Darkblade Justice: An Epic Fantasy Murder Mystery (Hero of Darkness Book 7)

by Andy Peloquin

  “Let’s go.” Ilanna snapped. “We move fast, so try to keep up.”

  The Hunter grinned and moved toward her. Jarl interposed himself, but the Hunter stared up at the huge Pathfinder without flinching. “We’re on the same side now, big man.”

  Jarl grunted, and Ilanna recognized his loquacious expression of suspicion and threat.

  The Hunter patted Jarl’s huge bicep. “Good talk.” He slipped around the Pathfinder and fell in step beside Ilanna. Ria took up position behind Ilanna, within striking range of the Hunter, and from the corner of her eye, Ilanna saw the Ghandian woman gripping her assegai spear in white-knuckled fingers.

  Ria’s reaction to the Hunter’s revelation had surprised Ilanna. The rest of them had been stunned, but Ria had hurled curses at the assassin—half-demon assassin, what the bloody hell?—that spoke of more than just instinctive fear. She’d said something about Inzayo Okubi, the evil spirit that was Ghandian equivalent of both the Long Keeper and Kharna, the mad god that sought to destroy Einan during the War of Gods.

  “Master Serpent,” she called out as she marched down the staircase to the ground floor of Baronet Wyvern’s mansion.

  Errik slipped up beside her without a word.

  “Send Tassat for the best Hound and Fox to guide us through the sewer,” Ilanna barked an order. “Have them meet us at the place where he found the Hunter.”

  Errik hesitated, his eyes flicking past Ilanna to rest on the Hunter. He looked like he wanted to speak, and Ilanna didn’t need to read minds to know exactly what he was going to say. Errik, like anyone in his profession, had developed a healthy suspicion of the world. He wouldn’t accept the alliance between the Hunter and Ilanna at face value, and the Hunter’s revelation of who he was—what he was—only added to his wariness.

  But right now, with Kodyn’s life on the line, Ilanna had no time for hesitation. She’d use the Hunter to save her son, the Night Guild, and the city from these gruesome murders. He might have a further agenda of his own beyond slaying this demon—another world-shattering revelation that she’d have to process properly once she’d found Kodyn alive—but she’d deal with that when the time came.

  She stopped and fixed him with a stern gaze. “Do it,” she insisted. “Trust me, for Kodyn’s sake.”

  Just a moment of indecision, then Errik nodded and turned back to relay her order to his Serpent Journeyman.

  Three servants peered out of their back rooms as Ilanna and the others descended, but the sight of the Night Guild—and the dark-cloaked, scowling Hunter with them—sent them scurrying away.

  Ilanna found herself hurrying as they exited the mansions. Jarl hurried ahead to open the wicket gate for Ilanna and the others to file out of the nobleman’s mansion.

  The first rays of morning sunlight had just begun to filter over the eastern horizon as Ilanna stepped into the streets of The Gardens. She saw no sign of passersby—the upper-crust areas of Praamis wouldn’t get busy until well after sunrise—but Ilanna didn’t want to risk running into a patrol of Praamian Guards or the Duke’s Arbitors.

  “Let’s move!”

  She broke into a run, her steps leading her south, out of The Gardens. She didn’t look back to see if the Hunter, Ria, and the others followed—she didn’t have time to waste ensuring her people carried out her orders. Right now, Kodyn was all that mattered.

  Just before exiting The Gardens, she ducked into a side alley where a cleverly-concealed rope ladder hung. She scaled it in a hurry and, without waiting for the others to follow, raced across the rooftops toward Vendor’s Block, where she’d find the sewer entrance closest to the Brewster’s old access tunnels—the place where the Hunter had said he found the killers’ lair.

  A twinge of envy panged in her gut as she caught a glimpse of the Hunter racing up behind her. The assassin actually seemed to slow to keep pace with her, and he moved with an easy grace and agility that should be impossible for any normal man. Yet, as she’d seen, normal didn’t come close to describing him.

  The legends of his speed and skill aren’t as exaggerated as I thought. She felt a momentary relief that she hadn’t been forced to send her men to confront the Hunter. He could have killed Jarl in an instant, and he’d taken down Errik far too easily. Not the sort of enemy the Night Guild can afford, now or ever.

  Ria, Aisha, and Errik matched their pace, though Aisha struggled with some of the more difficult climbs—her duties in House Phoenix kept her from spending too much time on the Perch or the Hawk’s Highway. Jarl fell far behind, his huge frame making the crossings difficult, but Ilanna didn’t wait for him to catch up. The Pathfinder knew where she was going and he’d find his own way. He would understand her hurry; he’d grown as fond of her little Hawk as Errik and Darreth.

  Worry thrummed within her chest, but again she forced it down. Focus on the next step, she told herself. Anything to stop from picturing Kodyn lying on Journeyman Rilmine’s table.

  She slid down a rope and into a muddy alleyway, then slithered through the open grate into the sewer tunnels. From her pouch, she produced a beamer lamp and switched on.

  The Hunter’s boots splashed in the foul-smelling tunnel beside her. “That way,” he said, and pushed past her to lead the way through the sewers.

  Ilanna didn’t need a guide through the maze of tunnels—few in the Night Guild knew them as well as she—but she couldn’t help wondering how the Hunter knew where to go. Had he spent time in the sewer system without her or her people knowing, or was his sense of direction just that good?

  Her gut clenched as she spotted the metal door that led into the Brewster access tunnels.

  “This leads to their lair.” The Hunter pulled open the door and stepped through.

  Ilanna studied the dry walls, ceiling, and dust-covered floors. She’d never actually entered the access tunnels—she preferred to roam free across the Hawk’s Highway rather than travel underground like a worm.

  The Hunter, already twenty paces down the tunnel, cast a glance over his shoulder and stopped when he saw her still standing in the doorway. “I thought we were in a hurry?”

  “We are.” Ilanna ground her teeth. “But we’ve got to wait.”

  “Wait for?” The Hunter raised a bushy eyebrow—is it his real eyebrow, or just another of his strange face-shifting tricks?

  “The people who will set us on the right path,” Ilanna said. “My Hounds can track a butterfly through a forest or a cool breeze across the Windy Plains.” An exaggeration, but if anyone could find clues on the killers here, it would be the Hounds.

  The Hunter chuckled. “That ought to come in handy here, then.” He strode toward her, but before he reached them, Ria gripped Ilanna’s arm and dragged her out of the Brewster’s tunnels and back into the sewer. She didn’t stop dragging until she put thirty paces between Ilanna and the Hunter, who now found himself facing Errik, Aisha, and the two remaining Serpents.

  “You saw what he is as well as I did!” Ria’s eyes blazed. “He is Okanele! A demon, black-eyed spirit of death!”

  “I know. Hard to believe, but there’s no denying what I saw.” She understood why he’d insisted on her holding the quickfire globes up to his face—that way, there’d be no way to write it off as a trick of the light or eyesight.

  “The Okanele are not to be trusted,” Ria said. “My people tell of the demons, servants to Inzayo Okubi, He Who Feeds on Life. They devour the souls of their victims to feed their cruel master, and they leave no spirits to travel to Pharadesi.”

  Ilanna rubbed her eyes. “I can’t think about myths and legends right now, Ria. Right now, he’s our best chance of finding these killers. If they do have Kodyn…” She swallowed hard. “I’ll bargain with the Great Destroyer himself if it means we get Kodyn back alive!”

  Ria’s expression soured. Over the last decade of living together, Ilanna had come to learn that Ria was deeply religious, with a firm belief in the spirits her people worshipped. To Ria, joining forces with the Hunter was o
n par with Ilanna taking up with Duke Phonnis, yet Ilanna could only hope that Ria’s desire to see Kodyn safe could trump her belief—at least long enough to get their son back.

  Before Ria could say any more, a call came from up the tunnel, past the doorway where the Hunter waited. “Master Gold!”

  Ilanna looked up to find Tassat hurrying toward them with Shaw, Master of House Hound, and a Fox in tow.

  Ilanna hurried to greet them, but something about Shaw’s face sent a chill down her spine. A shadow hovered in his eyes, and it felt as if he didn’t want to meet her gaze.

  “Master Hound, thank you for coming.”

  “Ilanna…” He started, then stopped and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry to be the one to give you this.”

  Ilanna’s blood ran cold as Shaw pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. On his palm rested a small redwood figurine of a hawk, wings spread in flight. Time and use had worn the features, but she’d recognize it anywhere. She’d given Kodyn that wooden hawk on his sixth nameday, and he never went anywhere without it.

  The sight drove a dagger of ice into her gut. A fist of iron squeezed her heart, drove the breath from her lungs. For a moment, she felt as if she’d drown, her eyes locked onto the little figurine in Shaw’s hand.

  Grief welled up within her and threatened to burst from her chest. Ilanna wanted to collapse in a sobbing heap, to scream out her rage, to draw her sword and hack down anyone and everyone around her.

  If that’s here, where is my son?!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The trinket, a curious little wooden carving of a bird, had an instant effect on the Guild Master. She went white, every muscle in her body rigid, and her expression froze. The Ghandian woman’s fingers closed tight around Ilanna’s arm. For a moment, the Hunter thought the woman would either faint, lash out, or simply shut down entirely.

  Whatever it is, that means something to her. Something to do with her son.

  The Hunter’s hand went to the silver pendant at his neck. The pendant was faded by time and tarnished by sweat, but it numbered among the Hunter’s most valuable possessions. It was all he had left of Bardin, the half-insane beggar and former Illusionist Cleric that had befriended him in Malandria. The Hunter had avenged Bardin’s death at the hands of the demon Toramin and now carried the trinket in memory of the man that had become his friend.

  He watched the Guild Master to see how she’d react. She’d shown impressive strength of spirit despite the worry he’d read in her eyes, the fear in her voice. Not fear for herself, but for her son. In her place, the Hunter would have responded with far less self-control or cool-headed restraint. He’d killed hundreds of bandits, torturers, and Elivasti prison guards out of a desire to keep Hailen alive. He would kill again to find his daughter, Jaia, wherever on Einan she was to be found.

  Master Gold took the trinket, her hands steady as a rock, and clenched it in her fist so tight her knuckles whitened. “Where did you find it?” she asked, her voice quiet, hard.

  “Over by Vendor’s Block, near Repository Way,” the man, Shaw, responded. “My Hounds recognized it as his.”

  Ilanna’s jaw muscles worked as she digested the information. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath, turned to the Hunter, and said in a quiet, hard voice. “We move, now.”

  The Hunter’s estimation of the woman rose. He’d recognized her strength of will after just a few words, but now, to see her so composed when he would have raged, he couldn’t help admiring her resolve.

  With a nod, he led the way into the tunnels. He was keenly aware of the Ghandian woman’s eyes burning into his back, the tension radiating off the assassins marching in a protective guard around the Guild Master. They would watch his every move and respond the moment he threatened the woman Ilanna.

  Interesting.

  Rather than ruling her people through fear, this Guild Master seemed to inspire genuine loyalty, even real concern and affection, from those who served her. She led her people rather than commanded them. They followed her by choice. The way they hovered around her, protective as a mother Bloodbear guarding her cubs, spoke of a fierce devotion no money could buy. The First of the Bloody Hand had commanded his thugs to kill for him, but Master Gold’s people would die to protect her.

  It seems I’ve misjudged the Night Guild. Perhaps there is more to them—some of them, at least—than I expected. He tucked that nugget of information away. Later, once he’d dealt with the demon and his gang of killers, there might be an option for a genuine partnership with the Night Guild. If not as friends, perhaps as allies.

  “Here,” he said as they reached the room where he’d found the bloody clothes and scrawled symbols. “This is the place.” Everything had remained undisturbed since he left hours earlier. As he’d expected, the killers hadn’t planned to return.

  Ilanna’s eyes narrowed as she studied the chamber. She hadn’t released her white-knuckled grip on the wooden carving, but she was once again the poised, cool Guild Master he’d met earlier that day.

  “Shaw, Zeem, find me something. Anything!” Only the barest hint of desperation cracked her voice.

  The two men who had joined their company outside slipped through the crowd around Ilanna and set to work. They produced more of those strange glass lanterns and set them up at all four corners of the room. The glow brightened the underground chamber and drove back the shadows, making the blood-written symbols seem all the more eerie.

  The taller, whip-thin man, Shaw, walked around the room in a crouch, eyes narrowed and fixed on the dust-covered floor. A frown twisted his face, and he made a strange clucking sound with his tongue as he moved.

  The other man, the one called Zeem, hissed as he crouched over the pile of bloodstained clothes. “Guild Master.” He plucked a tunic from the pile and held it up. A simple shirt, cut of dull brown cloth, but with bright orange thread for the seams and hem. “This belonged to Arashi.”

  The Guild Master’s face hardened. “So this is where your apprentice was killed?”

  “Might be.” Zeem pointed to the center of the room. “There was a table ‘ere, no doubt about it. There are traces of vomit, piss, and shite, but far less blood than I’d expect from a place like this.”

  “Journeyman Rilmine said Arashi was dying from the effects of Night Petal.” Ilanna’s expression grew thoughtful. “But the true cause of death was a stab wound to the heart.”

  “Some poisons thicken the blood,” the Hunter put in. “Turn it sluggish.”

  “Perhaps.” Ilanna inclined her head. “My Journeyman said it empties the gut, bladder, and stomach as it kills the victim, shutting down the body until death by dehydration.”

  “That explains the smell in ‘ere, then,” Zeem grunted.

  The Hunter drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and realized, with surprise, that the man’s assessment was correct. The stink in the room differed from the rest of the tunnels. Now that he’d grown accustomed to the smell of sewage, he could detect the more acidic tang of bile and urine beneath the deeper stench of fecal matter.

  He cursed himself for a fool. He’d been so focused on pursuing the killers that he’d missed the subtle clue. What else had he overlooked?

  “Zeem, come over here.” Shaw spoke without looking up from the ground.

  Zeem hurried to crouch beside the man. “What’s up?”

  “What do you make of this?” Shaw held up two fingers, which were coated in a light dusting of white powder.

  Zeem frowned and sniffed the powder. “Hmm.” He sniffed again and closed his eyes in concentration, like a pompous nobleman over of a glass of fine wine. “Could be ashes from a fire.”

  The Hunter moved toward the two, careful not to block the lantern light, and stared down at the small patch of white powder in front of Shaw. When he sniffed it, he recoiled from the biting odor, similar to urine but far stronger.

  “Lye,” he grunted.

  Shaw and Zeem exchanged glances, then both sniffed
the substance. “Might be,” Zeem admitted, then hurried to wipe the caustic chemical from his hands.

  Shaw inclined his head. “Kind of has that urine smell to it.”

  “I’m certain of it.” The Hunter had used the potent chemical to dissolve victims he’d been hired to make disappear. He straightened and turned to Ilanna. “Where could this have come from?”

  The Guild Master’s brow furrowed. “I’d have to talk to my people, but—”

  “Hey, wasn’t there an old soapmaker’s over near Repository Way?” Zeem asked. “Far as I know, lye’s used to make those fancy soaps the nobility love to buy.”

  Ilanna stiffened. “Shaw,” she snapped. “Where did you say you found this?” She held up the wooden bird figurine.

  Shaw’s eyes flew wide. “Over by Repository Way!”

  The Hunter’s mind raced. He pictured Praamis as he’d seen it laid out on a city planner’s map, then started adding in the details. The entrance where he’d followed the killers down into the sewers, this tunnel, and the exit that led out into the streets. The rough route the Bluejacket would have taken to get from Vendor’s Block to Baronet Wyvern’s to deliver the Guild’s blackmail message. Now, Repository Way, the warehouse district where Shaw had found the figurine.

  Years as an assassin had taught him that humans—demons, too—were creatures of habit. They tended to do the same things: attend the same parties, visit the same temples, call on the same friends, and so on. When hired to do a job, he’d often invest time following his targets to find out where they went and what they did. That led him to what he called their “hunt zone”.

  The warehouses of Repository Way fit that hunt zone to a tee. This lair would have been useful, but the killers had to have known the Night Guild roamed the sewers freely. It could have been a secondary location to conduct their foul rituals, but their primary location would be in the soapmaker’s, located at the nexus of all those interconnected lines.