The Hunter steeled himself for the pain and set about dragging the remaining Elivasti corpses outside the city. It took five trips to get the last bodies out of sight, and every one sapped his strength more. Relief flooded him as he entered the city for the last time and the shrieking in his mind fell silent.
As he leaned against the wall to gather his strength, he cast a glance down the trail. Night concealed the body of Sir Danna Esgrimon, Knight of the Order of Piety. A momentary pang of guilt stabbed through him at the thought of her corpse, which lay just a few hundred paces below him.
The Sir Danna that died the previous day bore little resemblance to the red-haired knight he’d met on the road to Malandria. She’d wallowed in her grief over the loss of Visibos, her apprentice, and Lord Knight Moradiss, her mentor and the man she’d never been able to admit she loved until it was too late. That had driven her to obsession, causing her to dedicate the last months to hunting him across Einan. Her hatred and rage had cost the lives of nearly thirty Cambionari and Warrior Priests—both to his hand and to the Stone Guardians.
Yet in the end, she’d found the thing he wanted above all else: peace.
She’d fallen helping him fight off the Stone Guardians, protecting Hailen. Though he’d given her a chance to flee to the safety of Enarium, she had refused to abandon him to fight alone. That choice had cost her life, but she’d found a moment of clarity before her death. She’d gone to the Long Keeper with the knowledge that she had left the world better than she found it.
In the end, it was all anyone could ask for.
For what it’s worth, he told the darkness silently, I’m sorry, Sir Danna. You deserved far better than this.
The familiar burden of guilt settled on his shoulders once more. Another death added to his tally. Another life snuffed out because of his actions.
His steps were slow as he strode up the street. Every muscle in his body ached, his head throbbed, and he felt suddenly tired. The distance to Taiana’s base seemed suddenly so vast, and it felt as if he had to cross an entire world to return home.
At least I’m not leaving empty-handed. The familiar weight of his pack reassured him, and the knowledge that he now had another weapon that could kill the Sage. The three spikestaffs he carried balanced awkwardly on his arm, but he’d keep them anyway. To confront the Abiarazi, they’d need all the weapons they could get.
Now, he thought, glancing down at the Scorchslayer he cradled in his right arm, if only Arudan could figure out how to get these working, we’d have a way to strike at the Sage from afar.
The weapon could put an end to the Abiarazi as surely as it had disintegrated Neroth’s head and chest. That was the sort of advantage he could use right now.
Chapter Eighteen
“Where’ve you been?” Cerran asked as the Hunter climbed up the ladder into the building where they’d made their base. His nose wrinkled in disgust. “Bloody hell! Been rolling in shite, have you?”
The Hunter shook his head. “Took a jaunt through the Pit.”
Cerran’s bushy red eyebrows rose in surprise, then shot straight toward his hairline as he got a good glimpse of the Hunter in his blue armor, covered in blood, carrying the weapons he’d looted from the dead Elivasti. “Seems you’ve had quite a night of it.”
“More than you know,” the Hunter said. He dropped the spikestaffs beside the staircase and glanced up at the door to the room where he’d seen Arudan earlier. “Any progress unlocking these things?” he asked, hefting the Scorchslayer. “Or did I lug this all the way across the city for nothing?”
Cerran shrugged. “Last I checked on him, Baldie had his nose buried in one of those stone tablets. Whether it was the right tablet or not, I couldn’t say.”
The Hunter cocked an eyebrow at the man.
“What?” Cerran threw up his hands. “I’m a bloody soldier, not a wet nurse. I never asked for idiotsitting duty.”
The Hunter growled. “Think what we could do if we could actually use these things.” He shook the weapon in the man’s face. “I saw what they did to Neroth. If we could do that to the Sage—”
Cerran snorted. “Like every other thing in this bloody place, it’s accessible only by the Serenii and their descendants. Us being Bucelarii means this is about as useful as a sharpened stone or wooden club.” He flicked a disdainful finger at the weapon. “Less so. At least you can throw a stone or swing a club.”
“It’s foolish to discard something that could prove of use,” the Hunter snapped. Years as an assassin had taught him that even the most innocuous of items could come in handy when fighting to the death. He’d killed men with letter openers, charcoal sticks, hell, even one with a snapped paintbrush.
“Then you keep an eye on Baldie.” Cerran gave a dismissive wave. “His brain’s got more holes than a soldier’s sock after a year-long march, so good luck getting him to focus on anything.” He looked the Hunter up and down with a sniff of disgust. “Though you might want to bathe first. Your smell alone’ll lead the Sage right to us.”
The Hunter thrust the Scorchslayer into the man’s hand. “Just see if you can get him back on track with his research. If there’s anything he can find—”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Cerran shoved back, hard enough to throw the Hunter off-balance. “I barely tolerate Taiana’s commands, and that only because—”
“What’s this about barely tolerating Taiana?” came a woman’s voice from behind them.
Cerran’s face turned a shade of red to match his hair and beard as he caught sight of Taiana. “Nothing,” he said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Just telling your man here I’m not the sort to be ordered around.”
“None of us are.” Taiana stepped into the light of the glowglobe that lit up the chamber, and deep frown lines etched her face. “But if we’re going to stand a chance of defeating the Sage, we’ve got to work together. How’s Arudan doing on his research?”
Cerran scowled. “He’s…making progress. I was just about to take him what your man brought us.” He snatched the Scorchslayer from the Hunter’s hand, turned on his heel, and stomped up the stairs.
Taiana studied the Hunter from head to toe, and her expression tightened. “Upstairs. Now,” she snapped.
The Hunter was surprised to hear the edge in her voice. Anger glittered in her black eyes, and her right fist gripped Soulhunger’s hilt so tightly her knuckles were white. He followed her upstairs, and from the rigidity of her spine and precise way she placed her feet, he could tell she struggled to hold back barely-restrained fury.
She strode into the room and flung her cloak onto their bed. When the Hunter closed the door behind him, she whirled.
“You went into the Pit, didn’t you?” Fire flashed in her eyes.
“I did.” The Hunter spoke in a flat voice. He didn’t understand her anger.
“Even though I specifically told you not to put yourself in unnecessary danger?”
The Hunter set down his pack and folded his arms. “Yes. I had to see it for myself.”
“And what if you’d gotten caught?” Her voice rose to an angry shout. “What if the Elivasti had captured you and locked you away? Or if they’d tortured you to find out where we’re hiding.”
“I’ve been tortured by the best,” the Hunter said. “I doubt these could come close.”
“So that makes it worth the risk? Because you can withstand a bit of pain, it’s okay to risk everything I’ve worked hard for these last five years?” She stalked toward him, and once again he was struck by the fact that she loomed a full hand’s breadth taller than him. She stabbed a finger hard into his chest. “You’ve no idea what it’s like, working every day for years in the hopes of seeing your child, only to have that hope ripped from your chest when you find another husk of a corpse or an empty Chamber. You’ve no idea the pain of knowing your child is out there, somewhere, waiting for you. And all your efforts are for nothing!”
The force of her anger shocked him
. “Listen, I gave you Soulhunger so you could—”
“So I could face the agony of opening Chamber after Chamber, never finding our child!” Her voice rose to a shout, and furious tears glimmered in her eyes. “Alone, as alone as I have been for my entire life!”
Suddenly, her outburst made sense. He imagined himself in her place: wandering the streets of Enarium alone, empty-handed, living with the knowledge that she’d betrayed her husband and lost her child. Toiling day after day in an effort to find that child, only to have her hopes shattered time and time again. He pictured her tonight, filled with optimism now that she had Soulhunger to help her open the Chambers far faster. How many Chambers had she opened, how many times had she had her soul crushed when she failed again?
“Where is she, Drayvin?” Her tear-rimmed eyes sought his. “Am I truly so terrible a mother I cannot find my child?”
“No!” The Hunter’s voice was firm, but held none of her anger, only the emotion that welled within him. “It’s not your fault. It’s the Warmaster’s, who took her from you.”
“Why can I not remember?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why can I not remember where my baby is?”
A lump rose to his throat, and though he desperately ached to offer her words of comfort, he knew anything he said would only ring hollow. All he could do was go to her, held her as she wept.
“I am here,” he whispered in her ear. “You don’t need to carry this burden alone.”
She clung to him, her arms holding him tight as she buried her face in his chest. Sobs shook her shoulders—heartache she had carried around for all these long years finally let loose in a great wave of emotion.
Finally, her tears slowed as the well of her sorrow dried up. She pulled free of him and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. I should not have—”
The Hunter gripped her hand tight. “There is no need for apology. I can only imagine what you’re feeling, but I swear I will do everything I can to help you find our daughter.”
“You do not blame me?” Her eyes scanned his face. “My betrayal of you…”
“Was done out of love for our child.” The Hunter kissed her gently. “I do not blame you, Az’nii.”
She let out a long, slow breath, and her shoulders relaxed, as if releasing a burden. She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Her scent—cinnamon, berries, jasmine, and honey—filled his nostrils. He held her hand, leaned against her, and for a few moments, forgot the world around him.
“Ugh.” Her grunt broke the peaceful silence. “You stink.”
The Hunter chuckled and glanced down at his mud-stained hands and face, his blood-covered armor, clothing, and boots. “Adventure is messy, so they say.”
“To the baths at once, Drayvin.” The commanding tone returned, but with a hint of humor.
“Ah, there’s the nagging wife I’ve missed all these years.” He hid a grin.
“If you don’t get off my bed with your foul-smelling,” she snapped in mock anger, “filthy clothes right now, you’re going to find out just how sharp-tongued I can get!”
“Promises, promises.” The Hunter rolled off the bed to evade the boot she threw at him. “Any chance you’ll join me for my bath?”
“Smelling like that?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’d sooner join a pig in a mud puddle.”
“Let’s talk to Cerran, see what he can arrange.” The Hunter chuckled. Her glare revealed an utter lack of amusement, so be beat a hasty retreat to the small bathing chamber attached to their room. A tub of the same blue stone as the Keeps occupied half the space, complete with the fixtures he’d found in the Serenii temples in Kara-ket. Within minutes, he was luxuriating in the tub while hot water streamed from the spigot set into the tub.
He emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, naked as the day he was born, dripping wet but free of the muck of the Pit and Elivasti blood. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes tracing his body, and gave an approving nod of her head.
“Everything’s still in one piece, I see,” she said with a wry grin. “It’d be a shame if the Elivasti took anything important from you.”
“The most important thing in my life is standing right in front of me.”
“Flatterer.” She snorted and tossed a pair of pants at him. “That sort of sweet talk may get you into Cerran’s good graces, but you’ll have to try harder with me.”
“And here I thought I was doing so well.” The Hunter gave a mock sigh and pulled on the leather breeches, then shrugged into the cloth tunic she passed him. The fresh clothes felt marvelous—how long had it been since he’d worn anything clean? At least since Kara-ket, though it had been far longer since he’d felt this relaxed. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly at ease enough to let down his guard. With Taiana, it just felt…right.
“They still fit you, even after all this time.” Her voice was quiet, a faraway look in her eyes.
The Hunter glanced down at the clothing. Somehow, they felt almost familiar, like he’d worn them before. Had they once been his, from a time long gone? Whatever magick prevented dust from coating the ground had prevented age from decaying his clothes.
“For a moment,” she whispered, “I worried I wouldn’t recognize you.”
The Hunter’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t remember what I looked like?”
She shook her head. “No, but when we were hiding from the Elivasti, we would often change our features. One of the more useful gifts of our forefathers.”
“Ahh, of course.” In Al Hani, the demon masquerading as Queen Asalah had shown him a bust of Nasnaz the Great. Though the features bore little resemblance to his, she’d insisted they were the same person. “So is this the face you remember?”
She stepped closer to him and reached out to touch his cheek gently. “It’s not.” A small smile played on her lips. “But your eyes are the same, and that was the part of you that mattered most to me.”
She kissed him then, a kiss that brought the memories of the love they’d shared a lifetime ago crashing down on him. He only had faint glimpses of their life, but he could never forget the emotions flooding his chest.
She broke off the kiss and pulled him down onto the bed beside her, then curled up in his arms. His nostrils filled with the scent of her, and her skin was warm against his. He could be content to lie like this forever.
“What happened to you tonight?” she asked in a quiet voice. “After you went with Garnos, what did you do?”
He told her about his visit to the Pit and the horrors he’d seen there, as well as the death of the two Elivasti and how he’d used their armor to walk out the front gate. When he spoke of retrieving the pack with the Swordsman’s blades, he pulled out the iron daggers to show her.
She winced as she ran a finger along the cloth-wrapped lengths of metal. “Does it not hurt you?”
The Hunter nodded. “Some pains we can grow accustomed to.” He set them back down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Some are worth putting up with.”
She turned to him and fixed him with a piercing gaze. In her eyes, he saw the woman from his memories, the mother of his child and the love of his life. He couldn’t remember all the details of their past, but he didn’t need to. He had her now, and all that mattered was the future.
“Tell me of your hunt for our daughter,” he said.
She lay back on the bed, her expression growing somber. “We searched the North and Northwest Keep on the Base Echelon, but all we found were more corpses and empty Chambers.”
“There are still more Keeps to search,” the Hunter said in an attempt to comfort her. “We will find our Jaia.”
“But what of your boy?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “And the Sage? Won’t you need Thanal Eth’ Athaur to destroy the Abiarazi?”
“The Swordsman’s daggers were created for that purpose.” The words came from his mouth before he remembered the legends of the Swordsman were nothing more than fabrication. Truth
be told, he had no idea if the blades truly worked. He had seen the iron hurt the demons, but could the blades kill them?
“So you will not join me in hunting our daughter?”
“I would love nothing more.” He drew in a long breath. “More than anything else, I want to find her.”
“But you feel an obligation to the boy.” A statement, not a question.
The Hunter nodded. “And I cannot allow the Sage to free Kharna from his prison.”
She bolted upright. “He must not be allowed to!”
The intensity in her voice surprised him, yet at the same time brought a sense of relief. He’d spent the last day ignoring the nagging worry in the back of his mind that they would end up at the opposite side of a conflict. After all, the Bucelarii had been bred as the Abiarazi’s household troops, so there was always the risk she would feel loyalty to her forefathers. The demons—all but the Warmaster—had been driven by a desire to restore Kharna, so he’d feared she would share that purpose. Her words put the doubt to rest and drained the last of the tension from his shoulders.
“I will help you find Jaia,” he told her, “but the moment Garnos sends word that the Sage is vulnerable, that must be my priority.” He motioned to the cloth-bound daggers in his pack. “But I can use those to kill him. And, if Arudan can somehow crack the secret of the Scorchslayers, perhaps they can be turned against the Elivasti and the Sage as well. Perhaps Garnos could even offer some insights on how they work. Whatever we can do to arm ourselves to take down the Elivasti and their accursed master.”
“I understand.” Her voice turned somber, and her eyes met his. “I and the others will help you bring down the Sage. You will not fight this battle alone.”
Emotion welled within the Hunter, and he pressed a long, passionate kiss to her lips. “We will fight side by side once more.”
“As we did a lifetime ago,” she whispered.
At that moment, the first rays of sunlight peered over the eastern horizon and filtered through the glass walls of their room.
Darkblade Guardian Page 91
