"Your children," the Hunter said. "You mean the Bucelarii. You mean me."
"Oh yes, Hunter," the First said, and for the first time a look akin to compassion filled the man's eyes. "My children were torn from my hands, taken away, and put to death. Their names—their true names were forgotten. The Serenii called them Bucelarii, the Forgotten Ones, and that is the only name they have known since." His eyes filled with sorrow as he relived the memory. For a moment, the Hunter actually felt sympathy for the man.
Then the moment passed, and the First's features hardened. He once again became the cold, haughty commander of the Bloody Hand, with hard eyes and sneering lips. When he spoke, his voice was lifeless, flat.
"So you know that the gods cast the Great Destroyer into the darkest hell?"
The Hunter nodded, and the First continued.
"But what you don't know," said the First, "is that a fragment of the almighty Kharna remained in the mind of the Beggar God. That piece of the Destroyer's mind has twisted and warped the frail Beggar to suit his needs."
This revelation shocked the Hunter. The Beggar Priests are worshipping the very god they are trying to stop. The thought sent a chill through him.
"When the gods planned to kill the Bucelarii," the First continued, "it was the Beggar God who stopped it. He pled for their lives, not because they were innocent, but because he had his own plans for them. He needed them to one day regain his full power."
This puzzled the Hunter. "I don't understand. How could we bring back the Destroyer?"
The First looked down at Soulhunger still clasped in his long, thin fingers. He caressed the tooled sheath of the blade. "Have you ever wondered where you found such a blade as Thanal Eth' Athaur?" he asked, his voice slow.
"How did you know its name?" the Hunter asked, surprised.
"I know this blade because it was forged by my brothers. One like it was given to every Bucelarii." The First ripped open the Hunter's shirt, revealing the scars crisscrossing the Hunter's chest. "See here, Hunter," he said, triumph in his voice, "the blade has marked you with the proof that you are worthy to serve by our side. Thanal Eth' Athaur is linked to you, to the blood in your veins. The power of the blade makes you who you are, and yet it serves a greater purpose."
Dread filled the Hunter at these words. "Greater purpose?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"See this gem?" The First ran a finger along the contours of the jewel set in Soulhunger's hilt. "It links you to the source of your power, the essence of the Great Destroyer."
The Hunter's stomach churned in disgust as he realized what the demon meant.
"Every time I spill blood with this weapon…" He trailed off, unable to speak the words.
"You feed the heart of Kharna," nodded the First. "You, Hunter, are bringing the Great Destroyer back to life."
Chapter Thirty-Four
An icy chill ran down the Hunter's spine. Acid burned in the back of his throat, his stomach twisting.
"You have felt the rush of power after you take a life with Thanal Eth' Athaur, haven't you? That thrill you feel is a fraction of the power that comes from spilled blood, a fraction of what is channeled into the heart of the Great Destroyer with every death."
Betrayal stung him as the realization of what he'd done flooded him. Every man and woman that I have killed, it has all been to feed the Destroyer's power. Hundreds of faces swam before the Hunter's eyes, every one of them belonging to those who had died at the end of Soulhunger's blade.
"We gave these weapons to you, Bucelarii, in order to feed the Destroyer the power he needs to break free of his chains. But the gods killed so many of you..." Sorrow flashed across his face, slowly transforming into naked hatred. "And the accursed Cambionari are ever vigilant. They have hunted our children down and slaughtered them all. Save for you." A fiery intensity burned in his eyes.
A feeling of profound sadness washed over the Hunter at these words. With it came aching realization.
I am the last of my kind. I truly am alone in the world. Despondence dimmed the fire of his anger.
"You, Bucelarii, were meant for great things," the First said. His fingers toyed with Soulhunger's grip, caressing the blade as he would a lover. "You were to bring back the Destroyer, and join us in serving him as masters of this world. But you were the only one left to feed the Great One."
A look of disappointment and frustration crossed the First's face. "You fed him far too slowly," the demon said. "A death here and there is nowhere near enough power for what we do here this night, much less bring back our god. Thus, you have forced my hand."
He began to pace, his voice filling with the excitement of a master strategist laying out a brilliant plan. "First," he said, "we had to start with something small, something that would set things in motion."
"Lord Dannaros," the Hunter said, remembering the seal of the Bloody Hand in the man's office. "He worked for you."
The First nodded. "His death gave me the necessary leverage to turn the Hand against you."
"But before you could let loose the hounds, you needed me to kill Brother Securus," the Hunter said. "How did you know that he would be the only Cambionari in Voramis?"
A sly smile broke out on the First's face. "For years we have spread rumors of Abiarazi sightings around the continent. Not enough to make the bastards actually send out a full force, but sufficient to compel them to investigate. One by one, we have drawn the Cambionari away from Voramis, until only one man remained. Only he had the power to stop us." His eyes flicked toward the Hunter's sword belt, and a momentary shiver of fear and loathing seized the First as he stared at the Swordsman's iron blades.
"He was the only one capable of wielding those blades," the Hunter said, "but I disposed of him for you."
"Yes," the First said, gloating, "it was truly a marvelous plan. After that, it was easy to goad you into a fury just by killing off a few of those pitiful beggars who shared your home."
The faces of Old Nan, Jak, Karrl, and the others flashed through the Hunter's mind, and his stomach twisted with sorrow.
"Once we had you angry and spoiling for blood," the First continued with a gleeful grin, "we did the one thing that would make you do exactly what we wanted."
"You killed Farida," the Hunter said, his voice lifeless. He tried to push away the sense of loss, fought to ignore the pain flooding him, but a memory of the child's face haunted him. A lump rose in his throat, and he blinked, angry at the tears that threatened at the corner of his eyes.
The First smiled at the pain written on the Hunter's face. "Oh, yes!" he leered. "It was a delicious act, I must say." He stepped close to the Hunter, whispering in his ear. "Her blood will feed the ritual tonight, though perhaps we could have done without. It was just a simply wonderful happenstance that an innocent had to die. Such pure blood always tastes marvelous." The man licked his lips, an obscene gesture clearly meant to goad the Hunter into a rage.
The Hunter fought the revulsion and fury within, but it exploded from him in an animal roar. He threw himself forward, muscles cording, straining against his bonds. The sinews in his arms nearly burst in his struggle to break free.
I will kill you! His mind raged, Soulhunger adding its fury to his own. The demon side of him wanted nothing more than to rip out the man's throat, to taste his blood, to feel the rush of power as he took the First's life. Tane stepped forward, tensing his muscles in anticipation of a fight.
"Let him storm," the First said, holding up a hand and calmly stepping back. His laugh echoed in the cavern, infuriating the Hunter further. "It will be good for him to let it out."
The Hunter's back arched, his chest heaved with the strain, and his powerful legs pushed against the ground. He threw every ounce of strength into his effort. But the stone was hard and unyielding, his bonds thick. Try as he might, he couldn't break free.
Something within the Hunter broke, and strength failed him. He slumped back, exhaustion threatening to steal his consciousness. Blood pounde
d in his ears, and his muscles ached with the effort.
A sob broke from his chest, a weak, pitiful sound filled with defeat. His head hung down, his eyes on the stone floor beneath his feet. He fell against the ropes, leaning on them heavily. They were the only thing holding him upright; all he wanted to do was curl into a ball to escape the pain flooding him. Every shred of his willpower fought to hold back the tears threatening to fall.
"It had to be done," said the First. He sounded almost apologetic. "Your rampage of death and destruction tonight was necessary, and now, thanks to you, we have enough power to accomplish what has not been done in thousands of years."
The Hunter stared at the demon in incomprehension.
"All this is possible because of you, Hunter!" Triumph rang in the First's voice. He gestured around him. "What we do here, it is thanks to you and your hubris!"
The Hunter had never felt so defeated. He could find nothing to say.
"You were the Bucelarii we needed you to be, the willing pawn in our game. You even followed my men here, to this glorious place where our destiny will become manifest once again."
"What do you mean, 'followed your men here'?" the Hunter asked. A tiny spark of anger still burned within him, and the First's mocking words fanned it into an ember.
"Please, Hunter," the First mocked, "you think you 'tracked' me tonight? Following the one idiot thief creeping through the Serenii tunnels?" He shook his head, as if disbelieving anyone could be so naïve. "I have dozens of men 'wandering' these tunnels, waiting for you to 'find' them."
"You meant for them to lead me here."
"Yes," crowed the First, a triumphant smile wreathing his face, "and here you are, right where I want you." He walked around the Hunter, placing a hand on the smooth stone obelisk. "Look here, to this glorious altar to which you are bound. It was on these stones that the Serenii sacrificed their victims, their blood drained for the Great Destroyer."
"This city," the First gestured around him, "all of this was built by the Serenii, given the name 'Hohnin'—Sanctuary. They once took it upon themselves to protect mankind, to guide you in your evolution."
The First's eyes glittered darkly as he stared at the Hunter. "But then came the day the mighty Kharna declared war on the gods." He spoke with the familiarity of an eyewitness. "He attempted to enlist the Serenii in his ranks, but the cowards refused to fight directly. Yet they were the ones who opened the portal to our worlds. Right here," he pointed to the ground at his feet, "we Abiarazi emerged to rule the world!"
"Look into my eyes." The First strode around to stand in front of the Hunter. "Look at me and see the endless depths of the hells, our realm eternal."
For a moment, the Hunter thought he stared into a mirror. The eyes gazing back at him matched his own—pools of endless liquid darkness, empty of life and light. He shrank back from the intensity in the First's expression, which caused the demon's smile to widen.
"We wielded power immense, and we will wield it once more!" The First raised his arms. The void behind seemed to echo his words, ringing with triumph. "On this altar blood was spilled to release us, and here blood shall be spilled once more. We needed you to unleash your rage on the Bloody Hand. The deaths of those fools will provide the power to fuel our ritual tonight!"
He turned to face the Hunter, stabbing a finger at him. "Thanks to you, tonight we open the way for the Abiarazi to return. We will bring death to this world once again, and with the help of my brothers, we will gather the power to free the Destroyer. Your blood and your blade make it possible for the way to be opened."
His fist closed around Soulhunger's worn leather grip, and a smile played on his lips. The throbbing in the back of the Hunter's mind intensified as the dagger slipped free of its sheath.
"Thanal Eth' Athaur," the man whispered. "How I have missed thee, my brother." Rapture filled the First's eyes, and for the first time, the Hunter saw the demon within.
There is nothing human about that thing. He wears the face and adopts the guise of a man, but beneath the flesh there is only a creature of darkness and death.
Emotions warred within the Hunter as he watched the First caress the sharp edge of Soulhunger's blade.
Is that what I have been doing all along? I have worn hundreds of faces, adopted hundreds of disguises. Have they all been an attempt to deny who and what I really am?
The First looked up, locking gazes with the Hunter. "You have seen what I am, Hunter, what hides within me. I know what hides within you, what drives you to kill. You have the weakness of humankind in you, yet you possess the strength of an Abiarazi. What you have done this night proves that you are worthy to take your place as a true Bucelarii."
Pride filled the First's eyes as he spoke, his voice passionate. "You have the chance to join us now, to fulfill your destiny. Imagine being able to show the world what you really are, rather than hiding behind pitiful masks. Abandon the humans that have shunned you, hunted you, and killed your kindred. You alone of your kind remain, but there is no need for you to be alone."
His expression turned sorrowful. "The burden of a long life takes its toll as you watch those around you wither, age, and die. But join us, and you will never be alone again. Once the Abiarazi have dominion over Einan again, we will breed thousands of Bucelarii to rule beneath us. You will lead your kin in the conquest of this world, and you will have all the power you can dream of."
The First extended a hand to the Hunter, his expression earnest. "Unleash the demon within you, and claim your rightful place. You are a descendant of greatness, a creature destined to rule the world with us. Become the thing you were meant to be. Embrace your kinship with power, and together we can conquer. "
The Hunter's instincts told him to spit the man's offer back in his face.
How could he think I'd join him after what he's done? He killed my friends—even tortured Farida to death—all to get me to do his bidding. He is a demon!
And yet, something deep within him wanted nothing more than to accept. The word kinship had struck the Hunter like a punch to the gut, and he could not ignore the overwhelming sense of loneliness.
For as long as he could remember, he had been alone. Few had seen his true face, and those who had always flinched when staring into his depthless eyes. They only saw the demon, never the man. But to be among his own kind once more…
Why shouldn't I accept his offer? We share the same blood. He has seen the truth behind who and what I am, and welcomed me when everyone else in the world fears and wants to kill me. Could I finally find the place where I belong? If I am like them, should I not join them? Where else will I be accepted as I am?
His stomach twisted in revulsion. I am half-demon, the offspring of creatures of nightmare. I will never find my place in the world of man, for I am the last of the Bucelarii.
There was no one else on Einan like him, no one who would ever understand him. How could anyone know what it was like to have the driving urge to kill warring within—an urge that could only be satiated with blood? Who could ever accept him knowing all the horrible, monstrous things he had done?
The First's words rang in his thoughts. "Become what you were meant to be." I am meant for greatness. I wield the power that can awaken a god from eternal death.
Soulhunger echoed the demon's promises, its eager voice whispering of power. It wanted to feed. It wanted blood.
He tried to push the whispers aside, to clear his head. He struggled to think why he should resist, why he should fight back, yet he could find no reason.
This world is filthy, disgusting, filled with sin.
Priests committing murder. Righteous men doing horrible things because of their lustful nature. Children stealing and killing. Women forced to sell their bodies for the pleasures of men. Beggars fighting over scraps of food.
Humans have done that to one another, forcing some to live in poverty while others live in mansions. Humanity is the cause of its own suffering. Why shouldn't this world be cleanse
d?
Yet he was torn. His human half protested, screaming for him to deny the demon.
Can I really consign all of humanity to their deaths? Do I have the strength to accept the burden of millions of lives lost just to satisfy my need to belong? Am I selfish enough to do that?
Farida's face floated through his thoughts. Her skin pale and lifeless, her clothes stained with blood.
She died because of me.
Then he saw her as she had been: smiling, laughing, her face covered with sticky syrup. He could still smell the roses, dirt, and incense as her chubby arms gripped him around the waist, hugging him tight. He heard her exclamation as he presented her with a cloth doll, her laughter as she plucked a treat from his hand.
How could I allow this to happen to her? An innocent child who never hurt a soul, killed just to push me over the edge. Could I ever truly find my place among creatures who would so casually perpetrate these horrors?
The torment of loss ripped through his heart, but instead of pushing it away, he reveled in it. It washed over him like a tidal wave, and pressure built within him, threatening to shatter his mind.
Suddenly, he no longer stood in the torch-lit cavern beneath Voramis. He seemed to be in another place, another time. Images of death and destruction flashed in front of his eyes, almost as if they were a memory.
Storm clouds roiled in the sky, the sound of thunder joining flashes of lightning as the gods warred in the heavens. Massive creatures walked, slithered, and crawled across the face of the world, leaving only havoc and carnage in their wake.
A weeping child clung to her mother. The woman screamed for the husband being dragged away by the horrible monsters of nightmare. Blood spattered the mother's dress as talons slashed her throat, pouring down onto the child and staining her final moments in horror. A huge fist crushed the child's skull. Crustacean-like claws snatched up the body and devoured it whole.
The voice within the Hunter shouted as he watched, helpless, horrified.
Two children, a boy and a girl, raced through the burning streets of a village. Snarling demons pursued them, shouting curses and screaming their hunger. A huge spear flew through the night, piercing the boy and pinning him to the ground. The little girl could only watch in mute horror as the demons surrounded her. Her voice lifted in horrifying screams as talons and claws raked the skin from her bones.
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