Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The last time he'd seen the red-haired knight, she had hurled him into the Chasm of the Lost and left him for dead. That was in Malandria, half a world to the south. Yet here she was, dismounting in front of Divinity House.

  The light of the torch in her hand illuminated the new tension in her posture, a hard edge to her features that hadn't been there when they first met. A familiar greatsword hung from her back--Lord Knight Moradiss' blade had come dangerously close to killing him in Malandria.

  "Demonspawn!" she shouted in a voice of barely restrained fury. "I know you're in there. Surrender yourself and spare the lives of those within. If I must storm by force and drag you out, you put everyone inside at peril."

  The Hunter's heart thundered against his ribs. Nearly twenty Warrior Priests surrounded Sir Danna. He’d faced the priests of Derelana only once before and had a great deal of respect for their skill at arms. There was no way he could fight his way through twenty of them, and definitely not with Sir Danna beside them.

  But he couldn't stand by and do nothing. Sir Danna could sense the presence of Soulhunger's gemstone. He had no idea how she'd tracked it across Einan, but she had. If she stormed the kaffehouse, she would find Hailen and the dagger. There was no way he could free the boy from her clutches before Father Reverentus sent the Cambionari after him. He had to move quickly.

  He studied the group of torch-carrying warriors arrayed on the street in front of Divinity House. The Warrior Priests were tense in expectation of a battle, their stances wary, ready to storm the building.

  The Hunter turned and raced toward the nearby alley, which led behind the row of kaffehouses. His dark grey cloak blended with the shadows of the darkening evening, concealing his movements as he raced down the narrow back street. He had a matter of minutes to get Hailen out of Divinity House before Sir Danna broke down the kaffehouse door.

  Relief filled his chest as he saw only empty streets all the way to Divinity House. He hammered on the rear door of the kaffehouse until a heavy-necked guard pulled it open. He shoved his way in without waiting for the thug to move aside.

  Scantily-clad women regarded him with a curiosity that failed to hide the fear shining in their eyes. They had no idea why an angry knight stood outside their door, but Sir Danna had made her intentions plain. She would be storming in at any minute, and they would all be in danger. The kaffehouse’s guards, little more than club-wielding brawlers, exchanged nervous glances. Doubtless they were seriously evaluating their chances of survival in a direct confrontation. The outcome was grim.

  "Sastia, where is she?" he demanded.

  One of the women, a blonde-haired Praamian with pale skin and lips painted a deep shade of turquoise, pointed up the stairs. "Third door on the left. But she's—"

  He didn't hear the rest of the sentence as raced up the stairs and sprinted toward the room indicated, his boots pounding on the wooden floor. He tested the knob and found it locked. With a growl, he lifted his foot and slammed his heel into the door, just beside the locking mechanism.

  Sastia screamed as he entered, but he held up a hand to calm her. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "Unless you want those warriors storming the building right now."

  Her eyes were wide in fear, but her scream was cut off. "What's going on?" she demanded in a whisper. "Why are they—"

  The Hunter knelt before the boy, who sat on the ground playing with a collection of colorful blocks of wood. "Hailen. We need to go."

  Soulhunger, hanging on Hailen's belt, filled his mind with its delight at his return. The dagger sensed the urgency in his thoughts and welcomed it. Urgency meant danger, and danger meant the Hunter would be forced to use it to kill. Soulhunger's joy echoed in this thoughts; the blade thrilled at the anticipation that it would soon be fed.

  Hailen looked up. "Hello, Hardwell," he said with a smile. It wasn't the instant, bright smile he remembered from his first meeting with the boy. Instead, it was slow, hesitant, as if the boy's mind took time to comprehend that the person before him was familiar.

  "Where are your things?" The Hunter forced himself to speak in a gentle tone to avoid startling the boy. Enough fear filled the kaffehouse already.

  "The bed," Hailen said, not looking up from the blocks.

  The Hunter leapt toward the bed and scooped up Hailen's pack, which lay beside his own. The straps remained closed, and he found nothing missing when he checked them. He slung them over his back, stooped, and scooped Hailen into his arms.

  The boy gave a little cry of protest. "My blocks!"

  "Here." Sastia held out a block painted purple. "It's a match for your pretty eyes."

  Hailen smiled and clutched the block to his chest. "Thank you," he said in a slow voice.

  The Hunter inclined his head to the woman. "Truly, thank you."

  Sastia gave a little nod. "I'm glad I had a chance to spend time with him. A remarkable lad, he is."

  More than you know, the Hunter thought as he left the room and carried Hailen down the stairs.

  Madame Aioni met him on the bottom floor. “Leaving so soon?” Her face twisted down into a theatrical frown, and she shook her head. “A shame. We could have offered you so much mo—“

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” the Hunter said, “but I’m certain you’d rather I depart before those men outside storm your home.”

  Her congenial affect disappeared in a moment, replaced by a hard light that set her eyes ablaze. "Friends of yours?"

  The Hunter shook his head. "Old enemies I thought I left far behind me."

  The madame scowled. "You just had to bring them to my home, eh?"

  "I had no idea they were in town, I swear. Had I known…" He would never have left Hailen here.

  "No way to unbreak this egg, I suppose." She folded her arms over her ample bosom. "You'll be wanting your horses, I take it?"

  The Hunter nodded. "We'll take the back way out, use the alleys to lose them."

  "Where do you want me to have my boy meet you with your mounts?"

  "Just inside the north gate," the Hunter said. "It'll take us most of the night to shake them and get over there. But I'll need the mounts and these bags there no later than the second hour before dawn."

  The madame held out a hand. "I'll see it done."

  The Hunter set the saddlebags on the ground and reached into a pocket for a golden imperial. At the hard look in the woman's eyes, he set four more in her palm.

  She nodded and pocketed the coins. "I don't know what you did to anger the knight, but I'll wish you the Mistress' luck on getting yourself clear."

  "Thank you. The Apprentice smile on your establishment." The blessing rang hollow in his ears, but he said it not for himself. She couldn't know that the gods she believed in were all a fabrication.

  One of the brothel guards peered out the doorway. "Two to the left," he whispered. "Head right, then take the first alley to the left. It's a maze back there."

  The Hunter gave the man a grateful nod and slipped out the door. The sun had fully set by now, and the shadows of night concealed him as he hurried away from the brothel. The tromp, tromp of heavy boots grew louder behind him. He picked up the pace, trusting his cloak to keep him hidden. He scanned the darkness in search of the alley the guard had mentioned.

  His heart leapt as he spotted it just twenty paces away. Shifting Hailen in his arms, he jogged toward the alley.

  He was just about to duck around the corner when a voice shattered the silence of the night.

  "There he is!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Hunter had a split second to react. Either try to outrun the men behind him or fight his way free. For once, he didn't argue with the demon or Soulhunger's desires. He'd never get away carrying Hailen, not with the Warrior Priests so close behind.

  He rushed five steps down the alley and set Hailen on the ground.

  "Close your eyes and cover your ears," he hissed. "Do it, now!"

  Hailen complied, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping chubby
little hands over his ears. The Hunter drew Soulhunger from the sheath on the boy's belt even as he pulled his sword free. He slipped back toward the mouth of the alley, crouched, and waited.

  The sound of booted feet grew louder as his pursuers thudded toward him. With all the force he could muster, he swung a left-handed blow in a hard, low sweep.

  Steel clanged off heavy greaves, but the force of the strike shattered the bone beneath. A man in splinted mail fell to the ground with a cry of pain. The Hunter was already swinging again, and the tip of his sword ripped open the man's throat, silencing his voice. The man gurgled and clasped a hand to his throat.

  The second Warrior Priest hurtled into view and swung his long sword at the Hunter's head. The Hunter ducked the blow, then twisted violently to avoid a dagger thrust aimed at his gut. The stink of iron flooded the Hunter's nostrils as the blade scraped a thin line into his leather armor.

  Before the man could pull back from the strike, the Hunter returned with a blow of his own. His sword struck high, and a second later Soulhunger thrust upward. The Warrior Priest, ducking the intentionally high swipe, met the rising dagger. Razor-sharp steel sliced through the soft flesh of his neck, through the roof of his mouth, and into his brain. He fell without a sound.

  All this happened in the space of two heartbeats. The Hunter listened for any sign Sir Danna or the other Warrior Priests pursued him, but heard nothing. Taking a deep breath to push back the thrill of battle, he wiped the tip of his sword on the dead man's cloak and sheathed it.

  "Feed me!" Soulhunger raged. The demon in the Hunter's mind echoed its fury at being deprived its kill.

  In Kara-ket, the Hunter had learned a curious truth: the gemstone set in Soulhunger's hilt was only activated by the terrified screams of his victims. Without those screams, the dagger could not feed. When he'd killed the Warrior Priest, there had been no rush of power, no crimson light radiating from the gemstone, no fresh scars etched into his flesh. It had been a simple death, as if he'd killed using common steel. Demon and blade shrieked in protest at the wasted death. They hated the Hunter for depriving them of the dead man's life force.

  Right now, a silent death would prove the wiser choice. If Sir Danna heard screams, she'd come running and he'd never escape. He couldn't protect Hailen and fight Sir Danna, much less all the Warrior Priests with her as well. The iron daggers in the dead men's hands told him the Cambionari knight had prepared them for their battle with him.

  He raced back toward Hailen. The boy flinched as the Hunter laid a hand on his shoulder, but his fear turned to relief as his eyes popped open.

  "Come on, Hailen." The Hunter helped the boy to stand. "We need to run."

  "Are there bad men chasing us again?" Hailen asked.

  The Hunter nodded.

  "Why?"

  The question, spoken in a voice of genuine innocence, nearly broke the Hunter's heart. Hailen couldn't understand why Sir Danna was chasing them. Chasing him, and Hailen would simply be collateral in her quest for vengeance.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Come on, we need to go," he said and took Hailen's hand.

  The Hunter set off at a jog, slow enough for Hailen to keep up. Hailen's physical health had deteriorated since their departure from Kara-ket. Whatever had made him healthy in the shadow of the Serenii temples had faded, and the boy was once again the weak, easily fatiguing child he'd been on their journey from Malandria. After just a few blocks, the Hunter had to scoop Hailen into his arms and carry him as he put as much distance as possible between them and Sir Danna.

  "What about Ash and Elivasti?" Hailen asked as he bounced in the Hunter's arms.

  "We'll see them again…soon," the Hunter said between clenched teeth. "But for now…be quiet and…trust me. I'll…get us to safety."

  He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

  * * *

  Sweat soaked the Hunter's tunic, and the muscles in his back and legs burned as he finally paused for a rest. He leaned on his knees and sucked in deep breaths. He'd been running for what felt like an hour. The narrow alleyways of Vothmot's Ward of Bliss really were a maze as the guard had said. Even his keen sense had failed him in the cramped, twisting streets. When they finally emerged onto one of the main thoroughfares of the city, he found himself farther from the north gate than he would have liked.

  But he couldn't keep running. He needed a break. His arms and back ached from carrying Hailen, and his legs were cramping from lack of water, food, and rest. He almost regretted his decision to not let Soulhunger feed on the Warrior Priest. The rush of power from the dagger would be just the boost he needed to get them the rest of the way.

  The faces of the two Warrior Priests he’d killed flashed through his mind. Warrior Priests served Derelana, Goddess of Vengeance, and they wore the symbols of their goddess etched into the swirling black tattoos that lined their faces and the shaven right sides of their heads.

  Much like the Adepts, servants of the Swordsman, Warrior Priests were a martial priesthood, trained from a young age in the skills of combat. Once they became full Militants, they joined the ranks of their brothers-in-arms that traveled Einan, hiring out their swords to anyone with a mission of revenge their upper-priests deemed worthy of the Lady’s vengeance. They were like mercenaries, but with a holy quest to bring harsh, often fatal justice to wrongdoers. From beggars to kings, they held all subjects to the wrath of the goddess, and were relentless in the execution of what they believed to be divine obligations.

  The Hunter had faced the Warrior Priests once before, many years earlier and thousands of leagues away. One of the targets he’d been paid to kill had fled south, across the Frozen Sea to the Principality of Icespire. When he had followed, he found himself competing with the Militants to be the first one to eliminate the man. He had learned a great deal of respect for the skill-at-arms of Derelana’s followers and would rather avoid confronting them again.

  But if they traveled beside Sir Danna, it meant she had convinced them that her quest for vengeance truly was holy. They would not rest until he suffered Derelana’s holy retribution, or Sir Danna fell by his hand. It was one of the quirks of their order: if the one who contracted them died before revenge was carried out, the Warrior Priests considered it a sign that the quest hadn’t truly been holy.

  “Kill the knight, then, and be done with this!” the demon shrieked in his mind.

  The Hunter pushed the voice away. Just this once, he considered escape the more effective solution. He had no time for delay, and the Empty Mountains could provide him ample opportunity to lose Sir Danna and her Warrior Priest entourage.

  He glanced up at the moon. Midnight wasn't far off. He had another couple of hours to cover the distance to the north gate. He'd have to push the pace, which meant either carrying Hailen again or hoping the boy could keep up. For now, he'd settle for trotting with the boy beside him.

  With a groan, he stood and set off at a jog. Hailen soon panted and wheezed, growing exhausted, but the Hunter didn't slow. They had a good deal of ground to cover if they were to make their rendezvous with Darillon at dawn.

  The streets around them were mostly empty, save for the occasional late-night wagon. Patrols of Wardens of the Peak passed at regular intervals, forcing the Hunter to slow to a nonchalant walk. They gave him only a casual glance. A man in a dark cloak hurrying through the streets alone would be suspicious, but Hailen's presence made it seem far more innocuous. There could be dozens of reasons a man and his son would be out this late.

  He scanned the streets for any sign of the Cambionari Father Reverentus had inevitably sent after him. At each new intersection, he glanced over his shoulder to check for pursuing Warrior Priests. The mounted warriors could cover ground far more quickly than he could afoot. He had to hope they'd elected to follow him through the alleyways instead of simply pursuing him on horseback.

  His gut clenched at every sound around him. The clang of a metal window shutter set his teeth on edge, and he jum
ped at the tromp, tromp of the Wardens’ boots. He ducked into a shadowed alleyway as the sound of horses' hooves thundered toward him. Only after he'd concealed himself did he pick up the additional creak of carriage wheels. He cursed in frustration as a horse-drawn buggy rolled past.

  Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of danger. Too many people in Vothmot were hunting him. Sir Danna and her Warrior Priests. Father Reverentus' Cambionari. Fiery hell, he wouldn't be surprised if the Sage had spies among the populace. For the first time, he found himself yearning for the emptiness of the open road. Out there, at least he knew who watched him. He could see his foes and choose to fight, hide, or flee. Here in the confines of the city, enemies could lurk around every corner.

  He was keenly aware of Hailen's hand in his. Blood seeped from the boy's fingernails, turning his grip slick. Crimson droplets left a trail in the dust of the road. If Sir Danna knew what to look for, she would have no problem following him. He hadn't had time to bandage Hailen's hand to conceal the effects of the boy’s contact with his demonic blood.

  Enemies closed in from all sides. He had to flee the city and into the Empty Mountains before his foes cut off any chance of escape.

  Relief washed over him as he rounded a corner in the street and spotted the north gate. He was so close to freedom.

  What the citizens of Vothmot called a gate was actually little more than an open archway. The massive wooden doors had rotted away centuries ago, the iron banding turned to rust by the passage of time. In the absence of war, the Vothmoti never bothered to replace it.

  Traffic never fully ceased at the north gate. Travelers from all over Einan rode up the broad highway from the southwest, while treasure-seekers off to hunt for Enarium exited through the gate nearest the Empty Mountains. The Wardens on guard watched the flow of riders, wagons, carts, and pedestrians with a wary eye but never interfered. Too much of the city's revenue came from people visiting Vothmot for the temples or the guided tours of the nearby mountains.