A vicious thrust at his midsection caught him off guard, and Master Eldor slapped his sword wide. The flat of the Elivasti's blade slapped him across the cheek, sending him staggering. The Hunter touched his stinging face. His hand came away clean.
Adjusting his grip on his sword, he launched himself into a fresh assault. Master Eldor gave no ground, but instead advanced to meet the Hunter's onslaught. The Hunter grinned at the tactic—he'd used it more than once to catch his enemy off guard. Yet the movement served its purpose. He had to retreat to avoid getting his long sword entangled in the Elivasti's guard. Even as he gave ground, he couldn't help marveling at the ruthless efficiency of Master Eldor's movements. The man transitioned between attacks with the grace of trickling water. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.
Filling his lungs with the thin air, the Hunter pushed his body to the limits of its endurance. He poured every bit of speed into his strikes. Master Eldor turned aside each one with a bored expression that infuriated the Hunter. Digging in his heels, he lunged at Master Eldor, arms extended to wrap around his opponent's waist. Master Eldor flowed to the side, and the Hunter threw himself into a roll. He spun, blade striking high. The Elivasti slipped beneath the stroke and hooked his foot around the Hunter's ankle. His shoulder slammed into the Hunter's chest, hurling him to the ground.
The Hunter's sword clattered from his hand as the back of his head struck stone.
Master Eldor's blade rested against his throat once more. "You were once my finest student. Time and neglect have dulled your edge." The sword moved away. "If you lose to an old man, what good are you, Bucelarii?" The last word came out as a taunt.
The Hunter growled and climbed to his feet. His cheeks burned with shame. Even with the blood of Abiarazi flowing in his veins, he couldn't defeat an old man.
"But, as Master Belros will tell you, a sword's edge can be restored, as can your skill. All it takes is a hard enough grindstone."
The Hunter wanted to retort, but what could he say that wouldn't sound petty? Clearly, I could learn a few things from him. So, swallowing his anger and humiliation, he straightened. "Where do we start?"
A smile played on the old man's lips. "From the beginning. Thankfully, you haven't forgotten all the sword form I taught you." The Elivasti strode to a nearby rack and seized a slim wooden cane. "Begin with the most basic."
The Hunter settled into the form, a series of basic strikes that favored power over speed. His sword flashed in precise, controlled movement.
"Ahh, the Woodsman. A good place to start." Master Eldor circled him, tutting. "Lower your guard at your own peril." The wooden cane cracked against the Hunter's arm. "Elbows higher, and step into the movement."
The Hunter adjusted his posture and repeated the form, his cheeks burning. The old Elivasti's commanding tone made him—him, the assassin of Voramis, the legend that had men pissing their breeches in fear!—feel like a dull pupil. He didn't relish the sensation.
"Good." Master Eldor nodded. "Again."
"What?" The Hunter turned, and the wooden cane cracked against his thigh.
"The time for questions will come later. While you train, you speak only when addressed. Do you understand?"
The Hunter nodded, lips pressed tight. He repeated the sequence as instructed.
"Again." Master Eldor circled him like a hawk tailed its prey, eyes narrowed. He barked out monosyllabic instructions and corrections of the Hunter's posture and movements.
The Hunter had a sudden flash of déjà vu. He once more stood in a training ground, one much like this. Master Eldor—a much younger Master Eldor, with a darker beard and face devoid of age lines—snapped commands. Once again, the wooden cane left welts on his flesh.
Shock at the memory nearly made him stumble, and the stick cracked against his leg. The Hunter growled and forced his arm higher. He'd endured the torments of Master Eldor's training before; he would do so again if it provided him an excuse to come down to the Elivasti city and visit Hailen without the Sage's knowledge. And the more he honed his skill, the greater the chance he'd survive his encounters with the Warmaster, the Sage, and—he hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but he'd learned always to prepare for the worst—the Masters of Agony and the Elivasti. Demons always proved harder to kill than he anticipated.
When he had finally performed the Woodsman to the old Elivasti's satisfaction, he moved on to the next, a form Master Eldor called the Stonemason.
Master Eldor circled again, stick held at the ready. "Foot forward." The cane slapped into the Hunter's calf. "Head up, knees bent."
The Hunter drew in a deep breath and focused on the motions of the more complex form.
The next few hours passed in a blur of exhaustion, Master Eldor's monosyllabic barked commands, and the stinging bite of the cane. By the time the sun had risen high in the sky, the Hunter's muscles ached and his lungs burned from the exertion. He was only too glad when the Elivasti called a halt to the training. He slumped onto a nearby bench.
Master Eldor stood over him, disapproval in his eyes. "You've grown lazy, young Bucelarii. You rely too much on your body's accelerated healing. It's almost like you want to get chopped to ribbons."
The Hunter growled. "Why else do you think I'm coming to you, old man? You want to keep whinging, or are you going to show me how it's done?"
Master Eldor's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you want?"
Ignoring the tremble in his legs, the Hunter forced himself to stand. "Aye. Put down that accursed cane and face me with steel in your hands." He grinned. "Unless you're too decrepit to fight."
With a chuckle, Master Eldor leaned the cane against the stone wall and drew a sword. "Watch your tongue, boy."
He darted toward the Hunter with speed that belied his age. Steel rang on steel as Master Eldor's sword struck from all directions. Though the Hunter's speed surpassed Master Eldor's, the Elivasti moved with precision that only came from experience. His strikes held power, each blow intentional. He forced the Hunter back, attacking first low then high with fluid grace. The bright steel blade flowed like water. The Hunter leapt backward, grunting as the sword sliced his thigh.
"Decrepit, am I?" Grim humor showed in the Elivasti's eyes.
The Hunter retreated. He had to put distance between himself and Master Eldor, give his body time to heal. The Elivasti launched himself forward. His sword wove a wall of metal around the Hunter, who struggled to keep up. Before the flow of blood from his leg had ceased, Master Eldor's blade had opened wounds in his arms, neck, face, and abdomen. The stinging cuts distracted him, allowing Master Eldor to step inside his guard and hurl him to the ground.
The Elivasti leaned on his sword, breathing hard. "Learned your lesson yet?"
The Hunter laughed and raised a hand. "I yield, old man."
Master Eldor grinned. "If you're not too busy bleeding, perhaps you'd like to dry off." He threw the Hunter a towel.
The Hunter was too busy trying to catch his breath to retort. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.
"I would offer to continue your lessons, but I expect that the Sage will expect your presence. After last night's events…"
The Hunter's eyes snapped open. How much does he know?
Master Eldor gave him a sly smile. "Your battle with Gallidus has been on every Elivasti's lips. From what I hear, the Warmaster was less than pleased at its outcome."
The Hunter shrugged. "He knew the rules of the beast pit." He had no reason to excuse his actions. They had been necessary—both to silence the voice of his inner demon and to prove his strength to the Abiarazi.
"The Sage's mood has been…mercurial since returning last night. It might be wise to pay him a visit and set his mind at ease." He gave the Hunter a meaningful look. "With whatever version of truth suits you best."
The Hunter nodded. "But first, I want to see the boy."
Master Eldor's face hardened. "To do so right now would be folly."
The Hunter leapt to
his feet. "You said—"
"I know what I said." Master Eldor cut him off with a chop of his hand. "But if you were to enter the enclosure, the Sage's men standing guard at the gates would alert him of your presence. They are his loyal men, his eyes and ears in our city."
The Hunter clenched his fists.
"But," Master Eldor persisted, "the men tasked with guarding the enclosure tonight are men I know I can trust to keep their mouths shut and their eyes blind. Were you to return under the cover of darkness, I believe we could sneak you in without discovery. Though there is still a risk."
"Then bring him here." The Hunter folded his arms. "Here we have total privacy. Provided you can rely on Master Belros' discretion."
Master Eldor gave a dismissive wave. "I trust him as much as any man." He frowned and stroked his beard. "Bringing the boy here would be a simple matter, but it brings its own peril. If the Irrsinnon should come upon him while he is away from the enclosure, we could do nothing to save him."
The Hunter's gut clenched. He had no desire to put Hailen in danger, but he needed to see the boy, speak to him, reassure him that he was doing everything in his power to cure him.
"Is it truly so risky? Surely he would be safe for a short time."
Master Eldor's forehead wrinkled. "Perhaps…" After a moment's silence, he gave a long sigh. "We will try it your way. Return after dark and your boy will be waiting for you."
The Hunter's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you!" For too long, he'd pushed aside his worries for the boy—he had to focus on the mission, he'd told himself. But he found himself impatient for nightfall when he could once again see Hailen's smile, hear the high, piping chirrup of his laughter.
"Just one problem: how do I get here unseen?" Short of climbing down the temple's exterior, he had no way to leave the temple without the Sage's knowledge. The Abiarazi had Elivasti stationed at every entrance and exit.
Master Eldor winked. "Easily solved. At the final hour before midnight, be in your rooms. I will send someone to show you an alternate route to take. One away from watching eyes."
The Hunter raised an eyebrow, but Master Eldor's face revealed nothing. "Very well." He stood and extended a hand to the old Elivasti. "You have my thanks, Master Eldor. For the instruction and for the assistance."
Master Eldor gripped his hand with strength that belied his wrinkled face and slim frame. "For an old friend, it is nothing."
Fire suffused the Hunter's cheeks and spread through his chest. At that moment, he didn't care what drove Master Eldor to help him—and the cynical part of him knew the old Elivasti had something he wanted from the Hunter. But another part of the Hunter, a smaller, quieter part he tried to ignore, leapt at the man's words. He'd never had many friends, yet here was someone who seemed to welcome him. It felt odd…and wonderful.
"Until tonight, young Hunter."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Hunter hesitated at the door to the Sage's chamber. He'd come to face the demon head-on before the inevitable anger and suspicion could take root in his mind, but he wasn't looking forward to the coming interaction.
Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he knocked. A servant opened the door and ushered him into the sitting room, where the Sage sat hunched over his low table. He held up a finger without taking his eyes from the Nizaa board.
Every bone in the Hunter's body ached to snap that finger. The reek of rot twisted his stomach, fanning the flames of his rage. He wanted to wrap his hands around the demon's neck and squeeze until the Sage begged for his life, but he swallowed his anger. Killing the Sage wouldn't help him rescue Hailen.
"I trust you enjoyed last night's entertainment?" he asked.
The Sage's head rose, the unblinking eyes fixing on the Hunter in silence.
The Hunter grinned. "You're welcome, by the way."
"You believe I owe you some sort of gratitude?" The Sage raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.
"After a fashion." The Hunter shrugged. "I believed you'd appreciate anything that weakened the Warmaster's position. The defeat of his prized fighter will be the talk of Shana Laal. The story will pass from Elivasti to Elivasti and Master to Master. All will hear of how the Warmaster's champion was bested." He inclined his head. "And more than a few in the chamber heard you call me 'your Bucelarii'."
A hint of smugness cracked the Sage's icy expression. "Though you made it abundantly clear that you fought for yourself."
"The prudent choice, and for the Warmaster's benefit." The Hunter met the demon's midnight eyes calmly. "He had just finished offering me a place by his side. It seemed such an arrangement could benefit our plans."
The Sage frowned at the word. "Our?"
"Only a blind man would miss the enmity between you and the Warmaster. When last we spoke, you seemed interested in…solving that particular problem." The Hunter lowered his voice. "A problem I, too, desire to see resolved."
The Abiarazi pursed his lips, but triumph glinted in his eyes. "Indeed? Surely a man of action would find some kinship with one such as the Warmaster. He is—in his mind, at least—the greatest warrior alive."
"Last night, after the fight with Gallidus, as I was exploring his temple, I saw what he plans for Einan." The Hunter threw this out casually, but was rewarded with a sudden rigidity in the Sage's expression. "His goals to return Kharna to this world may align with ours"—he had no desire to see the Destroyer resurrected, but the Sage didn't need to know that—"but his methods are destined to fail. He lacks the foresight and cunning required to conquer this world."
The Sage's expression brightened. "A sentiment I share." He waved for the Hunter to sit across from him, and all resistance faded from his posture. "He has opposed my methods for far too long. It is good to know he will not be a problem much longer."
The Hunter nodded. "Though there are certain obstacles that must be overcome."
"Such as?" The demon leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"Access, for one. Surprise. Facing the Warmaster in a fair fight would prove...complicated at best. Then there is the matter of his Masters of Agony. There have to be at least two thousand—"
The Sage's expression darkened. "Closer to four."
The Hunter winced. "No small army. Even were you to rally the Elivasti against him, you have fewer than a thousand you can trust."
Something dangerous flashed in the demon's eyes at that, and his lips pressed into a tighter line. "Formidable obstacles, I must admit. But perhaps there is a way…" He trailed off with a pensive expression.
The Hunter sat back in the comfortable armchair. He was in no hurry. Master Eldor's man would come for him an hour before midnight; the sun had just begun its descent toward the horizon. The Sage was about to hand him a way to eliminate one of his two problems.
"Tomorrow night," the Sage said in a slow voice, "is the Expurgation, the cleansing ritual of the Elivasti."
"Cleansing?" The Hunter forced his expression and posture to remain nonchalant, but his interest burned bright.
"From the Irrsinnon. The curse of the Elivasti, passed down from their ancestors." The Sage eyed him. "I assumed the subject would have come up during your training with Master Eldor, or your exploration of the Elivasti city."
The Hunter nodded. "It did. An unfortunate fate for anyone who shares the curse." Inside, excitement seethed like a raging torrent. Could this Expurgation be the solution to Hailen's problem? He had to find out more, but he couldn't seem too eager. "And how does this ritual help us deal with the Warmaster?"
"The Warmaster and I will descend to the camp of the Elivasti for the ritual. It must be conducted within the Dolmenrath." The Hunter's confusion at the unfamiliar word must have shown, for the Sage clarified, "The standing stones within the wall."
The Hunter's gut tightened. He had no desire to be anywhere near those stones. He'd nearly died in the Dolmenrath in the Chasm of the Lost, and his final stand in the Advanat Desert had been within those obsidian monoliths. They reek
ed of the same ancient rot and decay emanating from the Sage, magnified a hundredfold.
"The Warmaster will not dare bring his Masters of Agony into the Elivasti city. Thus, he will have a handful of Elivasti for a guard."
The Hunter leaned forward. "And those Elivasti—"
"The Warmaster's loyal followers, to a man." His expression soured. "Their service extends beyond their oath to the Abiarazi; they would die for him without question or hesitation."
"How many will there be?"
The Sage frowned. "No more than a dozen. A larger force would imply the Warmaster fears a threat from within the Elivasti camp. He dares not alienate the Elivasti who serve both of us with equal devotion."
A dozen Elivasti. Not great odds, especially given those iron-tipped staves.
"Perhaps while all eyes are on the Expurgation, you might have a chance to—"
"From close range? In the middle of a horde of Elivasti? No bloody way." The Hunter crossed his arms. "They'd cut me down before I took three steps. At long range, perhaps, but from up close I've a snowflake's chance in the Advanat of surviving."
The Sage's expression darkened. "You are certain?"
The Hunter gave an emphatic nod. "That is not the way." He leaned back with a sly grin. "But if I could find an unguarded way into the Warmaster's temple, I believe it would work."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Last night, when I excused myself from the party, I managed to get into the Warmaster's private rooms." He smiled at the Sage's surprise. "All I need is entry into the temple—unnoticed by the Warmaster's Elivasti and the Masters of Agony—and a scarlet robe."
"How soon could you do it?" Eagerness shone in the demon's eyes. "Perhaps tomorrow night when the Warmaster is away."
The Hunter shook his head. "I need more time." Before he could make any move against the demons, he had to figure out how to free Hailen from the enclosure. He'd use the Expurgation ritual as the perfect cover to explore the walled section of the Elivasti city. "Four days. Five at most." He couldn't afford much more than that. The Warmaster's army would be arriving all too soon. "But first I have to find a way in."
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