Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

“I know. Hard to believe, but there’s no denying what I saw.” She understood why he’d insisted on her holding the quickfire globes up to his face—that way, there’d be no way to write it off as a trick of the light or eyesight.

  “The Okanele are not to be trusted,” Ria said. “My people tell of the demons, servants to Inzayo Okubi, He Who Feeds on Life. They devour the souls of their victims to feed their cruel master, and they leave no spirits to travel to Pharadesi.”

  Ilanna rubbed her eyes. “I can’t think about myths and legends right now, Ria. Right now, he’s our best chance of finding these killers. If they do have Kodyn…” She swallowed hard. “I’ll bargain with the Great Destroyer himself if it means we get Kodyn back alive!”

  Ria’s expression soured. Over the last decade of living together, Ilanna had come to learn that Ria was deeply religious, with a firm belief in the spirits her people worshipped. To Ria, joining forces with the Hunter was on par with Ilanna taking up with Duke Phonnis, yet Ilanna could only hope that Ria’s desire to see Kodyn safe could trump her belief—at least long enough to get their son back.

  Before Ria could say any more, a call came from up the tunnel, past the doorway where the Hunter waited. “Master Gold!”

  Ilanna looked up to find Tassat hurrying toward them with Shaw, Master of House Hound, and a Fox in tow.

  Ilanna hurried to greet them, but something about Shaw’s face sent a chill down her spine. A shadow hovered in his eyes, and it felt as if he didn’t want to meet her gaze.

  “Master Hound, thank you for coming.”

  “Ilanna…” He started, then stopped and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry to be the one to give you this.”

  Ilanna’s blood ran cold as Shaw pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. On his palm rested a small redwood figurine of a hawk, wings spread in flight. Time and use had worn the features, but she’d recognize it anywhere. She’d given Kodyn that wooden hawk on his sixth nameday, and he never went anywhere without it.

  The sight drove a dagger of ice into her gut. A fist of iron squeezed her heart, drove the breath from her lungs. For a moment, she felt as if she’d drown, her eyes locked onto the little figurine in Shaw’s hand.

  Grief welled up within her and threatened to burst from her chest. Ilanna wanted to collapse in a sobbing heap, to scream out her rage, to draw her sword and hack down anyone and everyone around her.

  If that’s here, where is my son?!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The trinket, a curious little wooden carving of a bird, had an instant effect on the Guild Master. She went white, every muscle in her body rigid, and her expression froze. The Ghandian woman’s fingers closed tight around Ilanna’s arm. For a moment, the Hunter thought the woman would either faint, lash out, or simply shut down entirely.

  Whatever it is, that means something to her. Something to do with her son.

  The Hunter’s hand went to the silver pendant at his neck. The pendant was faded by time and tarnished by sweat, but it numbered among the Hunter’s most valuable possessions. It was all he had left of Bardin, the half-insane beggar and former Illusionist Cleric that had befriended him in Malandria. The Hunter had avenged Bardin’s death at the hands of the demon Toramin and now carried the trinket in memory of the man that had become his friend.

  He watched the Guild Master to see how she’d react. She’d shown impressive strength of spirit despite the worry he’d read in her eyes, the fear in her voice. Not fear for herself, but for her son. In her place, the Hunter would have responded with far less self-control or cool-headed restraint. He’d killed hundreds of bandits, torturers, and Elivasti prison guards out of a desire to keep Hailen alive. He would kill again to find his daughter, Jaia, wherever on Einan she was to be found.

  Master Gold took the trinket, her hands steady as a rock, and clenched it in her fist so tight her knuckles whitened. “Where did you find it?” she asked, her voice quiet, hard.

  “Over by Vendor’s Block, near Repository Way,” the man, Shaw, responded. “My Hounds recognized it as his.”

  Ilanna’s jaw muscles worked as she digested the information. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath, turned to the Hunter, and said in a quiet, hard voice. “We move, now.”

  The Hunter’s estimation of the woman rose. He’d recognized her strength of will after just a few words, but now, to see her so composed when he would have raged, he couldn’t help admiring her resolve.

  With a nod, he led the way into the tunnels. He was keenly aware of the Ghandian woman’s eyes burning into his back, the tension radiating off the assassins marching in a protective guard around the Guild Master. They would watch his every move and respond the moment he threatened the woman Ilanna.

  Interesting.

  Rather than ruling her people through fear, this Guild Master seemed to inspire genuine loyalty, even real concern and affection, from those who served her. She led her people rather than commanded them. They followed her by choice. The way they hovered around her, protective as a mother Bloodbear guarding her cubs, spoke of a fierce devotion no money could buy. The First of the Bloody Hand had commanded his thugs to kill for him, but Master Gold’s people would die to protect her.

  It seems I’ve misjudged the Night Guild. Perhaps there is more to them—some of them, at least—than I expected. He tucked that nugget of information away. Later, once he’d dealt with the demon and his gang of killers, there might be an option for a genuine partnership with the Night Guild. If not as friends, perhaps as allies.

  “Here,” he said as they reached the room where he’d found the bloody clothes and scrawled symbols. “This is the place.” Everything had remained undisturbed since he left hours earlier. As he’d expected, the killers hadn’t planned to return.

  Ilanna’s eyes narrowed as she studied the chamber. She hadn’t released her white-knuckled grip on the wooden carving, but she was once again the poised, cool Guild Master he’d met earlier that day.

  “Shaw, Zeem, find me something. Anything!” Only the barest hint of desperation cracked her voice.

  The two men who had joined their company outside slipped through the crowd around Ilanna and set to work. They produced more of those strange glass lanterns and set them up at all four corners of the room. The glow brightened the underground chamber and drove back the shadows, making the blood-written symbols seem all the more eerie.

  The taller, whip-thin man, Shaw, walked around the room in a crouch, eyes narrowed and fixed on the dust-covered floor. A frown twisted his face, and he made a strange clucking sound with his tongue as he moved.

  The other man, the one called Zeem, hissed as he crouched over the pile of bloodstained clothes. “Guild Master.” He plucked a tunic from the pile and held it up. A simple shirt, cut of dull brown cloth, but with bright orange thread for the seams and hem. “This belonged to Arashi.”

  The Guild Master’s face hardened. “So this is where your apprentice was killed?”

  “Might be.” Zeem pointed to the center of the room. “There was a table ‘ere, no doubt about it. There are traces of vomit, piss, and shite, but far less blood than I’d expect from a place like this.”

  “Journeyman Rilmine said Arashi was dying from the effects of Night Petal.” Ilanna’s expression grew thoughtful. “But the true cause of death was a stab wound to the heart.”

  “Some poisons thicken the blood,” the Hunter put in. “Turn it sluggish.”

  “Perhaps.” Ilanna inclined her head. “My Journeyman said it empties the gut, bladder, and stomach as it kills the victim, shutting down the body until death by dehydration.”

  “That explains the smell in ‘ere, then,” Zeem grunted.

  The Hunter drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and realized, with surprise, that the man’s assessment was correct. The stink in the room differed from the rest of the tunnels. Now that he’d grown accustomed to the smell of sewage, he could detect the more acidic tang of bile and urine beneath the deeper ste
nch of fecal matter.

  He cursed himself for a fool. He’d been so focused on pursuing the killers that he’d missed the subtle clue. What else had he overlooked?

  “Zeem, come over here.” Shaw spoke without looking up from the ground.

  Zeem hurried to crouch beside the man. “What’s up?”

  “What do you make of this?” Shaw held up two fingers, which were coated in a light dusting of white powder.

  Zeem frowned and sniffed the powder. “Hmm.” He sniffed again and closed his eyes in concentration, like a pompous nobleman over of a glass of fine wine. “Could be ashes from a fire.”

  The Hunter moved toward the two, careful not to block the lantern light, and stared down at the small patch of white powder in front of Shaw. When he sniffed it, he recoiled from the biting odor, similar to urine but far stronger.

  “Lye,” he grunted.

  Shaw and Zeem exchanged glances, then both sniffed the substance. “Might be,” Zeem admitted, then hurried to wipe the caustic chemical from his hands.

  Shaw inclined his head. “Kind of has that urine smell to it.”

  “I’m certain of it.” The Hunter had used the potent chemical to dissolve victims he’d been hired to make disappear. He straightened and turned to Ilanna. “Where could this have come from?”

  The Guild Master’s brow furrowed. “I’d have to talk to my people, but—”

  “Hey, wasn’t there an old soapmaker’s over near Repository Way?” Zeem asked. “Far as I know, lye’s used to make those fancy soaps the nobility love to buy.”

  Ilanna stiffened. “Shaw,” she snapped. “Where did you say you found this?” She held up the wooden bird figurine.

  Shaw’s eyes flew wide. “Over by Repository Way!”

  The Hunter’s mind raced. He pictured Praamis as he’d seen it laid out on a city planner’s map, then started adding in the details. The entrance where he’d followed the killers down into the sewers, this tunnel, and the exit that led out into the streets. The rough route the Bluejacket would have taken to get from Vendor’s Block to Baronet Wyvern’s to deliver the Guild’s blackmail message. Now, Repository Way, the warehouse district where Shaw had found the figurine.

  Years as an assassin had taught him that humans—demons, too—were creatures of habit. They tended to do the same things: attend the same parties, visit the same temples, call on the same friends, and so on. When hired to do a job, he’d often invest time following his targets to find out where they went and what they did. That led him to what he called their “hunt zone”.

  The warehouses of Repository Way fit that hunt zone to a tee. This lair would have been useful, but the killers had to have known the Night Guild roamed the sewers freely. It could have been a secondary location to conduct their foul rituals, but their primary location would be in the soapmaker’s, located at the nexus of all those interconnected lines.

  The Guild Master seemed to reach the same conclusion at the same time as he did. Their eyes locked, and he read grim determination there. “To the soapmaker’s, now!”

  For her sake, the Hunter found himself hoping they found the killers in time to save her son. He still felt the loss of Farida years after her death, even though the young flower girl hadn’t been his flesh and blood. No one should have to suffer that pain.

  “Zeem, get to House Serpent and Bloodbear and let them know where we’re going.” Master Gold was suddenly all business, snapping terse commands in a tone that held only resolve. “Have them meet us there as soon as they can.”

  “Yes, Guild Master.” The little man nodded and rushed from the room.

  She turned to the taller man. “Shaw, keep looking and if you find anything else, get over to Repository Way and tell me.”

  Shaw inclined his head.

  “Errik, Ria, Aisha, Sys, Kalla, you’re with us.”

  The dark-skinned woman, Ria, tensed. “Us?”

  The Hunter grinned. “Like she said before, when hunting demons, who better than a demon to join the hunt?”

  “Half-demon,” Ilanna corrected, a hint of a smile on her lips.

  The Hunter chuckled. “Of course.”

  Ilanna turned to the woman. “Ria, right now, Kodyn’s the only thing that matters. We need to get to him before anything happens. If you’re not comfortable with the Hunter’s presence, you can always—”

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Ilanna,” Ria snapped. “Where you go, I go. Kodyn’s my son as much as yours.”

  Interesting. That explained the Ghandian woman’s protectiveness and her reaction to the news that the Guild Master’s son was missing.

  “Let’s go.” Ilanna said and, without waiting, raced from the room down the corridor that led out the same exit the Hunter had used.

  The Hunter let Ria go first, but fell in step behind the two women before the assassins could move. If there’s a demon to hunt, better I face him head on.

  They raced through the access tunnels, out into the main sewers, and through the tunnels to the nearest exit. From there, it was a short climb onto the rooftop highway. Ilanna pushed the pace to the point where the Hunter had to focus to keep up across the narrow plank bridges, tightropes, and broad gaps.

  The sun had climbed higher into the sky, and the Lady’s Bells tolled out the sixth hour of the morning. Each silvery, echoing peal added to the sense of urgency mounting within the Hunter. They had to strike before the demon and his minions knew they were being hunted. But he couldn’t just rush in—that could get people, both the Night Guild and any victims still alive, killed.

  Ilanna ground to a halt at the edge of a flat-roofed warehouse, her eyes fixed on the wooden building across the narrow lane. “There,” she said. “That’s the old soapmaker’s. That’s where we’ll find them.”

  The warehouse resembled every other building around it: a boxy structure of brick and wood, with small windows set high off the ground and only one door visible. The Hunter drew in a deep breath, but only the scents of the people beside him met his nostrils. He was too high up to catch any odors from the streets four stories below.

  “By the Watcher!” Ilanna gasped, her face going white, and she clutched the Ghandian woman’s arm. “Ria, look there!”

  The Hunter followed Ilanna’s pointing finger, and his eyes fell on a young man crouched on a rooftop overlooking the soapmaker’s warehouse.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Relief washed over Ilanna and burst from her chest in a single explosive sob. Before she could stop herself, she was scrambling across the rooftop, racing over a plank bridge, and dropping onto the roof beside her son.

  Kodyn whipped around, eyes going wide as he recognized her. “Guild Master, what are you—?”

  Ilanna threw her arms around her son’s neck and clutched him tight. No tears spilled from her eyes but she clung to him like a drowning man as the emotions surged through her chest.

  “What’s going on, Mom?” Kodyn asked, confusion in his voice. “Ria?”

  Ilanna felt Ria’s strong arms wrap around the both of them, and for a long moment, she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of her son’s presence. Finally, when she’d reassured herself that he actually was alive and in her arms, not dead as she’d feared, she broke off the embrace and stepped back. “We’ve been so worried about you!”

  “Why?” Kodyn’s expression grew puzzled, and his gaze darted between Ilanna and Ria.

  “No one in the Night Guild has seen or heard from you since yesterday evening!” Ilanna had to force herself not to shout—the warehouse with the killers was one building over. “And we found this.” She held out the wooden hawk figurine.

  “Oh.” Kodyn blushed. “I…I gave it to Sid.”

  “Sid?” Ilanna’s eyebrows shot up. “But I gave it to you!”

  “On my sixth nameday, my first with you in the Night Guild.” Kodyn nodded. “But I’m sixteen, now, almost old enough for my Undertaking. I don’t need it anymore, but Sid does. He’s been having a rough
go of it the last few months. The Hawk’s training hasn’t been easy on him. So I gave it to him, told him it would be a reminder of what he was working toward, just as it was for me.” His color deepened, and remorse filled his eyes. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know how much you love those little hawks.”

  “No, it’s not your fault.” Pride mingled with the relief welling in Ilanna’s chest. Despite everything that life had thrown at her son, he’d still come out a decent, good-hearted young man. She pulled him close again, just for one last moment.

  “So if you gave it to Sid,” Ria put in, “does that mean the killers have him?”

  Anxiety glimmered in Kodyn’s eyes. “Yes. They got him yesterday morning, I think.” He swallowed. “I…don’t know if he’s still alive.”

  “How did you think to come here?” Ilanna asked.

  “I was out looking for Sid when I saw some men carrying two canvas-wrapped bundles into that warehouse there.” Kodyn thrust a finger at the brick-and-wood building across from them. “It seemed odd, seeing as how the Soaper’s Company shut down years ago, so I kept an eye on the building until they left, then tried to get in. But they didn’t all leave.”

  The Hunter reached Ilanna at that moment. “All?” he demanded. “How many of are there?”

  Kodyn fixed the Hunter with a stare, curiosity in his eyes, then shot a questioning glance at Ilanna.

  “He’s here to help.” It would take too long to explain everything about the Hunter of Voramis to her son; they’d have time for that later. “Tell us what you know.”

  “I’ve counted twenty people going in and out, but most of them moved around during the night, so I couldn’t tell if they were twenty different people or just the same men making multiple trips.” He grimaced. “Each time they return, they bring one of those bundles. They always leave empty-handed.”

  Ilanna shuddered. More victims for their strange ritual.

  “But you said that not all of them leave?” the Hunter pressed. “That there are more inside?”