The Last Bucelarii Book 3: Gateway to the Past

by Andy Peloquin

  "Yes!" The queen's excitement returned. "You, and that blessed conduit you carry. I know many of my fellow Abiarazi would try to take it from you and use it for their own ends, but not I."

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Surely you desire its power for your own."

  "To say otherwise would be a falsehood. Who would not crave it? But it is not mine to take. It is yours, your heritage, the only thing that binds you to us. The dagger is connected to your mind and soul. It is as much a part of you as your eyes, your arms, your heart. Taking it from you would kill you in the end."

  Acid burned in the Hunter's throat. He'd nearly cast Soulhunger away many times, had always told himself he could be rid of the accursed blade when it no longer served his purpose, but something had stopped his hand. Now, to hear that Soulhunger was an integral part of him, that losing it would kill him, filled him with despair. Would he never be rid of the voices in his head? Smug satisfaction radiated from his inner demon.

  If the Enarium truly dates back to the days of the Serenii, it has to hold the secrets of ages. Perhaps the city held the answers he sought. Not only about his forgotten past, but about the Bucelarii, the accursed weapons, the Abiarazi, and how he could be free of the burdens of his birthright and the voices in his head.

  "You said that the curse of the Empty Mountains would kill an Abiarazi. But what about a Bucelarii?"

  Queen Asalah cocked her head. "I hadn't considered that. Your human heritage may protect you. At the very least, it might weaken the effects of the curse."

  A seed of hope took root. Perhaps there is a way to reach Enarium and find the answers. But how could I get her to tell me?

  A knock sounded at the door, and Captain Al-Zahar strode into the room. He bent and murmured into the queen's ear. A brief exchange passed between them, and the queen nodded.

  "You must excuse me. There are a few matters that require my attention."

  The Hunter stood. "Of course."

  "I would ask you to remain here, hidden from sight. You will not be disturbed by anyone." Queen Asalah raised a hand to forestall his question. "The fewer people that see you the better. If an armed stranger were found roaming the palace, it would raise too many questions. It could alert my husband to our plans."

  The Hunter inclined his head. "So be it. I will remain here."

  "I will return soon. I have instructed the good captain to bring you anything you desire."

  "Thank you, my queen, but I need nothing."

  "Very well." She paused at the door. "Prepare yourself, Hunter. The hour of triumph draws near. When I return, your work commences."

  Only once the door clicked shut behind the queen did the Hunter let out a long, slow breath. He threw himself on the plush sofa, but leapt to his feet a moment later. His body refused to be still. A maelstrom seethed in his mind, and his hands flexed and relaxed of their own will as he paced the room, studying the tapestries on the wall with unseeing eyes. The queen had shared a wealth of information, almost more than he could process.

  Keeper take it! It was all too much.

  His eyes fell on the sword of Nasnaz the Great—a sword that had once belonged to him. Queen Asalah had ordered it brought to the room and had left it lying on the floor. The curved blade beckoned him, and his fingers closed around the gilded hilt as if it was his only connection to sanity. The solid feel of metal in his hand comforted him and calmed his racing thoughts. Without thinking, he drew the blade and moved into the first stroke of his sword forms.

  He reveled in the simplicity of the effort. Weeks without practice felt like years, but his body slipped into remembered motions. Every muscle moved in perfect synchronization. Though his limbs ached from the exertion, he forced himself on. The exercise distracted him from the chaos in his thoughts. With every movement, pieces clicked into place in his mind.

  The mystery of Enarium called to him, tugging him inexorably toward it. He had to find it; somehow he knew he would find Her there. He'd left Voramis for the mysterious woman in his dreams, had crossed half a world in search of Her. She'd filled his dreams, as She always did. He'd watched Her plunge a dagger into his heart, heard the sorrow in Her voice when She bade him farewell.

  What was She to him? He'd called Her Az'nii—"my heart". She'd looked at him with so much love, and every time he saw Her face, a pang of longing lanced through him. Curse or no, he'd be damned if anything stopped him from reaching Her.

  But how would he find the city? Queen Asalah seemed willing to provide him with answers. He would extract the information from her, even if it meant leaving her alive a while longer. But not too much longer. Once he had rescued Hailen and dealt with Il Seytani, he would return to deal with her. After that, he would be free to hunt down the Sage. Enarium and the answers into his past could wait a short while longer. Demons had plagued Einan long enough, and this Sage was the shadowy player tugging on the strings. The Hunter would not be a piece in anyone's game, not after what had happened in Voramis.

  That left him with another problem. The queen had promised to help him get close to the al-Malek, which suited his purpose perfectly. He needed the ring to rescue Hailen from Il Seytani, but the demon expected him to kill the king. Would he be able to fool her into believing he'd done it?

  Fire raced through his body, blood pounded in his ears, and his breath burned in his lungs. He smiled and relished the feeling of adrenaline coursing in his veins.

  A bigger question nagged at his mind: What would he do if it came down to a choice between Hailen and the king? If he couldn't trick the queen, would he be willing to sacrifice Hailen for the sake of a kingdom, or would he plunge Al Hani into chaos by his actions? He couldn't kill the king if it meant Queen Asalah would rule. Too many would die to satiate her lust for death and destruction, her desire to return the Great Destroyer to Einan.

  What to do? Could he justify killing the king if it meant Hailen would live? He needed the boy; Hailen was his only tether to sanity. Without the boy, he would succumb to the incessant demands for death. He would become like the rest of his kind: a mindless creature lusting only for blood.

  Pressure mounted in his head, and his chest felt as if it would burst. What would he do? He'd found himself in a situation from which there was no escape. Who would suffer? Who would die?

  He shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes, and, with a final flurry of blows, reached the end of his forms. Heart thumping, perspiration dripping down his face, muscles on fire, he slid the sword into its curved sheath and stood straight. He had his answer.

  I will do what I must.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Damn it! She should have returned by now. The Hunter paced the room, fists clenching and unclenching. Hours had passed since the queen left. What in the twisted hell is taking her so long?

  The shrieking in his head had grown louder since he'd made his decision regarding the al-Malek's death. Soulhunger added its throbbing to the demands in his mind. His head ached, and his stomach threatened to disgorge its contents. He needed to kill, and soon, or the voices would overwhelm him.

  The door opened and Queen Asalah swept into the room. Diaphanous robes clung to her flawless figure, highlighting every curve. The Hunter's body warred with his mind. He knew the truth of the creature who wore the queen's face, but couldn't ignore his desire.

  Cursing his weakness, he forced his eyes to meet hers. "What took so long?" Despite himself, his gaze dropped to steal another glance.

  A smile played at the corner of Queen Asalah's lips. "I am here now. It is time."

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Why the delay?"

  Captain Al-Zahar bristled. "You question your queen, qattala?"

  "Easy, Captain." The queen laid a soothing hand on Al-Zahar's arm.

  The Captain bowed, but his scowl remained.

  "Certain…things had to take place in order to make this as easy as possible." Queen Asalah looked over at Samia, who nodded. "Though I have no doubt you could carve your way
through a legion of Royal Guards, it would be simpler if only the king died this night."

  The Hunter shrugged. "So be it. Let's be on with it, then."

  The queen turned to Al-Zahar. "Captain?"

  Captain Al-Zahar strode forward and thrust a bundle of cloth at the Hunter. "Put this on." A wicked grin broadened his face.

  The Hunter opened the bundle. Within lay a robe in the style worn by the women of Al Hani. "You can't be serious!" He eyed the garment with distaste. It would cover him from head to toe, with only a slit for the eyes.

  Queen Asalah's eyes held no trace of mirth. "We all do what we must, Hunter. The burqu is your best choice."

  The captain clearly enjoyed the Hunter's discomfort. "Unless you have a better way to enter the harem of the al-Malek unnoticed, of course."

  Muttering curses, the Hunter drew the garment over his head. The thick burqu hung heavy and awkward, limiting his movements.

  Watcher forbid that I have to fight in this damned thing!

  Captain Al-Zahar adjusted the heavy robes. "You look ravishing! You will make a wonderful addition to the al-Malek's harem, Zaratha of the Ilari."

  The Hunter ignored the captain's mockery. "Now what?"

  Queen Asalah gestured to her lover. "Samia will lead you to the harem, and…"

  "Wait! They're coming with me?" The Hunter scowled, though the heavy robes obscured his face.

  "Of course. How else will you get in?"

  "I'd thought some hidden passage or…"

  The queen cut him off. "This is the easiest way. It is not uncommon for new girls to be brought into the palace, and few dare to question the First Concubine. You will be in and out before anyone realizes you are not the al-Malek's new plaything."

  "Though I must say, none of his others are quite so tall as you are." Captain Al-Zahar patted his head. "You will need to stoop to avoid attention."

  Throughout the conversation, Samia hadn't taken her eyes off the Hunter. The Hunter's keen ears picked up her whispered question to the queen. "You trusting him, my love? Something not right with him."

  The queen pressed her lips to the concubine's. "He will do as I have instructed, Az'nii. Now go!" Her voice was gentle, yet firm. "The captain will accompany you and ensure all goes to plan."

  Damn it! The Hunter was glad the burqu hid his face. Having the concubine along was bad enough, but now the captain? This complicates things.

  "Well, let's be off, then," he growled.

  Captain Al-Zahar swept an elaborate bow. "After you, my lady Zaratha."

  ***

  Bloody twisted hell! Could this get any worse?

  Sweat trickled down the Hunter's back, soaking his tunic and breeches. The burqu not only obscured his vision—limiting his field of view to a small crocheted panel little more than a handspan in width—but the thick cloth stifled him. He hunched to hide his height, and his back twinged with every short, shuffling step. Captain Al-Zahar held his arm in a firm grip, completing the masquerade of dragging a reluctant girl toward her new life as the al-Malek's concubine.

  You're doing this for the boy, he repeated in his mind. The queen's plan would get him close enough to the al-Malek to take his ring. He could endure suffering a while longer if it meant he could rescue Hailen.

  Samia glided alongside them, head held high, pride in her eyes. With confident steps, she led them through the sinuous passages of the palace complex. Feeling like a blinkered horse, the Hunter memorized the route as best he could. If the plan failed, he might be forced to find his own way.

  The First Concubine turned into a corridor bedecked with the wealth of a kingdom. Bronze warriors stood silent vigil down the passage, and tapestries of incalculable worth depicted epic battle scenes from the history of the Twelve Kingdoms. Overhead, golden thread ran serpentine patterns through an ornate ceiling mosaic of green, blue, and ivory. The Hunter's boots sank into the plush woolen rug of bright crimson.

  At the end of the corridor stood a massive set of double doors, flanked by four soldiers in the uniform of the al-Malek's personal guards. They stood with straight backs, eyes wary, hands near their swords. One stepped forward and held out a hand, speaking in the language of Al Hani.

  Heart thumping, the Hunter hunched forward, keeping his eyes downcast. With slow movements, he reached for Soulhunger's hilt. Just in case.

  The demon shrieked in his mind. 'Kill them! Kill them all and get this over with!'

  It would be easy. They were just humans, after all. He could kill them without breaking a sweat. Captain Al-Zahar and Samia would die first, of course.

  The Hunter gritted his teeth. Patience. His plan to get into the al-Malek's chambers would be foiled if the guards raised an alarm. Or would you have the entire palace alerted?

  'More for us to kill!'

  Of course the demon wanted that. It would have him slay every man, woman, and child on Einan to satiate its lust for blood and death.

  Soon enough. He clenched his fists and fought back the voices. I will give you the death you crave. But not yet.

  The demon withdrew, a sullen presence in the back of his mind, but Soulhunger's voice remained a throbbing ache behind his eyes.

  One of the guards motioned toward the Hunter and, with a leering grin, seized the veil of his burqu.

  Bloody hell! He's going to take a peek at the king's new concubine. Soulhunger slipped from its sheath with a whisper. If he lifts the veil, he'll be the first to die.

  Samia's voice cracked like a whip, her tone of command unmistakable. The guard's grin slipped, then disappeared, and his face turned ashen. He stepped smartly aside and waved the other guards out of their path, bowing and scraping. With a haughty nod, Samia motioned for him and Captain Al-Zahar to enter the al-Malek's quarters. The huge double doors rumbled shut behind him, plunging them into silence.

  The Hunter turned to Samia. "Can I take this damned thing off now?"

  Samia nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  The Hunter ripped the burqu over his head and flung it to the floor with a curse. "You'd better have another way out of here after this is done. I am not putting that blasted thing on again."

  Behind him, Captain Al-Zahar sniggered. "Queen's orders, qattala. Besides, you looked stunning."

  The Hunter resisted the urge to drive his fist into the captain's grinning face. "Now what?"

  They stood in a small antechamber. Flickering candles cast a warm glow over the room, accentuating the crimson cushions strewn in a circle around a low table. The delicate scent of lilies rose from a censer in the corner.

  Samia motioned to a door at other side of the room. "Through there. Follow me."

  "Wait!" The Hunter grabbed her arm.

  Samia whirled with a baleful glare. "Release me. I am First Concubine. You no touch me, qattala!"

  The Hunter released her, surprised by the vehemence in her voice and the hatred in her eyes. "I don't care if you're the Long Keeper himself." He bared his teeth in a snarl.

  Captain Al-Zahar dropped a hand to his sword. "Why you…"

  Samia held up a hand. "Wait, captain. What you want, qattala?"

  "You're staying here." He pushed past her. "You, too, captain."

  Captain Al-Zahar seized his arm. "We have our orders. We come with you."

  "No." The Hunter glared down at Captain Al-Zahar. "I work alone."

  Captain Al-Zahar spoke through clenched teeth. "The queen has commanded it." The captain stood a full handspan shorter than the Hunter, but broader in the shoulders. He met the Hunter's glare with equal ferocity. He wouldn't back down.

  'Kill him now!'

  Feed me, Soulhunger begged.

  Pain flashed behind the Hunter's eyes. Soulhunger's leather grip creaked in his hand. He itched to plunge the dagger into the captain's chest. But if, somehow, Al-Zahar alerted the guards outside the door, it would make things much harder.

  Patience, he told the voices. Your time will come.

  Relaxing his grip on the da
gger, he nodded. "So be it. We obey the queen's orders in all things."

  Inwardly, he cursed. He'd thought to fool the queen into believing he'd killed the al-Malek. Now, with Samia and Captain Al-Zahar on hand, he found himself in a bind. They expected him to carry out the queen's commands, and they'd betray him if he deviated from the plan.

  "Well?" he said. "The al-Malek isn't going to kill himself."

  With a nod, Samia glided across the room, her slippers near-silent on the plush carpet. The Hunter followed close on her heels, Soulhunger in hand. Captain Al-Zahar brought up the rear. Anger and nervous tension radiated from the man in palpable waves.

  The Hunter followed the concubine into a short corridor lit by alchemical lanterns. Ornate illustrations etched into the stone walls depicted erotic scenes of entwined men, women, and beasts in graphic detail.

  The sound of splashing water and laughter rang out from the open door at the end of the hall. Samia stiffened at the sound and, holding up a warning hand, crept forward to peer into the room beyond. With a mouthed curse, she waved them back.

  The Hunter retreated, nearly bumping into Captain Al-Zahar. Samia followed close on his heels, all but shoving him to move faster.

  When they reached the antechamber, Captain Al-Zahar whirled. "What's the matter?"

  "Guards. Five of them." She muttered something in the language of Al Hani. "He should be exhausted by now. I'll have Dharra flayed alive for her failure!"

  Captain Al-Zahar shook his head. "It makes no difference. He must die."

  The Hunter spoke before Samia could answer. "Though it means killing those who serve with you?"

  Captain Al-Zahar hesitated.

  Perhaps that will be enough to convince the captain to let me face them alone. Even if Al-Zahar accepted his comrades had to die, he might hesitate to wield the blade himself. "I can handle them. That way, you won't have to…"

  Samia cut him off with a slash of her hand. "Queen give us orders."

  The concubine's words had an instant effect on the captain. Haughty disdain replaced the hesitation in his eyes. "Besides, do you really think you can defeat five Royal Guards alone?" Captain Al-Zahar sneered. "Those are bad odds, especially for one who strikes from the shadows."