Darkblade Slayer

by Andy Peloquin

  The Hunter turned away from the broad avenue that cut through the city toward the Master's Temple in the north, and instead led Elivast and Ash down a smaller road that ran east. He had gotten directions to the place he believed Hailen would be safe for their short stay in Vothmot.

  Safe, what a cruel joke.

  Every time he thought he kept the boy out of danger, something had happened to pull him back in. The bandit raid on Sirkar Jeroen's caravan in the Advanat Desert had led to Hailen's capture and imprisonment. The boy had nearly died at the hands of Il Seytani, chieftain of the desert raiders, and again in the flight from the raider camp. When he left Hailen in Kharan-cui to conceal him from the Sage and the Warmaster in Kara-ket, the demons had brought the boy to manipulate him into doing their bidding.

  He shot a glance toward the enormous Master's Temple and the smaller structures surrounding it. Perhaps he ought to take Hailen to the House of Need and turn him over to the Beggar Priests. The boy had once had what passed for a normal life among the priests in Malandria. Until the Hunter turned the temple into an abattoir, that was. Just being near the Hunter put Hailen in more danger than he'd ever face in the safety of the temple.

  The burden of guilt and worry had grown with every step closer to Vothmot. The Beggar Priests at the House of Need would take the boy without question. But every time he looked into the boy's odd purple eyes, any thought of leaving him fled. The boy had been changed because of him. He had suffered loss and pain because of him. He had to find a way to undo the damage he'd done. That meant dragging the boy through the Empty Mountains toward Enarium in the hope of uncovering a cure for the Irrsinnon. A cure that wouldn't end in Hailen's death.

  He couldn't forget the Sage's wide-eyed shock at seeing the boy. He'd called him "Melechha". Real fear had shone in the demon's eyes when he saw the blood dripping from Hailen's fingertips. Another question the Hunter intended to answer in Enarium.

  For now, the Hunter needed to find a place to keep the boy out of harm's way. The boy's purple eyes would stand out among the people of Vothmot—people anywhere, really. He'd have to keep Hailen out of sight and off the streets.

  In Kharan-cui, he'd made the mistake of thinking a tavern would be the safest place to hide Hailen. Not only had Master Uqio done a poor job of caring for the boy, he’d allowed the Sage to take him. When the Hunter had returned, he'd discovered the tavernkeeper offering Ash and Elivast for sale. The Hunter had made his displeasure clear in no uncertain terms; the inn would need to find new management.

  No, if he wanted to keep a child safe, there was only one place to go.

  His eyes fell on the brightly-colored wooden signs lining the narrow avenue that ran through the Ward of Bliss. Each displayed a ceramic mug filled with a dark liquid, with the feminine outlines of nude bodies—male and female—depicted by the lines of rising steam.

  These were the famous kaffehouses of Vothmot. People as far away as Praamis knew of Northern Kaffe, a drink that stirred up the blood and stimulated the body's internal juices. The bitter brew was a favorite among the nobility of Voramis, though the Hunter had never gotten the taste for it.

  But the kaffehouses of Vothmot offered more than just steaming cups of kaffe. The staff of scantily-clad women served the brew to wake men up and provided other services to keep them up.

  The Hunter searched the signs for the one he'd heard mentioned by the travelers at the oasis. The Divinity House was a three-story building of red brick and black stone, taller than the other kaffehouses beside it. The men and women who sat around the small metal tables out front wore fine clothing, and more than a few had jewelry sparkling in their ears, on their hands, and at their throats and wrists. Clearly the kaffehouse appealed to a clientele of higher economic standing than the others.

  The doors to the establishment remained shut, preventing passersby from seeing the activities that occurred inside. Yet one look at the serving women made it abundantly clear what manner of entertainment was offered. The large trays of kaffe mugs they carried offered far more protection than their fine garments. All wore tight, skimpy dresses of made of bright-colored silk and velvet, heavy with decorative flourishes like peacock feathers, ruffled lace, and beaded tassels.

  The Hunter pulled Elivast to a halt in front of Divinity House, dismounted, and helped Hailen down from Ash. The boy paid him little heed, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He muttered words the Hunter couldn't understand.

  Gritting his teeth, the Hunter led the boy toward an unoccupied table on the wooden seating area outside Divinity House. Moments after they took a seat, a serving woman bustled toward them.

  "Hello, dearies. What can I get you?" She spoke in a lilting Praamian accent. "How's about a Ghandian choclat for the boy."

  The Hunter nodded. "Yes, thank you."

  "And for you, hmm?" Her finger traced the outline of the Hunter's shoulders. "A kaffe with a bit of body in it?" She gave a little pop of her hips to accentuate the graceful form barely hidden by her scant outfit. "Big, strong man like you, you look like you enjoy something extra strength."

  The Hunter made no attempt to hide his approval of the woman's figure. He was keenly aware of the near-overpowering rose smell of her perfume and the whisper of her curled hair on his face as she held his gaze. His eyes wanted to roam downward, across her bare shoulders to where her bosom threatened to spill free of her bodice. The tight corset did wonders to accentuate her shapely waist, curving hips, and long legs. Though she had the lighter skin of a Praamian, the sun of Vothmot had turned her skin to a rich golden brown.

  "Thank you," he said with great effort, "but just the choclat for the boy. And I'll need to speak to the proprietor of the house."

  The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

  The Hunter met her questioning gaze. Beneath the sultry act, he saw sharp intelligence sparkle in her green eyes. "Better yet, point me in the direction where I'll find her." He drew out a golden imperial and pressed it into her hand. "It's important."

  The woman's other eyebrow rose in surprise. "Seems important enough, aye." Her flirtatious grin returned. "Madame Aioni ought to be interested."

  The Hunter nodded and stood. "Keep an eye on the boy, and I'll throw in an extra half-drake for your trouble."

  "You got it, dearie." Her eyes brightened and her smile widened. "Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Just gotta put in the order for your lad's choclat." She flounced across the veranda and through the shuttered doors into Divinity House. When she returned a moment later, she slipped into the seat beside Hailen. "The Madame's expecting you. Trust me, you won't miss her."

  "Thank you." The Hunter hesitated, casting a glance at Hailen.

  "Off with you," the woman said with a cheery wave and a wink. "He'll be safe with me." Her saucy tavern wench routine faded, replaced by a motherly air as she brushed the dust off Hailen's clothing.

  The Hunter strode through the shuttered doors and into Divinity House. The outdoor seating area was intended for those who wanted a kaffe, but the interior was reserved for those who wanted something more. Rich velvet cushions littered bright-colored carpets made by the finest craftsmen in Al Hani. Candles and dim lamps let off a soft glow that seemed to make the ornate patterns on the wall tiles come alive. Images of men and women in various erotic poses hung from every wall. Oil burners hung above the lamps, filling the air with the scents of rose, jasmine, fennel, and cedarwood. The heady mixture threatened to set the Hunter's head spinning.

  The Hunter ignored the entwined couples lounging on the plush carpets as he strode through the main area and down a narrow hallway toward the rear of Divinity House. At the end of the hall stood a woman that could only be Madame Aioni. The first lines of age did little to diminish the beauty of her wide almond eyes, long eyelashes, narrow face, high cheekbones, and full lips. The deep blue silk robe cinched at her waist only accentuated the shapeliness of her figure. Her deeply tanned skin and black hair marked her as a native of Vothmot.

  "Madame Aioni,
I presume?" Her unique scent—a mixture of the fragrant oils around him with just a hint of chamomile and violets—piqued his interest.

  The woman raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "That would be me." She spoke the common tongue with the odd accent the Hunter had heard more and more as he approached Vothmot. "How might Divinity House provide your pleasure, Mister…?"

  "Hardwell, of Praamis." The name came easily to his lips after so many months of using it. "I need to avail myself of one of your more…unusual services."

  The woman's lips twitched into a curious smile. "Indeed? We pride ourselves on delivering anything you could desire." She dropped her voice to a breathy whisper. "For a strong, handsome man like you, I’m certain we could come to a mutually pleasurable arrangement. You have but to ask."

  The Hunter had no doubt the madame had heard every request throughout her years of running the kaffehouse. He'd seen all manner of strange and sometimes perverse acts that twisted even his stomach. The sexual appetites of the Voramian nobility ran to some distasteful places. But he doubted she'd be expecting what he wanted.

  "I'd like you to care for my boy."

  "Say what now?" The polished madame façade cracked in her shock, and her voice took on the harder edge of a street-born woman. "You having me on for a laugh?"

  The Hunter hid a smile at her shock.

  "My boy." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I need him safe. Something tells me there's nowhere safer in Vothmot than right here."

  Madame Aioni pursed her lips. "And why, pray tell, do you think that's a service we offer?" She'd recovered from her surprise, her lace-sniffing aristocratic persona restored.

  The Hunter gave a dismissive wave. "Because I've got good coin to pay." He met her gaze. Women in this profession took care to avoid unwanted pregnancies, but occasional slip-ups always occurred. Many of the women working in Divinity House would be mothers, though most would have been forced to give up the child to relatives or to the House of Need.

  On top of it, high-class brothels and pleasure houses like Divinity House depended on their reputation for discretion and privacy. Once coin exchanged hands, they guarded their clients' secrets with a zeal that would make any Secret Keeper proud. As long as he paid them enough, they would keep Hailen safe until he returned. They wouldn't let anything happen to the boy, and he wouldn't have to worry about Hailen's wellbeing. That was more than he could say for Master Uqio in Kharan-cui.

  "Name your price." The Hunter folded his arms over his chest. "A fair price, mind you."

  A calculating look flashed in Madame Aioni's eyes. "How long?"

  "A day, maybe two. Add in a stable and feed for the horses." The Hunter had expected a bit of greed. Life in Voramis had taught him the value of cold, hard coinage.

  The madame pondered the question. "With food for the boy and yourself?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  The Hunter shook his head. "Just the boy. I'll fend for myself."

  "Fair enough." Madame Aioni pursed her lips as she tapped a lacquered fingernail against the elaborate brooch pinned above one ample breast. She looked him up and down, as if sizing him up—not for his prowess or desires the bedroom, but the heft of his purse. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she caught sight of the gemstone in Soulhunger’s pommel.

  "Ten imperials. Half up front." A sultry smile spread her red-painted lips. “As you can doubtless imagine, our rooms are worth far more by the hour. And only a few of my girls are capable of meeting such an unusual request.”

  The Hunter produced the required sum without hesitation. "I'll be back to collect him as soon as I'm done with my business in town."

  For an instant, Madame Aioni's mouth curled into a little frown, as if disappointed she hadn’t asked for more. She recovered her smile quickly. “We will be waiting. Perhaps when you have concluded your business—“

  “Thank you, Madame Aioni.” The Hunter gave her a curt nod. He’d tried to protect the boy as best he could, but since the very first night, he’d only brought Hailen more pain, suffering, and misery. Only the Mistress’ own luck had kept Hailen alive. The Hunter could only keep trying to find the best way to keep the boy safe—even if that meant dragging him up the mountain to Enarium alongside him. At least here in Divinity House, Hailen could have a few hours of comfort and rest before facing the Empty Mountains.

  “See to it the boy is cared for, and I will consider my coin well-spent.”

  “Certainly,” the woman said. "Usually men leave their children at home to bring their business here. Definitely one of the more unusual requests I've had."

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Can I trust your discretion, Madame? Or will that cost me extra?" He made no attempt to hide the acid in his tone.

  The madame gave a dismissive wave. "Your boy will be as safe here as if he were my own son." A hint of sadness passed behind her eyes.

  "Thank you." The Hunter bowed. "He's sitting out front with one of your girls."

  Madame Aioni nodded. "Sastia'll be good to him."

  The Hunter turned to leave, but hesitated as he felt Soulhunger's pulsing in the back of his mind. After a moment, he reached under his cloak and unbuckled the dagger from his belt. "See that he keeps this on him at all times."

  The woman's eyebrows rose at sight of the dagger. "What? Why?"

  The Hunter shook his head. "The why doesn't matter. All that matters is that he keeps this with him no matter where he is or what he does. Understood?"

  The madame's gaze went from the Hunter to the dagger back to the Hunter, and she narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she nodded. "I'll see it done."

  "Good." The Hunter found his fingers reluctant to release their grip on Soulhunger's hilt. It felt odd being parted from the dagger again. Yet he'd do it for the sake of Hailen's sanity. He doubted he'd need to fight for his life today, but Soulhunger would keep the Irrsinnon from consuming the boy.

  "Is there a back way out?" he asked the madame.

  "Aye." She pointed down a side corridor. "That'll take you into the alley behind the house, and you can cut through toward the Prime Bazaar.

  The Hunter held out a hand. "Thank you, Madame Aioni."

  She gripped his hand and smiled, and the expression held genuine warmth. "We'll keep your boy safe, Hardwell of Praamis."

  With a final worried glance toward the front of the house, the Hunter hurried down the side passage and out of Divinity House.

  Chapter Four

  The Hunter felt naked without Soulhunger as he navigated the thick crowds in Vothmot's Prime Bazaar. The thick current of people swirled around him, pressing against and jostling him. It took all his self-control not to growl at the men and women that moved too close. Without the disguise to conceal his face, he was exposed.

  The demon in his mind added its furious screeches to the chaos. “You would risk being caught unarmed and vulnerable? What will happen to your precious Hailen then?”

  Don't pretend you care, the Hunter retorted in his mind. All you care about is death. I don't need Soulhunger to kill. Not that he had any intention of killing anyone here. He just wanted to get what he needed and get out of Vothmot as quickly as possible. He had to reach Enarium to free Hailen from the Irrsinnon, stop the Sage from unleashing the Great Destroyer, and find Her.

  Besides, he persisted, we can move more freely without it. He glanced at the massive temples towering over the Vothmot rooftops. Since leaving Malandria, he'd purposely avoided any large cities with temples to the Illusionist Clerics or the Beggar God. The Illusionist's servants sought to erase his memories while the Cambionari, the warriors Beggar Priests, would kill him on sight. They had been charged with hunting down the Bucelarii like him.

  If I have to go near the temples, I can't risk any Cambionari, if there are any in Vothmot, sensing the dagger's presence. This way, no one will know I'm here and I can be in and out.

  The demon had no coherent response, but its presence radiated irritation. Since leaving Kara-ket, it had grown worse, spending
more time shrieking than filling his head with actual words. It wanted him to kill and wouldn't give him peace until he did.

  The scents of the Prime Bazaar threatened to overwhelm his sensitive nostrils. The stink of camels, sweat-stained leather, horse droppings, and dust hung thickest, but he caught hundreds of scents of the men, women, and children around him. Atop it all, the tangy odors of fragrant spices, herbs, and smoky incense filled the air.

  He slipped through the crowd, careful to keep his head bent and his hood pulled forward. It required too much effort to change the color of his eyes or the shape of his face—a trick he'd learned courtesy of the Sage in Kara-ket. Without featherglass lenses or his alchemical masks, he had to avoid being recognized.

  The chance of encountering someone he knew, while slim, existed. People flocked from all over Einan in search of the Lost City. In fact, Vothmot thrived on the industry of treasure-hunters and fortune-seekers traveling into the Empty Mountains.

  This section of the Prime Bazaar dealt not in foodstuffs, clothing, fabric, or trinkets. Instead, all around him, large, colorful signs adorned the walls, their bold letters displaying the offer of guided treks into the craggy mountain range.

  "Test your fate and find your fortune!" cried one guide in the loud voice of a street hawker. "The wealth of the Serenii awaits the man or woman bold enough to step up. You there!" He thrust a stubby finger toward the Hunter. "You are seeking the Lost City, yes?"

  The Hunter ignored the little dark-haired man and pushed on through the crowd.

  "The gods themselves guide me," shouted another, a bald-headed man with an ash-covered face and a robe of sackcloth. "They whisper in my ear and show me the way to Enarium, where the secrets of the universe can be yours. All for the price of ten golden imperials!"