Darkblade Slayer

by Andy Peloquin

  "Ye need to be takin’ a rest for his sake, ye let us know, eh?" Rassek jerked a thumb toward Hailen. "No reason to push him too hard."

  "Of course," the Hunter said. "I'll ride with him."

  Rassek shrugged. "The offer stands. Just give us the word and we'll halt."

  "Thank you." The Hunter nodded. He didn’t have much experience with this manner of kindness; Voramians weren’t known for their decency or altruism.

  Darillon shot a worried glance at him and Hailen, but Rassek's expression kept the older man from speaking up. With a grunt, he turned and rode out of the cave.

  The Hunter lifted Hailen from Ash's saddle, settled the boy in front of him on Elivast's back, and kicked his horse into motion. A bracing wind greeted him as he rode out of the cave, but he could feel the warmth of the rising sun driving back the chill. The first rays of daylight shimmered on the rippling surface of Sapphire Lake. It was a cold, crisp beauty like nowhere else in Einan.

  The Hunter's arm soon ached from holding Hailen upright and lifting him in time with Elivast's trotting pace. Though the boy hadn't yet emerged from his stupor, the Hunter tried to force the worry from his mind.

  He'll come out of it. He always has before.

  The thought rang hollow. In his memories, he'd seen what had happened to Aerden. The Irrsinnon had affected the young Elivasti far worse than Hailen's fit the previous night. He could forestall the thought no longer: Hailen descended deeper into the madness. The day would soon come when he would be too far gone to return.

  But not today. Today, he'll be fine. It took all the Hunter’s stubborn willpower to make himself believe the words.

  Darillon and Rassek kept them moving at a steady pace along the lakeside trail, and the horses’ jog trot ate up the leagues quickly. The path circumnavigated the lake for another four hours before turning off onto another winding road between steep, jagged cliffs. Rocky mountain peaks towered hundreds of paces over their heads, blocking out the sunlight and casting them into deep, chilly shadows.

  Something nagged in the back of the Hunter’s mind. He could sense Her presence growing stronger to the northeast, but that didn’t explain the sense of…wrongness that also increased with every passing hour. Though he had no idea why he felt that way, it left him uneasy, wary. His eyes darted around as if expecting danger to lurk behind every boulder.

  The trail rose at a steep incline for half an hour, then flattened out into a rocky shelf fifty paces wide and twenty long. Instead of turning toward the path that led off to the north, Darillon pulled his horse to a stop before the cliff face at the far end of the shelf.

  "Keeper's teeth!" Darillon growled as he craned his neck.

  "What's wrong?" the Hunter asked.

  Darillon was too busy muttering a steady stream of curses to answer.

  "The ropes are gone, see," Rassek said, sighing.

  "Ropes?"

  Rassek pointed at a strange, tilted tripod-looking construction made of wooden beams standing atop the cliff. "That's used to haul the horses, gear, and us up the cliff face." Rassek's expression soured. "But it be lookin’ like some bleedin’ idiot took the ropes with them last time they passed."

  Darillon scowled. "It's got to be Hlareth and his cronies."

  "Ye’re likely right, says I." Rassek inclined his head. "That’s just the sort of thing those cheapskates’d be doin’. Save them from havin’ to buy their own ropes, t’would." He sighed and pointed toward the cliff. "But goin’ up that cliff’s the quickest way to get where ye’re wantin’ to go."

  "When you say quickest, you mean there's another way?" the Hunter asked.

  Darillon snorted. "Sure, there's the fool's way around."

  "The long way ‘round." Rassek shot his partner a stern gaze. "It'd take more’n a day goin’ up the mountains to find the trail that cuts back along the cliffs to get here. What should be half an hour's labor is now goin’ to cost us a bleedin’ lot of time, says I."

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes and studied the cliff face. He'd spent most of the last fifty years of his life climbing walls, buildings, and rooftops with far few hand and footholds than this. Frozen hell, he'd even scaled Shana Laal just a few weeks ago. How hard could a cliff like this be?

  He turned to Rassek and Darillon. "I'll climb it."

  The two men's eyebrows rose in surprise. Darillon shook his head. "No bloody chance. I'm not having you fall to your death because some—"

  "Have you ever heard of Shana Laal?" the Hunter asked.

  Darillon rolled his eyes. "Of course we have. Highest peak in the Yathi Mountains."

  "I climbed it without a rope." The Hunter said it in a matter-of-fact tone, without a hint of braggadocio.

  "A likely story!" Darillon growled.

  The Hunter met the man's gaze without hesitation. Darillon's expression went from mocking to hesitant to surprised in the space of a few seconds. "You're serious?" the man asked. "You climbed Shana bloody Laal?"

  The Hunter nodded. "Took me two days, but it was worth it." In Kara-ket, the temples atop the mountain peak, he'd found the Sage and the Warmaster, the two demons controlling all the Abiarazi and Elivasti around Einan. "If I can get up there with a bundle of rope, I can haul one of you up. Do you have enough rope to get that thing working?" He had no idea what the strange construction was or how to work it, but he’d have no problem pulling one of the mountaineers up.

  Rassek and Darillon exchanged glances. The older man's brow furrowed, and Rassek pursed his lips in concentration. "It might work," Darillon said after a long moment. "But you're not going it alone. Even if you say you're a climber, that doesn't mean you know your way around the Empty Mountains. These cliffs can be mighty temperamental."

  Rassek looked ready to protest, but it was Darillon's turn to silence him with a glance. "We're the ones getting paid to do the mountaineering," he told his partner. "It wouldn't be right to let him take all the risk himself."

  Rassek's mouth curled down into a frown. "Doesn't mean I have to let ye take the risk, says I."

  "We both know which of us is the better climber." Darillon folded his arms, his expression growing stubborn. "Don't bother denying it, either."

  Rassek scowled but said nothing.

  Darillon turned to the Hunter. "You'll need a harness and some rope to—"

  "No, I won't." The Hunter shook his head. "That'll just get in my way."

  Darillon's eyes narrowed. "You'd be taking a mighty risk."

  The Hunter shrugged. "Risk worth taking, if it means we save a day or two." He held the man's gaze steadily. "We only have ten days out here, remember?"

  After a moment, Darillon grunted and inclined his head. "It's your neck."

  As Darillon rummaged in his equipment for ropes, the Hunter checked the plants in his pack. He'd considered using them to check the cliff wall for any Serenii runes, but their glow was too faint to be visible in the bright daylight. Maybe they only glow at night. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen the plants glowing as they rode around Sapphire Lake during the day. They’d only come to life after the sun had set.

  He hesitated as he glanced over at Hailen. The boy remained listless and slouched, his eyes vacant. He hadn't snapped out of the madness. He hated the thought of leaving Hailen like this, but if he didn't, they'd waste too much time going around.

  "I'll gladly be keepin’ an eye on him," Rassek said.

  The Hunter turned to find the younger mountaineer's eyes on him.

  "He's got me and Evren lookin’ out fer him, see. Isn't that right, young man?" Rassek shot a glance at Evren.

  The thief seemed genuinely surprised that the man was talking to him, but managed a hasty nod. "O-Of course."

  After a moment, the Hunter inclined his head. "Thank you." He pushed back against the nagging worry in his mind. As long as Hailen has Soulhunger, he'll be all right.

  He stripped out of his leather armor and slung it over the saddle, along with his heavy cloak, sword belt, and the baldric that
bore his many daggers. Wearing nothing but his tunic, breeches, and boots, he strode toward the cliff.

  "You sure you don't want the harness?" Darillon asked with a skeptical expression. "These mountains have seen enough death already."

  "I'll be fine," the Hunter said as he slung the coil of rope around his shoulders. He leapt high into the air and grabbed a ledge three paces off the ground. Turning his head, he shot a triumphant grin back at Darillon. "I just hope you can keep up."

  The mountaineer seemed to come alive at the challenge. "You're on!" Excitement sparkled in his eyes as he found his first hand and foot-hold on the cliff face and began to climb.

  The Hunter had to admit Darillon truly was a skilled climber. Before he'd taken three steps up the stone face, the mountaineer had closed the gap between them. He climbed at a speed that shocked even the Hunter, clambering up the cliff with the agility of a spider.

  With a grunt, the Hunter pushed himself to climb faster. No way I'm losing my own challenge.

  He chose a path of ascent that ran along a deep fissure in the cliff face. The crack provided good footing, though he had to choose his handholds carefully for fear the outer edges would crumble in his grip. His trajectory was aimed toward a chimney, a cleft in the rock with two parallel sides. If he could wedge his body into that crack, his ascent would prove much easier.

  When he looked to his left, he found Darillon a full man-height above him. The mountaineer might have been older, but he showed no sign of slowing. He only paused long enough to dip his hands into a pouch containing a chalky white substance.

  The Hunter had to admire the man's climbing skill. Even with his inhuman strength, Darillon was proving even more adept at scaling the cliff face.

  To make things worse, the grey limestone of the cliff kept crumbling in the Hunter's grip. He had to keep his pace slow, else risk losing his grip and plummeting to the rocky ground. A glance down revealed he'd climbed at least twenty paces. A fall from this height would shatter bone. He'd rather not explain how he could recover from an injury like that too quickly. Better safe than—

  "Darillon!"

  A shout came from below. Rassek's voice, filled with horror. Darillon's grunt was the only warning for the Hunter to look up—in time to see the mountaineer falling straight toward him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Hunter acted purely on instinct. His left hand dug into the crevice he was holding while he reached out with his right to snatch for the falling man. His fingers closed around Darillon’s wrist, and he gritted his teeth against the pain he knew would come.

  He growled as the tendons in his shoulder pulled taut. Agony flared along the muscles of both arms as Darillon's weight dragged on him, and it took all of the Hunter's inhuman strength to keep his grip on the cliff face. His gut clenched as he felt the stone in his right hand shifting, as if it was about to give way. The Hunter braced his feet against the wall and swung Darillon toward a deep crack in the rock face. The mountaineer jammed his arm into the crack and dug his feet in to support his own weight.

  Not a moment too soon. The Hunter's left hand darted toward a crevice, and he caught hold just as the stone in his right hand crumbled to dust. He gasped as he hung from one hand, heart hammering in his chest.

  "Long Keeper’s mercy!" Rassek's terrified cry came from below. “Darillon, are ye—?”

  "I-I'm fine," Darillon called down. His eyes were wide, his face pale as he stared at the Hunter. "You…"

  The Hunter clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his shoulders. His body would heal, but for the next few minutes, any movement of his arms would be agony. Unfortunately, given his precarious perch, he couldn't afford to rest. He had to keep climbing to reach the top.

  "Come on," he told the mountaineer. "We've got to get up there."

  He didn't wait for an answer, but set off at a slower pace than before. Darillon's fall had driven all thoughts of competition from his head. A few extra minutes would be worth far more than taking another risk.

  The chimney proved the safer choice for the climb, though no less challenging than a straight vertical ascent. By the time he pulled himself over the lip and onto the rocky ground at the top of the cliff, fire blazed through the muscles in his arms, legs, and back. His shoulder hadn't fully healed, and he cradled his strained right arm to his chest as he climbed to his feet. With his left hand, he unwound the coils of rope from his shoulders and dropped the line over the cliff's edge. After a moment, the rope pulled tight as Darillon grabbed on. The Hunter braced his legs and held firm while the mountaineer climbed the remaining five paces to the top.

  Darillon's incredulity hadn't faded as he stared at the Hunter. "How in the Keeper's name did you manage that?"

  The Hunter shrugged. "The Mistress' luck, I suppose."

  "I'll say! " Darillon blew out his breath. "We could have both died. Storming hell, we should have died." His eyes narrowed as he studied the Hunter. "There's no way you should have been able to hold us both up."

  "What can I say?" The Hunter grinned. "I drink a lot of milk."

  Darillon snorted. "Remind me to buy a dairy cow when I return to Vothmot." He shook his head and blinked, still stunned. "Seriously, though, I can't thank you enough. You saved me, no doubt about it." He held out a hand.

  The Hunter clasped it. "You said it yourself, the Empty Mountains are a rough place. We've just got to be ready for whatever it throws at us."

  Darillon nodded, but his expression fell and he let out a groan. "Bugger."

  "What?" The Hunter raised an eyebrow.

  "Rassek's never going to let me hear the end of this." Darillon threw up his hands. "Now I'll have to listen to him natter on about how I nearly got myself killed."

  "We could always leave him down there." The Hunter chuckled. "We could use the extra food."

  "Don't tempt me." A small smile tugged on Darillon's lips. "Sadly, that would only make things worse. I'd have to leave Vothmot, else risk his wrath. Trust me, you do not want to get on that man's bad side."

  "Noted." The Hunter turned to the tripod construction and studied it. "So how do we get this thing moving?"

  Darillon showed him how to work the pulley-crane. Two ropes ran through greased pulley wheels suspended from the top of the tripod construction, then down through parallel holes in the solid wooden beam at the base. Two shorter ropes connected the rotating wooden beam to what looked like a large horizontal wheel.

  “For now, we’ve got to do the heavy lifting,” Darillon said with an apologetic grin. “But once we get the horses up here, they’ll handle the load for us.”

  The Hunter gripped the wooden handle of the mill wheel and, on Darillon’s signal, threw his weight against it. The wheel moved smoothly, and though the weight required some effort to move, he found it less difficult than he’d expected. Within five minutes, he saw the mane and head of Darillon’s sturdy mountain pony appear over the edge of the cliff. The horse hung suspended from a makeshift harness Rassek had to have fashioned. Locking the wheel in place, the Hunter went to help Darillon haul the horse onto solid ground.

  It took just a few minutes to secure the horse to the wheel, and the beast made short work of hauling up Rassek’s mount. Together, the two horses got through the work of hauling Evren and his horse, Hailen, Ash, Elivast, and finally Rassek himself up the cliff face in less than an hour.

  The Hunter grinned as he caught Darillon's wince from the corner of his eyes. As the mountaineer had feared, Rassek laid into him the moment he reached the top of the cliff. Anger blazed in the man's eyes as he shouted at his partner. "Bull-headed fool" and "stubborn son of a donkey" counted among the kindest of the invectives he hurled at Darillon.

  They almost sound like an old married couple, the Hunter thought with a grin.

  Finally, the outpouring of Rassek's anger dried up, and a red-faced Darillon muttered, "It's almost enough to make a man wish he had died." This earned him a furious glare from the younger mountaineer. “
But remind me to give Hlareth a mouthful of knuckles when we return to Vothmot.”

  “With pleasure.” Rassek gave the older mountaineer a wicked grin. “It’ll go nicely with my boot shoved up his fat arse. Cheap bastard’ll be tastin’ leather for a month.”

  The Hunter checked over his gear and horse tack while Rassek and Darillon set about unharnessing the horses from the wooden wheel. He donned his leather armor, baldric, sword belt, and heavy cloak, satisfied at feeling the weight of his weapons once more. He’d just turned to lift Hailen into Ash's saddle when a flash of light in the distance caught his gaze. He shaded his eyes against the bright sunlight and squinted in the direction it had come. Nothing. The mountain appeared empty, devoid of life except for them.

  So where did that light come from?

  For long moments, his eyes swept the mountains behind them. The glint had originated near Sapphire Lake. Perhaps it had just been a reflection of sunlight on the water. Or, had his anxiety played tricks on his mind?

  No, there it was again. A flash of light, no mistaking it this time. He scanned the shore of Sapphire Lake, his eyes straining to make out the details far in the distance. What he saw sent an icy dagger of fear into his gut.

  Sunlight reflected not off the lake's surface, but off armor. Bright, burnished steel plate mail worn by a figure riding on a black destrier.

  Impossible! There's no way she could have tracked me here.

  Even though the mounted figure was leagues away, he immediately recognized it. Sir Danna Esgrimon, Cambionari, demon-hunter.

  More figures rode behind her. Most wore the white cloaks of Warrior Priests of Derelana. However, the five riding immediately on her heels wore dull clothing and a type of armor he couldn’t make out from this distance.

  His heart clenched, and his eyes went to Soulhunger hanging on Hailen's belt. The Cambionari had tracked the dagger all the way up the mountain. Whatever abilities the Beggar God had bestowed upon his chosen, those pure of heart, they somehow enabled her to hunt him down no matter where he went. Even out here, in the middle of the Empty Mountains.