The Hunter hid a grin. If only you knew…
"You really want to reveal yourself, captain? These men know you by sight."
Captain Al-Zahar's sword rasped from its sheath. "They will not live long enough for that to matter."
"And how do we leave this place unnoticed? If you should fall, how will we explain that to the guards outside?"
The captain shrugged. "Enough, qattala. The queen has commanded, and I obey."
Damn it! What else could he say to convince them? He needed to face the al-Malek alone. It was the only way to…
"Whatever you are thinking, it is no use." Captain Al-Zahar hefted his sword. "We carry out the queen's will." Without waiting, the captain moved toward the bathing chamber.
The Hunter followed on his heels, mind racing. He had no way out of his predicament. If he didn't kill the al-Malek, Captain Al-Zahar certainly would. If he tried to leave without the captain, the guards outside would know something was amiss. And how could he explain it to Queen Asalah? Surely she would suspect him. His one hope lay in the Royal Guards. Perhaps they would kill Captain Al-Zahar for him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Soulhunger in hand, the Hunter crouched beside the open doorway to the al-Malek's bath chambers. He risked a glance into the room beyond. Two guards flanked the entrance, with three more at the center of the room. All stood alert, their backs straight, eyes wary, hands resting on their sword belts.
Behind the guards, the al-Malek sat on cushions strewn around the floor. He wore only a loincloth beneath his open bathing robe, and his dark hair hung in wet curls. Two women in transluscent gowns sat at the low table beside him, upon which were scattered silver pitchers, goblets, plates, cutlery, and the remnants of a meal.
The Hunter's heart pounded; excitement mixed with dread. He couldn't deny the thrill of the fight, but a weight of worry settled on his mind. How in the twisted hell am I going to pull this off?
Captain Al-Zahar stood over him, sword gripped in white knuckles. The man's presence complicated things. The Hunter had to find a credible way to make it look like he'd killed the al-Malek. Not an easy feat, even in the best of circumstances. Surrounded by guards, with the captain as a witness, the Hunter doubted his ability to carry out his plan.
'Why the hesitation, Bucelarii? What does it matter if one more human lives or dies?'
He gritted his teeth against the ache in his head. Not now!
'You are a fool!' The demon refused to be silent. 'Kill him and be done with it.'
The Hunter knew why the al-Malek's life mattered. The demon wearing the face of Queen Asalah would rule Al Hani. He couldn't allow that; too many would suffer and die at her hands. She cared nothing for human life. To her, every man, woman, and child on Einan was nothing more than a means of bringing the Great Destroyer to life.
The internal war between his two halves threatened to shatter his sanity. The demon within him wanted death and chaos, at any cost. Yet human blood coursed through his veins. That humanity kept the faces of his dead friends firmly at the front of his mind. If he yielded to the demon's will, people like them would die. Yet if he refused to kill, Hailen would die. It was an impossible choice, one from which there was no escape. No matter what he did, his actions would cause suffering.
He clutched Soulhunger's grip tighter. I decide, not you. Now either help me or be silent!
The demon's voice retreated, but remained a throbbing presence in the back of his mind.
Feed me! Soulhunger's eager anticipation set his head pounding.
The Hunter shook his head to dispel the voices. He glanced up at Captain Al-Zahar. "Ready?"
The Captain nodded and hefted his sword. He motioned for the Hunter to take the right side of the room, and he'd take the left.
The sounds of splashing had gone, replaced by quiet laughter, murmuring voices, and the clink of glasses. Five guards and the al-Malek; not the worst odds, but he couldn't allow the king to die. He'd find a way—he had to.
With a deep breath, he leapt through the open doorway and charged the guard on the right. Despite his sheer shock, the man reacted with surprising speed. His sword had almost cleared its sheath before the Hunter slammed into him. Soulhunger punched through leather armor, driving deep into his chest, and blood spilled down his pristine white breastplate.
Soulhunger's cries of ecstasy blended with the guard's terrified, agonized screams. The demon added its voice to the tumult. Burning heat flared in the Hunter's chest; a new mark etched itself into his flesh. Ruby light flared from the gem set in the dagger's hilt, bathing the dying soldier's face in an eerie glow. Power rushed through the Hunter, washing away all traces of fatigue. He reveled in the glory of death.
A triumphant howl burst from his throat, and he hurled himself toward the next guard. The Royal Guard attacked with a savage cry in the language of Al Hani, his sword weaving elaborate patterns in the air. The Hunter didn't bother to block. He feinted right, darted left, and slammed his fist into the guard's throat. The man's head snapped back, and he dropped to the ground, clutching his neck.
The clash of steel echoed in the bathing chamber as Captain Al-Zahar struggled with the final guard. Two men stood between him and the al-Malek, swords at the ready.
Before the Royal Guards could attack, the Hunter was upon them like a desert storm. He ducked beneath a slash, twisted aside from a thrust, and parried a vicious cut at his head. His free hand punched out, slamming into the guard's belly. The man staggered backward with a gasp, doubling over and retching.
With a shout, the second Royal Guard unleashed a flurry of blows. The Hunter danced backward, out of the man's reach. When the guard pressed, the Hunter leapt forward with a flying punch that caught him full in the face, rocking back his head with an ominous crack. The man sagged lifeless to the floor.
Vomit-stained mouth agape, the remaining Royal Guard stared at his fallen companion. His eyes sought out the Hunter's, and his eyes widened. Without taking his gaze from the man, the Hunter knelt and seized his fallen companion's sword. A weapon in each hand, he faced the final guard. Visibly in pain, the soldier straightened and gripped his sword tighter, determination mixing with his fear. The Hunter nodded in understanding. The man would protect the al-Malek with his life. Saluting the guard with a flourish of his sword, the Hunter attacked.
His powerful blows drove the man backward, sent him staggering. He thrust his sword with the speed of a striking serpent, leaving torn flesh and trickling blood in its wake. The Royal Guard bled from a half-dozen wounds in as many heartbeats.
The Hunter slammed his fist into the man's face, sending him reeling. In the momentary lull, he risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Captain Al-Zahar was locked in furious combat with the second door guard. Steel sparked against steel as the two men clashed around the room. The Royal Guard, a man who towered a full head above the captain, drove Al-Zahar back. Both men bled, but Captain Al-Zahar looked in far worse shape.
Perfect.
Something slammed the Hunter's head to the side, sending a twinge racing down his neck. Agony coursed through the left side of his face. He cried out and, dropping the sword, staggered backward. He clapped a hand to his cheek. He couldn't move his jaw; the blow must have broken it. Blood gushed from a gaping wound.
The al-Malek of Al Hani faced him, sword held at the ready. Crimson stained the edge of the blade he'd taken from a fallen Royal Guard. He stood between the Hunter and his concubines, who huddled in terrified, sobbing heaps behind the low table.
The Hunter couldn't help but admire the man. The king met the Hunter's gaze with no hesitation or fear. Even after watching the Hunter tear through his guards, the al-Malek wouldn't stand by. Assad ibn-Qadir would face death like a warrior, blade in hand, staring his killer in the eye.
Wiping away blood trickling from a gash in his forehead, the Royal Guard joined his king. The al-Malek shot the Hunter a savage grin and shouted something in his language. As one, he and the Royal Guard attacked
.
The Hunter retreated beneath the onslaught. Pain lanced through his face with every block, every step. Try as he might to find a hole in their defense, the al-Malek and his Royal Guard fought with precision and coordination. When one struck high, the other struck low. The Hunter backpedaled to avoid wicked sweeps and slashes of the flashing scimitars, and his opponents pressed him toward a corner. At a cry from the al-Malek, the two concubines darted through the open doorway and up the corridor.
Damn it! He needed to find an opening and kill the Royal Guard. His throbbing jaw made it hard to think clearly, and the screeching in his head made it worse.
His heel struck something and he toppled backward. His head slammed into the wall, setting his ears ringing, and darkness swam in his vision. The relentless throbbing in his broken jaw and the back of his skull diverted his attention, and he gasped as cold steel plunged into his chest. A sword carved a line of fire into his neck. His breath caught and he coughed, spraying crimson. His opponents stood over him, blades poised to strike. Triumphant grins broadened their faces as his blood stained the tiled floor.
'Foolish Bucelarii! In your efforts to let the king live, you are willing to die?'
The Hunter lashed out with Soulhunger, and the blade caught the al-Malek in the ankle. The king cried out and staggered backward. The Royal Guard thrust downward. Steel sparked off marble as the Hunter rolled out of the path of the descending blow. His hand shot out and closed around the Royal Guard's wrist. Bone snapped beneath his crushing grip. The guard cried out, his sword clattering to the floor. The Hunter drove Soulhunger up under the man's ribs. Eyes wide in horror, the guard screamed and toppled to the side.
May the Long Keeper take your body; your soul is forfeit.
Power rushed through him, the pain in his face, neck, and chest faded as his body healed itself, replaced by a burning desire to kill. He leapt to his feet, rage searing his veins, a red haze at the edge of his vision. Demon and dagger shrieked in triumph, goading him on. He pushed the voices back. He wouldn't allow the bloodlust to take over, not now. He needed to be in control of himself.
The al-Malek's shout snapped him back to reality as a sweep of the king's long, curved blade nearly opened his throat. He ducked to the side and dove beneath a wicked chop. Closing his fingers around a fallen guard's sword, he rolled to his feet, weapons at the ready.
With a mocking grin, he tossed Soulhunger in the air, passed the sword to his right hand, and caught the dagger in his left. He beckoned to the king. "Well, come on then!"
Grim determination filled the al-Malek's eyes as he attacked, his long sword carving a wicked arc through the air. "Bastard!" He spat to the side. "Tell me who sent you, and your death will be quick." Muscle rippled beneath his open robe, and he moved with dexterity and grace.
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "So you speak Einari, do you?"
He darted forward in a lightning lunge the al-Malek barely managed to block, and his follow-up slash caught the king off-guard. He pursused the retreating king, hacking and slashing, every blow striking the al-Malek's sword with jarring force. The king tried in vain to protect himself, but the Hunter had strength and speed on his side. He brought his sword down hard in an overhand blow, and the al-Malek's weapon clattered away.
'Do it now! Kill him!'
I decide who dies. You do not control me, demon!
The demon refused to be silent. Its screams set his head throbbing.
He ground his teeth and leapt forward, slamming his fist into the al-Malek's face. The king's head rocked to the side, and his eyes rolled back. I have killed for you, now leave me in peace!
Slowly, the ache faded as the demon retreated. The Hunter stared down at the unmoving form at his feet. His heart raced; for a moment, he worried he'd killed the king in his rage. Stooping, he checked for a pulse. Relief flooded him. The al-Malek lived.
A cry of pain rang out behind him. The Hunter whirled in time to see the Royal Guard pull his sword free of Captain Al-Zahar's shoulder. Blood stained the captain's side and chest and trickled from a gash in his forehead.
It looks as if the Royal Guard will take care of him for me!
A moment later, his triumph died as Al-Zahar plunged his sword into the Royal Guard's throat. The man gurgled and sprayed gore, his eyes going wide. He slumped at Captain Al-Zahar's feet and toppled into the water with a splash. Red blossomed outward from the armored body sinking to the tiled bottom of the pool.
Captain Al-Zahar sneered. "My thanks for your assistance, qattala."
The Hunter shrugged. "You said you could handle it." His lips pressed into a thin line. Damn it!
The captain nodded, then his eyes wobbled and he sagged. With a groan, he clapped a hand to his side.
"That looks bad." The Hunter made no move to help.
Captain Al-Zahar gritted his teeth. "I'll live." He raised an eyebrow. "Though how you remain alive after those wounds…"
The Hunter dismissed it with a wave. "They missed."
The captain's suffering distracted him from questioning further. "Are you going to help me?"
The Hunter shook his head. "I still have to finish the job here." He pointed down at the al-Malek. "He's unconscious, not dead."
Damn it! Now what? The Hunter cast around, searching for a way out. He had a choice to make: either kill the al-Malek or deal with Captain Al-Zahar. He could claim the captain had succumbed to his wounds, and Queen Asalah would have no reason to suspect him. He could simply wrap his hands around the captain's throat and…
That's it!
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Captain Al-Zahar hobbled to stand beside him. He raised his sword to strike, but the Hunter gripped his arm.
"He is mine."
Captain Al-Zahar looked ready to protest, but he staggered beneath a fresh assault of pain.
The Hunter knelt beside the king, placing his body between the prone monarch and Captain Al-Zahar. He spoke a hard, cruel voice. "I prefer to look my victims in the eye when I kill them."
The captain grunted in approval. The Hunter wrapped a hand around the al-Malek's throat, and the other covered the king's face and nose.
"See to the concubines," he ordered Al-Zahar. "They cannot escape to give warning."
"Samia will take care of them."
The Hunter cursed. How much longer could he keep up the ruse before Al-Zahar suspected him? The captain hovered over his shoulder, sword held at the ready. He wouldn't hesitate to use it if he believed the Hunter failed to keep his word.
Damn it! He couldn't kill Al-Zahar, not yet. He needed the captain to escort him past the guards outside the al-Malek's chambers without raising their suspicions. They couldn't risk discovery of the corpses in the bathing room until they'd made their escape. It would be hard to explain the captain's wounds, but easier than trying to return with just Samia. But how do I get him away from the al-Malek long enough?
Someone groaned behind him. A Royal Guard—the one he'd knocked out—groaned and sat up.
"Deal with him, Captain. Do not let him live to reveal our identities."
Captain Al-Zahar moved away, and the Hunter tightened his grip on the al-Malek's throat. The king's eyes flew open. He locked gazes with the Hunter.
The Hunter spat through clenched teeth. "The time has come to meet your maker, king of Al Hani."
The king's eyes filled with terror; he read death in the Hunter's face. He fought in vain to break the grip on his throat, but the Hunter slammed his head into the ground, and his struggles weakened.
I'm sorry! Hailen's face flashed through his mind as he reached for the bottle in his pouch. I do what must be done!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Drenched in blood, the Hunter strode from the al-Malek's bathing chamber. Captain Al-Zahar hobbled after him, groaning and clutching his injured shoulder. Behind them, the bodies of the king and his Royal Guards lay silent and unmoving, dark eyes stared unseeing from slack faces. Crimson spattered their pristine white armor and robe
s, stained the floor, and tainted the water of the bathing pools.
The Hunter cursed. "The concubines! They…" He trailed off with a silent oath as he entered the sitting room.
Samia stood over the prone forms of the two women, a bloodstained dagger in her hand. Her gown, once a soft cream color, was now a gory shade of red. She looked up when they entered. "Why you take so long?"
Captain Al-Zahar grimaced. "You try taking on the Royal Guards and see how you fare."
Samia eyed the captain's shoulder. "Wound look not good."
"Nothing a few stitches won't solve." Al-Zahar wobbled and sagged against the wall. Neither the Hunter nor Samia moved to help, and he lurched over to a chair.
The Hunter turned to the First Concubine. "Now what? How do we explain his wounds to the guards outside? Or your clothes, for that matter?"
Samia shook her head. "No. We wait. Queen Asalah come soon."
A muscle in the Hunter's jaw twitched. The queen is coming here? Damn it!
How would he get out of here now? The guards outside would certainly try to stop him. If they raised the alarm, he'd have little chance of escaping the palace, much less the city itself, not with the Royal Guards in pursuit.
As if on cue, the massive double doors to the harem swung open and shut, and the antechamber curtain swept open to reveal the regal form of Queen Asalah.
Samia hurried forward, and the queen pulled her into a passionate embrace. Blood soaked into her robes and stained her flesh, but she seemed not to mind the gore that covered the First Concubine's face and clothing. "Is it done, Az'nii?"
"It is, my love!"
Queen Asalah turned to the captain.
Captain Al-Zahar nodded. "The al-Malek sleeps with his fathers, my queen. I saw the qattala choke the life from him myself." He grunted and, clenching his teeth, pressed a hand against his wound.
The Last Bucelarii Book 3: Gateway to the Past Page 26