three Keeps in the space of an hour. At this rate, the Sage could activate all twenty-four in half the time it would take Taiana to search them. He had to do something to slow the Abiarazi down.

  He decided to take a chance and raced around the Second Echelon. Luck was on his side, and he ran into no patrols between him and the Southern Keep.

  His heart leapt as he caught sight of a group of Elivasti filing from the front door of the tower. Twenty blue-armored warriors flooded the street before the Southern Keep. All carried Scorchslayers, with long spikestaffs strapped to their backs. They wore the same blue breastplates and scale mail pauldrons as the rest of the Elivasti, but two crossed red fists atop an intricate interlaced webbing of black lines were emblazoned across their chests.

  A moment later, two figures appeared in the doorway. One was tall, lean, with robes perfectly tailored to fit his strong shoulders and slim waist. He had a long, angular face and clean-shaven chin—the same face the Sage had worn when the Hunter first met him.

  The second was a child, barely reaching the Sage’s waist. His cheeks were paler than usual, and his round cheeks seemed to droop with the exhaustion that weighed on his chubby body. Tears streaked Hailen’s face, and even from this distance, the Hunter could see the fear sparkling in the boy’s violet eyes.

  Fury flared within the Hunter’s chest, tinged by a sickening edge of guilt. Hailen was only here because of him. He’d made the choice to take the boy from the House of Need in Malandria, and again from the Elivasti on Kara-ket. When Father Reverentus had offered the sanctuary of the Beggar Temple in Vothmot, the Hunter had refused and dragged the boy into the Empty Mountains with him.

  And how the Sage has him, all because of me. He’d thought he acted in the boy’s best interest, but how had that turned out? Were it not for his choices, Hailen would be safe in the hands of the Beggar Priests, not the captive of a demon, his blood being used to hasten the end of the world.

  I have to get him back!

  The Hunter’s instincts shrieked at him to charge, to cut down everyone that stood between him and the Hailen. Utter folly, he knew. The Sage and his Blood Sentinels would see him coming, and their lightning bolts would tear him to shreds before he reached the Base Echelon.

  He drew in a deep breath in an effort to calm the simmering rage. Prudence now, furious slaughter later.

  The purple-eyed warriors formed a defensive ring around the Sage—a column four men wide and two deep before and behind him, with the remaining four flanking him in pairs. At the demon’s command, they turned smartly and began an organized march along the road that led west, toward the Southwestern Keep. The Abiarazi had to be activating the towers in what the master watchsmiths of Praamis dubbed “clockwise”. Why, he didn’t know, but didn’t care either. Right now, all that mattered was that the Sage was vulnerable.

  Vulnerable, except for twenty Elivasti armed with Scorchslayers that can rip me to pieces. He almost regretted leaving behind the suit of blue armor he’d taken from Setin. He’d have to hope his speed and reflexes kept him out of the path of the lightning bolts.

  He ran down the road that descended to the Echelon below, hoping the tromping boots of the Elivasti and the humming of the Southern Keep would cover the sound of his footsteps. The Hunter could almost feel power crackling through the air as he drew nearer the glowing Keep. When he glanced around the corner, he found his targets had covered barely twenty paces. Hailen’s plaintive cries drifted to the Hunter’s ears.

  Anger burned white hot in the Hunter’s breast. He abandoned the shadows—the time for stealth had passed—and poured all the speed he could muster into his legs. He didn’t bother with a shout of rage—no sense alerting his enemies—but announced his presence with a whisper of steel on leather as he ripped his long sword free. Surprise and ferocity would be his only ally against a superior force.

  One of the rearmost Elivasti turned at the last moment. The man had a hard jaw, thick nose, and heavy eyebrows that flew upward as he caught sight of the Hunter charging. He managed to open his mouth before the Hunter’s long sword hacked through his neck. Blood misted in the air, spraying over the Hunter as he charged past.

  He didn’t slow—like the charge of cavalry, his effectiveness would diminish if he got bogged down by the mass of men—but bulled through the ranks of Elivasti at full speed. He lashed out to his left and right with his sword, slashing legs, necks, wrists, and any body parts not covered by the heavy blue armor. Four of the eight rear guards fell, three bleeding from deep gouges in their limbs, the last man’s head lolling on his neck. He was within two steps of the Sage and Hailen when something struck him hard from behind.

  The impact hurled him to the side, and he crashed through the two Elivasti on the Sage’s right. Though he bore them to the ground with him, they somehow managed to entangle his limbs for a second.

  Long enough for two Elivasti to point their Scorchslayers at him. A loud humming filled the air as blue runes glowed along the length of the weapon aimed right at his head.

  He couldn’t dodge both. If even one hit him, it would tear him apart.

  The Hunter tensed in expectation of searing agony, but a dim part of his mind knew he’d never feel a thing. The bolt would rip him to shreds before his brain could register the pain.

  White lightning split the air.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The lightning bolt sizzled a finger’s breadth from the Hunter’s face—close enough to singe his eyebrows—and punched into the head of the Elivasti on his right. The man’s face exploded in a spray of crimson gore that splattered the Hunter’s face. The taste of scorched copper filled the Hunter’s mouth.

  The Hunter’s jaw dropped as he saw the two Elivasti that had fired at him. One staggered backward, a spikestaff buried in his chest. The second stared stupidly at him, seeming unable to comprehend why his right eye had suddenly gone dark. He fumbled at the wooden shaft of the spikestaff that had pierced his face, then crumpled as his brain shut down.

  The Hunter didn’t understand either, but didn’t bother to question why. He ripped his left arm free of the Elivasti holding him and lashed out with his long sword. The tip opened the man’s throat before he could dodge.

  A shout of rage echoed to the Hunter’s right, and the humming of the weapons filled the air. Even as the Hunter rolled out of the path of a lightning bolt aimed at his chest, he caught a glimpse of three figures in blue Elivasti armor running toward him. One was short with a patchy beard, while the second had bright red hair and a long, braided beard to match.

  Cerran gripped two spikestaffs in his right hand, while he hurled a third with his left. The metal tip of the thrown polearm punched through the blue armor of the Elivasti directly between the Hunter and the Sage. Kalil moved far faster than the larger Bucelarii, throwing himself into a forward dive to dodge a lightning bolt fired at his head. He rolled to his feet and extended the spikestaff with a thrust any fencer would envy. An Elivasti screamed as the sharp metal tip buried into his groin.

  The third figure, he’d recognize anywhere.

  Taiana.

  Taiana hit the front ranks of Elivasti from the Hunter’s right, and they barely had time to raise their Scorchslayers before she was among them. She wielded the spikestaff like a spear in her right, with Soulhunger in her left. She drove the dagger into an Elivasti’s thigh as she ducked a lightning bolt, then brought
the staff whirling across in a low blow that knocked the feet out from beneath two more blue-armored warriors.

  Power raced through the Hunter as Soulhunger drank deep. The world seemed to slow and the Hunter saw his chance. With the Elivasti focused on the new threat, his path to the Sage was clear. Yet he had to make a choice: kill the demon or save the boy.

  It was no choice at all. He tossed the sword to his left hand, tore the spikestaff from a fallen Elivasti, and wound up to hurl it at the Abiarazi. The Sage would have to dodge, and in that split second he’d be forced to release his grip on the boy. The Hunter could cover the distance in a second and scoop up Hailen. Escaping with the boy would be dicey, but he’d take that risk.

  The demon moved far more quickly than the Hunter anticipated. Before he’d even lifted the spikestaff, the Sage snatched up Hailen and gripped him like a human shield. Only the Hunter’s inhuman reflexes and decades of training prevented him from releasing the shaft and impaling the boy. He forced his arm to throw high, and the spikestaff sailed over the Sage’s head to clatter into a stone wall beyond.

  Triumph shone in the Sage’s eyes. “Give up and die, Hunter!” he shouted. “You cannot defeat me.”

  “Watch me!” With a snarl, the Hunter passed his sword back to his right hand and charged the Sage.

  A humming off to his right warned him of danger. He threw himself flat to the ground, and a bolt of lightning sizzled through the air above his head. Before he could leap upright, more shouts and cries echoed through the streets around him. The Hunter whirled to find twenty, thirty Elivasti boiling from the streets and houses around them. All wielded spikestaffs rather than Scorchslayers, but enough of the Blood Sentinels had survived to prove a serious threat.

  “As you can see, I’ve been expecting you!” The Sage threw back his head and laughed. “And here I thought I’d lure just you out. How considerate of you to bring your friends.”