The Last Bucelarii Book 3: Gateway to the Past

by Andy Peloquin

  One problem at a time. I have enough to worry about now.

  He forced himself to keep climbing. He'd always loved the heights of the Palace of Justice. He'd climbed the Black Spire in Praamis, stared across Malandria from the pinnacle of Lord Apus' towering mansion, and gazed out over Al Hani from atop the Al-Malek's enormous palace. But these heights were altogether foreign--and terrifying.

  A shrieking filled the Hunter's mind, echoing the stinging wind. Damned demon! Can't you be silent?

  The voice--it had been a voice once; now, it mostly screamed and wailed incoherently--belonged to his ancestor, the Abiarazi who had fathered him on some human woman he couldn't remember. It refused to leave him in peace, but only granted him brief periods of silence after he fed its demand for blood.

  It's getting worse.

  He'd killed the previous morning, before beginning his ascent of Shana Laal. He hadn't bothered to learn the name of his victim, but the man had been found guilty of molesting his young daughters. The Hrandari's strict code of punishment sentenced him to hang. The Hunter had delivered the Watcher's justice a day early.

  That death should have been enough to keep the voice at bay for at least another day or two. It's coming back too quickly.

  The weight of his gear--weapons, minimal supplies, and thin blanket--threatened to drag him from the wall with every agonizing step. The straps of his pack gouged into his shoulders. Blood trickled from myriad cuts in his fingers, rendering the cliff walls slick. Though his flesh head, every step upward brought new wounds and added to the quiver in his muscles. Between the howling polar winds, the screeching in his mind, and his exhaustion, the Hunter knew he needed to find shelter soon.

  There has to be something around here! He scanned the rocks overhead. Some sort of cave, crevice, hollow…anything.

  High above, he caught a glimpse of an overhang. A patch of darkness beneath hinted at a break in the sheer cliff face.

  It will have to do.

  He forced his tired body onward. Just a few more steps, and he'd be able to rest. Even his inhuman stamina could reach a breaking point. The monstrous Shana Laal seemed determined to push him to his limits.

  The fading sunlight sparkled on the snow-covered cliff. Sunset bathed the mountains in a soft glow, mixing violent hues of red and orange with gentler purples and blues. Tired as he was, the Hunter had to stop and drink in the panorama. The world spread out at his feet, disappearing into the horizon in every direction. Awe wrestled with his terror at the immense height.

  The sun dipped beneath distant hills, and the final vestiges of daylight disappeared. The moon began its ascent in the darkening sky. Shivering from the biting wind, the Hunter pushed himself to climb faster. The false sunset granted him a few extra minutes, but night would overtake him sooner than he'd like.

  The temperature plummeted with the dying light. The wind tugged at the Hunter's cloak with frosty fingers. The blood that dripped from his fingers froze into patches of crimson ice, and an unreal cold sliced through his fur-lined cloak, chilling him to the bone.

  The Hunter gasped in relief as he pulled himself up onto the ledge beneath the overhang. He lay on the hard, cold stone, panting. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of pain through his limbs. The biting chill faded beneath the agony of knotted muscles unclenching, and he labored for each breath in the thin, icy air.

  Groaning, he pushed himself up to his elbows and studied his perch. A narrow ledge ran beneath an outcropping of rock, disappearing around a corner. His heart sank. He couldn't stay here. The cliff offered little protection from the wind and snow. He had to find another place to spend the night.

  He eased himself out onto the ledge, wincing at the pain in his hands. Already they had begun to heal, all but the deepest wounds closing. But the ache of cold and fatigue remained. Muttering a curse, he clutched the stones and worked his way around the cliff. He made slow progress, ever aware of the chill seeping through his cloak. Sleet soaked into his long hair and dripped down his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Shana Laal took its toll in blood as the sharp rocks carved fresh gashes in his frozen hands.

  A shout of triumph escaped his lips as he rounded the bend in the cliff. The final rays of daylight shone on a hole that disappeared into darkness. A cave!

  He crouched at the entrance, keen eyes scanning the shadows. Thick, all-consuming obscurity filled the cave. Instinct screamed at him to flee; who knew what lay within.

  The Hunter pushed the nagging worry aside. I'd take a horde of bloodthirsty demons over that biting wind any day!

  He didn't bother with the heavy sword on his back. He doubted he'd have much room to wield it. Besides, Soulhunger will serve far better.

  The dagger slid from its sheath with a whisper of steel on leather. A quiet presence throbbed in the back of his mind. Soulhunger, the dagger gifted to him by his Abiarazi ancestors, had fed on the blood of the guilty Hrandari. He'd silenced its demands, for now. The insistence would return--it always did. Now, if only that accursed demon would shut up as well!

  After a day of shrieking wind, the silence of the cave felt…eerie. The screeching in his mind only made it worse. A primal terror set his heart hammering against his ribs, twisting his stomach in knots. Tightening his grip on Soulhunger's hilt, he drew in a deep breath, then another. The rush of blood in his ears made it impossible to hear anything.

  He crept deeper into the cave, clenching his fists to stop his hands from trembling. I'm just exhausted, he told himself. The Hunter is never afraid!

  A low rumble echoed through the cave. The Hunter froze, not daring to move. It came again, and again. The steady, rhythmic sound was almost like…snoring? The scent of dried blood and wet fur filled the cavern.

  One hand on the cave wall, he slithered forward, soft-soled boots silent on stone. Warmth emanated from the cavern ahead. The rumbling grew louder with every step.

  His heart sank as he realized the source of the sound. A Keeper-damned Yathi Brumal bear. He'd heard of the massive omnivores that lived high in the Yathi Mountains. The tales had painted them as sleeping giants, but woe to the unwary mountaineer who entered their demesne.

  Crouching, he pondered his next move. If he made no sound, he could retreat without alerting the bear to his presence. He dreaded a night huddled at the mouth of the cave, but at least he'd be out of the wind. A fight in the dark would be terribly one-sided, and not in his favor.

  He shuffled away from the slumbering creature as quietly as he could, but his heel struck something. He toppled backward and the crash of steel on stone reverberated through the cave. He scrambled to his feet in a heartbeat, slipping the pack from his shoulders, but the damage was done.

  The rumble turned to a low, dangerous growl, accompanied by the sound of massive paws thudding toward him. Acting on instinct, the Hunter threw himself to the side. His head slammed into the cave wall, and spots of light danced in the darkness.

  Enormous claws slashed his face, carving deep furrows. The Hunter screamed in agony. Hot blood gushed from the wound. He staggered beneath the impact of the blow, waving Soulhunger before him in desperate panic. A huge paw struck his hand, knocking the dagger from his grip and snapping his wrist. Another scream burst from the Hunter's lips.

  With his left hand, he fumbled for the long sword on his back. Before he could draw, a massive furry body slammed into him, hurling him from his feet. He crashed into stone and slumped to his hands and knees. A roar thundered through the cave, and the scent of the predator filled his world. Something struck the side of his head with the force of a charging horse, knocking him to the ground. An immense weight pressed on his chest, and his ribs creaked. Agony raced through every muscle in his body. His uninjured left hand was trapped beneath him; only his right hand was free. Pain flared through his shattered wrist as the bone healed, but not fast enough. He had seconds before the bear ripped him to shreds.

  A memory of terror slammed into him. A rust-colored bear emerged from its den, transforme
d into a slavering, snarling thing of nightmare. Dark eyes locked onto the man, the creature's paw slapped the ground. Mouth open, fangs bared, its pink mouth contrasted with blood-red fur.

  The bear's scent mixed lust and rage, overpowering the man. Claws and fangs backed by prodigious strength sought his flesh. Trembling fingers gripped a makeshift weapon. Human eyes locked onto beast's. Intelligence no longer burned in the bear's eyes; only maddening need remained.

  He was trapped in the Chasm of the Lost once more. Sensations washed over him: the reek of blood and lust, the brilliant shine of crimson rocks, the overwhelming dread.

  Fear flashed through him. The brute towered over him, weighed four times as much, with strength enough to tear limb from limb. He fled the death hunting him.

  Now, pinned to the ground by the enormous beast, he had no way to flee. Death had found him.

  The Hunter will return in The Last Bucelarii (Book 4): Anamnesis

  Also by Andy Peloquin

  Child of the Night Guild (Queen of Thieves Book 1)

  "They killed my parents. They took my name. They imprisoned me in darkness. I would not be broken."

  Viola, a child sold to pay her father's debts, has lost everything: her mother, her home, and her identity. Thrown into a life among criminals, she has no time for grief as she endures the brutal training of an apprentice thief. The Night Guild molds an innocent waif into a cunning, agile outlaw skilled in the thieves' trade. She has only one choice: steal enough to pay her debts.

  The cutthroat streets of Praamis will test her mettle, and she must learn to dodge the City Guards or swing from a hangman's rope. But a more dangerous foe lurks within the guild walls. A sadistic rival apprentice, threatened by her strength, is out for blood.

  What hope does one girl have in a world of ruthless men?

  Fans of Sarah J. Maas, Scott Lynch, and Brent Weeks will love the Hunter…

  Find it on Amazon

  Author's Notes

  Hard to believe we're at the end of three books and still only halfway through the Hunter's journey! I have loved every minute I've spent bringing to life the Hunter of Voramis, the world of Einan, and the many colorful characters he meets. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as well.

  In my "spare" time, I've taken to writing short stories set in the city of Voramis, examining the other aspects of life on Einan. I love looking at mental, emotional, and psychological disorders through the lens of fantasy. Each story deals with a different character with a different condition: PTSD, autism, fibromyalgia, hypothyroidism, and many more. It's a way to shed light on very real problems and the people who live with them.

  To read these stories, sign up for my newsletter by clicking this link: http://andypeloquin.com/join-the-club/

  Please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Book reviews are a way to let others know what you thought of the book, and what to expect from the latest leg of the Hunter's journey. I will be forever in your debt!