Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Finding the Night Guild proved easier than the Hunter had expected. After leaving Baronet Wyvern’s mansion and The Gardens, he decided his best choice was to take to the rooftops.

  After all, he’d reasoned, if they know I was up there earlier, that’s where they’ll be looking for me.

  He’d found one of the Night Guild’s concealed rope ladders in The Gardens and used it to climb onto the flat roof of an abandoned mansion. Slowly, cautiously, he’d worked his way across the darkened rooftops in the direction of the spot where he’d confronted the Guild assassin. He’d kept to the shadows, using the darkness of the night to conceal his movements. Less than half an hour later, he’d spotted someone slinking across a plank bridge that connected his roof to the next. A chimney provided ample cover for him to watch the newcomer without being seen.

  Moments later, three more figures had appeared from the darkness to join their companion. Though he was too far away to hear their conversation, he could be fairly certain that he’d found the men he sought. As the assassin had said, the Night Guild ruled the rooftops.

  Now he followed at a safe distance, hanging back to remain out of sight yet keeping within eyeshot. He’d picked up their scents as well. One man stank of turmeric and onions, with a generous helping of dried sweat for good measure. Another smelled of a warrior: leather armor, steel weapons, the oil used for honing and protecting the sword, and a hint of nightshade. The other two had similar scents—wool and leather tinged with lard—but where one reeked of garlic, the other had a lighter, fresher smell that reminded the Hunter of mint oil.

  An odd assortment of odors, but the Hunter had grown accustomed to it. No amount of perfume could ever truly mask the natural scents, those formed over years of contact with metal, fabric, spices, herbs, and plants.

  The smell made it far easier for the Hunter to track the men through the darkness. When they raced across one large, flat warehouse roof, the Hunter had to hang back to avoid being seen. Only once they had leapt to the next building and out of sight did he move from his hiding place and follow them. He kept his senses alert for any sight or sound, but let his sensitive nostrils guide him.

  The trail led toward Vendor’s Block, but turned sharply southward in the direction of a tower that rose high above the surrounding buildings. His gut clenched as he scanned the rooftops and saw no sign of his targets. The wind hadn’t yet carried away their scents, so they’d just passed by. Had they somehow spotted him in pursuit and decided to lay a trap for him?

  Crouching in the shadow of an overhanging roof, the Hunter closed his eyes and let his keen ears search. Up this high, easily thirty paces above the deserted city streets, few sounds filled the night. The occasional rumble of a distant wagon wheel. The faint tromp, tromp of a passing Praamian Guard patrol. The whisper of the breeze that caressed his face. The creak of a rope.

  Rope? The Hunter paid closer attention to that sound. It came from close, ten or twenty paces at most, but he could see no one moving in the shadows. Where could it be?

  He listened until he pinpointed the direction of the sound. It came from a platform above him, around the far side of the square tower.

  Cautiously, he slipped out of the shadows and scrambled up the side of the building. His eyes scanned the darkness for any movement, his ears pricked for even the slightest hint of sound. As he climbed, the creak of the rope grew fainter. He forced himself to keep moving at a slow, steady pace.

  The side of the tower facing him was blank, solid brick walls without a hint of opening, so he followed the rooftop around the side.

  And found himself looking into a window.

  The smell of his targets drifted from within, and this close, he could hear the grunts of straining men echoing in a vast cavern. Careful to keep his face in shadow, he peered through the window.

  The space within was huge, as tall as the tower itself, and descended at least a full floor below ground level. Lanterns burned along the earth-packed walls of the room, bathing the chamber in a soft golden glow. The light illuminated the strangest thing the Hunter had ever seen.

  A maze of braided metal cables, ropes, ladders, bridges, wooden platforms, and steel poles descended from his tower-top perch to the dirt floor far below.

  A wry grin split his lips. Found you! This could only belong to the Night Guild.

  He tracked the movement of the men descending the strange rope-ladder-maze contraption. Two of them slithered downward with a speed that surprised him, while the other two struggled and strained with the effort of carrying their weight.

  Clearly not accustomed to this sort of thing.

  That made sense. The man he’d met on the rooftops had moved with the grace of a fighter, yet he’d tumbled off the rooftop because he hadn’t been aware of the edge. The brute he’d faced in the sewers would never have survived on the narrow plank bridges and tightrope crossings on the rooftops.

  Different groups of men for different tasks. The sort of thieving done on rooftops differed from the sleight of hand required to pick pockets, and assassins relied more on cunning and skill at arms than brute strength. The Bloody Hand had been filled with a loose association of criminals, each gang under the control of the Five Fingers running their business as they saw fit. He’d heard rumors of the Night Guild being far more organized than the Bloody Hand. A smart criminal enterprise—and much of what he’d seen and heard of the Night Guild hinted at intelligent coordination instead of the Bloody Hand’s ruthless might—would divide up their members according to their skills.

  A random thought flashed through his mind. I could use an organization like this in my fight to save the world.

  He discarded it immediately. Criminals rarely cared about more than eking out a living or lining their pockets with gold. It would take someone with a very open mind and forward-thinking mentality to even consider the Hunter’s quest as anything but the ravings of a madman.

  They can’t all be as intelligent as Kiara or Father Reverentus.

  He watched the last two men descending from the rope ladder maze, his teeth grinding in frustration. The ground lay fifty or sixty paces below—it shouldn’t take a well-trained thief that long to get down.

  Finally, their boots touched the hard-packed earth, and the men groaned with the effort of the descent. After a few muttered words the Hunter didn’t catch, they strode toward a pair of massive double doors and disappeared from view.

  The Hunter waited a full minute before moving. On the rope ladder maze, he’d be visible—and vulnerable—if anyone entered the high-ceilinged chamber. But if he wanted to get to the Guild Master, he’d have to risk it.

  He shimmied through the window, grabbed onto a steel pole, and slid down to the wooden platform five paces below. The platform sagged beneath his weight, but he leapt across a narrow plank bridge and seized a hanging rope. A smile split his face as he swung across open space, dropped onto another platform, then scrambled down a swaying rope ladder.

  This is bloody fun!

  But he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the enjoyment of the challenge. Anxiety set his heart hammering as he descended. His eyes fixed on the ground floor, where he could see open doorways and tunnels set into three of the chamber’s walls—and those huge double doors through which the men had disappeared.

  Relief surged within him as he dropped the last five paces to land on the dusty floor, only to dim a moment later as he realized the soothing, warm glow of the lanterns drove back the shadows of the huge room. He had nowhere to hide. He had to get out of here before someone spotted him.

  He pushed through the double doors and found himself in a tunnel with earthen walls, floor, and arching ceiling. The passage sloped upward at a gentle incline, then disappeared around a corner fifteen paces ahead. Those strange glass-globe lamps set into the wall at consistent intervals provided ample illumination to guide his steps but drove back any hint of shadows.

  His gut clenched. No way to hide i
n here. His only hope lay in masquerading as one of the Night Guild’s own. He’d just have to hope he could pull off the deception.

  He put a swagger in his step, lifted his head, and moved with the confident purpose of a very important person going about very important business. If he looked as if he belonged, people would be far less likely to question his presence. He caught sight of two men leading three young boys through the tunnels fifty paces ahead of him, but didn’t slow his pace. Nothing to draw unwanted attention to himself.

  He let out a quiet breath as the figures disappeared down an adjoining passage without a second glance in his direction. This might not be as hard as I thought. With an enterprise as large as the Night Guild’s, he doubted everyone knew everyone else. He just had to keep playing the part until—

  Five paces ahead of him, at the next intersection, a man stepped into view. The same slim, hard-featured man in tailored clothing, with that well-used sword at his hip and the lethal grace of an assassin.

  The man paused, cocked his head, and fixed his gaze on the Hunter. His eyes flew wide as recognition clicked in his mind.

  “The Hunter!” The man gasped, then raised his voice in a shout. “The Hunter is here!”

  The Hunter’s heart sank. Shit!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Icy fingers crawled down Ilanna’s spine. The Hunter? Here? Her mind raced. Impossible!

  Yet there was no denying the fear and urgency in Shaw’s words. Before she realized it, she found herself striding after the racing Hound, Ria’s footsteps echoing behind her.

  There, fifty paces down the tunnel, stood a man dressed in all dark grey. He had a hard face with heavy, hooded brows, a crooked nose, and scars on his cheeks that curled his upper lip into a perpetual sneer. The face of a killer.

  Thirty men and women from House Bloodbear, House Serpent, and House Hound surrounded him, weapons drawn. Tension rose off her people in tangible waves. None of them wanted to be the first to make a move; all knew the Hunter by reputation and a few—including Journeyman Tassat, the Serpent nearest the intruder—had faced him directly.

  Ilanna strode toward the Hunter. The legendary assassin stood silent and still, arms folded over his chest, an island of calm amidst a sea of nervous fear. His eyes roamed over the men and women arrayed in front of him as if sizing them up, and he made no move toward the sword on his hip or the dagger—with its ornate transparent gemstone—in his belt. The wry smile on his face was doubtless intended to convince the Night Guild he found them far less intimidating than they’d hoped.

  Journeymen made way for Ilanna, who strode to meet the Hunter with a false fearlessness in her stride. A tremor ran through her gut at the thought of facing down this man who had killed so many—hundreds, if the tales were to be believed. Yet she moved on with a determined step. He stood in her Night Guild, and she’d be damned if she let him slaughter her people without first making an attempt to speak with him.

  When his gaze fell on her, he stood straighter and arched a heavy eyebrow. “Master of the Night Guild, I presume?”

  “And who the bloody hell might you be?” Ilanna stopped two paces away, well within the reach of his weapons.

  A wry smile played on his lips. “Come now, Guild Master. Must we play that game?”

  “The one where you invade my home after beating and killing my men?” Ilanna folded her arms over her chest, a pose as stubborn and defiant as his. “You and I seem to have very different definitions of what a game is.”

  “To be fair, your men attacked me.” The Hunter shrugged. “And I let your men in the sewers live with nothing but a few bruises and broken bones. That’s more mercy than I’ve offered most men.”

  Ilanna snorted. “How gracious of you! Allow me to hold a feast in gratitude for your kindness.”

  Again, the little smile tugged on the Hunter’s lips. “I’m not particularly hungry. I will, however, settle for answers.”

  Ilanna cocked her head. “Is that all?”

  “Yes.” The Hunter’s voice was calm, his posture relaxed despite the wall of steel, flesh, and bone confronting him.

  Ilanna had to admit a grudging respect for the man. Anyone who can face down that many enemies without fear is either a fool or someone I’d hate to cross blades with. Everything she’d heard about him made it clear he was no fool.

  “And you simply expect me to give you the answers you seek?” Ilanna pursed her lips. “After what you’ve done, I should simply order my men to cut you down. At the very least, clap you in irons and haul you around the city. No one kills my people without repercussions.”

  “I think that, in this instance, you might want to consider making an exception.” A hint of disdain flickered across the Hunter’s face as he surveyed the men and women—now numbering close to fifty, including Errik, Master Hound, and the hulking Master Bloodbear—arrayed against him. “I’ve got more important things to do with my evening than killing the lot of you.”

  Master Bloodbear growled and was about to step forward, but Ilanna held up a hand to stop him. “Such confidence. Perhaps too much?”

  The Hunter shrugged. “I’d rather we didn’t find out.” He gestured to the earth-packed walls and floor of the tunnel. “It would be a shame to stain these fine halls with unnecessary blood.”

  “Even if it’s yours?” Ilanna asked.

  Again, a disdainful shrug, but no retort.

  Ilanna’s estimation of the man went up another small notch. Her threat of violence hadn’t fazed him; he hadn’t reached for the dagger in his belt or the sword at his hip. He’d simply met her words with a level gaze, not a hint of fear in his dark eyes.

  “Very well.” Ilanna nodded. “I will hear your questions. I do not promise answers, but you may speak your piece unharmed.”

  “Very gracious.” The Hunter swept a courtly bow, which caused the Hounds and Bloodbears nearest him to flinch and raise their weapons.

  Ilanna would swear a mocking smile flashed on the Hunter’s lips, but when the assassin straightened, his expression had returned to its usual impassivity.

  “Ilanna,” Ria said in her ear, “are you sure this is wise?”

  “If the choice is speak or fight,” Ilanna whispered back, squeezing the woman’s hand, “words kill far fewer people than blades. Especially blades in the hands of the Keeper-damned Hunter of Voramis.”

  She raised her voice so all the Journeymen could hear. “Lower your weapons.”

  For a long moment, none in the hall moved. Ilanna could almost hear their minds working, trying to calculate their chances of taking on the Hunter either singly or in a rush.

  “The Hunter is our guest.” Ilanna’s voice was firm, hard. “For now.”

  Tassat moved first, sheathing his blade and straightening from his wary crouch. The rest of House Serpent did likewise, and one by one, the assorted Hounds and Bloodbears followed suit. Master Bloodbear lowered his huge fists and removed his studded steel knuckles. Master Hound sheathed his two long dirks.

  Only Errik hadn’t moved. His face remained blank, expressionless as he stared at the Hunter, sword and dagger held in a low grip. Ilanna had seen him kill men faster than they could blink from that position. She knew him well enough to know what went through his mind. Kindan had been his friend, and he wouldn’t allow the Serpent’s death to go unanswered. Not unless she ordered him to.

  Ilanna rested a hand on her friend’s arm. “Don’t.” A single word, pitched low for his ears.

  Something hard and cold flashed in Errik’s eyes, but after a long moment, he sheathed his blades.

  The Hunter’s gaze fixed on her, a curious expression on his face. She wondered what he was thinking, but those eyes—how dark are they?—revealed nothing.

  “Come.” She stepped back and motioned for him to follow. “Let us speak in private.”

  Ria stiffened, but Ilanna stopped her with a quick shake of her head. To her credit, the woman held her tongue, simply fell in step a pace behind Ilanna—her Guild
Master in front of her and the Hunter at her back.

  Ilanna smiled at Ria’s protectiveness. She’d fallen in love with the woman’s ferocity and desire to watch out not only for Kodyn, but Ilanna herself. Ria would face the Long Keeper himself before letting anything happen to either of them. Ilanna could only hope Ria didn’t feel threatened enough to act on that nature. Ria might be good, more proficient with her weapons than most Serpents, but that was the Hunter of bloody Voramis behind her. Ilanna doubted she was that good.

  Conscious of the Hunter’s eyes burning into her back, she led the way through the tunnels toward the Guild Master’s office. Darreth looked up at Ilanna’s approach, his expression curious. Then his eyes slid past her to the man walking behind Ria and the Scorpion’s face went white. He buried his nose in a stack of papers and made a clear point not to meet the Hunter’s gaze.

  Ilanna opened the door and stepped aside for the Hunter to enter. “We can speak freely in here.”

  With a little nod, the Hunter strode around Ria and into the office. He moved with the grace of a predator, the confidence of a warrior. He had never been in the Night Guild before—that she knew of, at least—but he walked as if he owned the place.

  Ilanna made to enter next, but Ria and Errik shoved past before she could step forward. Only her stern glare stopped Masters Hound and Bloodbear from piling in after the others.

  The last thing I need is for the Hunter to feel any more threatened. And, if Ria and Errik couldn’t stop the Hunter from killing her, if that was his intention, two more fighters wouldn’t do much to slow him down.

  She closed the door behind her, pushed between Errik and Ria, and strode around the desk to sit in her stuffed armchair. Ria and Errik hurried to stand beside her. Neither moved to draw weapons, but their hands hovered near their hilts.

  The Hunter, however, seemed perfectly at ease despite the threatening glares leveled at him. He scanned the room and nodded. “Not what I was expecting.” His gesture encompassed the room. “I’d think the Master of the Night Guild would live a bit more lavishly.”