An ache burned in the Hunter's chest. He wanted to comfort the boy, but he dared not move for the ring of iron surrounding him.
"Easy, Hailen." His words caught in his throat. "Can you be brave?"
"Hardwell!" Hailen wailed.
"Listen to me, Hailen. You need to be strong, for the others' sakes." This caught the boy's attention and his sobs quietened. "They're probably scared, and they don't know what's going on. Can you keep an eye on them, keep them safe?"
"But…"
"Please, Hailen. Keep them safe."
The boy snuffled and snorted, but finally managed to choke out, "I'll try."
"Enough," Il Seytani snapped. "Now, Hardwell, what do you...?"
"I'll do it." The Hunter steeled his gaze and stared into Il Seytani's dark eyes. "I will bring you the ring of the al-Malek."
Watcher have mercy on your soul when I return! You will not walk away from our next meeting.
The demon whispered eagerly in his thoughts, begging him to kill the men around him. So much blood, so close at hand!
"Then we have a bargain, Hardwell." Il Seytani nodded. "My men will prepare to ride out immediately." He barked out terse commands in his language, and a handful of bandits rushed off.
"Your men?"
"Of course. Did you think I would trust you to keep your word, ytaq? What's to stop you from turning around, sneaking into my camp, and putting this beautiful knife in my back?"
Il Seytani stroked Soulhunger, a hungry look in his eyes. The sight of the jewel set in the pommel could incite any man's greed. If only the bandit leader knew the truth of the gemstone.
"Besides, being a newcomer to the It-Nashar, you do not know the way to Al Hani. My men will lead you east, across the Sah'raa, to Mount Baradh. There, you will ride through Thalj Pass to enter the land of Al Hani beyond. The city of Aghzaret lies a half day's ride east of the foot of Mount Baradh."
The Hunter's mind raced. He had considered doing exactly as the bandit had said. He'd had no intention of leaving Hailen to ride to some unknown city. But now…what choice did he have?
"How can I trust you to keep your end of the bargain?"
"Ask yourself this, instead: What will happen to your boy if you do not? Look around you, ytaq. You are in no position to question a fair deal."
The Hunter wanted to throw Il Seytani's offer in his teeth and spit in his face. He wouldn't be surprised if the bandit leader tried to kill him. At the moment, however, he had no choice. The bandit had him ringed in with iron, and a dagger to Hailen's throat. No, he would go along with the bargain, and when the time was right, he would find a way to free Hailen. If it meant he had to kill some king of a distant land, so be it.
He nodded. "I accept your terms."
Il Seytani grinned and spread his arms wide. "Let it be so."
A group of mounted riders rode into the circle of tents, reining in behind Il Seytani. The Hunter started at the sight of Elivast trotting along behind the riders. His horse bucked and pulled at his rope, kicking out at the bandit's mounts.
"Your horse, yes?" Il Seytani chuckled. "My scouts found him minutes before your attack. You will find, ytaq, we are not easy to surprise. Remember that when you return."
The bandit leader spoke a few words in his tongue, and the men gripping the Hunter's arms released him.
The Hunter straightened his clothing and held out a hand. "My dagger."
Il Seytani eyed him. "I believe I will keep this…until you return, of course."
The Hunter crossed his arms. "You have the boy. It is enough."
"You give me orders, ytaq? You remember what happened last…"
"You wish this al-Malek dead, yes? An assassin must have his tools. Either kill me now, or return the blade."
The bandit leader eyed him, and the Hunter met his gaze without wavering.
Il Seytani grinned. "You have bedat, my friend. A big pair on you, eh?" He stroked Soulhunger with reverence. "Very well, you will have what you ask."
The Hunter moved forward, but the bandit leader held up a forestalling hand.
"My man Younis will keep the dagger. Once you reach Al Hani, he will deliver it to you. Your sword as well."
The Hunter pondered this and nodded. "Very well." In the days it would take to cross the Advanat, he could find a way to retrieve the dagger.
"It is so, ytaq. Honor your end of the bargain, and you need not fear for the boy."
The Hunter strode toward Elivast, but a man stepped between him and the horse. The bandit wore the same colorful robes and headgear as the others, but his skin was a few shades lighter and his features lacked the sharp angles of Il Seytani and his companions.
"You think to ride?" He spoke Einari with a slight accent, his pronunciation crisp and precise.
"If we are to reach Al Hani and find this al-Malek, yes."
The Hunter tried to brush past him, but the man caught his wrist.
"To ride is an honor reserved for the Mhareb alone." His companions seized the Hunter, and the man produced a rope. "Scum must walk." He bound the Hunter's hands and secured the end of the rope to the pommel of Elivast's saddle.
The Hunter ground his teeth. This bandit would pay for the insult.
"Tell me, Hardwell of the south," Il Seytani said, "how long will it take you to find and kill the al-Malek? Are you truly as capable an assassin as you pretend?"
The Hunter ignored the jibe. "Seven days."
Il Seytani's eyebrows rose. "A week?"
"To learn the layout of the city, find a way into the palace, and locate the al-Malek will take time."
"Time is a luxury you do not have, ytaq." Il Seytani studied the Hunter. "You may find that my patience runs out more quickly than that."
"But…"
"How much is the boy's life worth to you?" Il Seytani's gaze pierced the Hunter. "I offer you a chance for his freedom, a gift given to no other. What are you willing to do for him?"
Rage turned the Hunter's blood to ice. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and nodded slowly.
"Good." The bandit leader shouted something in his native language. "Now go! Ride like the Ghulamin themselves are on your heels."
The bandit who had tied his wrists tugged on Elivast's lead rope, and the horse broke into a slow jog trot, dragging the Hunter stumbling and running after him.
"Make no mistake, ytaq," Il Seytani called after him. "My men will kill you if you so much as look at them the wrong way. Keep your end of the bargain, and your boy may live long enough to leave the Sah'raa."
The bandit leader shouted something in his own language, and the bandits riding before the Hunter laughed in response.
"Remember, my friend, I am not a patient man. Do not keep me waiting."
Hailen's wails of distress rose from behind the Hunter, piercing the calm, bright afternoon like a dagger to his gut. Though it broke his heart with every step, he refused to look back.
I will return, lad. He clenched his fists until blood trickled from his palm. As the Watcher is my witness, I will return.
Chapter Twenty
"What is your name?"
The bandit riding next to Elivast, the one who had spoken to him earlier, said nothing.
"So you are to remain silent through the entire journey? A poor traveling companion you are."
The bandit snorted and turned. "I am Younis, ytaq. And were I in your place, I would hold my tongue."
The Hunter raised his bound hands. "Are these really necessary?"
"They are for your protection. With your hands free, no doubt you would be tempted to try something foolish."
"Enough!" With a heave, the Hunter snapped the ropes. The bandits' heads turned as one, their eyes widening in surprise, and the procession ground to a halt.
One of the bandits spoke to Younis in his own language, jabbering excitedly and pointing at the Hunter.
"My men say you are a devil. They say I should run you through right now." His hand dropped to his sword.
&n
bsp; "Do that, and explain to your leader why the al-Malek still lives."
Younis studied the Hunter, eyebrow raised.
"There is no need for restraints. You have the boy. It will be enough to ensure my compliance."
The bandits jabbered at Younis, who responded with a short, sharp command. Two drew scimitars and held them to the Hunter's neck.
Pushing the blades aside, he strode toward Elivast. "And I will not cross the desert on foot. If you really want the job completed, would it not be faster to ride?"
"Very well, ytaq. But try anything and my men…"
The Hunter waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Will chop me to pieces or tear me limb from limb. Yes, I know. Terrifying." He climbed atop Elivast, ignoring the bandits around him, and kicked the horse into motion. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
A smile tugged at the corner of Younis' lips as he shouted something in his own tongue. The bandits charged forward, falling into place around the Hunter. He didn't bother trying to break free. He had nowhere to go; only an endless sea of sand surrounded him in all directions.
The sun wheeled overhead, all but blinding him. Shimmering waves of heat rose from the golden ocean, with nothing but the brilliant blue sky above to add life to the barren, endlessly undulating landscape. Younis rode in the lead, the bandits in loose formation with the Hunter at the center. They rode at a punishing pace, pushing the horses hard. The desert ponies kept tireless pace with Elivast.
An hour outside of Il Seytani's camp, something caught his attention. In the distance, four enormous standing stones broke the horizon, the only feature in the undulating dunes. He'd seen something similar before, but where?
"What are those?" He pointed to the obelisk-shaped stones.
Younis followed his finger, and his upper lip curled. "Of course you would notice that. It is a place of evil—the place of the ytaq."
A familiar odor drifted toward him on the wind: rot, decay, eternal and timeless. The scent of demons. He shuddered, and a memory of the Chasm of the Lost flashed through his mind. Near death at the hands of a bloodbear, he'd dragged himself to the one place the creature would never follow him: a ring of four standing stones just like these. A place of evil, indeed. The foul stench of death had permeated that place, and he smelled it now.
He tried to extract further information on the stones, but Younis refused to answer his questions, only snapping at him to be silent and keep up.
The day wore on, and the Hunter's anxiety grew with every step farther from Hailen. The bandits would lead him to Aghzaret, but once there, how would he find and kill the king? He would need time to learn his way around the unfamiliar city. Time would be an enemy far deadlier than any sword or spear, but he wouldn't be the one to pay the price.
His grip on Elivast's reins tightened and his hands trembled with rage. He would keep his word and return in time. He had no choice. The life of an innocent child hung in the balance.
***
The Hunter drank deep from the waterskin, glad to have something to wash the sand from his parched throat. A bandit growled something in his own language, his words angry.
"Drink all the water, ytaq, and we will die of thirst before we ever reach Al Hani."
The Hunter lowered the waterskin and stared at Younis. "You didn't bring enough supplies to last the journey?"
Younis scowled. "Watch your words, ferenji. A sharp tongue will not serve you well here, not in the company of so many men who would love nothing more than to put a blade through your heart."
A bandit muttered something harsh, and Younis' reply elicited a burst of laughter from the others.
The Hunter didn't bother trying to understand, but he kept his eyes fixed on the men around him, searching for any weakness he could exploit. Soulhunger throbbed in the back of his mind, tugging him toward the saddlebags of Younis' horse. He'd agreed to Il Seytani's terms, but had no intention of traveling to Al Hani. If he could find a way to retrieve his weapons, he could kill the bandits and return to Il Seytani's camp to rescue Hailen.
No, fifteen is too many, especially considering their weapons. He'd spent hours studying the bandits' weapons. Three carried steel swords—the hilts bore the crest of the Nyslian Merchant's Guild, no doubt stolen from a caravan—but the rest carried iron axes, spears, and scimitars. Steel he could face, but the bandits' iron weapons presented a serious threat. He had no desire to face them in direct confrontation. Without Soulhunger to heal him, a single scratch could be fatal. Even a tiny amount of iron would seep into his body, numbing him with its poison, until he died a slow, painful death. Have to find another way to do it.
He glared at the hulking bandit seated beside Younis. The brute towered over the rest of his companions, and was close to twice as wide as the stocky desert warriors. The Swordsman's iron blades looked like belt knives in the man's huge, thick-fingered hands. The bandit stabbed the daggers into the sand, treating them like ordinary weapons.
If only he knew how valuable they really are…
The bandits had searched his bags and stolen everything of value: a small purse stuffed with copper bits and silver half-drakes and a few items of silverware he hadn't yet pawned off. Thankfully, he'd hidden all of his most valuable items in the lining of his clothing, blankets, and satchels. The jewels and golden imperials remained undiscovered.
They'd taken his sword, but left his clothing, blankets, and assorted travel items. If he escaped now, he would flee into the desert with nothing to eat or drink. Even a fool wouldn't try to run. Better to bide his time until the opportunity presented itself. His free hand stroked the newest scars on his chest.
The time will come…
***
The Hunter cracked an eyelid and raised his head slowly from the saddlebag that served as his pillow. The fire had died down, and the sound of snoring, snuffling, and wheezing reached him. Not a soul stirred—not even the hunched figure of the camp's lone sentry.
It's time.
If he could get Soulhunger, he might be able to kill a few bandits in their sleep, enough to give him a fighting chance against the rest. He'd faced worse odds than ten to one. With their horses and gear, he'd have no trouble reaching Il Seytani's camp and rescuing Hailen well before the bandit leader expected him to return.
Without a sound, he slipped from beneath his blanket and rolled to a crouch. Keeping a wary eye on the sentry, he scuttled toward Younis, moving on the balls of his feet. He closed the distance as quickly as he dared. His soft-soled boots crunched in the sand, and he winced with every step.
An errant gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine. The desert turned chilly minutes after the sun set, yet that worked in his favor. The bandits slept huddled in their cloaks, their faces covered against the cold. Less chance of them seeing him.
Younis' scent—iron, cloves, and wood smoke—filled the Hunter's nostrils as he crept closer. The bandit's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, and he made no move, showed no sign of wakefulness. The Hunter knelt beside his head and gently tugged the straps holding his saddlebag shut. Soulhunger, sensing his presence, throbbed eagerly in his mind. He almost had it! One more heartbeat, and Soulhunger would be his.
Cold steel pressed against his throat, and he stared down into Younis' glittering eyes.
"Do not try, ytaq."
The Hunter felt the urge to wrap his hands around the man's throat and squeeze the life from him, and his fingers twitched.
Younis, as if reading his intention, pressed the dagger deeper. Warmth trickled down the side of the Hunter's neck.
The blade at his throat would hardly slow him. He could kill Younis before the man cried out, and Soulhunger would be his. Even if Younis opened his throat, Soulhunger would heal him. It would be so easy to kill the sleeping bandits one at a time, and he would be free to return for Hailen.
A nearby bandit stirred. The Hunter held his breath, not daring to move. Did the man see him, or would he just turn over in his sleep?
The
bandit's eyes opened, and grew wide at sight of the Hunter kneeling over Younis. He leapt to his feet, calling out in his language.
The Hunter held up his hands. "Easy. Your master wants me alive."
Younis glared. "He said nothing about you walking away with all your fingers or toes."
Rough hands seized the Hunter and dragged him backward. They pushed him to his knees, and one yanked his head back.
Younis climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving the Hunter's. He held up a finger. "This is your one warning, man of the south. You were told what would happen should you try to breach your agreement with Il Seytani. Do not test me again."
The Hunter said nothing, only grinned up at the man. Younis struck him across the face, hard. The pommel of the bandit's dagger split his lip, and blood trickled down his chin. Still, the vicious, feral grin remained.
"You have brought this upon yourself, ytaq." A bandit hurried toward him, a coil of rope in his hands. The Hunter was thrown face-first into the sand, his arms pulled roughly behind his back. Within seconds, the bandits had him neatly hog-tied.
Younis crouched over him. "For your child's sake, do not try anything like this again." Standing, he placed his boot atop the Hunter's head and pushed hard. The Hunter's face pressed into the sand, suffocating him. His lungs burned for air and his mind whirled in panic, but he refused to struggle. He would not give the bandit the satisfaction.
After what seemed an eternity, Younis removed his boot. The Hunter pulled his face from the sand and, gasping, sucked in a deep breath. The bandit said something in his tongue, evoking laughter from his companions. The Hunter spat the sand and grit from his teeth.
The demon snarled its fury. 'Are you just going to take that? You're going to let some puny human treat you thus?'
The Hunter ignored the voice. Patience, Abiarazi. Better to lie still and pretend subservience. They only need to slip up once…
***
A hard boot collided with the Hunter's ribs, jerking him awake. He snarled a curse at the bandit, who only grinned down at him and muttered something in his own language.
The Last Bucelarii Book 3: Gateway to the Past Page 14
