Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The Hunter sat up. “Which one?” He searched her gaze. “Tell me where she is, and we’ll go there right now. I have Soulhunger, and we can use the gemstone to get into the Keep and free—”

  “I don’t know.” The words were spoken in a voice almost too quiet for him to hear.

  “What?” The Hunter’s voice rose to a shout.

  Remorse burned in Taiana’s eyes. “I…cannot remember. My memories are…”

  Fury sparkled bright and hot in the Hunter, but not directed at her. “The Illusionist Clerics!” he growled. “By the Keeper, I’ll find every last one of those mad bastards and shove their heads so far up—”

  “No.” Taiana placed a hand on his chest. “I have not undergone the Ritual as you did.” Again, a hint of remorse flashed across her face. “My time in the Chambers of Sustenance…changed me.”

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Changed you?” He scanned every inch of her perfect body. “You are exactly as I remember you.”

  “Taller,” she said with a little smile. “Taller than even you, Drayvin.”

  “So you grew a hand or two.” He shrugged. “I can live with that.”

  “It’s more than that.” Taiana met his gaze, and he saw something new burning in her eyes. There was something she hadn’t yet told him, something important. “My mind, my memories, they are…different. Changed.”

  The Hunter found himself involuntarily recoiling back from her at the thought of her being reduced to Arudan’s unfocused, forgetful mental state.

  She sighed and sat up beside him. “How can I explain this?” Her brow furrowed in concentration. “The Chambers of Sustenance are linked to the conduits through which the magical energy of Enarium flows.” She held up a hand. “Don’t bother asking me to explain much more than that. Arudan was the one who spent time studying under the Serenii, so he will be the one to give you more details on that.”

  The Hunter’s eyebrows shot up at those words. It seemed impossible that even a Bucelarii had been alive at the same time as the long-dead Serenii, yet she had spoken of them with the same familiarity as she spoke of Cerran or Kalil.

  “Suffice it to say, the Chamber in which I was imprisoned connected me to the magical energies of Enarium, but also…” She hesitated. “…to something else.”

  “Something else?” the Hunter asked. “That’s not at all vague.”

  Taiana sighed. “It is best you experience it for yourself.”

  The Hunter tensed. “You want to lock me away in the Chambers of Sustenance?”

  “No! Never!” Her eyes flashed. “But there is someone you must speak to. Someone who will make everything clear to you.”

  “Who?”

  Taiana drew in a deep breath. “It is better you speak with him for yourself.”

  The Hunter’s eyes narrowed.

  “I know it’s asking a lot,” Taiana said as she took his hands, “but for the sake of what we once shared, can you trust me?”

  Her hands felt warm in his, her fingers as strong as the will that kept her going.

  “For the sake of our daughter,” she whispered. She reached under her wool-stuffed pillow and drew out a soft blue cloth. Despite the stains, Taiana pressed it to her face and drew in a deep breath through her nose. “For Jaia.”

  The word hit him like a blow to the gut. He’d heard the name spoken once before, in the memory he’d had while trapped in the darkness beneath Shana Laal.

  She held out the cloth, and the Hunter took it. He caught her scent there: raspberries, fresh rain, violets, and wild grass. The scent of his daughter.

  “Jaia,” he breathed.

  “It was the name you wanted for her.” Taiana smiled, but it was a sad smile that brought fresh tears to her eyes.

  The words tore from his mouth with a force beyond his control. “I trust you.” He had to. He needed someone to hold on to in the madness they faced. “For her sake.”

  She kissed him, hard, and he tasted the salt on her lips. When she pulled free, she scrubbed the moisture from her eyes.

  “So, you were telling me that you cannot remember where to find our daughter,” the Hunter prompted.

  Taiana nodded. “The Warmaster’s men found me hiding here and attacked me. I took down as many as I could, but I had to protect Jaia. That was my undoing. They overwhelmed me and knocked me out. When I awoke, I was in one of the Keeps, and the Warmaster had Jaia.”

  Acid churned in the Hunter’s gut at the thought of his daughter cradled in the hands of the cruel, bloodthirsty Abiarazi.

  “He laughed as he locked her in a Chamber of Sustenance, then had me blindfolded and rendered unconscious so I could not find where they had her.” Anger flared bright in her expression, and her fingers tightened painfully around his. “I do not know what happened next, but I believe they locked me in one of the Chambers while I was unconscious.”

  “How long?” the Hunter asked quietly. “How long were you locked away?”

  A shadow flashed across her eyes. “At my last count, four thousand, eight hundred, thirty-four years.”

  The number staggered the Hunter. His memories had shown him the life they shared together long ago. Those same memories proved that they were alive during the War of Gods, but hearing it put into words drove the reality of his existence home like a dagger to the gut.

  “What…how…” He could not find the words.

  “What do you remember?” Taiana searched his eyes. “How much of your past was…erased?”

  The Hunter hesitated a long moment before speaking. “All of it.”

  Taiana’s face went pale, and she slumped back against the pillows. “All?”

  “All but a few fragments,” the Hunter said, his voice heavy. “My memories stretch back fifty years or so. I remember walking through the city gates of Voramis. I knew nothing of myself, of my past. I had no name, nothing but Soulhunger. Thanal Eth’ Athaur.” He reached for the dagger.

  She studied him, but remained silent.

  The words poured from his mouth in a rush. “I had nothing to tell me who I was, where I had come from, even what I wanted. I had only the instinct to survive, to fight when I was threatened. I killed a man to save another, and in doing so discovered I was skilled at dealing death.”

  “You always were the best soldier in our company,” Taiana said with a little smile and squeezed his hand. “I remember that much, and I also clearly remember you pissing off your commander more times than I could count. You have no idea how many times I had to talk them out of executing you for insubordination.”

  He pushed on; he couldn’t think about the implications of that discovery now. “Over the last fifty years, I have made my living as an assassin-for-hire in Voramis, a city far to the south of here.”

  “An assassin?” Taiana raised an eyebrow. “The Drayvin I knew was a gentle soul, his warlike Bucelarii nature tempered by what he’d witnessed, what he’d done, during the War of Gods.”

  The Hunter swallowed the lump in his throat. “I did what I had to in order to survive. I became known as the Hunter of Voramis, feared by all in the south of Einan.”

  “The Hunter of Voramis,” Taiana repeated. “Definitely a catchy ring to it.”

  “I certainly thought so.” The Hunter grinned, though it felt forced. “I always knew there were gaps in my memory, and that something was missing. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered what that was.”

  Taiana nodded, encouraging him to continue.

  “I never lost the memory of you,” he whispered. “Your face, your hair, your scent.” He took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “They were all I had to cling to when everything else was darkness and despair.”

  Tears of remorse glimmered in her eyes. His story only added to the burden she carried, the burden of knowing what she’d done to him.

  “But in the last few months, more and more of my memories have returned,” he continued. “I remember bits and pieces of our life, of your being pregnant with our
child.” He swallowed. “And what you did for the sake of protecting that child.”

  Her lip trembled, and shame burned bright and hot on her cheeks. “I…I know I cannot expect forgiveness—”

  “But I understand why you did it.” The Hunter gripped her hands tight. “I know the feeling of doing everything in my power to protect the ones you love. And the torment of seeing it all ripped away from you. You see, there was a little girl in Voramis…”

  His throat grew thick, his voice tight as he spoke of Farida. The words came harder when he spoke of what the First had done to her, but he forced himself to continue. He spoke of the deaths of Old Nan, Jak the Thumb, Twelve-Fingers Karrl, and all the other beggars. Those deaths weighed on him, and simply telling the story reminded him of the burden of guilt he carried.

  His anger returned full force when he told her of what he’d done to the Bloody Hand and the Dark Heresy. She winced as he detailed the plot by the First and the Third to bring the Abiarazi to Einan.

  “But after I killed them, something changed within me.” He drew a deep breath. “I could feel your presence calling to me from far away, and my memories began to return.”

  Hope shone in her eyes. “What memories?”

  “Memories of the love we shared.” He kissed her lips gently. “Of being excited for the birth of our child. And it was those memories that sustained me in my journey here.” His eyes burned into hers. “I have crossed half a world to be reunited with you, and nothing, not even an army of Elivasti will tear me away from you.”

  She returned his kiss, and fresh tears streamed down her face. Yet these were tears of joy, not sorrow.

  After long moments, she broke off the embrace with a little smile.

  “Then,” she said, “let me tell you all you do not remember.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Start at the beginning,” the Hunter said. “The very beginning, of our story.” He had nothing beyond his vague memories of her, and found himself aching to know everything.

  “That far back?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I have nothing of our lives,” the Hunter said earnestly. “Nothing but emptiness. I need to know.”

  “So be it.” Taiana nodded. “I will tell you all.

  She adjusted her position until she reclined against the wall then drew in a deep breath.

  “We met in the war camps of the Abiarazi.” She spoke in a slow voice, as if struggling to tap into faint threads of memories. “Much of that time is lost to the shadows of the past, but I remember thinking you were the most bull-headed, self-confident, irritating soldier in an army of Bucelarii. Trust me, that’s saying a lot.”

  The Hunter grinned. He’d gotten a glimpse at that part of his life mere hours ago, but he could remember the way he felt about her as vividly as he felt it now.

  “You were also the bravest and most loyal man I had ever met.” She fixed him with a piercing gaze. “And from the moment we met, I knew I’d either murder you or marry you.”

  “I’m pretty sure I prefer this outcome.”

  She gave a little laugh. “I have faint memories of the War of Gods, of the earth shattering and the heavens threatening to split at the seams. But there is one night that stands out above all.”

  The Hunter knew of which night she spoke. He had knelt on the hard stone beside her as the gods prepared to cast the Bucelarii into Khar’nath, the pit into the fiery hell. Yet how much of that had actually been true? If, as Father Reverentus had told him in Vothmot, the gods truly were a fabrication meant to give the people of Einan something to believe in, could he trust his memories? Had the gods really cast the demons into the fiery hell? Had the Beggar God truly saved their lives?

  “You were beside me that night, the night we faced the end of our kind.” She smiled at him, and her smile spoke of a lifetime of love. “The night we were saved from destruction.”

  “I remember,” the Hunter said. “We survived it together.”

  “As did so many of our fellow Bucelarii. Soldiers that had fought and killed for our fathers, warriors stained in the blood of fallen humans. We were spared, but that was far less merciful a fate than we believed.”

  The Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “The armies of men had not been defeated, and many of their soldiers and warriors remembered what we had done. There were many that hunted us down in the name of vengeance for their fallen kin and friends. It was a time of hardship for the Bucelarii, yet in many ways, perhaps it was simply repayment in kind.”

  “Where were we in all this?” the Hunter asked.

  “Here,” Taiana replied in a quiet voice. “In Enarium, hiding from the men that sought revenge. Hiding from the Illusionist Clerics, the Cambionari, the Warrior Priests, the Swordsman Adepts, everyone that wanted our heads. For forty-seven years, we lived in hiding among the descendants of the Serenii. Wanderers, they called themselves as they set out across Einan in search of a place where they could belong.”

  “The Elivasti.”

  Taiana nodded. “But many remained, too many for us to escape forever. Somehow, the Cambionari and Illusionist Clerics learned of our presence here in Enarium. They came for us. You wanted to fight, to use the Im’tasi, the weapons we received from our Abiarazi forefathers, and our superior skill, speed, and strength to defeat the enemy. Yet even as you spoke the words, I could see that you had no desire for war or battle. You had given it all up.” A sad smile touched her lips. “You had become a gardener, caring for the vast gardens the Serenii left behind in Enarium. A man of peace, the father I wanted for our child.”

  The Hunter found her words near impossible to believe. He’d lived blood and death and for so long he couldn’t imagine a life without it. A life of peace, tending to plants, encouraging things to flourish instead of killing them.

  “When the Cambionari and Illusionist Clerics arrived in Enarium,” Taiana continued, “I was forced to make a choice. We had chosen not to give up the weapons that were our birthright, for we kept them as a reminder of what we had been before our lives were spared. Too late, we found out the Cambionari could use them to track us down.”

  “So you turned me over to the Cambionari,” the Hunter said. To his surprise, he felt no anger at her. “To the Illusionist Clerics to have my memory erased.”

  “And, in doing so, saved both of our lives, and the life of our unborn child.” Taiana lifted her chin, and a hint of defiance sparkled beside the remorse filling her eyes. “The Cambionari would have killed us had we remained together, for they believed their god had given them a command to disperse us.”

  The Hunter recalled a passage from The Numeniad. “’The Beggar God visited the Bucelarii in secret, saying, 'The time will come when I have need of you. Until that day, I will spread you throughout the face of Einan, and your memories shall be forever expunged.’”

  The book was alleged to have been written during the War of Gods—another fabrication, he’d learned during his visit to the Vault of Stars in Vothmot. Yet that lie had governed the actions of the Cambionari, Illusionist Clerics, and other priestly orders for thousands of years.

  Taiana continued. “They agreed to let me remain here in Enarium after I had turned you over to have your mind erased.”

  The Hunter’s brow furrowed. “They let you live?” Sir Danna, Visibos, Lord Knight Moradiss, and the other Cambionari he’d met in recent months had been all too eager to kill him the moment they discovered his true identity. They’d have no qualms about killing Bucelarii alone or in multitudes. “That doesn’t sound like the Cambionari I know.”

  “I cannot speak to that,” Taiana replied with a shrug. “Perhaps they have changed with the passage of the centuries. But the Cambionari back then were different. They didn’t kill you, but took you far away from here. Where, they did not tell me.”

  The Hunter pondered the revelation. Another of the Enclave’s lies, perhaps? Which priestly order decided it was better to kill us off than let us live in peace?

>   Tears slipped down Taiana’s cheeks. “Every day for months I wept, carrying the knowledge of what I’d done to you. I would have succumbed to the guilt had our child not arrived three weeks early. I welcomed the pain of childbirth as punishment for my betrayal of you, but the moment I held Jaia in my arms, I knew I could live with the choice I had made. For her sake, if nothing else.”

  The Hunter could understand that rationale. He had killed for the sake of others. When a handful of misguided blood cultists in Voramis had chosen Farida as a sacrifice to cleanse the city of pestilence, he had cut them down without hesitation. Nearly a hundred of Il Seytani’s bandits had fallen because they dared to harm and threaten Hailen’s life. The Sage’s Elivasti, Sir Danna’s Warrior Priests, and the Cambionari sent by Father Reverentus had all died as a result of the Hunter’s efforts to protect the boy. Yes, he could understand it, indeed.

  “That was the day I threw my Im’tasi into the deepest ravine I could find,” Taiana said, with a firm shake of her head. “Nothing would put our daughter in peril. I had given you up for her sake, and I would give up everything else, even my own life, to keep her safe.”

  The Hunter squeezed her hand tighter and gave her a smile of encouragement. He could see how hard it was for her to talk about, but he needed to know.

  “For three years, Jaia and I lived a simple life here in Enarium. We had little, but needed little as well. I watched our daughter grow into the most beautiful girl.” Her eyes sparkled, and a happy smile peered through her sorrow. “You should have seen her, Drayvin. The way her eyes lit up when I told her stories about her father, the great warrior. The way she would climb into my lap and curl up asleep in my arms.”

  The Hunter felt hot tears slip down his own cheeks. He would have loved to have spent those moments with his daughter, with both of them.

  “Until the day the Warmaster came for us.” Taiana’s face hardened, and anger flashed in her eyes. “I could not defeat his Elivasti, not without a proper weapon and with Jaia to protect. I fought as best I could, but…”