So what the bloody hell do I do now? He couldn't risk her catching up to him. What if Father Reverentus had instructed her to bring Hailen back as well? There was too much at stake now.
The Hunter reached for his sword and prepared to chop the pulley-crane into kindling, but common sense made him pause. He'd have no way to explain away his actions to Rassek and Darillon, and he had no doubt the two mountaineers would want to stop him. They wouldn't let him destroy the hoist that enabled them to earn a livelihood. He'd have to hurt or even kill them, then he would have no one to lead him to where he needed to go.
His eyes went to the ropes they’d used to haul the horses up the cliff. Though it rankled, he forced his hands to unclench from his sword hilt. All they had to do was remove the rope and the Cambionari would have no way to follow them. He doubted climbing counted among one of the knightly skills Sir Danna had mastered during her training. To follow him, they'd have to find another way around. That would buy him at least a day, as Rassek had said.
We just have to keep moving and stay ahead of them long enough to find the way up to Enarium. According to Rassek, they would reach their destination before nightfall. That had to be enough time for him to unlock the secret in Taivoro's book.
"Help me gather up these ropes," he told Darillon and Rassek.
"But what about the pulley-crane?" Rassek asked. “Takin’ the ropes’ll make it mighty difficult for the next group to come this way.”
"We can leave them here on our way down," the Hunter said. "For now, we may have need of them on our hunt for Enarium."
The two mountaineers exchanged glances, hesitating. After a moment, Darillon shrugged and strode over to help him collect the rope. It took fully five minutes to coil up the rope and unwind it from the winch, and the Hunter chafed at the delay.
It's worth it to slow Sir Danna down, he told himself.
Impatience nagged at him as he lifted Hailen onto Ash's back and vaulted into his own saddle. It seemed like an eternity before the mountaineers were ready to go. He struggled not to snarl at them to move faster. They would be curious about why he had become suddenly hurried, which would lead to questions he'd rather not answer.
He let out a long, quiet sigh as Rassek kicked his horse into motion. Darillon and Evren followed, with him and Hailen at the rear.
The trail started out flat and smooth at first, but soon turned into rocky, uneven ground that rose at a steep incline. A cliff bordered to the trail on the right side, but to the left the land dropped sharply into a ravine. Within half an hour, the trail grew so narrow that they had to ride single file. When the horses began to stumble on the jagged rocks underfoot, Darillon ordered all but Hailen to dismount and continue on foot.
Darillon and Rassek had spent their lives exploring these mountains, and they climbed without excessive difficulty. A dull but manageable ache developed in Hunter’s spine and legs, but the knowledge that Sir Danna was on his heels kept him climbing. Evren, however, couldn’t keep up, and they had to pause to rest every half hour or so just to keep the boy from collapsing.
Occasionally, they passed trails that cut through gaps in the cliff or descended into the ravine and out of sight. The mountaineers ignored those paths, instead choosing the way that led straight up the incline. For hours they climbed, until the sun hovered just above the tops of the westernmost mountains, until they finally reached the top of the steep incline.
The trail cut straight into the heart of a towering cliff and opened onto a circular bowl surrounded on all sides by vertical rock walls.
"This is it." Rassek's voice held a note of excitement. "This is where the horses spooked."
The Hunter looked around. Aside from the trail they’d just come down, the cliffs, easily two hundred paces tall, ran unbroken in a near-perfect circle all around them. The granite was smooth, with none of the cracks or crevices they’d use to climb the cliff to reach the pulley-crane.
His heart sank, and the glimmer of hope faded.
There was no way through.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Hunter narrowed his eyes at Rassek. "You're sure about this?" He motioned around him. "There's nothing here."
"That's what I said." Darillon's face creased into a well-practiced I-told-you-so expression. "Just another empty spot in the mountains."
Rassek scowled. "Well, this is bein’ where it happened, says I." He pointed to the eastern wall of the hollow. "We were makin’ camp right over there and the horses just bolted."
The Hunter glanced at the smooth grey stone Rassek had indicated. It looked identical to the rest of the cliffs.
He ground his teeth in frustration. Now what?
He couldn't backtrack, not with Sir Danna so close behind. He'd taken a gamble that this was the location where he'd find the way into Enarium. It seemed like a dead end, but he couldn't just give up based on appearances.
The Sage's words flashed through his mind. “The Serenii were ever fond of their hidden passages."
"We could always be turnin’ back," Rassek was saying. "There's no other way in, but…" The man's words trailed off as the Hunter spurred Elivast toward the spot he'd indicated.
The Hunter rode Elivast right up to the cliff and watched the horse for any indication of disturbance. Elivast stood placidly, patient and seeming unperturbed. Biting back a growl, the Hunter dismounted and looped the reins around Elivast's neck. The horse snorted and walked a short distance away as the Hunter studied the cliff face. Nothing about the stone before him seemed even the slightest bit remarkable.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose. Perhaps there would be a scent to guide him. His sensitive nostrils found nothing but the scent of granite, the strong horse smell of Elivast, and the unique scents of the four people behind him.
He pressed his hand flat against the stone, as if he could feel the way through. The demon Garanis in Malandria had used an optical illusion to conceal an opening in the stone walls. Had the Serenii done the same? He felt his way along the wall for five paces in every direction, moving his hand to knee level and as high up as he could reach.
Nothing.
He stifled the urge to growl in frustration. Think, Hunter, think! He could come up with no answer. He'd never learned the thieves' skill of finding hidden doors or passages. In Voramis, when he couldn’t get through the front door of his targets' homes, he found a way through the back door, an upper floor, or even the roof.
Perhaps that would be his way past. He stepped back and glanced up. The cliff face rose easily more than two hundred paces above his head. Even if he could somehow make the climb, none of the others could. No way they had enough rope to span the distance.
The darkening sky above the clifftops mocked him. The towering cliffs blocked out the sunlight and plunged the entire hollow in shadow. The Hunter abandoned the thought of climbing up, at least for tonight. He'd never reach the top before dark. If it came to it, he could try in the morning, but he’d use tonight to try to find another solution.
When he turned, he found the others had ridden up behind him. "We make camp here," he growled. He hated the idea of stopping and resting with Sir Danna so close on his heels, but what choice did he have?
Rassek frowned. "Ye’re wantin’ to risk the horses spookin’ again, are ye?"
"No." The Hunter shook his head, his voice tight with frustration. "We'll keep them away from the spot where you say they panicked before. And we hobble them so they can't run."
Rassek's frown deepened, but Darillon nodded. "It's your coin. Though I'll remind you that we've already been out here for three days out of your ten-day tour. We'll need to head back to Vothmot in no more than two days."
The Hunter's gut tightened. "Of course." He had no intention of returning. The guides had gotten him this far. If he could just find the way into Enarium, they could leave him and Hailen to their own path. After all, Rassek and Darillon didn't know how to reach the Lost City any more than he.
They hurried to s
et up the camp for the night. The shadows deepened quickly as the sun set behind the cliffs, and they had to light a fire to see as they pitched the tents. Yet as it grew darker, the Hunter's excitement grew. The Serenii runes had only been visible in the light of the glowing plants, once the sun had set and the fire died. The minute it grew dark enough, he'd try to find more Serenii runes in the cliff face.
Impatience surged within him as he chewed on the tough salted pork that passed for their dinner. Hailen ate without seeming to notice him or anything else. The boy hadn't emerged from his comatose state for even a minute all day long. The Hunter tried to ignore the thought that Hailen would never recover after his seizure of the previous night, but it refused to go away.
Mocking laughter echoed in the back of his mind. “Foolish, foolish Bucelarii,” crowed the voice of his inner demon. “You grew too attached for your own good. Haven't you yet learned what happens to those you care for?”
The demon filled his head with images of Farida, Bardin, Master Eldor, forcing him to relive their deaths. The Hunter gritted his teeth and wrestled the voice into submission. With effort, he built up the wall in his thoughts. Too much time had elapsed since his last kill, since Soulhunger last fed. He could feel the demands growing stronger. The demon pounded against the mental barrier. He feared what would happen if it broke free again. The last time he'd lost control, he'd slaughtered fifteen Cambionari and turned the House of Need in Malandria into a slaughterhouse.
He stuffed the last of his meal into his mouth, stood, and hurried over to his pack. Pulling it open, he found the plants glowing faintly, and blue light radiated from within the satchel. He drew one plant out and strode toward the base of the cliff.
"Take that from Sapphire Lake, did ye?" Rassek asked from behind him.
The Hunter ignored the question. His eyes were fixed on the cliffs. He held the glowing plant toward the stone, and the blue glow seemed to turn the grey granite to an inky black. He held his breath in anticipation of the runes flaring to life.
Nothing.
The stone remained as black and dark as the shadows around him.
Damn it! He ground his teeth and moved along the cliff face, holding up the glowing plant to shine the soft blue light over the rocky surface. For long moments, nothing happened as he walked along the stone wall. Come on, come on!
He'd almost given up hope when a section of stone flared to life a few paces ahead of him. Hope surged in his chest, and he wanted to shout in relief. There was no mistaking the strange symbol carved into stone. As he moved along the wall, more and more flared to life, until nearly a dozen runes were visible.
He heard a gasp of surprise from the three behind him.
"What in the frozen hell are those?" Darillon asked.
"Serenii runes," the Hunter said, triumphant.
He quickly recounted his discovery in the cave the previous night and his belief that the runes marked the path toward Enarium.
"If I'm correct, it means we're on the right track." He stabbed a finger at the glowing symbol. "These are symbols left by the ancient Serenii as some sort of guidepost leading us to the Lost City."
"Watcher's beard!" Rassek breathed. He shot an excited glance at Darillon. "What did I tell ye?"
For once, Darillon had nothing contradictory to say.
"And ye’re sure these are bein’ Serenii?" Rassek asked.
The Hunter nodded. "I've seen them before in Voramis and other places."
"’Tis marvelous!" Rassek's eyes went to the plant in his hand, then back to the wall. "So what do we need to do?"
The question shattered the Hunter's momentary elation. If the Serenii had left it to serve as an instruction on how to find Enarium, he’d never know. He couldn’t understand the meaning of the runes any more than he could sprout wings and fly over the cliff.
He stepped closer and pressed a hand against one of the glowing symbols. A gasp burst from his lips as he felt a quiet hum coming from the stone itself. It felt…alive!
But nothing happened. He could feel the thrumming within the cliff, but had no idea what it was or how to activate whatever power lay within in the stone.
His mind flashed back to the desert, when Hailen's blood had activated the Dolmenrath and unleashed the power in those stones. The cliff wasn't made of the same midnight black stone, but perhaps Hailen's blood would work here again.
"Here." He handed the phosphorescent blue flower to Evren, who had come up behind him to stare wide-eyed at the glowing symbol. "Hold this near the stone so we can see the runes."
Evren took the plant gingerly. He seemed to shy away from the stone, as if afraid of whatever power it held. With good reason. Legends held that the Serenii wielded magicks capable of shattering Einan itself, with power said to rival that of the gods.
The Hunter raced toward Hailen, who sat in silence, leaning against a boulder. The boy didn't move, didn't even look up as the Hunter picked him up. The vacant, lost look filled his eyes.
The Hunter forced the anxiety from his mind as he rushed back to the stone wall. He shielded Hailen from the others' view as he gripped the boy's hand. He didn't want them to see the blood trickling from Hailen's fingernails. If it worked, they wouldn't bother asking questions how. If it didn't, he'd rather avoid raising their suspicions about why the boy was bleeding.
He pressed Hailen's bloody hand the glowing rune and tensed in anticipation of the surge of power. In the Advanat Desert and again in the tunnels beneath Kara-ket, he and everyone around him had been knocked from their feet by a wave of concussive force triggered by Hailen's contact with the stone.
Nothing.
He growled and tried again, pressing Hailen's hand harder against the stone. Nothing happened. There was no rush of power, no energy blasts. Simply…nothing.
"What are ye doin’?" Rassek asked, his expression bewildered. His eyes went from Hailen to the cliff and back again.
"Not a Keeper-damned lot!" the Hunter snapped. Anger surged within his chest as he stalked back toward their camp and returned Hailen to his seat. His fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms. He wanted to lash out, to destroy something in his frustration. All his hopes, dashed.
He turned to Rassek. "Can you keep an eye on the boy for a while?" His voice came out barely above a growl.
Rassek's eyebrows rose. "Where are ye goin’?"
The Hunter bit back an angry snarl. "I need to think, to clear my head, see if I can figure this out."
Darillon's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't, if I was you. These mountain trails can be treacherous at night. One misstep and you're plummeting off a cliff." His gaze darted to Rassek, and the younger man scowled. "Poor choice of words, I know, but he needs to understand the—"
"I'll be fine," the Hunter said as he reached for his heavy cloak and slung it over his shoulders. "I won't go far."
The two men were too stunned to stop him as he strode from the ring of firelight toward the trail back down the mountain.
He welcomed the cool darkness of night, though it felt like the stars high above mocked him with their twinkling light. The chill breeze did little to diminish the flames of frustration. His worry mounted with every angry beat of his heart. Sir Danna was getting closer. The Irrsinnon claimed Hailen more and more. The Withering drew near, and the Sage's plan to free Kharna would be complete soon. If he couldn't find his way to Enarium, the world faced certain doom. Hailen would go insane. He would never find his wife and child.
That thought felt too strange to contemplate. For as long as he could remember, he'd been alone. He'd had the dream of Her for company, but only in the last few months had She become more than just a figment of his imagination. She was as real as he. Long ago—he had no idea how long—She had carried his child.
A child he would never meet if he couldn't reach Enarium. It all came back to the same frustrating problem.
He walked for half an hour, his mind a storm of chaos as he tried to think of what to do. Finally, the protest of
his leg muscles penetrated his whirling thoughts. He realized he was soaked with sweat, his legs aching from the steep downward slope. Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to think.
In the past, he’d used the physical exertion of his sword forms to focus his thoughts on a difficult problem, but a sleepless night and a day of hard climbing had taken a toll on him. Instead, he lowered himself into a seat against a boulder, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath.
For long moments, he remained there, content to bask in the scents around him. The cool smell of the night wind mingled with the slightly dusty odor of the granite cliffs, with the barest hint of green life from the scrub grass growing in sparse patches around him. He concentrated on slowing the beating of his heart and stilling the racing of his mind. Slowly, his fury retreated, replaced by a cold focus.
How would he solve this problem? He could try climbing the cliffs, but that seemed a foolish choice. Everything he'd learned about the Serenii made it clear the ancient race wouldn't waste time on climbing. They would craft a way through the mountain and conceal it from the world. They had hidden it too well.
He'd found the runes but had no one to translate them. He could feel the power humming within the stones but couldn't access it, not even with Hailen's blood. He had a book that supposedly revealed the way in but had no way to crack the cipher. It felt like he had the pieces of an unfamiliar game, and the fate of the world hung on his ability to win against an opponent he could not hope to defeat.
So consumed was he with the problem that he almost missed the stink of steel, sweat, and iron wafting on the chill night breeze. He froze in place, his eyes scanning the dark.
There, not three paces away from him, a dark figure snuck up the trail.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Time slowed as the Hunter’s senses went on full alert. The man wore a dark cloak and clothes to match, but none of the armor that tainted his scent. He moved with little more sound than the occasional scuff of his boots on the rocky trail. The unmistakable stench of iron emanated from the dagger gripped in his hand.
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