Taiana circumnavigated the Medial Echelon, cautious for any sign of patrolling Elivasti, then descended to the Base Echelon before they reached the Southeastern Keep. She slipped between a pair of two-story houses, entered a side door, then climbed the stairs to what looked like the master bedroom on the second floor. At the far side of the chamber, an enclosed balcony faced the street—the perfect vantage point to watch the street while still clinging to the shadows of the darkened house.
Taiana scanned the surroundings, then shot a glance up at the stars. “We made better time than I expected. Either that, or Garnos is late.”
The Hunter crossed his arms and settled deeper into the shadows of a wooden bookcase. He’d spent many sleepless nights crouched on rooftops or stalking his targets through the slums and mud-crusted streets of Lower Voramis. He could be patient.
He looked over at Taiana. The shadows made her features seem harder, more determined. She had fully embraced her role as commanding officer, driven by her mission. A hint of impatience showed on her face. She wanted to get this over with so she could return to her true purpose: searching for their daughter.
The Hunter didn’t blame her. If he hadn’t had Hailen to worry about, he would have thrown every shred of energy into helping Taiana. With the Withering so close, he’d have done everything in his power to prevent his daughter suffering the fate of all those imprisoned in the Chambers.
But he couldn’t leave Hailen in the hands of the Sage.
The Hunter’s gut tightened at the sight of a blue-armored figure striding up the street, then turning into the building toward them. His hand dropped slowly to Soulhunger’s hilt as he scanned the night behind the man. One Elivasti would be no problem. This man had no Scorchslayer, simply a spikestaff. He’d go down without a sound.
Taiana’s hand gripped his arm before he could draw Soulhunger. “That,” she hissed, “is who we’re here to see. That is Garnos.”
Chapter Eleven
The Hunter’s hand dropped to Soulhunger’s hilt and every muscle in his body tensed. “You’re meeting with the Elivasti?” he hissed, half-drawing the dagger.
Taiana’s black eyes met his. “He’s working with us, Drayvin.”
After a long moment, the Hunter relaxed and sheathed Soulhunger, but kept his hand on the dagger. His past dealings with the Elivasti—here in Enarium and in Kara-ket—had been fraught. He wouldn’t be caught off-guard like he had with Master Eldor. And look how that turned out.
“Garnos.” Taiana stepped from the shadows as the Elivasti appeared in the doorway to the master bedroom. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”
“Of course, Taiana.” Garnos gave her a strained smile. “Though I trust it is sufficiently important to warrant a face-to-face meeting. The arrival of our master has changed things. Hellsgate is locked down, and patrols to hunt you and your merry band down have tripled. The bodies you left by the gate have pissed off a lot of my brethren.”
“So the Sage is in Hellsgate?” the Hunter asked as he stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Taiana.
Garnos recoiled, his eyes flashing toward the Hunter. “Who might you be, man who I’ve never met? Another of Taiana’s rescues?” The man studied him through narrowed eyes, much as a stonemason might study a block of marble to be cut.
“After a fashion.”
The Hunter returned the Elivasti’s scrutiny. Threads of grey ran through the man’s dark hair and long beard, and the lines on his face made him appear in his fifth or sixth decade of life—which meant more than a hundred years to the long-lived Elivasti. He seemed ill at ease in the armor, as if at an unfamiliar weight. As with all the Elivasti, the Hunter was struck by the absence of scent from the man. A side effect of the Expurgation that cleansed them of the Irrsinnon, it seemed.
“Garnos, this is Drayvin,” Taiana said. “Drayvin, meet Elder Garnos of the Elivasti.”
“Elder Garnos?” The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look…old enough.”
Garnos chuckled, and his eyes flashed toward Taiana. “You’re not the first person I’ve heard point that out.”
The Hunter fixed the man with a hard gaze. Why would Taiana work with an Elivasti? From everything she’d told him, they had been the cause of most of their problems. The Elivasti had hunted them down, helped the Warmaster imprison Taiana and Jaia, and now worked with the Sage to free Kharna.
“So?” Garnos cocked his head. “What’s so important you dragged me away from my bed and put everything we’ve worked for at risk?”
The Hunter shot a glance at Taiana. What does “everything they’ve worked for” entail, exactly?
“There was a boy who arrived in Enarium earlier today,” Taiana said, then turned to the Hunter.
“Pale skin, round cheeks, childish chin,” the Hunter replied, adding, “and purple eyes like the rest of your kind.”
“Ah, of course.” Garnos nodded. “A bright, cheerful lad, it seemed.”
Relief at discovering Hailen still lived mingled with worry for his wellbeing. If the Elivasti have taken him, it means the Sage has him.
“Where is he?” the Hunter demanded. “Tell me where I can find him and how I can get to him.”
“You can’t.” Garnos’ face fell. “He’s at the Sage’s side and surrounded by twenty of our master’s most trusted at all times.”
Acid burned in the back of the Hunter’s throat. The Sage has the blood he needs to activate the Keeps. The memory of the demon’s slim, pale fingers resting on Hailen’s shoulders in the tunnels beneath Shana Laal set a fire of fury burning within the Hunter. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked and his forearms trembled.
“You’re certain of this?” Taiana asked, casting a warning glance at the Hunter.
“As certain as I can be.” Garnos shrugged. “You know my place is down below, not patrolling the streets or serving our master directly.”
The words “down below” caught the Hunter’s attention, but before he could ask, Taiana pressed the man.
“And there is no way you could get Drayvin access to that part of Hellsgate?”
Garnos shook his head. “The others would become immediately suspicious if they saw me anywhere above the fourth level. Our master’s chambers are on the fifth floor of Hellsgate.”
“Does it have windows?” the Hunter asked. “A skylight, balcony, or any sort of roof access?”
“You’re not going to climb in, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Garnos frowned. “The exterior is a single unbroken wall of Serenii glass. There are exactly two ways in: through the front gate, and from down below.”
“So I’ll get in that way.” The Night Guild in Praamis used the Serenii-built sewer tunnels beneath the city to get around unseen. If a similar maze of tunnels existed here, he would endure the stench of offal and human excrement for Hailen’s sake.
Garnos’ brow furrowed and he shot a questioning look at Taiana. “He doesn’t know what’s down below?”
Taiana shook her head, her expression hardening. “I haven’t told him yet.”
The Hunter looked between the two. “What haven’t you told me?” The discovery that Taiana wasn’t telling him everything only reinforced his suspicions. “What is down below?”
Garnos shook his head, and sorrow flashed in his violet eyes. “Only death and suffering.”
That only added to the flames of the Hunter’s curiosity. “One of you is going to tell me what’s going on right now, or I’ll—”
Taiana’s hiss cut off his words. Quick as a wraith, the Hunter slipped back into the shadows of the room. Taiana pressed in beside him, and Garnos followed suit. A moment later, the tromp, tromp of heavy boots echoed from down the street.
The Hunter peered out of hiding in the direction of the sound, and his blood ran cold. What in the fiery hell?
A group of hooded, cloaked figures marched toward them. The light of their torches revealed a handful of smaller figures in their midst, and the sound of childish whimpering
drifted on the night breeze.
Keeper’s teeth! His gut clenched at the sight of the eight small boys and girls stumbling between the dozen or so Elivasti. A merchant he’d met in the Whispering Waste had spoken of “purple-eyed spirits” abducting children from Vothmot, but the man had written it off as nothing more than superstition or folk tales. Yet to see it happening before his eyes brought a wave of hot fury washing over him. The bastards!
It took every shred of willpower to remain motionless as the Elivasti and their child captives marched past. Were it not for the Elivasti marching past a few dozen paces from where they hid, he would have ripped Soulhunger from its sheath and hacked the man to pieces. The moment they had disappeared from view, the Hunter whirled on Garnos, seized his collar, and slammed him against the wall.
“Children?” he hissed. “You are taking bloody children?” His fists clenched and unclenched in his rage.
Vitriol flashed in Garnos’ violet eyes. “You think I don’t hate it as much as you do?” He didn’t shrink back from the Hunter’s fury, but met it with his own anger. “You think it doesn’t fill me with shame at the thought of what my people are doing to the humans? Why else do you think I agreed to help Taiana put an end to it all?”
The Hunter’s head snapped around to stare at Taiana, who nodded. “He’s on our side.” She spoke in a quiet voice, and a mixture of sorrow and remorse filled her eyes.
“I hate what we’ve become,” Garnos said, his words barely above a whisper. “What this has turned our people into.”
“What what has turned your people into?” the Hunter demanded. “Where in the bloody hell are they taking those children?”
“To the Pit.” Garnos’ face was ashen, disgust etched into every line of his aging face.
The Hunter released the man’s collar with a growl. “What is the Pit?”
“It is better I show you.” Garnos said. “Words would not do it justice.”
“Come, Drayvin.” Taiana placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need to see to understand.”
It took a superhuman effort of will for the Hunter not to lash out in rage, but he slid away from her hand. How much is she concealing from me? What terrible secrets has she not told me? His innate distrust for everyone—including the woman that once was his wife—flared to life, and once again he felt that sinking feeling of loneliness. Was there no one in the world he could trust?
“Please.” Taiana’s black eyes met his. “Please, Drayvin.”
He held her gaze a long moment, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit. He saw nothing to indicate treachery, but a part of him wondered if he was too blinded by his feelings for her to see the truth.
Instead, he turned to the Elivasti. He had no reason to trust Garnos, nor any previous history to alter his perception of the man.
“Show me,” he growled. “Now.”
Garnos led him up onto the rooftop, to a terrace that faced to the north and east.
“There,” said the man, his expression shouting his revulsion. His finger pointed to the flaming hole in the mountain outside Enarium. “That is the Pit.”
Chapter Twelve
The Hunter’s bones froze to the marrow. A fist of ice clenched his heart, and it took him a moment to speak.
“Khar’nath?” His voice was hard, as cold as the Frozen Sea. “You’re throwing children into the Keeper-damned fiery hell?”
“No, no!” Taiana’s eyes went wide in horror. “Drayvin, it’s not like that.”
The Hunter turned to her. “You were there that night!” His voice rose to a shout, and it took a colossal effort of will to lower it to a normal volume. “You were there when the gods cast the Abiarazi into Khar’nath, and they would have done the same to us if not for…” He trailed off. She was looking at him strangely. “Tell me you remember.”
“I remember that night,” Taiana said in a slow voice. “But not quite like you do.”
The Hunter’s gut tightened. “What do you mean? You were there beside me, kneeling on those hard stones as we watched the Abiarazi hurled into the flaming pit.”
“I was there.” Taiana nodded. “And the Abiarazi were hurled into the pit. But what you’re seeing is not flames. It’s the glow of the crystals lining the walls of Khar’nath.”
The Hunter’s eyes narrowed and his gaze darted back toward the pit in the distance. From their vantage point, he could only glimpse the nearest edge of Khar’nath. Red light leaked from its depths and it seemed the walls of the pit writhed with living fire. But as he stared at it, he realized he saw no tongues of flame, no smoke rising into the night sky. Given its size, he ought to almost feel the heat even from this distance.
Could she be right? He remembered it so clearly, but could his memories be wrong? They had only begun to return in the last few months. Could the passage of time and Illusionist Clerics’ rituals have affected my recollection?
“Show me,” he demanded. “I have to see it with my eyes, up close.”
Taiana and Garnos exchanged glances.
“It’s too great a risk,” the Elivasti said with a shake of his head. “I could not bring you through Hellsgate unnoticed, and there is no other way into the Pit otherwise.”
“I don’t need to go in.” The Hunter folded his arms. “I just need to see it for myself. See where it is you’re taking these children.” His eyes flashed to Taiana in time to see her face going pale.
Garnos’ brow furrowed. “Perhaps I could take you to the edge of Khar’nath on the plains outside Enarium, but—”
“No buts,” the Hunter snapped. He loomed over the violet-eyed man and spoke in a low growl. “Take me there.”
Garnos glanced at Taiana, as if looking for direction. The Hunter ground his teeth in frustration as long moments passed, but finally Taiana nodded.
“Do it.” She spoke in a quiet voice, heavy with sorrow. “If he must see it for himself, so be it.” She turned to the Hunter. “But once you have seen it, return to me and aid me in my search for our child.”
“And what of the boy?” the Hunter demanded. “I refuse to abandon him!”
“He is heavily guarded,” Garnos repeated. “From what I hear, the Sage refuses to let the child leave his side. As long as he remains within Hellsgate, he will be out of even your reach.”
“No.” The Hunter drove his fist into a wall, cracking stone. “I will not let that stand. I will not let the Sage use his Melechha blood to—”
“Melechha?” The color had drained from Garnos’ face, and his mouth hung open. “Th-that boy is…?” He swallowed hard and sat heavily on a straight-backed chair, passing a hand over his face. “Blessed ancestors, is it possible?”
“It is,” the Hunter said in a hard voice. “And you know what the Sage will do with his blood?”
Garnos nodded. “He will no longer need the Blood Sentinels, if the child truly is as you say.”
“Blood Sentinels?” The Hunter raised an eyebrow.
“Our master’s most trusted.” Garnos shook his head. “One hundred and twenty men and women born and raised with a singular purpose: to give their lives in service to our master when the Blood Sun is upon us.”
The Hunter’s gut clenched. He couldn’t imagine such a life, or the sort of madness required to buy in to that belief. It went far beyond the deception perpetrated upon the humans of Einan by the priests of the Enclave. As Taiana had explained, these Blood Sentinels would have been prepared to sacrifice their lives so the Sage could harness the power of the Serenii that coursed in their veins.
But with Hailen by the Sage’s side, the Blood Sentinels will no longer be needed. What will they do now that their only reason for living has been stripped away? Could they see Hailen as a threat to their very existence and seek to eliminate him? Madmen were prone to such irrationalities.
“The fact that he is Melechha makes it all the more imperative that we free him before the Sage can use the power of his blood,” the Hunter insisted.
“On this, at least
, we agree.” Garnos turned to Taiana. “I will see what I can uncover about the Sage’s plans for the boy. Perhaps I might be able to send warning to prepare you if our master decides to leave the safety of Hellsgate with the boy in tow.”
“Thank you, Garnos.” Taiana gripped the man’s shoulder. “I will have the dead drop watched for your signal.”
“Of course.” Garnos gave Taiana a little bow. “Drayvin, you are certain you wish to see the Pit?”
“Yes,” the Hunter replied without hesitation.
“Then we must leave now. The watch will be changing within the half-hour, and that will be our opportunity to get through the streets of Enarium unnoticed.”
The Hunter nodded. “Then let’s go. But first, give me a moment with Taiana.”
“I will wait for you below.” Garnos turned and disappeared from the room.
“Drayvin,” Taiana began, “are you willing to risk—?”
“It will be no risk.” The Hunter cut her off with a shake of his head. “I will not take unnecessary chances, but I must see Khar’nath for myself. You know what it means to me. To all our kind. It was very nearly the end of our race. And, if my memories truly have been distorted by the passage of time, I need to know.” He couldn’t be certain what other fragments of his past had also been equally affected, a thought that disconcerted him.
“But what of our daughter?” Taiana pressed. “Every minute that passes is another minute closer to the Withering. If we have not found her by then…” Her voice cracked, and a hint of panic and fear tinged her face.
The Hunter shook his head. “Do not speak so! You will find her. Soulhunger will aid you.”
He removed the dagger from his belt and handed it to her, sheath and all. It felt strange to give up the dagger of his own will—since Voramis, he’d fought to keep Soulhunger safe from those that sought to take it from him. Yet here he was, giving it to Taiana. He’d only truly known her for a day—he might not be able to trust his memories of her, of Enarium, of Khar’nath—so how could he hand it over to her?
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