Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  As he descended, a new odor tugged at the Hunter's nostrils: the odd smell that permeated the city of the Elivasti and the exterior of the temple. The steam vents!

  The pungent odor soon filled the staircase. Tendrils of white and the unmistakable hiss of steam seeped up the stairs toward him. The soft glow of the walls revealed vents set at random intervals.

  Two stairs below him, a scalding jet of steam burst from the wall.

  He flinched. Keeper's teeth! The heat was overwhelming, even from this distance.

  The spray of steam fizzled out after a few seconds. The Hunter sped up his descent, eyes scanning the walls for more vent holes. At seemingly random intervals, they would belch white hot steam and fill the stairway with their sulfurous odor.

  He half-ran down the staircase, pack bouncing against his back, his anxiety growing with every step. He had to get away from this accursed steam if he was to pick up Hailen's scent again.

  A jet of white burst from the wall on the step below him. He had no time to stop. He grunted as the scalding heat seared his left leg. The raw flesh sent knives stabbing into him with every step, but still he pressed on, heaping curses upon whatever devious architect had designed this escape.

  The staircase ended, and the Hunter stumbled down the tunnel, his burned leg stiff and throbbing. He didn't have time to let his body heal itself. Though it would sap his energy, he'd have to speed things along.

  Fingers digging into stone, he turned his attention inward. The sensations coursing through his injured leg intensified as he focused on the raw, scorched flesh. With an exertion of will, he sent blood rushing through the wound, willing the damaged muscle and skin to be whole. Lightning crackled through his brain, and a spasm shook his leg. His knee buckled and gave way. He caught himself on the stone wall and breathed through the waves of pain that racked his healing body.

  The fire in his leg dimmed, and the lightning subsided. His head ached and fatigue weighed on every limb, but at least he could walk. Ignoring the exhaustion, he forced himself forward. He had to find Hailen before the demon decided the boy was no longer useful.

  A distant part of his mind dissected every word the Sage had spoken since his arrival in Kara-ket. How much of it had been true, and how much a lie? The demon's twisted mind worked in ways he couldn't hope to understand. The Hunter had a simple solution: he'd hunt the bastard down and ask for the truth—right before slitting his lying throat open.

  I'm coming for you, Sage!

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Keeper take you, you bastard!

  The Hunter stood at an intersection of tunnels, mind racing. Which of three had the Sage chosen? The pungent steam drowned out any hints of the demon's scent. Or Hailen's. There was nothing on the stone—no scuff marks, bootprints, or even a fabric of cloth—to tell him which way to go. So what now?

  With a curse, he drove his fist into the cave wall. Blood dripped from a cut in his knuckles. He unwrapped the cloth from around his bicep and dabbed at the wound.

  The cloth! The Sage had given it to him. Even if he couldn't track Hailen's scent, Soulhunger would help him hunt the demon. A grim smile broadened his face.

  He dragged Soulhunger's edge across his palm and, ignoring the pain, dripped blood onto the blade. For far too long, he'd hunted alone. Now, with Soulhunger's help, he would find the Sage and put an end to him once and for all.

  Sitting, he closed his eyes and turned his thoughts inward, allowing his mind to drift. Power hummed through the stones around him. The Hunter focused his attention on the gentle throbbing. As he wiped the blade clean, he bent his mind to finding the man to whom the cloth belonged.

  Worry nagged at him, ruining his concentration. For decades, he'd depended on Soulhunger to help him track his victims. Yet the last time he'd tried to locate an Abiarazi this way, he'd failed. Would the ritual fail him again?

  He pushed his uncertainty aside, along with his fear for Hailen. Perhaps his rage over Farida's death had caused the ritual to fail. Since then, his mind had grown stronger. He'd learned to control his thoughts, to hide them from his inner demon, and to exert his will to change the shape of his body. Drawing in a deep breath, he forced his consciousness to seek out the heart of his intended victim.

  There! The pulse sounded faint, but as he focused on it, it grew stronger. The Sage was somewhere off to his left. Got you now, you bastard!

  Leaping to his feet, the Hunter sheathed Soulhunger and shouldered his pack. The voice of his inner demon echoed the dagger's desire and set his mind pounding. As much as it hated him for killing Abiarazi, it wanted blood even more.

  You will have the death you crave.

  He ran his fingers over the wall. The light of his shuttered alchemical lamp revealed indecipherable markings etched into stone. They matched the Serenii symbols in the stone passages beneath Voramis. He had no time to waste wondering what the writing meant; the Sage had at least an hour's lead.

  Light shone ahead. Light meant people, most likely the Sage's Elivasti. Voices echoed through the tunnels. The sound set his heart racing. At least I know I'm on the right track.

  A man's voice rang out around the corner. "I tell you, we're waiting for nothing! There's no way he's getting past Raiken and Hanarra." The dancing shadows at the end of the corridor told him the Elivasti held a torch.

  They're talking about me. The Hunter slowed and placed the lamp on the floor. In the tunnels, a bright lamp would render him night-blind.

  The voice in his mind snarled, “What can one man do against you? Cut him down where he stands!”

  The Hunter clenched his jaw and pushed the voice back. He's not talking to himself. There has to be more of them. Besides, I have no need to fight them…yet.

  Closing his eyes, he turned his consciousness inward. Arcs of energy ripped at his mind as he exerted his will on his face. He called to mind the face of the Elivasti he'd seen on the Warmaster's training grounds, and again lying dead on the ground. Flesh and bone shifted, sending waves of pain racing through him. The sun blazed behind his eyelids. He had no mirror to examine his handiwork; he could only hope he'd done it right.

  The Hunter tightened his grip on Hanarra's metal-shod staff. A thrill of anticipation coursed through him. He'd never changed the color of his eyes before. Here goes nothing.

  As he rounded the corner, three Elivasti whirled and raised their staves. "Who goes there?"

  "It's me, you fools!" He removed the cloth mask, revealing his face—the face of Hanarra.

  One of the men squinted at him. "Hanarra? Where's Raiken? Don't tell me the Hunter got him!"

  A slow smile spread his lips. I did it! He spoke in his best imitation of the dead Elivasti's voice. "Fell off the bridge, took the Hunter with him."

  "Damn it!" The speaker shook his head. "I'd hate to be the one to tell Daemos."

  The Hunter nodded. "Indeed." The names meant nothing to him. "Now, point me toward the Sage. He'll want to hear the news of the Hunter's death."

  The speaker pointed down the tunnel. "We're to meet him down in Kharan-cui, though I doubt he'll wait for us. He's in a hurry. Wants to reach Enarium before the Withering, though that's still more than a month off."

  With a nod, the Hunter replaced his mask. "I'll be off, then."

  "We'll come with you." The three fell in beside him. "With the Hunter dead, we've no reason to guard our rear."

  The Hunter's gut tightened. He doubted he could keep up the deception for much longer. He gripped the foremost man's arm. "The Masters of Agony. Somehow they found the way down."

  "What? Impossible!"

  The Hunter jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I found a dozen bodies littering the stairs, two of our own among them."

  "Damn!" The speaker reached for his quarterstaff. "Nysar and Tinath were good men."

  The Hunter gave a noncommittal grunt.

  "Go," the Elivasti said. "Report to our master." He turned to his two comrades. "We hold our positions. Not one damned torturer gets past
."

  The Hunter rushed down the corridor before the men thought to question his story. He would rather avoid a fight; it would only slow him down. If the Elivasti spoke true and the Sage was in a hurry, he couldn't afford any more delay.

  He ran, pouring every shred of strength into his effort. Frustration grew with every step. With only his pounding heartbeat to mark the passage of time, he had no idea how far behind he was. All he knew was that he had to keep going until he found Hailen.

  The straps of his packs dug into his shoulder and his legs burned from his interminable run, but he couldn't afford to slow. The Sage had at least an hour's lead on him. He had to catch up, else risk losing Hailen forever.

  A memory flashed through his mind. He sprinted through the darkened tunnels, heedless of his surroundings. He had eyes only for the light ahead, and the man carrying the torch.

  Once again, he sprinted through Serenii tunnels in pursuit of a demon. In Voramis, he'd raced after the First, seeking vengeance for the death of Farida and the others. Now, he pursued the Abiarazi in a desperate attempt to save the life of another innocent child.

  I'm coming, Hailen!

  The narrow stone passage widened into another large circular intersection. The Hunter ground to a halt, unsure of where to go. Soulhunger pounded in the back of his mind—the voice had grown quiet since it had fed. His eyes darted down the three adjoining passages. Chaos whirled in his thoughts. Which way? He couldn't risk taking the wrong passage.

  A figure stepped from within the shadows of the central passage.

  The Hunter's stomach bottomed out. No. Not him…

  The man wore the monochrome robes of the Elivasti, his hair and beard shot through with grey. He had the strong, lean build of his kind, but moved with the grace of an apex predator.

  "Not another step, Hunter."

  His hands—callused from more than a century spent training and fighting—made no move toward the sword on his hip. There was no need.

  "How…" He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "How did you know?"

  Master Eldor smiled. "You can change your clothes, your face even, but remember who trained you. You cannot hide the way you move, not from me."

  The Hunter removed the cloth mask and let it fall to the ground. "What are you doing here?"

  "I cannot let you pass." Remorse filled Master Eldor's violet eyes. "The Sage has given a direct command. By the oath of the Elivasti, I cannot disobey."

  "Damn the oath, Master Eldor!" the Hunter shouted. "You were willing to kill him, but now you are his loyal servant once more?"

  "No." The old Elivasti shook his head. "But what choice do I have? Somehow he found out what we intended. He discovered our plans to help you. He named us oathbreakers and had his men execute Master Belros and the others, as is his right."

  The Hunter's mind raced. Execute? Master Belros and the other Elivasti bore sword wounds. The only people who carried blades on Shana Laal were the Masters of Agony; the Elivasti wielded their metal-shod staves.

  No, that's not true. The Elivasti he'd encountered on the stairs and the ones behind him had also carried blades—blades they'd taken from Master Belros' cellar. The Sage must have discovered the secret stockpile of weapons as well.

  "But he wasn't done yet." His shoulders slumped. "He gave the orders to have the children executed as well."

  "What?" The Hunter's eyes flew wide. "But he cannot—"

  "He could. A condition of the vow our ancestors made. Any Elivasti guilty of raising a hand against an Abiarazi can be purged, and his entire family with him." Pain twisted the old man's expression. "Men, women, and children."

  The Hunter's gut twisted. How could anyone have sworn an oath with such barbaric terms?

  "He killed Belros and the others, but he gave me a choice: if I obeyed his commands one last time, he would spare the young ones."

  One last time. The words echoed in the Hunter's mind. Master Eldor didn't expect to walk away from this. Even if he killed the Hunter, he would face execution at the Sage's hand.

  "So you chose the children."

  Hope surged within the Hunter. If Master Eldor saved the other children, was Hailen safe as well?

  "Where are they?"

  The old Elivasti shook his head. "They are safe. With their kind. But the Sage has your boy."

  "So help me save him!" The Hunter strode forward.

  Master Eldor interposed himself, a hand on his sword hilt. "I cannot."

  A weight of despondency settled on the Hunter's shoulders. Plans within plans. Master Eldor, like the Elivasti behind him, was the Sage's contingency in case the Hunter survived the Warmaster. Who better to face me than the man who trained me?

  Pieces clicked into place. The Sage had shared his plans as a means to gain the Hunter's trust—at least long enough to set him on the Warmaster. The demon had never intended for him to survive this night either.

  "Please, don't do this," he whispered. His pack thumped to the ground. He stared in horror at the man barring his way. It was as if a giant hand crushed his heart and squeezed the air from his lungs.

  Master Eldor's expression hardened. "For the sake of my people, I must." He spoke in a tight, clipped tone, as if each word pained him. "I fought for the survival of the Elivasti, for their future. Even now, the Masters of Agony are being driven out of Shana Laal. The Warmaster is dead, the Sage fleeing. Kara-ket belongs to us now. All that remains is for you to free us from our servitude."

  "But how the bloody hell will I do that if you are ordered to stop me."

  Master Eldor gave him a sad smile. "You'll find a way. We will be free, even if I do not live long enough to see the day."

  "Why?" The lump in his throat made speaking difficult. "Why would the Sage leave you? Did he know of our—"

  "Our history?" Master Eldor shrugged. "Who is to say? But does it matter?" His knuckles whitened around his sword hilt. "At least I had a chance to see you again." With slow, deliberate movements, he drew his sword.

  "Please, Master Eldor!" Desperation tinged the Hunter's voice. "Don't do this! Don't let him use you any longer."

  The violet eyes blazed. "You think that I want this? To fight the man who was like a brother to my son so many years ago?"

  The Hunter's eyes widened.

  "The other day, when you called us cowards, you were right." Master Eldor dropped his gaze. "When my people first swore loyalty to the Abiarazi, they had no idea how true the name 'demons' really was. The things I've done in service to that…creature!" He shuddered. "Why else do you think we wear the masks? It is not to hide our faces, but our shame!"

  "So cast off your oaths, Master Eldor. Rise up against the demons and take control of what is yours."

  The Elivasti shook his head. "Alas, we cannot. They hold our lives in their hands. They control the opia."

  Confusion twisted the Hunter's face. "You hold Kara-ket, and with it the opia."

  "It is not enough." Master Eldor spoke in a quiet voice. "There is but a single opia bush in Kara-ket, enough for four or five children each year. The rest is brought from Enarium."

  Enarium. The Warmaster had spoken of Elivasti in the lost city, and the Sage's plans to restore Kharna revolved around the Serenii stronghold in the Empty Mountains.

  "So why not rise against him and capture Enarium as well?"

  "We cannot. Only his chosen Elivasti know the way, and they are his servants mind, body, and soul. So long as the Sage lives, we remain dependent on him for the survival of our children." The quiet words pierced the Hunter's soul. "We may be free of the Irrsinnon, but they are not. Without the opia, what life would they have? He holds the future of the Elivasti in his hands."

  "But didn't you say it was what killed your son? If the opia is fatal to so many, wouldn't you be better off without it?"

  "No," the Elivasti said in a quiet voice. "It may be an abomination, but what would you have us do? Lose all of our children to madness? Be confined to this mountaintop, and never see the wo
rld with our own eyes? Already, too few of us are free to roam Einan without clinging to the shadow of our ancestors. Too few children are born to us, and even with the opia sent from Enarium, only a fraction will ever be cleansed. The line of the Serenii cannot end! Thus, we choose the lesser of two evils. And the Sage knows it, which is why he had me tell you not to give it to your boy."

  The revelation rocked the Hunter to the core. The Sage had seen his reaction to the effects of the opia, but why have Master Eldor warn him against it? He thought back to that conversation atop the enclosure wall. The Elivasti's pain at losing his son had convinced him not to give opia to Hailen. But what purpose would that serve? The Sage would want the Hunter dependent on the opia to convince him to follow his orders. Chaos whirled in his mind. The pieces just didn't fit.

  Master Eldor's face hardened, and he stalked toward the Hunter, drawing a dagger from his belt. Horror twisted the Hunter's stomach as the reek of iron flooded his nostrils.

  "Wait!" The Hunter held up empty hands, his voice rising to a desperate shout "Just wait!" He couldn't fight Master Eldor. The Elivasti had won every time they'd sparred, wielding just a wooden practice blade. Now, with an iron dagger and steel sword, the Hunter knew he stood no chance.

  But it was more than that. The man was one of the few links to his past. In the time he'd spent training with the Elivasti, he'd come to admire the warrior—even respect him. Their mutual pain over lost loved ones had rekindled a bond the Illusionist Clerics had shattered when they erased his memory. Somehow he knew: he'd once cared for this man.

  "I-I can't fight you!" He spread his arms wide.

  Master Eldor's expression grew grim. "You must."

  "I won't."

  "Then you will die." Sorrow in his eyes, Master Eldor attacked.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The Hunter dropped beneath a high swing, twisted aside from a thrust, and darted backward to avoid a chop at his knees. Master Eldor followed with the relentless tenacity of a stalking predator. His sword flashed everywhere at once, darting almost too fast for the Hunter to follow. Every shred of skill went into evading Master Eldor's attacks; more than once, only his inhuman speed saved him from losing a limb.