Rage flooded the Hunter as he saw his chances of rescuing Hailen and killing the Sage slip away. Abiarazi, even one as outwardly weak as the Sage, had proven notoriously hard to kill. Even if it took him ten seconds to bring down the demon, the surviving Elivasti would be reinforced and they’d surround him, Taiana, Cerran, and Kalil. There was only one way he’d walk away from this.
“Run!” he shouted. His eyes searched for Taiana and found her ripping her spikestaff from the gut of an Elivasti. Blood stained the weapon, spattered her face, and soaked the front of her tunic.
The Hunter’s heart stopped as a Blood Sentinel pointed a Scorchslayer at her back. He acted without hesitation—secrets be damned, no matter who she served, she was still the woman he’d loved his entire life. He crossed the distance to the Elivasti in two long strides and drove his long sword through the back of the man’s head, just above the collar of the armor. Instead of pulling the sword back to free it, he simply pivoted and tore it through the side of man’s skull. The lightning bolt sizzled harmlessly into the stone street as the Blood Sentinel sagged.
He grasped Taiana’s arm just as the wave of reinforcements arrived and dragged her out of the way of a spikestaff thrust at her head. His long sword knocked aside another blow, and Taiana lashed out with Soulhunger to deflect a strike that would have pierced the Hunter’s gut. They fought as they ran, blocking and parrying rather than trying to bring down the Elivasti. There were too many to kill but not too many to survive as long as they didn’t stop moving. The purple-eyed warriors were hampered by their longer polearms and the fact that they didn’t want to strike their comrades. That alone saved the Hunter and Taiana’s lives.
They burst free of the crowd of Elivasti and sprinted down the street in the direction the Sage had been marching when he attacked them. The Hunter didn’t speak, simply ran. The shouts of the Elivasti and the humming of the Scorchslayers filled the air behind them, and the Hunter zigzagged to avoid presenting an easy target. Lightning bolts crackled past his head, and he grunted as one singed the back of his leg. He pushed down the pain and forced himself to keep moving. If he stopped, he died.
“Kalil!” Taiana gasped as she ran. “Cerran!”
The Hunter didn’t slow. “They had the Elivasti armor. Either they made it out or they didn’t. We need to keep moving if we’re going to get out of this. You can find them later.”
Though Taiana’s expression tightened, she kept running beside him. She had to know he was right. Going back now would only put her in danger as well.
When they reached the Southwestern Keep, the Hunter turned to sprint up the hill toward the Second Echelon. “Come on, we can lose them this way.”
“No!” Taiana shook her head. She pointed toward the glowing blue tower. “We know which way the Sage is activating the Keeps, so we have to search them before he switches them on.”
“And what if he’s on his way here right now?” the Hunter shouted. “No way you can fight your way out of a Keep against so many of his Elivasti, Soulhunger or no.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You know him better than I do. Is he the sort of demon that would put his own life at risk unless absolutely necessary?”
The Hunter thought back to the night one of the Masters of Agony—actually an Elivasti in disguise—had made an attempt on the Sage’s life. The demon had frozen in fear. He’d used the Elivasti to do his dirty work, manipulated the Hunter into killing the Warmaster for him, then set Master Eldor to bring down the Hunter.
“He’s a craven bastard,” the Hunter growled. “He’ll retreat to the safety of Hellsgate, collect more of his Blood Sentinels and Elivasti, then come back with a force three times the size.”
“That’s what I had hoped.” Taiana gritted her teeth. “In my memories, I still have flashes of some of our forefathers during the Great War. Many of them were great warriors and generals, but many were content to let us do the fighting.”
“The Sage is definitely the latter.”
“Good.” Taiana nodded. “Then we have a few hours to search the Keeps we know he will activate next.” She fixed him with a piercing gaze. “Together, Drayvin.”
The Hunter met her gaze. He wanted to go with her—more than anything else, he wanted to remain beside her. Though her mind had been tainted by Kharna’s evil, he had to hold out hope that he could reach her, break her free of the Devourer’s hold.
But could he? Was she too far gone for him to bring her back?
“First tell me why you attacked the Sage,” the Hunter said. “You could have gone on to the other Keeps and let me face him alone.”
“Because you are my husband,” she replied without hesitation. “Despite our differences in belief, we are bound together forever. I would not let you face danger alone.”
“Even if it costs you your life?” The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You could have died back there.”
“I could have.” She nodded.
“And if you fell, what would happen to our daughter?” the Hunter demanded. “You are the only one who knows where she is.”
“I have faith,” she said simply.
“In Kharna?” The Hunter snorted. “What would the Devourer of Worlds do for us puny mortals?”
“No.” She shook her head, and her midnight eyes burned into his. “In you.”
The words, spoken in a quiet voice, had enough power to shatter the Hunter’s world.
“You would do anything to protect this boy, and I know you would do the same for our daughter.” She let out a long, slow breath. “Just as I must do the same.”
Anger and frustration burned within the Hunter. “I cannot help you! I must find a way to stop the Sage.”
“Helping me would do precisely that!” Taiana thrust a finger toward the Keep behind her. “There could be more of our kind in there, warriors that could aid us in our battle.”
“Even if every one of those damned Chambers held a Bucelarii, that would only be twenty-four to join our cause.” The Hunter shook his head. “Twenty-eight of us against more than four hundred Elivasti. And you know as well as I that the chances of finding that many Bucelarii in there are almost nonexistent.”
“And yet I must try,” Taiana insisted. “If not for our kin, then for Jaia. I cannot fail her again.”
In that moment, he saw the woman he had dreamed of, the woman he had loved a lifetime ago—that he loved now. Even if Kharna had twisted her mind, the Destroyer’s evil hadn’t fully taken hold. He wanted to help her, but too much rested on his shoulders for him to turn aside from doing what needed to be done.
“Then go.” The Hunter raised his hands. “I will not stand in your way.”
“But you will not join me.” A statement, not a question.
“I, too, must do what needs to be done,” the Hunter growled. “Even if I must do it alone.”
“What will you do?” Taiana asked. “Where will you go?”
The Hunter pondered the question. Truth be told, he had no idea what to do now. If the Sage had retreated into Hellsgate, he would be all but unreachable. Surrounded by strong walls and an army of Elivasti, he could bide his time. Activating the remaining twenty-one Keeps would take him no more than seven or eight hours. If he marched his entire army out of Hellsgate before dawn, he could complete his task before the Withering. And nothing the Hunter could do would stop him.
Not unless the Sage never left the safety of Hellsgate.
“Tell me how I can contact Garnos,” the Hunter said.
Taiana’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“You asked me to trust you before.” The Hunter met her eyes. “Now I ask you to do the same. Trust that I will do whatever it takes to stop the Sage from freeing Kharna from his eternal prison.” At least they could both agree on that.
“Garnos has the noon to sundown shift in the Pit,” Taiana told him. “From the few conversations we’ve had, I understand he likes to pass his free hours working beside his wife.”
“Where will I fin
d her, then?” the Hunter asked.
Taiana’s expression grew grim. “In the Terrace of the Sun and Moon. Atop Hellsgate.”
Keeper’s teeth! The Hunter’s gut tightened. Talk about bad to worse.
“What are you thinking, Drayvin?” Taiana cocked her head. “That look in your eyes, that’s the one that says you’re about to do something crazy and dangerous.”
The Hunter gave her a wry grin. “Crazy dangerous sounds about right. I’m going to do what I’ve spent the last fifty years doing. I’m going to assassinate the Sage in Hellsgate.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Hunter drew in a deep breath and checked over his appearance one last time. He’d gone back to Taiana’s base for the suit of blue Elivasti armor he now wore—a worthwhile investment of time, he’d deemed.
The face he wore belonged to the first of the Blood Sentinels he’d killed in his desperate attempt on the Sage’s life. The man had a thick nose, close-set eyes, a sloping forehead, and a jaw so square it looked like it had been shaped by a mason’s ruler. The Hunter had added a thick scar along the side of his face for good measure. Changing his eyes to the right shade of violet had proven far more difficult than he’d expected, but the real challenge had been adding three extra inches to the breadth of his shoulders. Between his face and the Blood Sentinel armor, he doubted he’d get many questions.
Unless, of course, he ran into someone who recognized him as one of the guards that had fallen in battle today. He’d contemplated using Setin’s face, but if the Elivasti were even slightly organized, they would have noted that Setin hadn’t returned since leaving the previous night. Add to that the fact that he’d fled Detrarch Honsul, and the identity of Setin would be his back-up plan.
Unfortunately, he had no idea what this man sounded like or how he spoke. He’d have to take a stab at it and hope he didn’t encounter any Elivasti that had known the man in life.
He drew in a deep breath as he strode up the street toward the front of Hellsgate. Moment of truth. He shifted his grip on his Scorchslayer—the one he’d taken off the same guard that had worn the armor—and leaned into a confident swagger. The sun setting to the west would cast him in shadow, hiding his face even more. With his added breadth and his natural height, plus the grizzled look on his strong features, he strode toward Hellsgate’s front entrance as if he owned it.
The massive stone structure of Hellsgate was even more impressive from up close. Thirty paces tall and easily five hundred wide, it was more than large enough to house the thousand or so Elivasti living there. The front gate matched the portal to Khar’nath, made of the same steel-banded and spike-studded wood. Garnos had been right—the fortress truly was impregnable. Even from this distance, he could see the walls were as smooth as the glassy exterior of the Keeps. No way he’d be able to scale the outside.
Which meant going up through the inside.
He grunted a greeting to the company of Elivasti that stood in front of the gate, but never slowed in his his swaggering stride.
“Where you been, Ryken?” asked one. His breastplate bore the crossed white fists of a Detrarch. “Hunting the black-eyes?”
The Hunter snorted and nodded to the man.
The Detrarch raised an eyebrow. “Any luck finding the bastards?”
The Hunter shook his head, then shrugged and grunted again. Over his years as an assassin, he’d learned that non-verbal communication could be surprisingly versatile. One of his facades had never spoken a single word but answered only in grunts and body language. That persona, a Voramian sailor named Turit who worked the docks and kept an ear open for any juicy bits of information, had been one of his most successful. People had shared all manner of secrets, going so far as to call him “a good listener”.
These men, however, seemed less pleased by his taciturnity. His keen ears picked up the muttered “arrogant Blood Sentinel jackass” as he strode past the Elivasti and through the front gate.
The interior of Hellsgate was as grim as the Hunter had expected. The walls, floor, and ceilings were made of the dark grey stone shot through with veins of red, and not even the soft glow of the torches and oil lamps hanging in their ornate stone sconces could drive back the ominous feel in the massive fort. The absence of color and decorations made it seem a far sterner, starker place than any hall, mansion, or castle he’d visited.
The front gate opened onto a narrow hall lined with arrow slots, with dozens of murder holes in the ceiling. The corridor ran for five paces before it entered the great hall, a high-vaulted chamber easily a hundred paces wide and fifty long. The room had been converted into a dining area lined with wooden tables and benches, where dozens of blue-armored Elivasti sat eating in silence. A somber mood hung over the entire chamber. Even the children in the room seemed too afraid to make a sound.
The meaty, spicy smell wafting through the dining hall reminded the Hunter he hadn’t eaten in days. The lives consumed by Soulhunger had driven away his hunger and thirst, but his body would need sustenance soon.
But not now.
For a moment, the Hunter found himself at a loss for where to go. He could see no staircase leading up or down.
He grabbed one of the smaller blue-armored Elivasti walking past. “You seen Chault?” He pitched his voice low and added a good deal of gravel to it, the same voice he’d used when playing the terrifying character that met clients in the darkened Room Four in the Rusted Dangle.
“Chault?” The Elivasti’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who is—” He seemed to see the blood red fists and black lines on the Hunter’s armor for the first time, and his skin went a shade paler. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s likely on the fifth floor, though I couldn’t tell you which room he’s in.”
The Hunter grunted and released the man’s arm. He felt the Elivasti’s eyes burning into his back as he strode away, but true to character, he didn’t glance back. If the Blood Sentinels were like any of the elite units of mercenaries, soldiers, or guards he’d encountered, they believed themselves a cut above the rest. They had earned their swagger, through merit or violence. That dominating personality would make people do what he wanted or give information without question. Not his favorite sort of character to play, but certainly one of the most useful.
He strode in the direction the man had indicated, through the grand hall and into a chamber half its size beyond. This room was lined from wall to wall with wooden racks, upon which sat hundreds of Elivasti spikestaffs. No Scorchslayers, he noted. Perhaps the Blood Sentinels didn’t trust the rest of their kin with the powerful weapons.
Stone staircases were set into the northern and southern walls of this room. The Hunter chose the southern staircase at random—like most fortresses, they would ascend to the higher levels parallel to each other.
The Elivasti he passed gave him a wide berth. One look at his broad shoulders, scarred face, and outthrust chest—bearing the crimson fists and black swirls of the Blood Sentinels—and most simply flowed around him. He never gave way, never moved aside, but strode up the stairs with enormous self-assurance and a scowl that had made dockhands and Bloody Hand thugs blanch.
He knew little about the layout of Hellsgate, but he’d had enough experience with the Sage to know the demon would room as close to his protectors as possible. If the Blood Sentinels had their quarters on the fifth floor, that likely meant the Sage’s quarters were there as well.
Few people looked beyond the Scorchslayer and armor that marked him as a Blood Sentinel. He adjusted his armor and ran a hand along solid, cloth-wrapped outlines the Swordsman’s iron daggers he’d tucked into the backplate of his blue armor made. He’d had to push them in deep to hide them from view, but he could still reach their hilts. When the time came to kill the Sage, he’d be ready.
He’d come to Hellsgate for two reasons. The Sage had to die, but first he needed to reach the Terrace of the Sun and Moon. That was where he’d find the opia to save Hailen from the Irrsinnon. He’d come
to Enarium to cure the boy’s madness, and to do that, he needed the opia.
According to the snatches Arudan had read from the Serenii stone tablet, he’d find the opia in direct sunlight beneath a glass dome that encouraged it to grow larger and reach maturity more quickly. How hard could it be to find a glass dome, even in a garden as vast as the roof of Hellsgate? If he could find Garnos, the process could be significantly expedited. After all, who better than a gardener—Garnos’ wife—to lead him to the opia?
The first three floors he passed seemed to be living quarters for most of the Elivasti. Someone had taken the time to decorate, with colorful rugs, paintings, and more of the ornamental flourishes that made a stone keep a suitable living space. The fourth floor was also living quarters, but of a higher standard of cleanliness and affluence than the lower levels. Perhaps this was where the Detrarchs and other officers of the Elivasti lived.
He paused at the fifth floor and stared down the hall. Four Elivasti stood at a pair of double doors at the far end of the corridor, Scorchslayers held at the ready. That had to be the Sage’s chamber. The Hunter resisted the urge to charge down the hall, burst through the doors into the room, and kill the Sage. Four Blood Sentinels weren’t too many to go through, but the twenty doors between the staircase and the far end of the hall meant at least a few score more lived on this floor. Even with the ten or fifteen that had fallen in battle today, that still left a lot of them between him and any chance of escape.
Though he hated the idea of leaving Hailen in the demon’s clutches for another minute, he turned away from the hall and climbed the stairs to the sixth level of Hellsgate. He’d get the opia first, then deal with the Sage on his way down. No sense being trapped on the top floor with an army of Blood Sentinels seeking vengeance over the Sage’s death.
Once again, he found himself preparing for a mocking voice that never came. He knew what his inner demon would say: “Foolish Bucelarii, you’re going to get yourself killed! All for the sake of the boy.” Alone, without Soulhunger, surrounded by enemies, he couldn’t deny he’d put himself in a situation that very likely would lead to death if he was discovered.
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