Hunters (Spirit Blade Part 1)

by M. A. Nilles

  Shadows shifted beneath an arch between pillars and reached out for the dagger still on the floor.

  "You should have struck a hand higher," a man said, his voice familiar. "Punctured lungs, kidneys or liver. It would have been far more effective."

  The hooded figure that stepped from the shadows with the dagger held between black-gloved hands stopped at the edge of the fighting floor. The demon-head with the arrows through it on his bracers matched her own, the arrowheads shimmering green from the inlaid imera stones. Another demon hunter, and she was pretty certain who it was but wanting to be sure before she knocked him to his back.

  "She's half-blood, Huntress." He sneered the title in derision.

  He might as well have declared war.

  Fury and confidence boiled over to smother her fear. "Kill a half-blood and face the judgment of a demonlord who cares for her? I would think a fellow hunter would realize the death sentence of such an act."

  "It is our sworn duty." He approached and held out the dagger to her. "A job hazard we should gladly risk."

  "To give the demonlords one more reason to hate us?" She snatched the dagger from between his hands.

  He snorted and lifted his face to let the light under his hood. A fuzz of black hair covered his jaw and encircled his lips.

  "No, thank you. I would rather not fall in High Lord Je'Dron's disfavor," she said.

  "And you are not in disfavor after killing his son Je'Rol, Nadia TuFalan?" His taunting burned like acid through her, exposing old wounds and the hatred stuck to them.

  He should never have re-entered her life.

  Pretending not to care, she hurried to the bench where she had left a long cloth to wipe away her sweat after the workout. Except instead of herself, she used it to wipe the blood from the dagger, the blood of the naive and loving Je'Surana whose father could be tempered while being harsh in his lessons to her.

  "You did not return to the temple."

  So, they had noticed her absence from the gathering. She was but one of hundreds of Adepts. But she was the only woman who had completed the demon hunter training. Other women turned to the sorcery side of Adept training, a more intellectual pursuit than the physical nature of demon hunting, or they remained as teachers and scholars. As she was the only known woman demon hunter, her absence would stand out.

  "I was occupied with the Je'Gri."

  "Yes, I see."

  The teasing in his voice burned through her. She whirled on him, the dagger at his throat while he made no move to stop her. Rather, he wore a grin that matched the gleam in his eyes beneath the hood. She should slit his throat, but something in his eyes stopped her, as it had long ago, when she had feelings for him, before he betrayed her.

  "You see nothing!" she hissed.

  He put his palms up in a conciliatory gesture.

  Slowly, she lowered the dagger, disliking that he hadn't conceded, which meant that she hadn't yet convinced him that nothing more took place between her and Lord Je'Kaoron. That was what he accused her of, and what she fought within herself.

  "Why are you here?" she snapped and returned her attention to the dagger.

  "The Kodre du Noctir Te'Mea sent me."

  Her heart stopped. The council of elders that oversaw both sects had sent someone for her. Not only someone but him.

  "Why?" she asked cautiously.

  "They want something, a dagger in your possession."

  She stared at the dagger in her hands, but it wasn't the one to which he referred. Sect du Maistri Te'Mea had gifted her with a particular dagger and a spell. She hadn't understood its purpose until Lord Je'Kaoron had explained that it stole the souls of its victims, including half-bloods, upon the drawing of blood when the spell was used. She had been told the spell would end the life of anyone once the dagger drew blood, a half-truth. She hadn't noticed the blade growing in power with each half-blood soul and becoming more dangerous. She hadn't known to be aware of it, but since Je'Rol's death, she had noticed the darkness and the relief of not wielding it.

  "It's not ready." An excuse only. It had nearly incapacitated a demonlord, something none of their weapons had ever achieved.

  "They don't care. They want it."

  Nadia sheathed the cleaned dagger at her waist. "I'm not finished with it."

  She lied. She wanted nothing to do with it, but if the elders wanted the spirit blade that badly, they must have had a reason, and that reason couldn't be good. For too long, the Adepts of Te'Mea had talked of dethroning the demonlord clans ruling their world. In her training to harness her dispirit abilities, she had heard rumors hinting of talismans that might overpower the demonlords. Then, she had been all for it.

  Now, after realizing that not all demonlords sought to use humans but, rather, desired to co-exist as beings deserving of the opportunities life afforded, she wasn't sure. She had seen a different side to demonlords and half-bloods in the last few months, flipping everything she had believed on its head. Even Te'Mea, the founder of Adept training, had been a demonlord. Granted, her objective had been to teach humans to protect themselves from swarms of natters, but that couldn't have been her only purpose in training the first sorcerers to use what they could of demonlord magic.

  "Can it destroy a demonlord?" he asked.

  Nadia hesitated, keeping her back to him to avoid revealing her face and he dread of revealing the truth. She looked about but saw no hint of any of the tigers or humans. "Not yet."

  Steps tapped close behind her and he came around her side to block the light. "Then I will finish the task."

  She bristled and straightened, her eyes level with the top of his broad shoulders. Too often, she had to prove herself. Despite her achievements, they never quit questioning her capabilities. "It is mine to command."

  A smile curved up his lips, his face shadowed under the hood with the light behind him. Anger boiled up inside her to see that smug expression. How dare he of all people question her! How dare he return after all those years.

  "It was your assignment. By order of the Kodre—"

  "No! It is my right. It was a gift of the sorcerers. Serae Emon bestowed it upon me as a weapon to defeat all demons. Who are you to take it away?"

  He tipped his head, the shadows deepening beneath his hood, which he threw back.

  "Kaelen Dormivou..." Hatred burned through her and she did all she could to keep from thrusting the dagger in her hands through his heart. It might not have been the spirit blade, but it would do the job on a human; besides, he had proven he didn't have a soul after what he did to her.

  His lips twitched into an almost smile, but those dark eyes revealed a hint of something sad or regretful, as well he should be.

  "I have nothing to say to you." Emotions tangled inside her into a confusion of how to react. Rather, she turned to leave. The Je'Gri should never have allowed him within the city.

  A hand on her arm stopped her not a step away, but a spark of anger gave her the strength to yank it from his grasp. "Do not touch me," she growled and spun away.

  He grabbed her again and pulled her near. "Listen to me, Nadia," he said in a low voice. In an ancient tongue taught only to Adepts from the book of Kirian, he said, {"Forget us. The Kodre seemed...anxious to get that blade. Several others were presented at the gathering but none satisfied them. Yours is the last not examined."}

  She pulled her arm away, afraid of the implications of his words. {"It will remain that way until I feel it's ready."}

  {"How will you know?"}

  {"The demonlords will know."}

  He sucked in a breath. {"They are the last who should know."}

  {"They are the ones who revealed the truth. That blade possesses the souls of many half-bloods. It didn't only end their lives when it drew blood. It stole their spirits. That blade is dark magic. It is cursed."}

  {"It is strong."}

  {"No."} She stepped back, shaking her head. He didn't understand. He hadn't felt the darkness whispering through him when wielding
the dagger. He obviously had never wielded such a blade. {"It is evil."}

  Before he could stop her again, she hurried away. The dagger was hidden, but that didn't mean it couldn't be found and stolen. It had nearly taken the life of a demonlord, even if he had already been weakened. It wouldn't take much more to make it capable. That could never happen.

  In the quiet of sleepless nights of grieving, she had realized the full implications of that dagger and understood; it had fed her hatred of Je'Rol, blackening her heart against the truth that he had left to protect her from himself twelve years ago. In the battle with Je'Rekun's forces five months ago, Lord Je'Dron could have let it slowly steal her spirit; instead, he had helped her see that she could reach Je'Rol even in the blood rage. In the days after, Lord Je'Dron's compassion and Lord Je'Kaoron's support in her grief had shown her how wrong she had been about demonlords, as Je'Rol and Je'Surana had shown her that half-bloods deserved a chance at life. The dagger would destroy all of them.

  Je'Surana.

  Nadia's heart sank, pushing aside thoughts of the dagger hidden in her room. Her only consolation of the girl's wound was that it had not been caused by the vile weapon but by an ordinary dagger.

  Past others in corridors lined by columns carved from the cliffside and along walkways and staircases looking out over the valley, she rushed to reach Je'Surana's quarters.

  Chapter 2

  In an inner corridor, Nadia spied Lord Je'Kaoron ahead of her, Je'Surana in his arms. Given the strength of demonlords, she wasn't surprised he had reached the room so quickly. Carrying the girl must have been nothing to him, made lighter by his parental affection for her. Nadia used to believe demonlord males only seduced human girls to satisfy their sexual needs, but even before meeting Je'Surana, she had seen that wasn't true. They weren't uncaring, nor only attracted to the young and innocent. They were more similar to humans than most individuals of either race were willing to admit.

  "Lord Je'Kaoron." She caught up and opened the door for him.

  Je'Surana lifted her head, her face pale as she was carried into the room. The red stain at her side had spread to her hand through the cloth she pressed over it.

  "I'm..." At a raised eyebrow on the calm visage of the demonlord, the words stuck in Nadia's throat.

  "I know," Je'Surana said in a weak voice as Lord Je'Kaoron continued to the large bed. "I should have been quicker."

  He laid her carefully on the bed as an elegant woman in white and black breezed past Nadia and hurried to the bedside.

  Nadia's guilt strangled her voice as the two demonlords spoke in their Lexic too low for Nadia to understand. As an Adept of Te'Mea, she had been taught the forbidden language of the masters but was sworn to never reveal her knowledge.

  Lord Je'Kaoron finished with a brief swipe of hair from Je'Surana's face and stepped away to let the tigress work. He joined Nadia and took her arm to lead her out. "Leave her. She will heal."

  Nadia turned to the neutral expression on his face. "But the injury—"

  His eyes hardened, halting her objections.

  While following the light pull on her arm, Nadia looked back at the girl.

  "I'll be all right," Je'Surana said.

  "The tigresses will attend to her," Lord JeKaoron said.

  But she was responsible for the wound. She had thought the girl would be swifter.

  They reached the door, but as another woman in white and black robes hurried past, she looked back again. Two tigresses; that couldn't be good.

  Je'Kaoron closed the door behind them, cutting off her view but not the guilt clutching her heart.

  "She must learn to accept the pain. In the protection of Mount Serako, she was not faced with the challenges you have presented. It could be far worse, but she did well." A hint of pride touched his face. "Come, my lady."

  He wasn't angry, or if he was, he didn't show it behind that demonlord beauty and cool demeanor. And, as usual, he addressed her as an equal, as a lady.

  "She's—" Nadia caught herself and lowered her voice. "She's your daughter."

  "Yes. She is."

  He said that far too casually.

  "She understands the burden of what she is." The flash of reproof in his gaze silenced further objections. Nadia had no place to tell him how to raise his child. She was the last person to have that right after what she had done in her hatred of Kaelen eight years ago. "You did as I requested, and I bear no ill in that. Any fault rests on me."

  On him. Then he took the blame willingly for any harm to Je'Surana.

  "It was not the shevoru that pierced her, and in that, I am grateful."

  So was she. Whether she would have used the spell that drew out the soul or not, the blade diminished the power of half-bloods to heal.

  In silence, they walked a ways through the corridors, passing tigers, humans, and other demonlords in human and natural forms of all colors. Particularly distinctive were the wolflike Cas'Lu in their natural forms with their enormous size and aura of power and the more delicate but colorful Siv'Lors resplendent in human form. Where Je'Rekun had banished other clans from the Je'Gri domain, Je'Dron's allies walked the corridors freely, once again welcome to share their domain.

  Lord Je'Kaoron acknowledged others with a tip of his head but said nothing, which fed her trepidations. She recognized the route they took and where it led.

  When they arrived at her room, he followed her inside and closed the door. Despite all the times he had visited her as a friend, this time was different. His presence cast a shadow of fear over her mood, not for her physical self but a fear of disappointing the one person whose companionship meant something to her.

  Eager to part with the weapon that had pierced the sweet-natured Je'Surana, Nadia unstrapped the dagger sheath from her belt.

  "You've met the hunter?"

  She paused with the weapon in her hands and turned as realization hit her. He'd been waiting for a private moment to speak. "You knew?"

  "His scent was distinctive."

  Of course it was, to him. The senses of demonlords and half-bloods were far more acute than any mere human's.

  "As was his presence. Adepts have a certain...aura." A hint of something glinted in those eyes. "Natters sense it, as do we."

  "I thank you for the warning, my lord." She set the dagger sheath on the low dresser near the head of her bed with more force than she intended. "I wish I had known he was here."

  "Is he important?"

  Nadia hesitated and gazed out at the fading light shining through the glass doors of her balcony. Memories flitted into her mind of a younger version of herself determined to be the first woman to complete demon hunter training and of an older mentor who had used her and abandoned her to the cruelty of others and the expected fate of other women.

  "No. Only a memory." She pulled at the lacings of one of her bracers harder than necessary. Damn the elders for sending Kaelen of all people. Had it been anyone but him, she wouldn't feel so insulted. Apparently, those in charge hadn't learned their lesson about her determination to continue. He wouldn't convince her to play nice. He was the last person to whom she would concede.

  "Then I ask your forgiveness, my lady." That soft voice Lord Je'Kaoron used when he seemed uncertain stole her frustration, as did his title of equality rather than her position. "I was only told another demon hunter had arrived to speak with you."

  He was far too perceptive.

  And respectful, something Kaelen had never been. Lord Je'Kaoron stepped up next to her and took over unlacing her bracer. "Is his business complete?"

  Embarrassed that he would feel the need to step in and help her, she kept her eyes on his dextrous fingers making swift work of loosening the strap to allow her to slip her hand free.

  Lord Je'Kaoron had been the one to alert her to the purpose of the blade and he was the kindest demonlord she had ever met. He was more of a friend than anyone she had known, but never had she stayed anywhere long enough to form any relationships, not since h
er induction after satisfactorily completing her demon hunter training.

  "No." With one bracer still secured, she retreated to the cold fireplace. There, she knelt and removed the grate to sweep away the ashes from the stones. Her fingers dug along the edges of a stone square to grasp it and pull it up, revealing the dagger she despised.

  The soft ruffle of fabric accompanied his presence next to her. "I see." As if it was no more than an ordinary weapon, he reached for the leather-wrapped handle and lifted it.

  Upon being pulled from the leather sheath, the blade shimmered in the evening light through the closed balcony doors. Not a scratch marred the perfect smoothness of the metal but for the etched symbols along its short length. Delicate and no more than the length of her forearm, the dagger resonated with power, power which she had harnessed by the incantation spoken each time she had used it. It had killed so efficiently because the spell had captured the spirits of the half-bloods the moment the blade drew blood, and it now possessed many of them.

  After not bearing it for so long, the power resonating from the souls captured within it darkened her mind.

  "Shevoru," Lord Je'Kaoron said. "The spirit blade." His pale blue eyes met hers. "A foul magic that defiles the soul of the bearer."

  Nadia shuddered and stepped back to stare out at the cool fall afternoon and away from the cloud of malice around the dagger. The balcony of her sleeping chambers overlooked the magnificent stretch of valley below the cliffside city and palace of the Je'Gri clan rulers.

  Away from the dagger, Nadia's mind was lighter. She breathed easier and gazed out at the plethora of colors beyond her balcony. The long, twisting branches of the borshal trees that decorated the cliffside structures had lost their blossoms, but changing leaves swayed in the breeze to highlight the ornate structures of the different levels of Acropa Je'Gri like the grass and leaves in the valley below, where orange tigers or guards of bronze and black armor of the warrior caste of Je'Gri wandered with clan allies.

  "This one, however, is in constant struggle. The infant half-bloods were pure souls and counteract the darkness of those in the blood rage. You are strong, my lady, to bear such a weapon without falling to its dark influence, or losing your mind." The gentle voice sent a shiver up her spine to explode into doubts in her mind. "I have always seen that."