Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  With effort, the Hunter swallowed his fury. He’d always thought of the gods as the creation of humans that needed someone to blame for their problems. To find out this was true left him feeling somehow…empty.

  “We did not discourage the humans from calling us ‘gods’ because logic dictated that emotional beings required a moral compass to direct their actions.” Kharna’s voice took on the flat tone once more. “By having to answer to a superior being, even a divine one, humans can exist in a society of rules. Without that higher power, everyone is simply a god unto themselves and thus can act as they see fit. Even we, beings of supreme logic and science, understood that there was a higher power that had entrusted us with the care of this world. That duty informed our choices and enabled us to see beyond our immediate desires. We chose to give that same gift to the humans, to accept the mantle of divinity so they might live in a world where logic and order tempers passion and appetite. Only in a world of balance could peace exist. And in that balance, the power of the Devourer could never take root.”

  Again, Kharna’s words, so simple and logical, shattered everything the Hunter had believed to be true. The Serenii had been gods because people believed they were. Humans gave the Serenii power over them and, in doing so, established the very thing that gave them a sense of purpose, of order.

  How much evil had been perpetrated in the name of the Thirteen? How many had died in the name of one god or another? Yet how much good had also been brought into existence because of the Serenii that allowed the humans to set them up as divine beings? How many lived and thrived because of people following the “teachings” of the Beggar, the Bright Lady, the Apprentice, or any of the others? Even if the gods didn’t truly exist, what would Einan be like without them?

  To that, the Hunter could find no answer.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “The ones you know as Cambionari were originally tasked to work beside the Bucelarii and Elivasti,” Kharna said, and the vision before the Hunter shifted to follow a group of armored humans traveling with purple-eyed Elivasti and Bucelarii carrying the Im’tasi weapons. “We had defeated the Abiarazi but not eradicated them. To ensure the safety of Einan and to gather as much power as possible to use against the Devourer, they were to be brought to Enarium to be placed in the Chambers of Sustenance.”

  The world flew beneath the Hunter’s feet, and his view zoomed in on one of the Chambers of Sustenance. Within lay a monstrous figure—a grotesque mixture of reptile and beast, with a spiked back, leonine legs, and claw-tipped fingers—tethered to the stone by transparent tubes.

  “Their life force was to sustain me until Khar’nath and the power of the Er’hato Tashat could gather the power required to seal the rift against the Devourer once and for all.”

  “Good riddance,” the Hunter growled. The demons had brought only misery and death to the world from the very beginning.

  “But over time, when the hunt for the Abiarazi in hiding proved fruitless, the Cambionari turned their attention to those they deemed a suitable replacement.”

  Dread sat like a stone in the Hunter’s gut. “The Bucelarii.”

  Acid surged in his throat as he watched a handful of Cambionari wrestling with a struggling Bucelarii, dragging the woman toward a Chamber of Sustenance to be locked away.

  “Eventually, they lost sight of their true mission and began simply killing the Bucelarii they found. Though they believed they were cleansing the world of the stain of the Abiarazi, they were simply hastening the return of the Devourer.”

  The return of the Devourer. The Hunter had seen that written in the bas-relief image both in Kara-ket and the Vault of Stars.

  “You didn’t think to leave any sort of written instructions?” Again, anger flared in the Hunter’s chest. “Anything to make it clear for the Bucelarii, Elivasti, and humans what they were fighting for, what their real mission was!”

  “We did.” A hint of frustration—yes, even gods could be frustrated—echoed in Kharna’s voice. “But the knowledge of our written language was lost. Too few had ever learned our language, and the humans had only a crude system of writing at the time. They could not grasp the complex principles necessary to use the power of Enarium.”

  That certainly explained why the Elivasti didn’t simply activate the city for themselves. They had lost the knowledge. Only the Sage, and perhaps a few of the other Abiarazi still living, knew anything about it.

  “And let me guess, you want me to use the power of Enarium to turn against the Devourer?” the Hunter asked. “You want me to feed you.”

  “It is necessary.” Kharna sounded tired; thousands of years of struggle against chaos could take a toll on even a god. “To keep out the Devourer, we must activate the Keeps and the power of Enarium to close the rift.”

  The Hunter’s brow furrowed. “And what of the people in Khar’nath? What happens to them?” He had opened the gates, but it would take days for the nearly seven hundred thousand people to escape the Pit.

  “Theirs is a necessary sacrifice. Without them, this world will end.”

  And there it is. The Hunter had dreaded the truth, yet Kharna spoke the words in such an emotionless tone, a god who sat above it all and watched the world suffer far below. This creature before him—Serenii or divine being, it didn’t matter—expected him to condemn hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children to death.

  “I see your thoughts, little Bucelarii,” Kharna rumbled in his mind. “It is a question driven by emotion rather than logic.”

  “And logic tells you that it’s acceptable to kill that many people?” the Hunter snapped.

  Kharna replied without hesitation. “To save ten times the number, yes. Even if it was only twice or thrice the number, the rational thing to do would be to let the few die to save the many.”

  “Then you truly are as cruel as humans think you are.” Fury burned within the Hunter. “Even if you are not the mad god they claim you to be, you are no less responsible for the suffering of this world with that perspective. How many humans would you sacrifice to save this world? Will it ever be enough?”

  “Perhaps that is a question you had best ask yourself.” Kharna’s words held no recrimination, but his gaze held a world of meaning. “How many would you sacrifice to save this Hailen you are so fond of? How many to find your daughter, to protect the one you call your wife or the human Kiara? What are your limits, Bucelarii?”

  The Hunter opened his mouth to retort to the first statement, but Kharna’s questions left him speechless. Even when he believed that using Soulhunger could lead to the end of the world, he hadn’t hesitated to use the dagger. Soulhunger had killed the First and Third, Garanis, Queen Asalah, the Warmaster, and all the other threats to his life and Hailen’s. He had killed without hesitation, all for what he deemed to be “the right thing”.

  So how was he any different than Kharna in this? Or his bloodthirsty ancestors, the Abiarazi? How was he any better?

  The stately figure of Kharna fixed him with that impenetrable Serenii gaze. “Life must sustain life. The Pit takes the life out of people and gives it to keep the world alive. We sacrificed ourselves to save Einan—why shouldn’t the humans be willing to do the same?”

  “If they chose to do it, that would be one thing.” The Hunter clenched his fists. “But these people were forced into it. They were ripped from their homes and families, hauled here in chains, and thrown into a filthy prison. Or, worse, they were born here simply so they could die when the time came. Perhaps that is the logical choice in your mind, but I cannot believe it is the right one!”

  “So you would see the world end to spare a few lives of humans you have never met? That is illogical.”

  “Fine, then it’s bloody illogical,” the Hunter snapped. “Yet you yourself gave in to human emotions when you chose to stay behind and fight the Devourer of Worlds.”

  It still felt weird to think of Kharna and the Destroyer as two separate entities—for as long as he could re
member, the god he spoke to now had been the greatest threat to Einan. Any doubts he’d had at the beginning of the conversation with Kharna had been torn to shreds by everything he’d seen and heard. Whether his vision had unlocked old memories or revealed truths buried deep in his consciousness, he knew Kharna spoke the truth. Yet his mind rebelled against much of the information he’d learned. There was simply too much that ran contrary to everything he’d known—or believed he’d known—his entire life.

  With effort, he forced himself to push on. “Emotion is not a weakness. It is what makes us strong, gives us something to fight for when everything is hopeless. It is what lifts us up when we’re past our breaking point and keeps us going when we are ready to collapse.”

  As he spoke, images from his memories passed before them, as if Kharna plucked them from his mind and brought them to life. He relived moments he’d spent as Danther the tailor, sitting with Farida and sharing sweetmeats and a smile. He watched scenes of him talking with Hailen, listening to the boy chatter. More and more people flashed past: Master Eldor, Kiara, Taiana, Old Nan, Bardin, Graeme, Visibos and Sir Danna, Evren, Rassek and Darillon, and more. So many more.

  “You felt a bit of those human emotions once, long ago,” the Hunter went on. “Perhaps you feel them even now. It is why you still fight against the Devourer when a more logical being would have simply yielded to the inevitable.”

  Kharna actually seemed to grow pensive, the earth-shattering presence in his mind falling silent.

  “Once, I thought the things I felt would be my undoing. That moment when I held a dying child in my arms and realized I could do nothing to save her, it would have been so easy to yield to the numbness of logic. She was a child in a cruel world, and her human life would only measure in a few decades at most.”

  He tapped in to the emotions he’d felt kneeling beside Farida’s body, and it burst from his chest with the force of a crashing tidal wave.

  “I nearly crumbled beneath my pain, yet I can see that it made me stronger.” The Hunter raised a clenched fist. “As I healed from the pain, it prepared me for the next pain, and the next one. Where logic might have crumbled, emotion kept me pushing onward.”

  He thrust a finger at the figure of the Serenii. “You say sacrificing all those people is the logical thing, yet there has to be a part of you that knows the pain that will cause.”

  “And still I can see no other way,” Kharna replied, and the voice echoed like a thunderstorm in the Hunter’s head. “All life comes at a cost. Matter is neither created nor destroyed, simply rearranged within the same space. There must be death for life to exist. Animals and plants die to feed other animals, plants, and humans. The Devourer would seek to bring an end to all life, until only chaos and eternal nothingness remains. It cost my brethren and I everything, and still we cannot stop him. There is only one way.”

  “No.” The Hunter shook his head. “I cannot believe that. There has to be another way.”

  “There is not.” Kharna’s voice echoed with a note of finality. “If such an alternative existed, my brothers and I would have found it by now.”

  “Then I’ll find it,” the Hunter said. The resolution in his own voice surprised him. “I will find a way to get enough power without sacrificing a million human lives to save this world.”

  “You believe yourself wiser than the greatest minds of the Serenii?” Hubris, a truly human emotion, echoed in Kharna’s voice.

  “Not even close. I have no chance of matching your sheer logic. But I refuse to believe in the impossible—there is always another way.” Years as an assassin had taught the Hunter that every fortress had a flaw, every secure perimeter had a gap, every solid steel door had a weak point. “A way that doesn’t involve so many innocent lives being snuffed out. That is the sort of thing the Sage and the Abiarazi would choose if it gave them what they wanted. Perhaps you are more like them than you suspect.”

  Anger rumbled in the Hunter’s mind with enough force to set his head aching. The vision faded around the Hunter, and once again he hung in the pitch black void.

  THERE IS NO OTHER WAY, the world-shattering voice roared. IF YOU WILL NOT DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE, I WILL FIND ANOTHER.

  “Like the Sage?” the Hunter shouted into the emptiness. “Are you controlling him as well by telling him that setting you free will give him everything he wants?”

  TIME AND HATRED HAVE TWISTED THE ABIARAZI’S MIND. HE SEEKS TO FREE ME, BUT I MUST REMAIN BOUND.

  “Then let me out of here so I can go stop the bastard! I will put an end to him. Hells, I’ll feed him to your bloody Khar’nath so his power adds to yours. Surely the life of a demon has a lot more power than a few humans.” It was a desperate gamble, based on something Kharna had said earlier.

  THE POWER OBTAINED FROM HIS DEATH IS NEARLY EQUAL TO THAT OF A SERENII. The god’s voice had quietened from world-shattering to simply deafening. BUT ONLY IF HE IS PLACED INTO ONE OF THE CHAMBERS OF SUSTENANCE.

  “Then that’s just what I’ll do.” Hope surged within the Hunter. “I’ll lock him away for good, and you can use the power of Enarium and his life force to close the rift.”

  IT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH! Kharna’s voice echoed through the void all around the Hunter with enough force to set his bones quaking. THERE MUST BE MORE.

  “Then I’ll find more! But to do that, you have to send me back to the world. Even now, the Sage is preparing to use the power of Enarium to free you. If you want me to stop him, let me out of here.”

  SO BE IT, Kharna rumbled. BUT REMEMBER, LITTLE BUCELARII, LIFE MUST SUSTAIN LIFE. THOUGH YOU WISH IT, THERE IS NO OTHER WAY.

  The Hunter opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly he found himself back in his body. Sensation returned to his limbs, and he found himself too weak to stand. He sagged to the ground and struck it hard enough to set his head ringing. The black stone walls and ceiling whirled about violently.

  “Drayvin, can you hear me?”

  The Hunter blinked, surprised at the familiar voice that echoed from beside him. He squinted in an effort to clear his head.

  Taiana knelt beside him, her hands gripping his. “Drayvin?”

  “T-Taiana?” Forming the word proved difficult. His mouth was dry, his throat parched.

  “Drayvin!” Relief shone in her eyes. “I’ve been trying to rouse you for fully ten minutes.”

  “T-Ten minutes?” The Hunter’s mind struggled to absorb everything. He still felt he was floating in the void, talking with Kharna, while at the same time lying on cold, hard stone.

  “You were just standing there, rigid as a statue.” Her brow furrowed. “Did you…speak to him?”

  The Hunter nodded. “I did.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, surprised to find his muscles drained, as if he’d just fought the entire Elivasti army. “He told me everything.”

  “Everything?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” He swallowed and sat up. “The truth of the Abiarazi, the Devourer, the Elivasti, us. Our mission. The reason we were given our weapons. Everything.”

  “Then you know about Khar’nath,” she said, and worry flashed in her eyes. “And you know that by setting the people free, you’ve doomed the entire world.”

  Chapter Forty

  “That’s the same thing Kharna said.” The Hunter’s jaw clenched. “But I refuse to believe that is the only way to put an end to this. There has to be another way. There always is.”

  Taiana shook her head. “Nothing that will work now. The only option is to activate Enarium and—”

  “No!” His shout echoed off the obsidian walls. “We are not going to sacrifice that many lives. I already told him that. I will keep my promise to ensure that he is sustained to keep fighting the Devourer, but I will not let anyone—not you, not the Sage, not bloody Kharna himself—kill all those people.”

  A shadow passed across her black eyes, and her expression hardened. Her hand twitched toward Soulhunger, but he caught her fingers.

  “Think about
what you’re considering, Taiana.” He fixed her with a hard gaze. “You’d really condemn hundreds of thousands of people to death?”

  “To save the world!” Her voice turned pleading.

  “What if one of them was Jaia?” the Hunter asked.

  She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What if one of those people in the Pit was our daughter? Would you consider it then?”

  Her eyes widened a fraction, and she drew in a sharp breath.

  “I want to stop the Devourer of Worlds as much as you do,” the Hunter said. “But I can’t imagine living in a world where that kind of thing happens. There’s already enough sorrow and suffering in the world for us to add any more. We have to find a way to stop that from happening. That starts here. That starts with us refusing to sacrifice someone else’s life to save our own.”

  She frowned, her expression growing pensive. “So what are you going to do?”

  “First, I’m going to stop the Sage from doing whatever the bloody hell he’s doing.” The Hunter climbed to his feet. Though his knees trembled, he forced his legs to bear him upright. “Then we’re going to lock him away in one of the Chambers of Sustenance so he can feed Kharna.”

  “And then what?” Taiana asked. “How do we stop the Devourer and seal the rift?”

  The Hunter hesitated. “I don’t know. But I’m going to figure it out.” He held out a hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

  Easier said than done, of course. He had no understanding of Serenii magick, how to use Enarium, or what in the fiery hell he could do to seal off a rift that not even the “gods” could close. Yet he would find a way that didn’t involve massacring more than half a million humans.

  After a moment, she let out a long, slow sigh and reached up for his hand. “Very well.” She pulled herself to her feet to stare down at him. “But if we don’t find another solution—”