Which left him facing another dilemma. The Elivasti needed the opia as much as he. If the Sage was to be believed, the last fruit would bloom before the week's end. When that was gone, how long until the next blossoming? Would the Elivasti allow him to take the promised fruit to save Hailen, or would they demand it for their own? He could not fight them all, but he dared not leave Kara-ket without it.
Dasim's quiet grunt dragged him from his thoughts. "Here." He pressed on one of the symbols, and the section of stone wall rumbled to the side. "You can find your way?"
The Hunter nodded. "Eighth landing up."
"Good." Dasim stepped aside.
Without a word, the Hunter entered the hidden staircase and depressed the same symbol Dasim had used to open the door. The section of stone rumbled shut behind him, leaving him alone in the corridor with nothing but the softly glowing walls for company.
The Hunter padded through the dim passage, through the wooden door, and started up the staircase. He climbed slowly, his mind working at the puzzle of what to do.
He'd come to Kara-ket for answers about his past and found a few with Master Eldor. He had found the opia to cure Hailen, though he wouldn't be able to use it until it ripened in a week. The Sage had revealed much about the Abiarazi and the Bucelarii. He had yet to learn the Sage's plans for Einan, but that was the final task before he could eliminate the demons.
An excited eagerness filled him. Soon enough, he'd be leaving Kara-ket and resuming his journey northward. His journey to find Her, the mystery woman from his dreams. No, not his dreams. His memories. Fragmented they might be, but they were glimpses into his forgotten past. She had carried his child. Did the child still live? A boy like Hailen, or a girl like Farida? He had to find Her, had to once again smell Her scent of jasmine, honey, cinnamon, and berries. The image of Her face twisted a knife of sorrow and longing in his heart.
But first he had to deal with the demons. The Sage wanted him to kill the Warmaster, and the Warmaster expected him to eliminate the Sage. The Elivasti hoped he would deal with both Abiarazi and free them from their servitude.
The Sage would help him get into the Warmaster's temple. He could make up some excuse for creeping in. A moment of inattention would be enough for him to put Soulhunger in the Warmaster's back. The Masters of Agony with their steel weapons couldn't stop him. He had only the Elivasti to fear. Perhaps Master Eldor could find a way to clear the Warmaster's black and white-masked guards long enough for him to do the deed.
But how to kill the Sage? He never went anywhere outside his rooms without a guard. That meant the Hunter would have to climb the temple's exterior and slip into the demon's bedchamber while he slept. If he was quiet and fast enough, the Sage would never see him coming.
A lot of ifs. He snorted. Too many.
Years as an assassin had taught him to keep his jobs as simple as possible. The more balls he juggled, the higher the risk of dropping one. That led to capture, torture, and death. He had no desire to repeat his experiences with the First of the Bloody Hand and Lord Jahel. Unfortunately, he found himself in circumstances where elaborate and complex plans were his only solution.
So be it. The Warmaster dies first, then the Sage. Tomorrow he'd begin putting the final pieces of his plan into motion, with Master Eldor's help. Tonight, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and rest. Between his morning training, the afternoon spent with the Sage, and the events of the evening, he needed peace.
This bloody climb isn't helping much!
He'd ascended close to two hundred stairs, and his legs and lungs burned from the effort. He still had three landings to go until—
A familiar scent froze him in his tracks: the odor of ancient rot and decay. The smell of Abiarazi. He took a deep breath through his nostrils. No denying it, the scent hung thick in the low staircase. It was faint—a few hours old, perhaps—but he would never mistake it for any other odor. It always brought him pain and misery.
He followed his nose, sniffing the air as he went. Down a single flight of stairs to one of the identical landings. The scent ended at the plain wooden door.
The Sage knew about these secret passages, then. And he used them. But for what? What lay behind the door?
Excitement surged within the Hunter. He'd searched the Sage's rooms for any hint of the demon's plans and found nothing. An Abiarazi as clever as the Sage wouldn't hide anything important in plain sight. But in these secret passages, supposedly known only by the Sage and the Serenii who had built the temples long ago, the demon would trust his secrets would remain undiscovered.
He had to get through the door! If only I knew how to pick a Keeper-damned lock.
He'd faced his fair share of locked doors, but always found a way through or around. Now, however, he had neither. The sturdy bloodwood would survive a battering ram, and he had no idea how to find a way around.
Damn it! He drove a fist into the door. Once again, so close only to be foiled.
No. He regained control of himself. I still have time.
The Sage wanted to make use of him, and he had convinced the demon he was a potential ally. He would take advantage of that, manipulate the Sage into revealing his plans. He had a few days until he made his move against the Warmaster. He would spend that time working on the Sage. That would mean spending less time with Master Eldor—and fewer visits to Hailen—but if it hastened the demon's demise, so be it.
The Hunter hastened up the stairs, his vigor and determination renewed. By the time he reached the eighth landing, sweat dripped down his forehead and soaked his tunic. Controlling his breathing, he pressed the symbol to open the door and peered out from behind the jade sculpture. Silent, empty hallways met his gaze. He hurried out into the corridors, triggered the closing mechanism, and slipped on silent feet back to his room.
* * *
Sleep proved elusive. Dreams of torment and suffering plagued the Hunter. Hailen's face floated before his eyes—not the smiling boy, but the wailing, screaming child writhing on the floor. When he pushed it away, memories of the Advanat Desert replaced them.
Il Seytani's dagger carved a thin line of red into Hailen's throat, but his grip on the boy loosened. Hailen staggered and fell against the obsidian stone of the monolith. His hand—still stained with his blood—pressed against the smooth black surface.
Something hummed beneath their feet. The air around them thickened, and the stench of decay grew deeper, permeating every fiber of the Hunter's being. His arms and legs moved as if through mud. His brain refused to form coherent thoughts. Throbbing tension mounted in his head. His lungs burned; his chest buckled, as if bone would snap beneath the strain. The shrieking in his mind reached a mind-numbing crescendo. The early morning light retreated, and the world grew dim.
The pressure snapped with concussive force. A wave of heat and power slammed into the Hunter, lifting him from his feet and hurling him through the air. Hard stone struck his back. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. His grip loosened, and his weapons flew from his hands.
The Hunter shuddered despite the room's gentle warmth. His fingers sought the smooth metal of Bardin's pendant. Moonlight streamed into the window, but his unseeing eyes stared unfocused into the darkness. The things he'd learned that day left his thoughts a jumble.
Master Eldor's words from the previous day rang in his ears. "We do not know what brings it on, but there is no escaping it. In the end, the Irrsinnon takes us all."
Hailen was Elivasti. More than that, he faced the curse of the Serenii like the rest of his people. But what had brought it on? Had the stones triggered the Irrsinnon, or was it nothing more than coincidence?
Once again, he cursed himself for a selfish fool. He'd taken the boy from his safe home in Malandria, all so he could find peace from the voices in his mind. The blame for all the horrors the lad had suffered lay on his shoulders.
He had no way to undo it now. He couldn't return Hailen to the home he once knew. It no longer existed. He'd ki
lled Father Pietus, Lord Knight Moradiss, and the other Cambionari in the House of Need. With the looming threat of the Irrsinnon, the Hunter couldn't deposit the boy with the nearest Beggar Priest and hope for the best. He had to live with his choices.
But could he? What if something happened to Hailen, all because of him? He knew what he would do. I will rain fiery torment upon anyone who harms him. He is under my protection. I will not fail him. Not as he had failed so many others.
He toyed with the silver pendant as the familiar faces swam in his vision. Old Nan. Farida. Bardin. New faces had joined the multitude: Eileen, Darrell, and the other children dragged away from Sirkar Jeroen's caravan. He'd arrived too late to save them from whatever horrific fate Il Seytani had condemned them.
Guilt twisted like a dagger in his stomach. He bit back the roiling emotions that threatened to burst from his chest. He wanted to pound his head against the wall, if only it would banish those lifeless faces and empty, accusing eyes.
For long, agonizing hours, the Hunter wrestled with doubt, guilt, and worry. He lost.
* * *
Sunrise found him pounding at the door to Master Belros' smithy.
Master Eldor appeared, his eyes narrowing at sight of the Hunter.
"I'm in." The Hunter extended a hand. "I will help you. But first you must promise me that you'll help keep the boy safe."
The old Elivasti gripped his forearm. "Upon the memory of my son, I swear." Sadness flashed in his eyes. "No harm will come to your boy."
"Good." The Hunter nodded. "Now let's prepare to kill a demon."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Teeth bared in a snarl, the Hunter hacked and thrust at an invisible enemy. Sweat poured down his body, soaked through his tunic. The voice in his mind hammered against the mental barrier he had erected. It fought to break free; it would if he didn't concentrate on maintaining his defenses. A life spent fighting the presence within him was no life at all. His hatred of the voices, the demons, and frustration at his inability to protect Hailen drove him beyond exhaustion.
His muscles begged for mercy, but he refused to stop. He channeled his anger, annoyance at himself, and guilt into the fluid dance of war. After a sleepless night, he welcomed the outlet for everything he'd bottled up for so long.
Master Eldor stood watching, hands clasped behind his back. He nodded as the Hunter completed his sword form. "Better, though the tension in your shoulders is slowing you down."
The Hunter winced at a throbbing in his side. His body had slowly begun acclimating to the thin air of the mountaintop. Resting his hands on his knees, he took deep breaths to drive away the cramp.
"Enough for now." Master Eldor threw the Hunter a cloth. "You've been at this since sunrise."
The Hunter wiped his perspiration-soaked face and glanced at the sun. It approached its zenith, well past noon. He wanted to continue—he felt like a tightly coiled spring yearning to be released. But his body ached from the exertion. Master Eldor had pushed him hard. He had no complaints. Fatigue dulled the whirling chaos in his mind, drove back the insistent voices.
"Very well." He sheathed his sword.
Master Eldor quirked an eyebrow. "You well, lad? I've seen dead men looking better than you."
"Didn't sleep."
"Ah." Master Eldor nodded sagely. "Been there myself. Every year it seems I sleep less. Though that doesn't necessarily mean I want to greet your ugly mug first thing in the morning." A grin played on his lips.
The Hunter gave a half-smile. He'd fled his room before the sun peeked over the horizon. Sunrise had found him fighting a foe only he could see.
"You seem a bit…driven today. I'm guessing that has more to do with that boy of yours."
"He was supposed to be safe," the Hunter said, his voice tight, "far away from here."
Master Eldor tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. "Why wouldn't you bring him here? If he's Elivasti, there is no safer place for him." Sorrow filled his eyes. "After last night, I expected you'd agree."
"How was I supposed to know that would happen to him?" the Hunter snarled. "I can't even remember my own Keeper-damned name, much less the truth of some secret race of people descended from the ancient Serenii."
"True." Master Eldor turned up his palms. "But he's here now. That's what best for him."
"Is it?" The Hunter whirled, eyes blazing. "He's locked in that enclosure, surrounded by the men loyal to the Sage. What's to stop the damned demon from ordering his death? Thanks to that bloody oath of yours, you'd have to obey."
The old Elivasti's eyes dropped. "Surely it won't come to that."
"Not if I keep up the pretense of serving the Sage like a loyal lapdog. Which means pretending to root out traitors among the Elivasti. He's going to expect results, and soon. Names, Master Eldor. He'll want names."
"Stall him." Master Eldor's expression grew grim, fierce. "Delay him for a few more days, just long enough for us to figure out how to get you access to him."
"And what if he decides I'm not working fast enough and orders Hailen's death? The Sage now has leverage to make me do whatever he wants."
Master Eldor shook his head. "That's not his way. He doesn't strong-arm you to force you to do what he wants." He grimaced. "Though, I wouldn't put it past the Warmaster to try that tactic."
"That's what the Sage said. He said he saved the boy by bringing him here, before the Warmaster's men got to him."
"If that's true, why are you so angry?"
The Hunter balled his fists. "Because I'm supposed to be protecting him!" His heart thundered against his ribs. "Anything bad that happens to him, that's on my head! I took him from his home, dragged him halfway across the world, and now he ends up in the clutches of the Abiarazi."
"Of course." Master Eldor shook his head. "Guilt can eat you alive, Hunter. But only if you let it."
The Hunter rolled his eyes. "Please, spare me the lecture."
"No lecture. Just a simple truth: the boy is with you because it was meant to be."
"Destiny? I've heard enough about 'fate' and 'destiny' to last a lifetime. I don't buy that my life is pre-ordained by some master plan of the gods."
"No, I'm not talking about destiny." Master Eldor scratched his chin. "You say you took him from his home. Why?"
"I…"
Why indeed? He'd deluded himself into thinking it was to protect the boy. Truth be told, he'd done it because he needed Hailen, needed the peace that came when he was near him.
Master Eldor held up a hand. "Your reasons are your own, but can you truly say you intended to put the boy in harm's way?"
"Never!" He'd tried his best to keep Hailen safe, but the life of an assassin had its share of dangers—dangers that only multiplied when one was Bucelarii, offspring of the Abiarazi. "But he's suffered enough for a lifetime, all because of me."
"Perhaps." Master Eldor shrugged. "You may be the reason he's suffered. Or, perhaps your taking him has spared him from another form of suffering, one you can't possibly imagine."
The Hunter pondered the Elivasti's words. Garanis, the demon masquerading as an Illusionist Cleric in Malandria, had intended to raid the Cambionari vault and claim the power for himself—or for the Sage. The demon's death had put an end to that plan, or at least set it back. He had saved Hailen's life that night, but what had come of taking the boy with him?
When Il Seytani had captured Hailen, the bandit chieftain had forced the Hunter to travel to Al Hani to kill the al-Malek. There, the Hunter had encountered the demon Queen Asalah, who'd told him of Kara-ket. When the Illusionist Cleric tried to wipe his mind, concern for Hailen had driven him to escape. Hailen had saved his life in the Advanat Desert.
Yet, in the end, all that only benefits me. The boy isn't better off for my presence, but I am better off for his.
He shook his head. "Since meeting me, the boy's life has been fraught with pain, loss, and suffering."
"Be that as it may, what's to say his life would have been other
wise had the two of you never crossed paths?" A hint of kindness brightened Master Eldor's violet eyes. "Life is filled with suffering; there is no escape. The only way to survive is to have the right people by your side."
The Hunter locked gazes with the Elivasti. For the briefest of moments, a hint of the man from the Hunter's memories appeared. Gone was the hardness around the eyes and the weight of age. The wise, kind-hearted teacher stared back at him with sympathy. The worry for Hailen's safety remained, but the burden of guilt lightened. If only a little.
"I will do everything I can to protect him. But the sooner you kill the demons, the sooner he will be safe."
"If only it were that simple. The Sage isn't exactly the trusting sort. He never goes anywhere alone, always in the company of at least two Elivasti." The Hunter shook his head. "Can you convince them to leave him unguarded long enough for me to deal with him?"
Master Eldor's face fell. "Alas, the men guarding the Sage serve him with unwavering loyalty. They live in the temple, close at hand to carry out the Sage's bidding. Worse, they're young and hot-headed, and have a zeal for conquest. They believe the Sage will not only protect them, but lead them to glory."
The Hunter snorted. "I'd expect the Warmaster to amass that sort of following, but the Sage?"
"He is far more dangerous than the Warmaster. His back-up plans have back-up plans, and he is the sort to carefully consider each move before making it."
The Hunter had seen as much playing Nizaa with the Sage.
"He has given his loyal cadre of Elivasti anything and everything they could ask for. In their eagerness for power and prestige—as is ever the way of the young—they have devoted themselves to him." He leaned closer and dropped his voice to an ominous whisper. "You must be careful who you trust. One wrong word of our plans to anyone, and it could spell the end of all we've worked hard to achieve."
The Hunter rolled his eyes. "This isn't my first conspiracy, Master Eldor."
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