The immense door swung into place without a sound; the thick stone cutting off Visibos's curses and plunging the corridor into silence.
Chapter Thirteen
The Hunter eyed the empty corridors, half-expecting to see Cambionari rushing toward him. Nothing but solid stone and wan lamplight met his gaze.
I have to find a way out of here!
If Visibos spoke the truth, the Beggar Priests would be upon him at any moment. He had no desire to fight dozens of armed men, not in his current state. Better run and live to fight another day.
The demon snarled in his thoughts. 'You should have killed him! He will hunt you to the ends of the world.'
The Hunter shrugged. Let him try. If I am to find Enarium and Khar'nath, it is to the ends of the world that I must go.
'Why? '
For that, he had no answer. Why was it so important for him to find Khar'nath? Something deep within pulled him to the north. He would find the truth there. He would find Her, whoever She was.
The silence of the corridor felt unnatural. Ever since he had escaped the Chasm of the Lost, the cries of the dead had pursued him. Now that their laments had fallen silent, he felt more alone than ever. But had he actually seen the dead, or had they been no more than hallucinations caused by the Watcher's Bloom?
The hilt of one of the iron blades brushed against his clothing, and he winced, his skin crawling.
'You are a fool to carry them! They will bring you nothing but pain and suffering.'
Why had he brought the weapons? Did he need them? What could they do for him that Soulhunger could not? No, they were more than just weapons. They were tools, but tools he must wield.
If I am to slay the demons who seek to bring hell to Einan, they will be needed in the days to come.
Soulhunger pounded in his mind. Feed me. I am all you need.
Was that true? He was a killer, that much he could accept. The blade needed him. The demon in his mind needed him, if only to satiate its lust for blood. But without the blade, what was he? The blade felt a part of him, his only link to his past. But did he really need the blade?
A faint sound reached him, cutting off his thoughts. Was that the clanking of armor and booted feet?
He sprinted down an adjoining corridor as fast as the heavy satchel permitted. He wouldn't risk being discovered, not trapped down here in the tunnels. He had no desire to kill the priests.
He clutched Soulhunger, as if squeezing tighter could drown out the insistent demand for blood. He would defend himself if he had to. No Beggar Priest would stop him from leaving the House of Need this night.
The demon snarled for him to kill the priests. It offered him peace if only he would satiate its hunger.
I will kill when I must! Only when I decide. Now, either help me find a way out of here, or be silent.
Better to avoid encounters, indeed. He didn't know how long he could hold off the voices should he find himself fighting for his life.
* * *
The Hunter hated to admit it, but he was lost. The labyrinth of passages beneath the House of Need had him all turned around. He thought he had mapped his steps when following Visibos through the corridors, but now he realized the apprentice had taken him on a circuitous route designed to disorient him.
He half-regretted locking Visibos inside the vault. He needed to get out of here, and quickly. The apprentice would have made a useful guide.
Where are the dead when I need them? They had been his constant companion for weeks. He felt alone without them.
Bardin's face sprang to mind. He saw the man as he had been in life: wild eyes, ruddy face, and florid cheeks. Then color faded and the face turned pale, lifeless.
His anger flared, setting his stomach churning and his heart pounding. His hands clenched into fists; he wanted something—anything—upon which he could unleash his anger. In his urgency to flee the Black Manor, he hadn't had time to process the man's death. Bardin had become a friend in such a short amount of time, and now that he was gone…
Keeper take those wizards! How could they not know that they were being led around by the demon? How could they be so blind?
Thoughts of his final days in Voramis returned. He, too, had acted blindly out of anger and rage. His unthinking actions had nearly brought about unspeakable horrors. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Cool and calculating, that was the Way of the Hunt.
The demon whispered in his mind. 'Once again, the Hunter stands alone. But that is as it should be. We are the only ones you need.'
The Hunter pushed back the demon's voice, but Soulhunger's demands grew more insistent. The blade had tasted blood, and it ached for more.
Oddly enough, the Hunter felt no desire to release the blade. Soulhunger's familiar presence felt almost…comforting. Could it be that he had…missed it?
A gentle presence tugged on his mind, beckoning him north.
North, to Enarium.
And Her.
Would he ever reach Enarium? If he did, what would he find?
First, I have to find my way out of this Illusionist-damned maze!
His frustration mounted with each passing heartbeat. He stood at a crossroads, dread twisting his stomach in knots. The passages around him looked identical. He saw nothing to indicate which way to go, no marking to guide him to an exit. Only smooth, blank stone met his gaze in all directions.
I could spend a lifetime wandering these corridors and never find my way out!
Frustration turned to anger, as much at himself as Visibos. For the first time in memory, he had no idea where to go. No prey to hunt, no victim to chase down. With only instinct to guide him, he feared he would be trapped here. Either that, or be discovered by the Beggar Priests.
Soulhunger would be no help. He opened his eye and stared at the dagger. Its gemstone twinkled in the dim light of the corridor. A shudder crept down his spine as he remembered the words written in the Numeniad.
The soul of a demon.
The demon seemed amused. 'Why else do you think your bond with the blade is so strong? It recognizes you for what you really are—its descendant—and grants you the power that is your birthright.'
So demons have souls? He found it hard to believe.
'Demon blood runs in your veins, and you have a soul.'
The Hunter had no argument, no refutation for the logic. Gritting his teeth, he pushed it to the back of his head. He didn't want to think about it, not now. Later, once he had found his way out, perhaps…
He closed his eye once again and filled his lungs with the stale, close air of the passage. He struggled to pick out any scents, but other than the faint odor of herbs, ink, and parchment that marked Visibos's odor, he detected nothing but dust. With a silent curse of frustration, the Hunter slammed his fist into the stone wall.
A delicate aroma wafted through his mind. Jasmine. Honey. Cinnamon. Berries.
The fragrance shocked him. Her scent.
He scanned the passage in all directions, searching for…what? He saw nothing, heard nothing.
How is She here? Impossible!
There it was again! The scent filled his nostrils with its tantalizing aroma, beckoning him down a corridor. He followed, eyes closed, placing one foot in front of the other, heedless of direction.
The rational part of his mind screamed at him. How is this possible? Am I hallucinating? Are these the final effects of the Watcher's Bloom in my veins?
The intoxicating scent tugged at his mind and plucked the strings of his heart. He didn't care why or how it was there. He had to follow Her.
Then the scent faded into nothing, and when he opened his eye, he stood before a doorway. The door stood ajar, revealing stairs climbing into the darkness beyond. A dim light illuminated the landing.
He recognized the stair he had come down with Visibos. At the top, he would find the heart of the House of Need, and his way out.
He glanced back the way he had come, taking a deep breath. Perhaps he could detec
t that fragrance just one more time...
It had gone.
Thank you. Whoever you are, you have my thanks.
Turning, his heart heavy with a sorrow he couldn't quite understand, he began the arduous ascent toward the main temple floor.
* * *
The Hunter gasped and leaned on the door at the top of the stairs. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and his back protested at the weight of the satchel. His mind raced, trying to calculate the depth of the vault. At least a hundred paces beneath ground level.
Three hundred Keeper-damned stairs! And that's only the ones I counted.
But he had finally reached the top, and without encountering any Beggar Priests. Now, he only needed to slip through the House of Need toward the library. From there, he could make his exit out the window through which he had entered. The heavy satchel would make climbing difficult, but that was an obstacle to face later. One problem at a time.
He ignored the quiver in his legs. Before day dawned, he would be asleep in the finest inn the Impedimenta had to offer.
If only I can get out without running into any guards. Or Cambionari.
He cursed Visibos again; how long ago did the bastard sound? Had an hour passed? Two? How many Cambionari would be waiting for him? Where? He had to find a way out without being discovered.
Damn it!
He had no choice but to move. He wouldn't escape by remaining still.
Lifting the latch, he cracked open the door and peered through. The hall beyond stood empty, save for a few torches flickering in wall sconces. Nothing looked out of place. Not a sound reached his ears.
Perfect.
He slipped through the door, not bothering to close it behind him. His boots padded noiselessly over the plush carpets. Only the clinking of his satchel's contents marked his presence. His eye scanned every doorway and corner, but he saw no one. Perhaps all of the Beggar Priests were occupied searching the tunnels below. Visibos might have done him a favor by setting off the alarm.
The door to the library stood at the end of the hall, slightly ajar. Heart thundering, he sprinted across the carpeted floor. Just a few more steps to the darkened room, and he could disappear out the window.
A door near the end of the corridor burst open, and a handful of armed guards spilled out. The Hunter turned to flee in the opposite direction, but more armored figures flooded into the hall behind him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he cast about for an exit. A doorway, an adjoining hall, anything.
He had no way out.
Chapter Fourteen
The guards studied him with wary eyes, their faces hard. Their burnished steel breastplates reflected the flickering torchlight, and they gripped their weapons with familiar ease.
A man pushed through the guards. Tall, impossibly handsome, his dark beard impeccably trimmed, he cut an imposing figure. He met the Hunter's gaze with confidence—the sort that came from years of experience. He moved with grace despite his heavy chain mail, and his broad shoulders and thick hands showed impressive musculature. His mail resembled Sir Danna's, but far more elaborate, bedecked with sigils the Hunter had not seen on the Cambionari's mail when they traveled together.
He spoke in a rich, sonorous voice. "It is the end, thief. You are trapped."
Keeper's taint! The man reeked of iron and steel.
The Hunter tightened his grip on Soulhunger. Fifteen men barred his way; sixteen, counting the knight. Not the odds he usually favored.
The knight narrowed his eyes at sight of the dagger in the Hunter's hand. He locked gazes with the Hunter, recoiling as if from a viper. "Impossible! It cannot be. Are-are you…?"
"A thief? Not in the least. I have merely come to claim what is mine."
The knight glared. "You cannot kill us all, demonspawn!" His fingers twitched toward his sword, his gauntleted hands flexing as if daring the Hunter to try.
The Hunter dropped the satchel against the wall behind him; the weight would slow him down. "I don't need to kill you all. Just enough to get away."
"And then you will spend the rest of your life running. The Cambionari will hunt you down." His voice held no anger; it was a simple statement of fact. "You will never find a moment's peace."
I have no peace now. How would that be any different?
"How did you find me?" If he could get the man talking and distracted, perhaps he could find a way to escape.
"The foul taint of your kind is an abomination to the Beggar God. It calls out to be purged from the world!" Moradiss winced and pressed a finger to his temple.
Interesting. Visibos had mentioned a buzzing that grew in intensity according to the Cambionari's proximity to the blade. No wonder Father Reverentus and Brother Securus had found me in Voramis. Perhaps that is how they discovered the presence of the demons…
"Besides, only a truly foolish thief enters a place with only one way of escape."
Visibos, you bastard!
The apprentice had given the impression they would be hunting him in the tunnels. He had hurried though the tunnels, jumping at the slightest sound, but he'd never faced any real danger. The Cambionari had simply waited until he tried to exit.
The Hunter made a show of studying the men around him. "Not an awful lot of you. How could you possibly stop me?" Perhaps he could bluff his way through.
"Knight Apprentices, true and loyal each and every one. Their hearts of steel will be more than a match for you, foul creature."
The Hunter breathed deep. No more than five or six iron weapons among the lot.
He smiled. "But you are the only true Cambionari." He stabbed a finger at the armored figure. "You are the only one who has any idea what you face, Lord Knight."
"You know who I am?"
The Hunter shrugged.
"Then, as commander of the Cambionari, you know I have been charged to bring you and all of your kind to the justice of the Beggar God."
A mocking smile broadened the Hunter's face. "From what I read in your historical texts, it seemed the Beggar God wanted to spare the Bucelarii."
"You know of our texts?" He eyed the Hunter, stroking his beard. "You must know that was long ago—before the Bucelarii turned to the ways of their fathers, the way of power over peace. I had thought your kind extinct. After tonight, it will be."
The knight started to draw his sword.
"I hate to disappoint you, Moradiss, but we're not quite as extinct as you might believe."
This stopped Moradiss, sword half-drawn. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
The Hunter hid a smile. He had bought himself a few moments, no more. He needed something, anything, that could give him a way out.
"I slew two demons in the city of Voramis, far to the south. Here in Malandria, I faced another demon, hiding among the Order of Midas."
Moradiss looked stunned, as if struck a physical blow. "Demons, hiding among mortals? That can't be!"
"But it is! And isn't it the job of your kind to hunt them down?"
Lord Knight Moradiss' face grew solemn. "I have dedicated my entire life to hunting down and eradicating the hellspawn, but none have been seen on Einan in centuries." Clearly, he took this as a personal offense.
Perfect. If he could goad the knight a bit more, he might do something rash.
"Perhaps you're not as good a hunter as you believed. If you couldn't even find the demon in your midst, after all this time, your skills may be rusting with disuse. Your ferrospike venom certainly has weakened."
"There are no demons in Malandria." Moradiss sounded confident, but the tension in his face and shoulders revealed his internal struggle. His eyes held a hint of doubt.
"Are you telling me there is no way you could have missed it? You Cambionari and your vaunted skills for hunting demons are entirely infallible?"
The barb sank home. Moradiss hesitated, his grip relaxing. For just a moment, his confidence wavered. The moment passed. "You will not fool me, hellspawn! I have trained for decades to hone my skill
s."
The man drew his sword with reverence and held it up. The Hunter hid his revulsion at the reek of iron.
"This blade is named 'Ildaris'. Reckoning in the tongue of the Serenii." He seemed mesmerized by the way the light danced off the metal. "It has been handed down from generation to generation, wielded only by the Cambionari most deserving of its terrible power. You have no hope of defeating me, even with that accursed blade of yours."
The Hunter clenched Soulhunger tighter, his heart sinking. In his current state, his chances of victory were slim.
"You underestimate me, Lord Knight."
He cast around, searching for a way of escape, and finding none. No getting out of this fight.
The knight shook his head. "I have not lived this long by underestimating my foes. As I said, I have spent a lifetime preparing to face your kind. I will triumph in the end. You will die tonight, one way or another."
The Hunter tensed in expectation of an assault, but Moradiss made no move. Instead, he stared at the Hunter, scratching his chin.
"You claim there are demons loosed on the world of Einan once more. I give you my word as a knight that I will look into your claims."
The Hunter spat. "Your word means nothing to me. Not if I am to die because of the sins of my fathers."
Moradiss studied him with a curious expression. "You seem an honorable enough creature, Bucelarii. Indeed, odd as it may seem, I sense something almost…good in you."
The knight's words struck him a physical blow. Sir Danna said the same thing…
"And yet, your kind chose to side with their forefathers rather than with those who spared their lives. May the Beggar God have mercy on your soul."
Moradiss attacked with a speed that startled the Hunter. The huge sword whistled through the air, and the Hunter barely leapt back in time to avoid a blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders. The blade passed a finger's breadth from his neck.
Great! A great bloody big sword of pure iron!
Moradiss carved elegant patterns in the air around him, forcing him to retreat or be skewered. Only blind luck and instinct saved the Hunter from being cut in half. He lashed out with Soulhunger, but the knight's armor turned the blow.
The Last Bucelarii Book 2: Lament of the Fallen Page 32