“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.�
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“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?
The answer: for his child, and for the good of the world. With Soulhunger, Taiana could search the Keeps to find Jaia and other Bucelarii to take up arms against the Sage. It was a gamble—fiery hell, he wasn’t certain he could trust her, not after everything he’d learned—but he had promised to help her.
“Take it, but remember that it is for you alone to carry.”
“But what about you?” Taiana asked. “What if the Elivasti find you?”
“Do you remember what I have spent the last fifty years of my life doing?” The Hunter forced a confident grin. “I have dedicated myself to slipping through the shadows and moving about unseen. There are none in the south of Einan that can match my skill at assassination. It is a skill that will serve me well here.” If he ran across any Elivasti, he would deal with them the way he dealt with any threat.
“And take these as well.” He stripped out of his leather armor, sword belt, and baldric. He kept only his dark cloak and a pair of plain, utilitarian daggers—they were all he needed.
She hesitated before taking them. “I fear I will not see you again, and you only just returned to me.” Her hard, commanding façade cracked, revealing the tender, affectionate woman he remembered.
“I will find you,” the Hunter said, gripping her hands in his. “Soulhunger will draw me to your side. Nothing—not the Elivasti, the Abiarazi, or the gods themselves—will keep me away.”
Again, he caught the strange expression on her face as she pulled him into an embrace.
“Go,” she whispered in his ear, “but do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. There are those even we cannot help.”
The Hunter drew back. “And that doesn’t bother you? That they are taking children into Khar’nath?”
“More than you could possibly imagine.” Taiana’s eyes darkened. “I only need to think of the Elivasti dragging Jaia into the pit in chains, and the thought sets my blood boiling. But that is not our mission right now.” Her face hardened, and grim resolve shone in her expression. “We must focus on freeing our brethren and finding our daughter. We need warriors to fight the Elivasti. Just the four of us Bucelarii are not enough to overthrow four hundred Elivasti soldiers. Arudan is in no condition to fight.”
The Hunter hated to admit it, but she wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t stand the idea of inactivity, of simply sitting by and doing nothing while children were being harmed. But with just four fighting men and a pale-skinned former Secret Keeper, the odds were firmly stacked against them.
“But go, Hai'atim. My love.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Go and return to me soon so we can find our daughter together.”
The Hunter gave her hand a little squeeze then nodded and strode from the room. He found Garnos waiting for him near the front door of the house.
“Let’s go,” he told the Elivasti. “Take me to Khar’nath.”
He fell into step beside Garnos as the man descended the stairs to the lower floor and, glancing up and down the empty streets, slipped into the night. The light of the stars added to the soft blue glow of the Keeps, providing ample light for them to see their way.
The Hunter watched Garnos from the corner of his eyes as they hurried through the streets. The Elivasti moved without a word, and he made remarkably little noise despite his heavy blue armor. The man, like so much else in Enarium, was a mystery. He was Elivasti, yet he acted against the oath he and his kind had sworn to the Abiarazi. Not even Master Eldor had broken the vow of fealty—he had chosen death before dishonor.
“I may not be a mind-reader,” Garnos said after the Hunter’s fifth surreptitious glance, “but it doesn’t take one to know what you’re thinking.”
“And what am I thinking?” the Hunter demanded.
Garnos turned into a darkened alleyway between two stone buildings two and three stories tall, stopped, and turned to face him. “You’re wondering if you can trust me, and looking for the first sign of treachery so you can put a d
agger in my back before I put one in yours.”
The Hunter inclined his head. “You’re not far off the mark.”
“You may not trust me,” Garnos said, “but Taiana does.”
“That’s not enough for me.” The Hunter folded his arms. It felt strange to be without his leather armor—he’d been wearing it for so long it almost was like a second skin. “I cannot trust anyone who would stand by while his kinsmen clap children in chains.”
“Are you telling me none of your kind ever did anything wrong?” Garnos raised an eyebrow. “There is not a drop of innocent blood on your hands, as a result of either your action or inaction?”
The Hunter had no response to that. His hands bore more blood than anyone would ever know. Some of it belonged to people that might not have had to die.
“I can understand the revulsion you feel.” Garnos’ violet eyes met his. “It is the same I feel when I see what my kinsmen are doing.”
“So why stand by and let it happen?” the Hunter asked. “Why not do something about it?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Garnos’ voice turned sharp, edged with bitterness. “I am breaking the oath my people swore to the Abiarazi in the hope that Taiana can bring about change. Change that will prevent my son and daughter from sharing the fate of everyone else I know.”
The Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “From where I’m sitting, the Elivasti here have it far better than the Bucelarii or the humans.”
“Perhaps on the surface it may appear so,” Garnos snapped, “but the truth is that we are just as much captives here as the humans that occupy the Pit.”
“Except you wield the power.” The Hunter glared at him. “You hold the key that keeps them imprisoned.”
“And, as with anything else, abusing power taints its wielder more than those under its control.”
The Hunter snorted. “You’ll have to explain that one to me, Elivasti. How is a jailer as badly off as the poor bastard locked away in his cell?”
“You want explanation?” Garnos’ violet eyes flashed, and his voice rose in intensity if not in volume. “When I was a young man, I had a friend that was like a brother to me. A kinder, more honorable Elivasti could not be found in all of Einan. Then came the day that he was assigned to guarding the Pit and its prisoners. My assignment was to aid in the maintenance of the Pristine Enclosure. Our duties kept us apart for just a few short days, but when I saw him again, the friend I had known my entire life had changed.” The man gave a little shudder. “It was no man, but a monster.”
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