Instead of retreating, Garanis stepped forward. A smug smile spread on his face. "You rely on steel, but I rely on a more powerful tool—my mind!"
The demon's confidence surprised the Hunter, and he hesitated. In that moment, Garanis dipped his hand into his cloak and drew a silver chain. The simple, unadorned pendant caught the Hunter's attention. Something about the way it caught the torchlight and reflected it just so…
"Hear me, Bucelarii." Garanis spoke in an eerily soft voice. "Hear me and know that I am your master."
The pendant swayed in the Hunter's vision. Torchlight danced across the surface, yet there seemed to be more to it. The mesmerizing wave of silver drew him into its depths. It looked so beautiful, so fluid in its grace. He wanted to stare at it forever.
"You search for a home, Bucelarii, for those who know you." Garanis's voice sounded far away, as if he spoke through a thick fog. "You have found your place. It is at my side. I am what you seek, and together we will—"
The Illusionist Cleric droned on in the soft, singsong voice. It soothed the Hunter, pulling him deeper into the fog filling his mind.
His inner demon screamed. 'He is trying to control you! Will you allow yourself to be dominated?'
The Hunter tried to snap out of it, but he had no strength. He couldn't focus his thoughts. The fog was too thick to push away. He was trapped in the depths of the silver pendant swaying gently in the torchlight.
'You are your own master!'
"I…will..." The Hunter's voice sounded almost unrecognizable. His tongue felt thick and heavy, his mouth dry. He wanted to fight, but more than anything else, he wanted to believe that Garanis spoke the truth.
He said he is my family. He wants me at his side.
It sounded so good. It was what he wanted; to be accepted, welcomed.
Bardin did that, the human side of him whispered. Bardin welcomed you into his home, pitiful as it was. And what happened to him?
His thoughts were a jumble. He couldn't think straight. The…demon…killed him.
Yes. The quiet voice pushed back the fog in his head. He did that, and now he is trying to trick you into doing his bidding.
His inner demon pierced the swirling chaos. 'He wants to use you! And when he is done, he will kill you!'
You do the same. You use me to achieve your own ends.
The demon tried to argue, but the Hunter stifled the voice.
We both know what you want, and what you will do to obtain it. I will not be fooled—not by anyone!
The Hunter gripped Soulhunger tighter, the leather grip pressing into his palm. The solid feel of the blade in his hand brought him slowly back to reality.
"Nice try, demon."
His tongue still felt thick and heavy, but the fog had begun to clear from his brain. He strode forward, moving faster now.
"No one controls the Hunter!"
Chapter Seventeen
Panic cracked Garanis's calm expression. He raised the pendant. "Bucelarii. You will o—"
"Enough!"
Strength returned to his limbs. His pain fled, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt himself. He stalked toward Garanis like a predator.
"I grow weary of you and your kind."
Garanis raised an eyebrow. "My kind? Do you mean demons, or do you speak of the followers of the Illusionist—like your friend Bardin?"
The name stopped the Hunter in his tracks. "How—?"
Garanis sneered. "Did I know of your friend? Please, I know everyone who passes through that cesspit! How else do you think Toramin and his foolish 'wizards' knew who to choose?"
The revelation stunned the Hunter. He stared at the demon, mouth agape. An image flashed through the Hunter's mind: Garanis watching the beggars, studying them to find the next victim to sacrifice on the altar to Kharna.
"Y-You were working with the Order of Midas?"
Garanis nodded. "We do what we must. Though I can't say I enjoyed working with that bastard Toramin!" He scowled, his disgust evident. "When first we strode this world, he was nothing more than a servant to the lowest Abiarazi commander."
The Hunter's eyes widened.
A smile broadened Garanis's lips. "Oh yes, Hunter. I can see you want to know more of your past. You yearn to know the truth. Well, you have come to the right place." He puffed his chest out proudly. "I studied under the Serenii, and from them I learned the secrets that shaped the very fabric of this world into being!"
Curiosity burned within the Hunter. He lowered Soulhunger. He had plenty of time to kill Garanis after the demon told him everything he wanted to know.
Indeed, it seemed the creature wanted to tell the Hunter more. "I could have become the most powerful of the Abiarazi! I came close to challenging the Serenii themselves." His expression darkened and his words dripped with venom. "But then the cowardly Illusionist trapped our Great God and ended the war. It is thanks to him that we were reduced to hiding among humans. How fitting it is that his secrets will be used to destroy the world he sought to protect."
The Hunter forced a smile to his face, hoping it looked real. If he could keep the demon talking long enough to inch his way closer…
Garanis's smile turned cruel. "His secrets have served us well, they have." He spoke in a whisper tinged with madness. "It is thanks to the rites of the Illusionist that we have fed Kharna all these years."
And there it is. Any lingering doubt in the Hunter's mind disappeared. As expected, the demon always shows his true face. Time to play on his hubris.
"So, all along you were here in the House of Need?"
Garanis nodded. "On the Sage's orders, yes."
The Hunter gestured around him. "But how were you clever enough to avoid being detected by the Cambionari? And Father Pietus did nothing to stop you?" He edged a step closer. A few more paces...
Garanis gave the Hunter a wicked smile. "Father Pietus? Stop me? The old fool has no say in the matter. He is fully under my control. Watch."
He strode toward the ancient cleric, who still stood with a listless expression and dull, unfocused eyes.
Garanis waved his hands before the man's face. "Hello? Father?" He turned to the Hunter. "See? Nothing!"
He drew a belt dagger. "Run your hand along the blade, priest."
Without hesitation or a sound of protest, Father Pietus pressed his hand into the blade. Blood welled and dripped to the floor.
"You see? He obeys my every command. And it's all thanks to this!" He raised the pendant and swung it back and forth before the Hunter. "This has given me control over these foolish priests. They do my bidding without realizing who they are obeying."
Garanis turned again to Pietus. "Father, fetch Moradiss' sword and bring it here."
The old priest shambled toward the iron sword, his movements stiff and mechanical…as if he had no control over his body. Stooping, joints popping, he fumbled in the pool of Lord Knight Moradiss' blood for the hilt of the sword.
The sight of the ancient priest struggling to lift the massive iron blade tugged at the Hunter. The man would kill himself on the demon's orders. The Hunter could not allow it. He stepped forward.
The demon seized that moment, raising the silver pendant. The flashing jewelry caught the Hunter's eye and dragged him into its depths once more. He opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not. He couldn't tear his gaze away.
"And soon, you too shall obey my commands." Garanis spoke in a soft voice, but there was a harsh edge beneath it. "These priests believe they worship a pure, holy god. A god of humility, of suffering. The 'Beggar God' they call him."
The Hunter tried to move, to raise Soulhunger, to rip his gaze from the pendant, anything. But he could not. Thick fog filled his mind once more. His arms felt so tired, so heavy.
Garanis continued, his voice soothing. "A delicious irony, isn't it? Their god of purity is just like this old priest here. Those who see him believe he is a kindly, gentle soul."
The Hunter's eyelids grew heav
y. He wanted to rest, to close his eyes and sleep. The pendant and the calming voice wanted it. They wanted him to lose himself within the flashing silver. He could watch it dance forever.
Garanis's voice drifted toward him from afar. "But, beneath that kindly exterior, his mind is corrupted by the powers of the Illusionist Clerics. Within the god of beggars, a seed of Kharna festers. Soon, when the Great Destroyer has been returned to his power, his soul will be freed from its prison. It will seek out its host, and the seed of Kharna within the Beggar God will transform the foolish deity once more into the Destroyer of Worlds. When he has returned, we will rule the world once more. We will breed a new batch of Bucelarii to rule with us. You, however, will not be here."
And there it was. The demon had whispered of family and acceptance…a lie. He was afraid of the Hunter, of the threat he posed. He wanted him dead. He wanted Soulhunger.
The Hunter tried to fight, to resist the Illusionist Cleric's control over his mind, yet he could not break free. He knew he should be afraid, but fear could not penetrate the soothing void of the silver pendant and its dancing shadows.
"Pietus," Garanis said, his voice soft, "kill him."
The Hunter couldn't tear his eyes from the pendant, but a faint sound of rustling cloth reached his ears. Father Pietus, obeying the demon's commands.
His inner demon mocked him. 'This is how you die? This is how the Hunter faces his end? A coward's death!'
Garanis spoke in the soothing voice again. "Pietus, kill the assassin and bring me the dagger!"
Father Pietus stared at the Hunter with empty eyes. With effort, he raised the massive iron sword. The Hunter threw every shred of willpower he possessed into his arms. They were almost too heavy to move, but somehow he managed to raise Soulhunger high enough to knock aside the blow. The dagger hissed upon contact with the iron blade.
Life fled from his limbs as Garanis pulled him deeper into the pendant's trance. He could do nothing. He had no will to resist, and all fight within him drained away.
The animal within him howled. Live! Fight and live.
He wanted to. More than anything else, he wanted to live. Yet he couldn't break Garanis's hold over him.
"Paeter?"
A childish voice reached the Hunter's ears.
"Paeter?" There it was again.
The voice cut through the fog in the Hunter's mind, pushing it back long enough for the Hunter to blink. He saw Hailen tugging on Father Pietus's robes, as if trying to get his attention. Soulhunger's screams sliced through the chaos filling his thoughts. He felt his vigor returning, but he still moved as if through thick mud.
Hailen stared up at the old priest, a trusting smile on his innocent face. "Paeter!" He threw his arms around Pietus.
"Pietus!" Garanis' soothing tone vanished, replaced by annoyance. "Kill the child, then the Hunter."
The cleric hesitated and lowered the sword. A flicker of life returned to his eyes, as if he tried to fight Garanis's control.
"Don't do this!" The Hunter shook his head, trying to push back the fog in his mind.
Garanis barked. "Your master commands you."
The Hunter watched helplessly as the priest turned to the boy.
"Do it now, priest!"
Again, Father Pietus raised the sword, the muscles in his face twitching.
A wicked smile painted Garanis's face. "Do it!"
Father Pietus brought the sword arcing down toward Hailen's unprotected head.
In that instant, Hailen's features morphed into Farida's. The little girl stared up at the old priest, innocence and purity in her eyes.
The familiar weight returned to the Hunter's chest. The Hunter had failed her. He had failed Old Nan, Jak, Karrl, and all the others in Voramis. Even Bardin had died because of him.
But not this time! I will not fail again, not when an innocent child's life is at stake.
With a cry of rage, the Hunter forced his numb limbs to move. He shoved the old priest aside, and the sword clanged harmlessly on the stone floor. Without hesitation, the Hunter drove Soulhunger between the priest's ribs, ramming the blade deep.
Dark blood gushed over the Hunter's hand. He felt the moment the tip pierced the ancient heart. The old priest screamed, a horrible sound that echoed through the halls of the House of Need. The scream pierced the Hunter's consciousness and stoked the fires of his rage. Power coursed through him, clearing the fog from his mind and pushing back his fatigue. He once again felt whole.
Father Pietus's cries fell silent, the light in his glassy eyes dying. Gently, the Hunter lowered the old priest to the floor and slipped the dagger from his lifeless body.
"May the Long Keeper have mercy on your soul," he whispered. "You will be avenged."
The Hunter looked up from the old priest's body, glaring at Garanis. "You bastard! Your time on this earth is done."
He stalked forward, an inexorable predator hunting its prey. Soulhunger's bright edge reflected the flickering torchlight. The dagger might have been satisfied, but the Hunter hungered for demon blood.
"Bucelarii," Garanis whispered in his soothing voice. He held the pendant before him like a shield. Shadows danced across its smooth surface, drawing the Hunter's eye, whispering to him of—
The Hunter tore his eyes away before the pendant could ensnare him. "No! Your tricks will not work on me now, demon! I have been through your maze of horrors and come out the other side. You cannot stop me!"
A look of panic flashed across Garanis' face, turning to terror when the Hunter rushed forward. The demon turned and fled toward the darkened stairwell.
The Hunter snarled. "Coward! To hell with you, demon."
Stooping, he seized a discarded helmet and hurled it with every ounce of strength. It struck Garanis in the back with a loud crack. The demon screamed and tumbled to the floor, flopping limply. The Hunter rushed toward the demon, expecting him to continue his attempt to escape.
But Garanis made no move to stand or even crawl. He muttered strange words in a guttural language. His voice held an odd, discordant note that jarred the Hunter's senses. The Hunter recognized it— he had heard it in the tunnels beneath Voramis.
Watcher's teeth!
Power crackled in the air. The Hunter's ears popped with sudden force. The temperature in the room plummeted, and darkness blossomed around the prone form of the Illusionist Cleric.
The demon had boasted of studying the secrets of the Serenii, whatever they were. What horror would he unleash? The Hunter didn't care to find out.
He leapt atop Garanis and slammed Soulhunger into the demon's back. Garanis' words cut off in a scream of agony and terror.
A torrent of power washed over the Hunter, almost more than he could handle. It overwhelmed his mind and fractured his consciousness. A scream tore from his lips. He writhed on the floor, the force coursing through him rendering him helpless as the dagger claimed the demon's soul. Molten lead burned on his chest; a new scar joined those etched into his flesh.
The demon's death severed the tether to whatever dark power he had gathered, and it exploded outward. The violent backlash hurled the Hunter across the room and slammed him into the wall. A hot wind blew across his face, and with it came a foul stench—the same odor that had filled his nostrils in the tunnels beneath Voramis. He wrestled back the overwhelming urge to vomit.
For what seemed an eternity, the Hunter floated in a daze. He felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, but simply…was.
Then came the pain. Every muscle in his body ached. His hands burned with a cold fire that seeped into his bones.
The pain reminded him that he still lived, though at the moment, he didn’t think much of life. Death would be preferable to the agony permeating every fiber in his body.
A soft, warm hand touched his face, accompanied a moment later by the high-pitched voice of a child. "Nasty Face gone."
Something pinched his cheeks and poked him in the jaw. Blinking, his ears ringing, the Hunter struggled to bring his
vision into focus.
Hailen stood beside him, a mischievous smile creasing his face.
Gritting his teeth, he struggled upright. "Urgh…" The world spun around him and he sagged. Black spots swam in his vision. Sensation drained from his limbs, rendering them numb. If he didn't move soon, he would fall prey to the torpor that followed every kill. More Cambionari or temple guards could be here at any moment. He had to get out of there. Enough blood had been spilled tonight.
The boy poked the Hunter again. "You made Nasty Face go away."
"N-nasty face?" The Hunter's voice was thick, his tongue heavy.
"Nasty Face," the boy repeated. He pointed to Garanis's unmoving corpse and wiggled his fingers in front of his face.
For a moment, the Hunter failed to comprehend the gesture. Then realization dawned.
He's mimicking Garanis's shifting features. Somehow, the boy had seen Garanis's real face.
The boy's wiggling fingers caught the Hunter's attention. Blood filled the nail of the finger he had used to poke the Hunter.
"Yes, Nasty Face all gone." He nodded, and the motion sent a fresh wave of agony through his head. He pressed a hand to the base of his skull. A large lump had formed, but thankfully there was no blood. His right shoulder screamed in pain; he'd likely shattered it. It would heal.
"Good," said the boy. "I didn't like Nasty Face."
Hailen padded toward Soulhunger. His chubby fingers closed around the dagger's grip, and he lifted it with effort. He ran back to the Hunter and offered him the blade.
Watcher's teeth! The Hunter's eyes widened and he stared at the boy's hand. The fingernails turned red and, within seconds, blood trickled from the nail beds. Yet Hailen showed no sign of pain. When the Hunter plucked the dagger from the boy's hands, the crimson slowly faded to normal.
The Hunter's mind raced. He had seen that when Garanis patted the boy's head, and again when he had poked the Hunter. And now with Soulhunger, the same effect. What did they all have in common?
Demons.
He grasped Hailen's chubby right hand and watched the fingernails of that hand turn a bright red once more.
By the gods!
The Last Bucelarii Book 2: Lament of the Fallen Page 35
