Blade of the Destroyer: The Last Bucelarii: Book 1

by Andy Peloquin

Betrayal stung him as the realization of what he'd done flooded him. Every man and woman that I have killed, it has all been to feed the Destroyer's power. Hundreds of faces swam before the Hunter's eyes, every one of them belonging to those who had died at the end of Soulhunger's blade.

  "We gave these weapons to you, Bucelarii, in order to feed the Destroyer the power he needs to break free of his chains. But the gods killed so many of you..." Sorrow flashed across his face, slowly transforming into naked hatred. "And the accursed Cambionari are ever vigilant. They have hunted our children down and slaughtered them all. Save for you." A fiery intensity burned in his eyes.

  A feeling of profound sadness washed over the Hunter at these words. With it came aching realization.

  I am the last of my kind. I truly am alone in the world. Despondence dimmed the fire of his anger.

  "You, Bucelarii, were meant for great things," the First said. His fingers toyed with Soulhunger's grip, caressing the blade as he would a lover. "You were to bring back the Destroyer, and join us in serving him as masters of this world. But you were the only one left to feed the Great One."

  A look of disappointment and frustration crossed the First's face. "You fed him far too slowly," the demon said. "A death here and there is nowhere near enough power for what we do here this night, much less bring back our god. Thus, you have forced my hand."

  He began to pace, his voice filling with the excitement of a master strategist laying out a brilliant plan. "First," he said, "we had to start with something small, something that would set things in motion."

  "Lord Dannaros," the Hunter said, remembering the seal of the Bloody Hand in the man's office. "He worked for you."

  The First nodded. "His death gave me the necessary leverage to turn the Hand against you."

  "But before you could let loose the hounds, you needed me to kill Brother Securus," the Hunter said. "How did you know that he would be the only Cambionari in Voramis?"

  A sly smile broke out on the First's face. "For years we have spread rumors of Abiarazi sightings around the continent. Not enough to make the bastards actually send out a full force, but sufficient to compel them to investigate. One by one, we have drawn the Cambionari away from Voramis, until only one man remained. Only he had the power to stop us." His eyes flicked toward the Hunter's sword belt, and a momentary shiver of fear and loathing seized the First as he stared at the Swordsman's iron blades.

  "He was the only one capable of wielding those blades," the Hunter said, "but I disposed of him for you."

  "Yes," the First said, gloating, "it was truly a marvelous plan. After that, it was easy to goad you into a fury just by killing off a few of those pitiful beggars who shared your home."

  The faces of Old Nan, Jak, Karrl, and the others flashed through the Hunter's mind, and his stomach twisted with sorrow.

  "Once we had you angry and spoiling for blood," the First continued with a gleeful grin, "we did the one thing that would make you do exactly what we wanted."

  "You killed Farida," the Hunter said, his voice lifeless. He tried to push away the sense of loss, fought to ignore the pain flooding him, but a memory of the child's face haunted him. A lump rose in his throat, and he blinked, angry at the tears that threatened at the corner of his eyes.

  The First smiled at the pain written on the Hunter's face. "Oh, yes!" he leered. "It was a delicious act, I must say." He stepped close to the Hunter, whispering in his ear. "Her blood will feed the ritual tonight, though perhaps we could have done without. It was just a simply wonderful happenstance that an innocent had to die. Such pure blood always tastes marvelous." The man licked his lips, an obscene gesture clearly meant to goad the Hunter into a rage.

  The Hunter fought the revulsion and fury within, but it exploded from him in an animal roar. He threw himself forward, muscles cording, straining against his bonds. The sinews in his arms nearly burst in his struggle to break free.

  I will kill you! His mind raged, Soulhunger adding its fury to his own. The demon side of him wanted nothing more than to rip out the man's throat, to taste his blood, to feel the rush of power as he took the First's life. Tane stepped forward, tensing his muscles in anticipation of a fight.

  "Let him storm," the First said, holding up a hand and calmly stepping back. His laugh echoed in the cavern, infuriating the Hunter further. "It will be good for him to let it out."

  The Hunter's back arched, his chest heaved with the strain, and his powerful legs pushed against the ground. He threw every ounce of strength into his effort. But the stone was hard and unyielding, his bonds thick. Try as he might, he couldn't break free.

  Something within the Hunter broke, and strength failed him. He slumped back, exhaustion threatening to steal his consciousness. Blood pounded in his ears, and his muscles ached with the effort.

  A sob broke from his chest, a weak, pitiful sound filled with defeat. His head hung down, his eyes on the stone floor beneath his feet. He fell against the ropes, leaning on them heavily. They were the only thing holding him upright; all he wanted to do was curl into a ball to escape the pain flooding him. Every shred of his willpower fought to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

  "It had to be done," said the First. He sounded almost apologetic. "Your rampage of death and destruction tonight was necessary, and now, thanks to you, we have enough power to accomplish what has not been done in thousands of years."

  The Hunter stared at the demon in incomprehension.

  "All this is possible because of you, Hunter!" Triumph rang in the First's voice. He gestured around him. "What we do here, it is thanks to you and your hubris!"

  The Hunter had never felt so defeated. He could find nothing to say.

  "You were the Bucelarii we needed you to be, the willing pawn in our game. You even followed my men here, to this glorious place where our destiny will become manifest once again."

  "What do you mean, 'followed' your men here'?" the Hunter asked. A tiny spark of anger still burned within him, and the First's mocking words fanned it into an ember.

  "Please, Hunter," the First mocked, "you think you 'tracked' me tonight? Following the one idiot thief creeping through the Serenii tunnels?" He shook his head, as if disbelieving anyone could be so naïve. "I have dozens of men 'wandering' these tunnels, waiting for you to 'find' them."

  "You meant for them to lead me here."

  "Yes," crowed the First, a triumphant smile wreathing his face, "and here you are, right where I want you." He walked around the Hunter, placing a hand on the smooth stone obelisk. "Look here, to this glorious altar to which you are bound. It was on these stones that the Serenii sacrificed their victims, their blood drained for the Great Destroyer."

  "This city," the First gestured around him, "all of this was built by the Serenii, given the name 'Hohnin'—Sanctuary. They once took it upon themselves to protect mankind, to guide you in your evolution."

  The First's eyes glittered darkly as he stared at the Hunter. "But then came the day the Mighty Kharna declared war on the gods." He spoke with the familiarity of an eyewitness. "He attempted to enlist the Serenii in his ranks, but the cowards refused to fight directly. Yet they were the ones who opened the portal to our worlds. Right here," he pointed to the ground at his feet, "we Abiarazi emerged to rule the world!"

  "Look into my eyes." The First strode around to stand in front of the Hunter. "Look at me and see the endless depths of the Hells, our realm eternal."

  For a moment, the Hunter thought he stared into a mirror. The eyes gazing back at him matched his own—pools of endless liquid darkness, empty of life and light. He shrank back from the intensity in the First's expression, which caused the demon's smile to widen.

  "We wielded power immense, and we will wield it once more!" The First raised his arms. The void behind seemed to echo his words, ringing with triumph. "On this altar blood was spilled to release us, and here blood shall be spilled once more. We needed you to unleash your rage on the Bloody Hand. The deaths of those fools wi
ll provide the power to fuel our ritual tonight!"

  He turned to face the Hunter, stabbing a finger at him. "Thanks to you, tonight we open the way for the Abiarazi to return. We will bring death to this world once again, and with the help of my brothers, we will gather the power to free the Destroyer. Your blood and your blade make it possible for the way to be opened."

  His fist closed around Soulhunger's worn leather grip, and a smile played on his lips. The throbbing in the back of the Hunter's mind intensified as the dagger slipped free of its sheath.

  "Thanal Eth' Athaur," the man whispered. "How I have missed thee, my brother." Rapture filled the First's eyes, and for the first time, the Hunter saw the demon within.

  There is nothing human about that thing. He wears the face and adopts the guise of a man, but beneath the flesh there is only a creature of darkness and death.

  Emotions warred within the Hunter as he watched the First caress the sharp edge of Soulhunger's blade.

  Is that what I have been doing all along? I have worn hundreds of faces, adopted hundreds of disguises. Have they all been an attempt to deny who and what I really am?

  The First looked up, locking gazes with the Hunter. "You have seen what I am, Hunter, what hides within me. I know what hides within you, what drives you to kill. You have the weakness of humankind in you, yet you possess the strength of an Abiarazi. What you have done this night proves that you are worthy to take your place as a true Bucelarii."

  Pride filled the First's eyes as he spoke, his voice passionate. "You have the chance to join us now, to fulfill your destiny. Imagine being able to show the world what you really are, rather than hiding behind pitiful masks. Abandon the humans that have shunned you, hunted you, and killed your kindred. You alone of your kind remain, but there is no need for you to be alone."

  His expression turned sorrowful. "The burden of a long life takes its toll as you watch those around you wither, age, and die. But join us, and you will never be alone again. Once the Abiarazi have dominion over Einan again, we will breed thousands of Bucelarii to rule beneath us. You will lead your kin in the conquest of this world, and you will have all the power you can dream of."

  The First extended a hand to the Hunter, his expression earnest. "Unleash the demon within you, and claim your rightful place. You are a descendant of greatness, a creature destined to rule the world with us. Become the thing you were meant to be. Embrace your kinship with power, and together we can conquer. "

  The Hunter's instincts told him to spit the man's offer back in his face.

  How could he think I'd join him after what he's done? He killed my friends—even tortured Farida to death—all to get me to do his bidding. He is a demon!

  And yet, something deep within him wanted nothing more than to accept. The word kinship had struck the Hunter like a punch to the gut, and he could not ignore the overwhelming sense of loneliness.

  For as long as he could remember, he had been alone. Few had seen his true face, and those who had always flinched when staring into his depthless eyes. They only saw the demon, never the man. But to be among his own kind once more…

  Why shouldn't I accept his offer? We share the same blood. He has seen the truth behind who and what I am, and welcomed me when everyone else in the world fears and wants to kill me. Could I finally find the place where I belong? If I am like them, should I not join them? Where else will I be accepted as I am?

  His stomach twisted in revulsion. I am half-demon, the offspring of creatures of nightmare. I will never find my place in the world of man, for I am the last of the Bucelarii.

  There was no one else on Einan like him, no one who would ever understand him. How could anyone know was it was like to have the driving urge to kill warring within—an urge that could only be satiated with blood? Who could ever accept him knowing all the horrible, monstrous things he had done?

  The First's words rang in his thoughts. "Become what you were meant to be." I am meant for greatness. I wield the power that can awaken a god from eternal death.

  Soulhunger echoed the demon's promises, its eager voice whispering of power. It wanted to feed…it wanted blood.

  He tried to push the whispers aside, to clear his head. He struggled to think why he should resist, why he should fight back, yet he could find no reason.

  This world is filthy, disgusting, filled with sin.

  Priests committing murder. Righteous men doing horrible things because of their lustful nature. Children stealing and killing. Women forced to sell their bodies for the pleasures of men. Beggars fighting over scraps of food.

  Humans have done that to one another, forcing some to live in poverty while others live in mansions. Humanity is the cause of its own suffering. Why shouldn't this world be cleansed?

  Yet he was torn. His human half protested, screaming for him to deny the demon.

  Can I really consign all of humanity to their deaths? Do I have the strength to accept the burden of millions of lives lost just to satisfy my need to belong? Am I selfish enough to do that?

  Farida's face floated through his thoughts. Her skin pale and lifeless skin, her clothes stained with blood.

  She died because of me.

  Then he saw her as she had been: smiling, laughing, her face covered with sticky syrup. He could still smell the roses, dirt, and incense as her chubby arms gripped him around the waist, hugging him tight. He heard her exclamation as he presented her with a cloth doll, her laughter as she plucked a treat from his hand.

  How could I allow this to happen to her? An innocent child who never hurt a soul, killed just to push me over the edge. Could I ever truly find my place among creatures who would so casually perpetrate these horrors?

  The agony of loss ripped through his heart, but instead of pushing the pain away, he reveled in it. It washed over him like a tidal wave, and pressure built within him, threatening to shatter his mind.

  Suddenly, he no longer stood in the torch-lit cavern beneath Voramis. He seemed to be in another place…another time. Images of death and destruction flashed in front of his eyes, almost as if they were a memory.

  Storm clouds roiled in the sky, the sound of thunder joining flashes of lightning as the gods warred in the heavens. Massive creatures walked, slithered, and crawled across the face of the world, leaving only havoc and carnage in their wake.

  A weeping child clung to her mother. The woman screamed for the husband being dragged away by the horrible monsters of nightmare. Blood spattered the mother's dress as talons slashed her throat, pouring down onto the child and staining her final moments in horror. A huge fist crushed the child's skull. Crustacean-like claws snatched up the body and devoured it whole.

  The voice within the Hunter shouted as he watched, helpless, horrified.

  Two children, a boy and a girl, raced through the burning streets of a village. Snarling demons pursued them, shouting curses and screaming their hunger. A huge spear flew through the night, piercing the boy and pinning him to the ground. The little girl could only watch in mute horror as the demons surrounded her. Her voice lifted in horrifying screams as talons and claws raked the skin from her bones.

  Graves filled with hundreds—nay, thousands—of bodies, mountains of skulls and bones. Demons feasted on the carcasses of women and children. Men were tortured to a slow death.

  Atop the pile of corpses, the lifeless body of Farida turned empty, accusing eyes toward him. "You did this," her stare seemed to say.

  Whether it was a memory or simply a hallucination, the Hunter couldn't tell. The pain of loss, however, was all too real.

  How many more like her will die? Could I ever live with myself knowing I had harmed a child like this?

  The demon within him howled, but his human half fought it back.

  I cannot allow this to happen. I have found a home among these humans, and it is a home I will fight to protect, even from my own kind.

  No, screamed the voice in his mind—a voice he now realized belonged to the demon within
him. We must rule the world again.

  It is not who I am, the human half of the Hunter thundered. I refuse to stand by and do nothing. I refuse to let any more die needlessly.

  The war within his mind raged, tearing him apart. His two halves fought to overpower each other, but something in him snapped. Suddenly, with startling clarity, the Hunter knew neither side could be allowed to win.

  I am both man and demon, but that is what makes me who I am. It is what makes me the Hunter.

  With realization, came acceptance. As much as he hated it, that voice within him—that demon half—would always be a part of him.

  His internal struggle came to a sudden, shuddering conclusion, and an odd sense of peace flooded him.

  The vision of horrors dissipated. He found himself once again in the Serenii catacombs. Ropes bound him to the stone upon which thousands had died, and before him stood a demon wearing the face of the First of the Bloody Hand.

  "So," the First asked, "what is your answer? Will you become what you were meant to be?"

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Hunter struggled to speak. "No." The word cut through the silence like a knife.

  "What?" The First seemed taken aback by this answer. "You're rejecting your own kind, your own blood?"

  "Yes."

  "Even though you are the last Bucelarii? Help us, and we can make thousands more like you! Isn't that what you want? Aren't you tired of being alone?"

  "More than you could possibly know," said the Hunter. "Yet even though it is what I want, I could not live with the consequences. Mankind—"

  "Cares nothing for you!" the First raged. "They have hunted you down, killed your family, made you an outsider. You will never be one of them. Should they discover who you are, they will fear you, hate you."

  "Then that is the burden I must bear," the Hunter replied. "I may never be fully accepted by humankind, but I cannot permit them to be slaughtered for the sake of power. There will always be that part of me that belongs to your kind, but I choose humanity." His mind no longer raced, and for the first time in his memory, he was at peace.