“You’ve watched him like a hawk.” Kiara raised an eyebrow. “Has there been any hint of the madness at all?”
The Hunter shook his head. “Rothia was as good as her word. That opia draught worked its magick, and he’s been fine ever since. Which makes the decision so much more difficult. I want to do what’s right for the boy, but I don’t know what that is.”
“The life we’ve chosen isn’t fit for a child, especially not one like Hailen.” Kiara leaned against the wagon and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You swore your oath to Kharna to hunt down the Abiarazi and drag them back to Enarium to sustain him against the Devourer. That has to be your priority—Keeper’s teeth, the future of the whole bloody world hangs in the balance.”
“I know. And there’s no way I can drag Hailen around Einan as I do what needs to be done. I can’t let him grow up watching me kill people, even in the name of saving the world.” The Hunter let out a long breath. “Yet I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It’s only been a few months...”
Kiara shot him a smile. “But the adorable little bastard’s grown on you, hasn’t he? Watcher help me, I can’t imagine life without him either.” She shook her head, her expression disbelieving. “These last weeks on the road have been some of the happiest in my life. Can you believe that? Everything I’ve lived, and traveling with a half-demon assassin, a former Lectern apprentice turned thief, and a kid who doesn’t know how to stop talking has almost made me forget the shit I’ve seen and done.”
“He’s got that way about him.” The Hunter turned to the northeast, toward where he knew Malandria waited. “So what is the right thing to do here? Turn him over to the Beggar Priests, to a life where he’ll be safe and protected? How could I not do that, knowing where my path leads? Yet how could I live without him?”
Kiara sighed and slipped her hand into his. “I wish I could give you an answer, truly. But this is one decision you have to make on your own.” She stared up into his eyes, and there was no revulsion or disgust as she saw his midnight eyes—the eyes that marked him the offspring of demons, perhaps even tainted by the Destroyer. “Whatever you decide, I stand with you.”
“Are you sure?” He turned toward her, and his brow furrowed. “When I told you of the oath I swore to Kharna, I didn’t mean for it to consume your life as well as mine.” He spoke the words with effort. “You don’t have to help me. You’ve still got a chance for a normal life.”
“Normal?” Kiara’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave a bitter laugh. “My life was never anything close to normal. Normal doesn’t lead to your becoming a Finger of the Bloody Hand. Normal doesn’t send you across the world to chase down a demon.” She shrugged. “But normal be damned. Sir Danna helped me find my purpose: hunting demons. Even if that means I have to put up with you and your brooding, I’ll join you in fulfilling that purpose.”
The Hunter scowled. “I don’t brood!”
Kiara rolled her eyes. “Hunter, you are the champion brooder. No one, and I mean no one, can match that look you get on your face when you’re thinking deep thoughts.” She laughed and pointed. “Yes, that’s the face! Like those storm clouds we ran into crossing the Whispering Waste, but way, way more serious.”
The Hunter’s frown deepened to a scowl.
Kiara laughed, a high-pitched sound that echoed with genuine happiness. Then her expression grew serious. “You can’t do this alone, Hunter. You can’t save the world by yourself. You’re going to need help. Hells, I’m a bloody bad-ass and even I’m not enough to help you do what needs to be done. We’re going to need an army.”
The Hunter nodded. “I know.”
He had an idea where to find one, too. The Elivasti in Enarium had been all but wiped out, but at least a few hundred had to have survived on Kara-ket. Perhaps he could convince them to join him—after all, they had made the same vow to their ancestors the Serenii as the Bucelarii had. With the Masters of Agony wiped out and the Abiarazi no longer in control, the violet-eyed Elivasti had the chance to choose what their futures held.
But what is an army without weapons? Once again, he turned back to face Malandria; Malandria, where the Cambionari vaults beneath the House of Need held dozens, perhaps even hundreds of the Im’tasi weapons they’d taken from slain or captured Bucelarii. With Soulhunger and the Sage’s sword, he had two—three, counting the sword he’d taken from the First of the Bloody Hand and hidden atop the Palace of Justice. With all those weapons, we can sustain Kharna in his struggle against the Devourer of Worlds.
People would die. On Einan, people always died. Men, women, even children, lost to war, famine, pestilence, violence, greed, and hatred. How many of them deserved better, deserved to live?
Yet how many of them had earned their reward? Criminals, murderers, rapists, even assassins like him. Noblemen who used their wealth and influence to exploit the innocent and less-fortunate? Kings that sent their soldiers off to wage a war of spite or for profit. Soldiers that pillaged, looted, raped, and despoiled everything in their paths?
Yes, Einan was filled with people that deserved death. The Hunter—and those like Kiara and Evren who joined him—wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. Killing them would erase their stain upon the world, and in the process, save all the others from the Devourer.
The Hunter had gone hunting his past, and in doing so had found his future. A future filled with blood and slaughter, to be certain, yet one with more peace than he’d known during his years in Voramis. The voices in his head had fallen silent. He no longer needed the subconscious imperative to drive him to fulfill his mission. Though he had not yet grown accustomed to the quiet echoing in his mind, he welcomed it. This was what he had longed for all his life, even if he hadn’t known it.
Yet even with the voices gone, he wasn’t alone. He had Kiara and Evren, who had decided to join him in his mission to eradicate the Abiarazi and feed Kharna. Perhaps one day he would have others to aid him as well.
His eyes fixed to the north, and his mind traveled beyond Malandria, across the arid Advanat Desert, over the Empty Mountains, to where he knew Taiana lay in the highest room in the Illumina. Her presence had followed him through the five thousand years he’d roamed Einan, had brought them together in Enarium in time to save the world. Five centuries was a long time, but he would make use of that time. When the Er’hato Tashat came again, he would ensure Kharna had enough power to seal the rift against the Devourer once and for all.
Somehow. He had five hundred years to figure it out. That was time enough to find a way to put an end to the threat—it had to be—and to find his daughter.
He glanced down at his left wrist. Beneath his bracer, he wore the little blue cloth Taiana had used to swaddle their daughter a lifetime ago. It bore Jaia’s scent: raspberries, fresh rain, violets, and wild grass. Just as the knights of legend carried tokens to remind them of their loved ones, he would carry that as a reminder that she was out there. With Soulhunger’s help, he could use it to track her down.
What would he say when he found her? The thought of that encounter left him nervous, but he would face it as he had everything else in his life. Head on, charging straight forward, letting nothing deter him. Even if he had to cross the Frozen Sea or swim down to the sunken continent of Aegeos, he would find her.
His daughter.
“Come,” he said, gripping Kiara’s hand tighter. “Let’s get to the inn before Evren drinks his way through those coins.”
“Or, Keeper forbid, Hailen does.”
The sound of her laughter warmed the Hunter’s heart. He still didn’t know how he felt about Kiara. He couldn’t deny his attraction—on a physical, intellectual, even an emotional level—which had begun when he met her long ago in The Iron Arms in Voramis. He would carry his love for Taiana until he saw his wife’s face again, but his feelings would far outlive Kiara’s short human lifespan. Perhaps, as he’d made space in his heart for Farida, Bardin, Master Eldor, Hailen, and all the others, he had room for her as we
ll. One more part of his future that remained shrouded in uncertainty, yet he had time enough to explore it.
A long life had its gifts as well as its burdens, I suppose.
As he walked beside Kiara, he found his free hand absentmindedly fingering the scars on his flesh. He still didn’t fully understand why some of his scars disappeared and some remained—perhaps it had something to do with his body repairing the scars when he shifted his form, yet the deaths of the Abiarazi and Bucelarii imprinted on his mind remained marked on his flesh. Either way, he found he no longer dreaded the scars.
They served as a reminder of the responsibility he'd accepted. Every new mark proved that he’d helped to avert the end of the world.
For the first time in his memory, the Hunter had a true purpose. Not just survival or existence, but something to live for. His story was far from ending; the future held something to fight for, something to hope for.
It was the best sort of future a man like him—half-demon, half-human, outcast and killer—could ever want.
----
The End…or a New Beginning?
Afterword from the Author:
When I set about writing the Hero of Darkness series, I knew I wanted the Hunter’s main story arc—from the discovery of demons in Voramis to the revelations of the gods and Serenii and the real threat to Einan—to be concluded in six epic books.
I could not be happier with how the story ended.
It felt right for the Hunter to walk away from his experiences changed, yet very much the same person in all certain ways. He is still the same driven, determined, often ruthless man who will not hesitate to kill those he believed deserves it. Yet, by opening his heart to Farida, Bardin, Hailen, Kiara, Evren, and all the others along his journey, he is a better man for it.
So, when I typed “The End” on Darkblade Savior, I knew his story wasn’t truly finished.
He learned the gods don’t exist, but that they’re really Serenii. How will that discovery shape not only his worldview, but that of the rest of Einan?
He learned that there is an evil force of chaos seeking to destroy the world. How can he stop it without sacrificing a million innocent people?
He discovered that he swore an oath to Kharna to help stop the Devourer of Worlds. How will he fulfill that oath?
He found his wife, only to lose her again. How will that affect him moving forward—both in his relationship with the humans around him and his actions to be ready when she is freed from the Chamber of Sustenance in 500 years?
I could end the story on the hopeful note—he’s determined to save the world, and he’s not doing it alone—but I don’t feel ready to say goodbye to the character and his unique mission.
So I won’t…
The Hunter’s journey WILL continue!
Darkblade Justice (Hero of Darkness Book 7) continues the Hunter’s adventure and finally delivers a proper crossover with Ilanna from the Queen of Thieves series.
IMPORTANT NOTE: If you haven’t yet read the Queen of Thieves series and Traitors’ Fate, I strongly urge you to do so. Though Darkblade Justice can be read without prior knowledge of Ilanna’s story, you will enjoy it MUCH more if you are familiar with the events in Ilanna’s life, all the hardships she had to endure prior to this story.
Read it now:
Child of the Night Guild
Thief of the Night Guild
Queen of the Night Guild
Traitors’ Fate
Darkblade Justice sets in motions the events that lead into Heirs of Destiny, a series that follows Evren, Hailen, and other characters both new and introduced in the Queen of Thieves stories. After all, such strong young men deserve a tale of their own, don’t they?
The story also shows a bit of what has happened after the events of Darkblade Savior and the end of this journey from Voramis to Enarium. From Darkblade Justice, begins a new phase in the Hunter’s life and mission to save the world.
So keep reading and enjoy…
Darkblade Justice
Hero of Darkness (Book 7)
Chapter One
King Ohilmos definitely needs better guards, Ilanna decided as she slipped past the fourth pair of sentries in five minutes. The Praamian Guards patrolling the Royal Palace could have been less attentive, but only by sleeping on the job, blindfolded, with sacks over their heads. If Ilanna had truly intended the King harm, the soldiers in their drab olive-colored uniforms and silver armor would have been about as effective a deterrent as a paper door in a hurricane.
Ilanna slithered through the shadows with less noise than the wind whispering across the stone courtyard. The tinkling of the water in the triple-tiered fountain in the heart of the grand avenue leading up to the palace drowned out any sound of her passage. Her dark grey cloak, tunic, and breeches blended with the darkness, rendering her all but invisible to the night-blind guards doing their rounds.
Even in the darkness, the red sandstone walls of the palace seemed to shine. The building rose an impressive sixty paces over Ilanna’s head, stretching three hundred paces from east to west. Atop the palace, crystal domes crowned lofty towers and offered a spectacular view of the city—she’d made it a point to sneak up there on one of her visits to the King.
Now, however, her attention turned away from the tall walls and broad double doors at the front of the palace. Instead, she slipped through the gardens toward a small window set into the base of one stone wall. Steel bars secured the window, but they only appeared solid. She’d sawn through them long ago, then replaced the grate every time she slipped in and out of the storeroom. A hefty bribe to the right scullery maid ensured the window remained unlatched.
The smell of dried herbs, old onions and garlic, and dusty sacks hung thick in the storeroom, but Ilanna ignored it as she slithered through the unlocked door and into the darkened halls of the lower level—the level where only palace staff roamed. She knew the kitchens would be empty at this time of night, save for one baker standing by in case King Ohilmos’ famous sweet tooth overcame his self-control. Tonight, the baker dozed in a corner of the kitchen, and Ilanna had the stone passages all to herself.
Within a minute, she found the staircase that led up to the palace’s main floor, directly in front of the study where King Ohilmos spent his evenings. With a grin, she slipped up to the unguarded door and slid it open, then shut without a sound.
The King, a slim, middle-aged man with an angular face and sharp chin, sat in his favorite overstuffed armchair, a book clasped in his long fingers. Duke Phonnis looked a polar opposite of the King: dark-haired where King Ohilmos was blonde, his shoulders broad, strong, and his jaw a hard square. Though his gut sagged—the mark of a warrior gone soft—his hands still bore the scars of battle and a not-quite-decorative sword of office hung from his belt.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Ilanna said in a quiet voice.
“Keeper’s teeth!” Duke Phonnis whirled, his hand dropping to his sword. His dark eyes blazed as he saw Ilanna leaning casually against the wall beside the now-closed door. “Damn you to the darkest hell, Master Gold!”
King Ohilmos actually smiled. “I’d forgotten how much you hate being startled, Brother.” His rasping voice, barely above a whisper, held a surprising strength—a strong contrast to his unimpressive appearance and the Red Blight scars crisscrossing his face and neck.
“Your security needs work. Even the youngest Serpent apprentice could have gotten in here and put a dagger in your backs.” Ilanna stifled a grin at seeing the Duke’s discomfort. Duke Phonnis, Chief Justiciar of Praamis, had more than earned her ire. After what he’d done to the Night Guild a decade ago, he deserved every shred of misery she could heap on his head. As long as it didn’t break the fragile peace between the Crown and the Night Guild, of course.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Duke Phonnis’ face darkened to a furious scowl. He had no great affection for her, either. He’d come so close to ridding the city of the criminal guild—his men had raid
ed their tunnels, rounded them up, and dragged them off to be hanged—only for Ilanna to thwart those plans. Ilanna could see the truth in his eyes: if he had his way, he’d run her through with that fancy sword of his right now.
“Easy, Brother.” King Ohilmos placed a restraining hand on the Duke’s arm. “I have asked the Guild Master to attend me this night. I simply didn’t expect her to be so…devious about it.”
Ilanna swept a mocking bow. “I live to serve, Your Majesty.”
King Ohilmos snorted. “If we’ve learned anything from your eleven years as Guild Master, it’s that you definitely do not serve anyone or anything. Master Gold does what is best for her Guild. But perhaps that is as it should be. After all, your people would not have chosen you to lead if they believed you had only your own self-interest at heart.”
“I’m certain you didn’t invite her here to exchange such banal pleasantries, Brother,” Duke Phonnis snapped. “Tell the thief what you want so she can return to her business of despoiling the good people of Praamis.”
Thief. Ilanna hadn’t been called that in more than a decade. Not that she minded—as a Hawk apprentice and Journeyman, she’d been the best thief in the Night Guild. Now, few people dared to call her anything but Guild Master. Her days of thieving might be far behind, but as she’d proven with her entrance tonight, she hadn’t lost the skills developed over fifteen years as a Hawk.
“Of course.” King Ohilmos sighed and shook his head at his brother’s barely-restrained fury. “Tell me, Master Gold, what do you know about these bodies cropping up around the city?”
“Bodies?” Ilanna cocked an eyebrow.
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