Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  The Hunter took a step down to stand beside Ryat. “You have had your vengeance. Those who harmed you have received just punishment. The time for destruction and death is passed.”

  “Go,” Ryat said, his voice firm, unwavering. “You are free, thanks to this man. Use the gift given. Find your children, your loved ones. The future is yours to do with as you please.”

  A few of the men and women below seemed unwilling to relinquish their hold on their anger, but most were nodding at Ryat’s words. One by one, they filtered down the stairs until the Hunter, Ryat, and Hailen stood alone in the stairway.

  Chapter Fifty

  Ryat whistled through his teeth, his shoulders slumping. “Damn, for a moment there, I thought I’d arrived too late. These are the ones you spoke of protecting, yes?”

  The Hunter nodded.

  “Then consider us even.” He thrust out a hand to the Hunter. “I’ve done what I could. Now it’s up to you to figure out what comes next.”

  The Hunter shook Ryat’s hand. “Something tells me these people are going to need someone to lead them. You seem as good a choice as any.”

  Ryat’s brow furrowed. “I…I wouldn’t know how.”

  “You did a damned good job just now.” The Hunter gave him a wry grin. “You spoke, they listened. Seems like the sort of thing a leader does.”

  “I got lucky.” Ryat shrugged. “But where am I supposed to lead them? What do we do? The Pit is all we’ve known our entire lives. How do I feed all these people? What about homes and clothes?”

  “The city of Enarium is empty,” the Hunter said. “The Serenii left long ago. It can be yours now. Surely there are houses enough for your people.”

  “And food?” Ryat asked.

  The Hunter grinned. “That’s a much simpler answer than you’d think.”

  He turned and banged on the wooden door. “Kiara, can you hear me?”

  A moment of silence, then a muffled voice asked, “Hunter?”

  “You sound surprised,” the Hunter called back. “Like you were expecting me to end up dead.”

  The sound of shifting rubble and grating stones echoed through the heavy wooden gate. A moment later, the gate creaked open to reveal a familiar face with full lips and dark eyes framed by raven hair.

  “Well, to be fair,” said Kiara, “you were going to fight your way through a demon and his Blood Sentinels.” Dried blood stained the right half of her face from a cut in her forehead, and she had a split lip, black eye, and bloody nose.

  The Hunter winced. “Yet it looks like you took a worse beating.”

  “Funny.” She shot him a mocking glare. “Not all of us are lucky to have special healing abilities.”

  “You might want to get some,” the Hunter said, grinning. “They’re bloody handy.”

  “Ryat!” Kiara smiled at the sight of the blue-armored man beside the Hunter. “You had me worried there.”

  The tall man returned her smile. “If thirty-five years in the Pit can’t kill me, there’s no way a few hundred Elivasti could finish the job.” His smile faltered as his gaze rested on the people behind her.

  Kiara glanced back, then shook her head. “There are no soldiers up here. Only those who could not protect themselves.” Her gaze shot to the Hunter. “Rothia got a handful of people here before it all started.”

  Mention of Rothia sent a pang of sorrow through the Hunter’s chest. “Does she know?”

  “About her husband?” Kiara nodded.

  The Hunter winced. Garnos had died helping him open the gate for the prisoners to escape the Pit—a final act of redemption after a life spent holding these people captive.

  Ryat gasped as he stepped out of the stairwell and got his first good look at the Terrace of the Sun and Moon. He seemed at a loss for words as he took in the gardens.

  The Hunter stepped up beside him, Hailen’s hand in his. “This should be more than enough to feed your people.”

  “Rothia’s not just going to let them destroy her gardens,” Kiara said in a low voice. “She’s made it abundantly clear that she’ll die before they lay a hand on her life’s work.”

  “They won’t.” The Hunter fixed Ryat with a stern gaze. “Enarium belongs to your people now, but you are not alone. There are those who have nowhere else to go, no families waiting for them. This is all they know. Yet they know more about this city than anyone alive. Who better than to help you start a new life here?”

  Ryat’s eyes narrowed. “You expect us to live with them? Forget everything their people have done to us?”

  “Yes,” the Hunter said simply. “Unless you plan to slaughter them all, it is the only way to move forward. You need their help to live in Enarium or to find your way back down the mountains to civilization. This is the only way you survive today.”

  “And you think people will just go along with it?” Ryat demanded, his eyes hard. “We managed to stop them from breaking down the doors, but what’s to stop them from rushing up here and slaughtering everyone?”

  “You.” The Hunter tapped a finger on the man’s chest. “You are the leader now. You make the tough choices for them, help them see the reason. This is the first choice you will make, and the toughest. Starvation or coexistence?”

  Ryat was silent for a long moment, but finally he nodded. “So be it. I will do everything I can.”

  “You are the one who led your people to freedom,” the Hunter said. “I have no doubt people are whispering tales about you and your heroics.”

  “Ryat the conqueror!” Kiara’s eyes sparkled, and a little smile played on her lips. “Ryat the liberator.”

  The man scowled. “Surely you’re mistaken.”

  The Hunter grinned. “As someone who knows a thing or two about fabricating a legend, trust me when I say it doesn’t take a lot to get people telling stories.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Everyone wants a hero. You will be that hero, and in return they will follow you.”

  Doubt filled Ryat’s eyes, but he seemed willing to accept the Hunter’s words.

  The Hunter felt a tug on his pants, and he looked down to find Hailen staring up at him. “Hardwell, can I go play with them?” His chubby finger indicated a handful of young children—some barely more than infants—running through the gardens.

  He nodded. “Of course, Hailen.”

  With a grin, the boy took off running as fast as his little legs could carry him in pursuit of the other children.

  The Hunter watched him go, sorrow mingling with the joy and relief thrumming through him. Over the last months, Hailen had suffered so much—more than any child ought to—yet it hadn’t driven away the happy, innocent child he’d been when they’d met in the House of Need in Malandria. Perhaps one day he’d even forget everything he’d endured on their journey. The gift of a short life, indeed.

  His eyes fell on the glass dome, and hope blossomed within him as he strode through the gardens. Within the massive bubble of transparent crystal, a handful of Elivasti—perhaps fifty children with their mothers and a dozen white-haired men and women—sat on stone benches or moved quietly among the plants.

  Rothia sat on an old garden stool near the entrance, sorrow twisting her face, her eyes vacant as she stared down at the mud-covered trowel in her hands. She looked up at the Hunter’s approach.

  “It’s you,” she said in a heavy, dull voice.

  The Hunter crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She nodded slowly. “You ought to be.” A tear slipped down her weathered cheek. “He was a good man, my Garnos. Unlike the others. In the end, it’s always the good ones that go first, isn’t it?”

  The Hunter wanted to offer her words of comfort, but he knew nothing he could say would give her what she sought: her husband, alive.

  “He saved all of them,” he managed at last. “Men, women, children. Six hundred and eighty-four thousand of them.”

  Rothia lifted her eyes to meet his. “As good as any of us could have hoped fo
r, I suppose.”

  The Hunter swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew he would never forget Garnos, the Elivasti that had sacrificed his life to redeem himself and his people. As Rothia had said, one of the good ones.

  “Rothia,” he said in a quiet voice, “there are people that need your help. People who are hungry, who will starve if you don’t keep this garden alive.”

  She stared at him, uncomprehending.

  “The prisoners. Nearly seven hundred thousand mouths to feed.”

  She nodded.

  “They need you to teach them how to feed themselves,” the Hunter pressed on. “You can turn the entire city into a garden, grow enough food for everyone to thrive.”

  Her expression grew pensive. “I’ve always wanted to try planting crops in the rest of the city. Never had a chance to—was always told we had enough here.”

  “Now’s your chance,” the Hunter said. “Enarium was once the greatest city on Einan, a thriving home for humans, Serenii, and Elivasti alike. With your help, it could be again.”

  A sad smile played at her lips. “Garnos would have liked that.”

  The Hunter nodded. “I have no doubt.”

  A thought flashed into his mind, and he had an image of a face—a pale face, hairless, with a high brow and squinting eyes.

  “I know someone who will be as interested in cultivation as you.” Arudan had grown excited when he read the Serenii tablets about farming. “Someone who can show you some of the old Serenii methods of growing crops.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “But those have been lost to time!” She motioned at the glass dome. “It has taken all of our skill to keep the Terrace of the Sun and Moon from withering.”

  “Well, with my friend’s help, you’ll be able to bring the entire city to life again.”

  Her expression grew animated, and the Hunter could see the wheels turning in her mind.

  “Where do I find this friend of yours?”

  * * *

  The Hunter smiled as he watched Athid help Arudan climb the last steps to the garden. The Bucelarii’s eyes went wide at the sight of the myriad of plants growing in the Terrance of the Sun and Moon, and excitement flashed across his pale face.

  “Is that him?”

  The Hunter turned to find Rothia beside him, and he nodded. “He’s like me. A Bucelarii.”

  Her brow furrowed. “He’s not going to be any trouble, is he?” She shot him a scornful glance. “You haven’t exactly brought peace and stability to our world.”

  The Hunter smiled. It was good to see a hint of the sharp-tongued Rothia return. “He’s happiest when he’s reading. I doubt he’d want to do anything else.”

  “Good.” Rothia nodded. “If those stone tablets of his really do contain what you say they do, we’ll keep him busy reading until his eyes fall out.”

  A sweet scent drifted up to the Hunter’s nostrils. It smelled like a mixture of grapes, blackberries, and blueberries, but a deeper, richer tang. He glanced down at the steaming cup in Rothia’s hand. “Is that…?”

  “Yes.” She held out the cup to him. “It will cure him of the Irrsinnon without any side effects.”

  Relief surged within the Hunter. “Thank you,” he breathed. He’d come so far to find this cure for Hailen’s madness. With it, the boy could escape the curse that had plagued the Elivasti for thousands of years.

  He held the cup but made no move toward Hailen. His eyes followed the boy as he played with the Elivasti children that had survived the massacre. This was the closest Hailen had come to anything approaching a normal childhood since leaving the Beggar Priests in Malandria.

  A smile touched his lips as he watched the laughing, running children. From the way they played, it seemed impossible to believe the world had nearly ended just a few hours earlier. Their smiles looked so at odds with the grim, haunted expressions of their mothers and grandmothers. They had no idea what had happened, and even when they found out, the sorrow would pass. He envied that resilience of spirit. He wished he could be free of the burdens—of guilt, responsibility, and loss—that rested on his shoulders.

  As Drayvin the Bucelarii, he had fought to protect his family. As the Hunter, the assassin, he had carried the knowledge that he alone could kill the Abiarazi and prevent them from threatening the world. As Hardwell, he bore the burden of protecting Hailen against any threat.

  So who was he now? Which version of himself would he be now? None of them, yet all of them, perhaps.

  He had a family—the wife and child he’d just discovered, and the boy he’d cared for all these months. The threat of the Abiarazi wasn’t truly ended, and there would always be more like Hailen that needed his protection.

  The name he chose didn’t matter. He could be the Hunter, Hardwell, Drayvin, Nasnaz the Great, or any of the myriad of other names and faces he wore over his long life. The only things that mattered were who he chose to be on the inside, and what he chose to do.

  Each of the men he’d been had carried burdens. So be it. He would bear all those burdens if it meant a better future. Not just for Hailen, or even for the humans in Enarium, but all of Einan.

  That alone made the suffering worth it.

  Epilogue

  Two months later…

  “Sir Danna Esgrimon, Knight of the Order of Piety,” Kiara read aloud. “Faithful Servant. Steadfast Champion. Safe in the Long Keeper’s arms.”

  The Hunter nodded. “A nice inscription. Worthy of her.”

  He and Kiara stood side by side at the marked tombstone at the head of Sir Danna’s grave in Gleamwater, the village of her birth. It didn’t matter that the grave contained only the knight’s armor—her body lay at rest in a cairn high in the Empty Mountains, standing guard at the gates of Enarium forever more. Her spirit, troubled these last months by her rage at the Hunter, was at peace.

  And that’s as good as any of us could hope for.

  He glanced at the dark-haired woman beside him. “You sure this is what she wanted? The House of Need in Malandria—”

  “Was her home, but she wanted to be laid beside her family, here.”

  On Kiara’s instructions, the Hunter had dug Sir Danna’s grave in the shade of an apple tree that grew beside the Eanver River, near the small farm once owned by her father. A thick carpet of grass ran alongside the fast-flowing river, a gentle green that contrasted sharply with the deep blue of the water.

  “She saved me.” Tears slipped down Kiara’s cheeks as she crouched beside the headstone and closed her eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.”

  “In a way,” the Hunter said in a quiet voice, “neither would I.” He drew in a deep breath. “When we first met, she told me she saw goodness in me, no matter what I believed to the contrary. I suppose a part of me always wanted to prove those words right.”

  “You did.” Kiara stood and turned to him, fixing him with a piercing stare. “What you did in Enarium, saving all those people, saving all of us…” She shook her head. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not good, Hunter. It may take a lot of hard looking to find it, but buried down, deep down, it’s there.”

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow, and she gave a wry chuckle. They stood in silence for a long moment, bidding farewell to the fallen Cambionari knight. Finally, they turned and strode away from the bank of the Eanver River, back toward their cart.

  Evren looked up at their approach. “About bloody time! Hailen’s been goin’ on for the last ten minutes about how hungry he is. If I have to listen to one more minute of—”

  “We’ll get something to eat at the inn, then we’ll get back on the road before noon.” The Hunter glanced at Kiara. “Malandria’s half a day’s ride away.”

  Hailen’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I want to eat!” A smile broadened his face and he clapped his little hands. “Hardwell, can I have some of that watered wine, like Evren gave me back in Nysl?”

  The Hunter glared at Evren, and the thief threw up his hands in an innocent gesture. The sco
wl he shot at Hailen proclaimed his guilt loudly.

  “We’ll see,” the Hunter said. “Maybe I’ll give you Evren’s share and he can have plain water.”

  “Now that’s not fair!” Evren’s voice turned plaintive—a reminder of just how young he truly was. “He asked what it tasted like, and I gave him a sip. It’s not my fault he scarpered the whole cup and emptied it when I turned my back.”

  “A few days of drinking nothing but water will teach you to keep a closer eye on him.” The Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “Or, at the very least, your wine.”

  Evren rolled his eyes and muttered something the Hunter chose not to hear.

  The Hunter reached into his cloak and drew out a pair of silver drakes. “Evren, why don’t you run ahead with Hailen to the inn and order us a meal?”

  A mischievous glint sparkled in the thief’s eyes as he took the coins. The Hunter had no doubt the youth would order and empty his cup of wine before they arrived.

  “Come on, Hailen.” Evren turned to the younger boy with a smile. “Race you there!”

  Evren tore off up the street, Hailen following along as fast as his chubby legs could carry him.

  The Hunter smiled as he watched them go. The addition of Evren to their little party had done wonders for Hailen, and had helped the young thief as well. He’d taken Hailen under his wing, almost like an older brother, yet Hailen’s simple innocence had helped to bring down the defensive walls Evren had erected. He would never truly be free of the things that had been done to him, but perhaps he could find a way to move forward. Hailen just had that sort of effect on people.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Kiara said in a quiet voice, “but we’ve avoided the topic of Hailen long enough.”

  The Hunter sighed. “There hasn’t been one night since leaving Enarium where I didn’t question what the right choice was.” He turned to face her. “When I first brought the boy with me, I told myself it was for his own sake. I couldn’t leave him in the Beggar’s temple, not after what I did to Moradiss and all the others. Then, I convinced myself he could help me hunting demons. After the Advanat, it was all about finding answers and curing the Irrsinnon.”