Darkblade Seeker: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Hero of Darkness Book 4)

by Andy Peloquin

  He forced it aside. Easy, he told himself. At least Hailen is safe in Kharan-cui. He will be—

  The thought died half-formed. Behind the crowd of playing youngsters, a slim, frail form struggled to keep up. Though he had the same dark hair as the other Elivasti children, his weak chin, round cheeks, and pale skin sent waves of horror racing through the Hunter.

  Hailen?!

  Chapter Eighteen

  No, it can't be! The Hunter's heart thudded a panicked beat. Hailen is down in Kharan-cui.

  He leaned over the parapet, squinting at the boy. He wanted to deny it, but the familiar features—the ones that had reminded him of Farida the first time he'd laid eyes on the boy back in Malandria—grew more distinct as the lad huffed and puffed after the Elivasti children.

  Ice trickled through his veins. It is him. He'd left Hailen safely at the bottom of Shana Laal, yet here he was, trapped in the enclosure with the other Elivasti children. His mind conjured terrible images of the boy being dragged up the mountainside in the unrelenting grasp of the Sage—or, worse still, the Warmaster. But why? And how, for that matter? He hadn't said anything to reveal Hailen's existence; how had the demons known about him?

  The demon flooded his mind with images of torment. It shrieked and screamed, seeking to fan his anger into a fiery rage. The Hunter's knuckles whitened as he dug his fingers into the stone parapet. There was only one reason for Hailen's presence: leverage. With Hailen safely ensconced with the Elivasti, the Abiarazi believed they could make the Hunter do their bidding.

  Not if I have any say about it.

  He wrestled back the urge to draw his sword, charge down the stairs, and fight his way into the enclosure. To do so would show his hand, point out his greatest vulnerability, not to mention set him at odds with the Elivasti—and their master.

  "Do nothing rash, Hunter." Master Eldor gripped his right arm. "For his sake, you must think carefully before you make your next move."

  The Hunter whirled on the Elivasti. "You would threaten me with—"

  "I make no threat." Master Eldor's voice was quiet but hard as stone. "I was not the one to put him there."

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes. "Who, then?"

  "Who do you think?" Master Eldor pointed toward the Sage's tower.

  "You know this for certain?"

  Master Eldor nodded. "I know the men who brought him from Kharan-cui yesterday morning. They were sent by the Sage before you had ever stepped foot on Shana Laal."

  The Hunter's blood turned to ice. Before I stepped foot on the mountain? All the time he'd believed Hailen was safe, the boy had been here among the Elivasti. "Bastard!" He slammed a fist into the stone wall.

  "Do not let your anger cloud your thinking, Hunter. That is precisely what the Sage wants." Master Eldor gripped his shoulder. "Ponder your next move carefully. My advice is to leave the boy there."

  "Why?" the Hunter snarled. His heart hammered against his ribs, and his hand trembled with barely-restrained fury. "He is not one of your Elivasti children to lock away in a cage."

  "But he is." Master Eldor gestured to his eyes. "He bears the mark of our race."

  The Hunter could find no words. He'd come to Kara-ket hoping to find a way to cure whatever had happened to Hailen. If he truly was Elivasti as Master Eldor believed, he had fallen prey to the madness of the Serenii's descendants.

  "If you take him away, he will share the same fate as the rest of us. The Irrsinnon will come upon him and there will be no hope for him." Sorrow clouded the Elivasti's purple eyes. "Death would be a kinder fate."

  "But if I can get the opia from the Sage's tower, it will cure him, yes?"

  "It would, but there is no way to get it." Master Eldor shook his head. "The garden is always guarded, and there is only one way in and out. Through the Sage's rooms."

  The Hunter clenched his fist. "Then I will demand he gives it to me. He won't refuse me." He gripped his sword hilt. "One way or another, I will have it."

  "And give him leverage over you? The Bucelarii have no need of the opia. If you go to him and demand it, it will reveal that you know he has your boy." The old Elivasti met his gaze, steel in his expression. "Right now, the Sage believes you unaware of the child's presence on the mountain. He is saving that particular revelation until such a time as he can use it against you. The moment he realizes you know, he can use it against you. He must not realize!"

  The Hunter swallowed the anger surging within him and forced his mind to analyze Master Eldor's words. They held truth. If the Sage had been the one to bring the boy, he would want to use him to "convince" the Hunter. He wouldn't hesitate to put Hailen in danger if he believed it cowed the Hunter into compliance.

  "So what, then? I just leave him in there?"

  Master Eldor nodded. "For now. It is the safest place for him. There, the Irrsinnon will not take him, and I will be at hand to keep watch on him."

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "You?"

  "I have a few Elivasti I am certain I can trust to mind their tongues. I will set them to watch the gate. We will have a chance to reunite you with your boy without the Sage knowing."

  "Why help me?" The Hunter's innate cynicism of human nature pricked in the back of his mind. No one helped anyone out of decency or goodness. Everyone had an angle, everyone wanted something. "What do you get out of it?"

  Master Eldor's eyes fell away. "You are in a…unique position. Perhaps your experiences with the Abiarazi—both in the past and now—will show you the truth of your ancestors. The time may come when you will be forced to make a choice. It is my hope you choose what is right."

  Again with the cryptic talk. The Hunter had a suspicion as to the underlying meaning of Master Eldor's words, but it would remain just that until the Elivasti revealed more.

  For now, he had enough to worry about. Hailen's presence on Shana Laal complicated matters immensely. He couldn't just kill the demons and flee the mountains as he'd planned. Even if he managed to eliminate both the Sage and the Warmaster before the Elivasti murdered him, he couldn't flee the mountain with Hailen in tow. Now he had to find a way to deal with the demons and escape without putting the boy in further danger.

  "I must go," the Hunter said in a voice as cold as the ice-capped peaks.

  "Yes, I believe you have a feast to prepare for." Master Eldor gripped his arm. "Do not do anything to set you at odds with the Sage. He holds your boy's life in his hands."

  "I need no reminders," the Hunter growled, fists clenching.

  "The boy will be safe. And, if you return tomorrow to 'continue your training', I will make certain you have a chance to see him."

  The Hunter studied the old Elivasti's face. He saw no sign of deceit or treachery.

  "As I said before, there is much you must un-learn if you are to become the warrior you were when last we met. I expect my offer for private training has already reached the Sage's ears." He cast a wary glance around. "Very little that happens escapes our master's notice."

  Of course. The Elivasti's behavior on the training field and again in the streets made sense. It provided a cover story, gave the Hunter a valid reason to come down to the city of the Elivasti without revealing his connection to either Master Eldor or Hailen.

  He inclined his head. "So be it."

  "Come to the forge at first light," Master Eldor said, his voice somber. "If we are to train, we must do it properly."

  The Hunter stifled a groan. After the rigors of training, he had an evening in the company of demons and a night spent exploring the Sage's tower to look forward to. He'd have little chance for sleep tonight.

  But if it brought him one step closer to eliminating the Sage and the Warmaster, he would gladly do it.

  He bowed to the old Elivasti. "Until tomorrow, Master Eldor."

  * * *

  The long climb to his rooms in the Sage's tower only aggravated the Hunter's fury. Every muscle ached, and the climb from the city of the Elivasti hadn't done him any good. Though his body h
ad begun to adapt to the altitude—the marvel of his accelerated healing—he longed to rest before the Warmaster's feast tonight.

  The thought of seeing the Sage sent anger stabbing through him. He removed his sword—the gift from Master Eldor—and set it aside. Best he leave the weapon for fear the temptation to run the Sage through overwhelmed him. It would take every shred of self-control to keep his hands away from Soulhunger.

  The bastard! By bringing Hailen to Kara-ket, the Sage had put the boy in danger. He wouldn't hesitate to order Hailen's death or torment to coerce the Hunter. That put the Hunter at a disadvantage. He couldn't take overt actions against the Sage for fear of what the demon would do to the boy. His impossible task had just gotten that much harder.

  Beneath his anger at the Sage, guilt tugged at his heart. He'd left Hailen in Kharan-cui to keep him out of the demon's clutches, but what had that accomplished? Once again, his actions had endangered the boy. First, with Marin in Sirkar Jeroen's caravan, then at the hands of Il Seytani in the Advanat. The boy had endured much as they crossed the Advanat Desert and the Hrandari Plains. And now, he found himself in the clutches of the Sage.

  Had he really been right to take Hailen from the House of Need in Malandria? Was he a fool for bringing the boy with him? There was a time he'd told himself it was because he could use Hailen to hunt demons. He knew better now. He needed the boy. Hailen's presence drove back the voices in his head, granting him a reprieve from the endless torment of his thoughts. Yet that need only put the boy in greater danger at every turn.

  The Sage wants to use him as leverage against me? They'll find me far less compliant than they expected. The last person who had held a dagger to the boy's throat lay dead in the Advanat Desert.

  With a growl of frustration, he stalked toward the shelf and dragged out one of the formal outfits provided by the Sage. The clothes were uncomfortable and restricted his movement, but at least they fit.

  Studying himself in the mirror, he smoothed his face into a bland expression. Master Eldor was right. I can't let the Sage know that I've discovered his treachery. Doing so would only put Hailen in more danger.

  He hated to see the boy penned up in the enclosure, but at least he was with other Elivasti children. With Master Eldor to keep an eye on him, he'd be as safe there as anywhere on the mountain.

  He balled his fists. I swear you will not be there long, Hailen. I will find the opia and cure the Irrsinnon.

  Just one more task to accomplish tonight. After learning as much as he could of the Warmaster's temple and scoping out the Sage's rooms, he'd climb to the top of the tower in search of the opia. He wouldn't allow this new wrinkle to stop him from carrying out his mission. Hailen's presence only delayed the inevitable.

  The Sage and the Warmaster would die.

  Chapter Nineteen

  With a wordless snarl, the Hunter gave up on trying to fasten the button at the neck of his jacket. He hated the fancy, stifling garment, but it was the best of many evils. He had chosen the simplest of the outfits: a dark blue knee-length jacket with ivory buttons, a simple white tunic, and brown breeches that tucked into the tops of his soft-soled boots.

  The Hunter tugged at the constricting seam of the jacket's shoulder. Scowling, he reached for the half-cloak that accompanied the outfit. It lacked a hood, but the draping folds of cloth hid Soulhunger—and a few secreted daggers—from view.

  He cast one last glance at himself in the mirror. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin, but he could go a few more days without shaving.

  Think of this as just one more disguise, he told himself. Instead of an alchemical mask and feather-glass lenses, he wore his own face. You're infiltrating the parties of Upper Voramis, mingling with the lords and ladies. Only this time, he dined with two demons warring for his loyalty. He'd prefer a kingdom's worth of ruffles and neck collars.

  The hall outside his door was empty, not a single purple-eyed guard in sight. He'd half-expected a gaggle of the demon's spies—masked as an honor guard, of course. He smiled. Perhaps the Sage is beginning to trust me.

  He descended the main staircase, but instead of leaving the main exit, he turned onto a secondary staircase that led toward the inner side of the temple. Beyond the open double doors, the light of flickering torches illuminated a gravel walkway that could only lead to the Warmaster's tower.

  The Hunter hesitated a moment. His stomach tightened in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the assault on his mind and stepped outside the temple.

  The voice of his inner demon slammed into his mind with jarring force. Soulhunger added its insistent demands to the whirlwind of incoherent screams that tugged at his consciousness. A week had elapsed since his last kill, and the force of the dagger's insistence set his head pounding.

  But he was ready. He pictured an impregnable wall in his mind and pushed back against the voice, wielding his force of will as a shield. His inner demon fought for control, but he would not yield to the agonizing shrieking. He held the barrier firmly in place until the voice quietened to a chaotic din in the far back of his thoughts.

  He strode down the torchlit walkway, his steps confident and his face a picture of calm. But his eyes never stopped moving, roving the shadows in search of assassins. He hadn't lived this long by being careless. And, if he was to break into the Warmaster's temple and slay the demon, he had to find a way to enter unseen.

  The Hrandari Plains had more concealment than the unbroken expanse of grass surrounding the base of the temples. An occasional tree or bush jutted leafy branches into the night air, but they stood hundreds of paces away from the walkway. Not even the Hunter would have attempted to cross that open terrain. Looks like I'll have to find another way to get at the temple. And its occupant.

  Odd how comforting those familiar thought patterns felt. He'd loved the thrill of stealing unseen into the mansions of Voramis or moving around the city undetected by the Heresiarchs, the Bloody Hand, or his prey. The killing had been a part of the job—a part he carried out with ruthless efficiency—but he truly reveled in the challenge of surprising his victims in the places they felt safest. It held a sort of cruel humor, one he found appropriate.

  He allowed his mind to go through the motions of studying the temples through the eyes of an assassin. The torches and alchemical lamps set up along the gravel walkway leading to the Warmaster's temple would make it difficult to approach the huge double doors unseen, but the temple itself provided plenty of shadows to slip through. Besides, every building had a back way in.

  His eyes followed the unnaturally straight line of the temple walls upward. He'd counted thirty-two floors in the Sage's temple—twenty-six rising into the sky, and six descending into the heart of the mountain. Darkness hid the domes atop the towers. The blue-green façade of the temple seemed to reflect the light of the waning moon.

  Truly, the Serenii were masters of their craft.

  He drew in a deep breath. The evening breeze—uncannily warm, despite the fact they stood atop Shana Laal—carried the scents of crisp snow, hard mountain stone, and the reek of the demon beside him. The Sage had applied oils of sandalwood, citrus, and basil, yet the Hunter's sensitive nostrils detected the stench that marked him as an Abiarazi.

  A trio of cloth-masked Elivasti stood at the double doors leading into the Warmaster's temple. They straightened at his approach and stepped aside to allow him to enter.

  The demon's presence battered the barrier in his mind, sending a spike of pain into his right eye. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it back, reinforced the wall. He couldn't be distracted by the screaming, shrieking voice. Not with the Sage and the Warmaster in the same room. Just a few more steps. Once inside the temple, he would have peace.

  The moment he entered, he knew something was wrong. Instead of falling silent, the voices in his head grew louder, stronger, more insistent. The demon's voice rose to a wailing crescendo. He struggled to maintain the wall he had erected in his mind, bent every shred of w
illpower to holding back the voices.

  He failed.

  The mental barrier shattered, and the demon's piercing screams tore at his thoughts. Agony flooded his mind. The shrieking seemed to echo off the very stones of the temple, slicing through his mind with terrible intensity. He pounded his head with his fists, desperate to silence the voice. He could not hold it back, try as he might. His head felt a heartbeat from bursting into a thousand pieces. It was as if they tore at his very sanity.

  Stumbling backward, he fell to his knees and retched in the grass beside the temple entrance. Immediately, the chaos in his mind diminished. The demon's shrieks no longer threatened to shatter his mind, and Soulhunger's insistence dwindled to a more manageable intensity.

  Watcher have mercy! He remained on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. What in the frozen hell was that?

  Acid surging in the back of his throat, he forced himself to his feet.

  He turned his thoughts inward. Demon, heed me.

  The incoherent screams coalesced into a semblance of lucidity. “What do you want?” The presence in his mind radiated searing hatred and anger. “Too long my demands have gone unheeded.”

  What will it take for you to leave me in peace? What must I do to end the torment?

  “You know what I desire.” An overwhelming desire for death seized him. “We had an understanding, you and I, and yet you continue to resist your true nature. The torment is of your own making!”

  Then I will offer you a bargain. Death. The Hunter clenched his fists. Before the night is out, I will give you what you desire. But I cannot do so if you continue.

  “Why would I not take control of you, as I did in the temple of the Beggar in Malandria?” A tremor ran through the Hunter's hands, and a red haze tinged his vision. “You could not stop me, and I would have the death I crave!”

  What would that accomplish? You would kill all in your path, but to do so would bring the demons' wrath upon us. There are too many of them.