He had no time to ponder the matter. The commander stopped at a small door beside the tapestry, and his men halted in perfect unison. He knocked softly on the door. The Hunter heard no voice from within, but the commander lifted the latch and pushed it open.
Stepping aside, he motioned toward the door. "Enter, qattala."
The Hunter studied the commander warily, but saw no malice in the man's eyes. With a nod, he pushed past the guards and stepped through.
The room beyond held none of the grandiose elegance of the throne room, but had been decorated for comfort. A thick rug covered the colorful tiled floor, with bright patterns that held his eyes captive. When he tore his gaze away, the tapestries hanging from the wall arrested his attention. Men fought to the death on a dozen battlefields. Horrible figures—they could only be demons—drowned the lands with blood and carnage. The marble-cast faces of kings and queens guarded the room with somber demeanors and watchful eyes.
Bookshelves lined the west wall of the room, with hundreds of leather-bound volumes in pristine condition. Papers, quills, open books, and a collection of odds and ends lay strewn across the enormous writing desk that occupied the far end of the chamber.
Couches and sofas provided comfortable seating, and there, upon the lavish divan in the corner of the room, sat Queen Asalah. She had fine features, unlined with age, her cheekbones and chin strong yet not sharp. Almost too perfect to be real.
The queen beckoned him forward with a graceful wave. When the Hunter hesitated, one of the guards shoved him hard, sending him stumbling forward. He turned to curse at the man behind him, and his hand dropped to his sword hilt.
The queen spoke in the language of Al Hani, the tone of reproof and anger unmistakable. The guard that had pushed the Hunter reddened, mumbled a few words in his tongue, and bowed to the Hunter with only a hint of a glare. When the queen spoke again, the anger had left her voice. The authority, however, remained. She shooed him away, and the commander barked something in reply. For a moment, it seemed he and the queen locked in a battle of wills. The Hunter guessed the argument related to him: the commander feared for the queen's safety.
If only he knew how little she had to fear. Demons, even in their human form, were more than capable of protecting themselves.
The commander bowed and, with a reluctant glance at the Hunter, backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The click sounded loud in the Hunter's ears. He stood alone with the demon.
He stared into her eyes, searching for the black void to match his own. The color was dark, yet not unnaturally so—no darker than the hue of the people of Al Hani.
Impossible! The demons in Voramis had hidden theirs as well, but how? The matter of how the First had shifted his shape had plagued him since leaving.
Her scent drifted toward him. She smelled of citrus mixed with cloves, toasted sugar with a hint of vanilla bean. The scent was overly thick and cloying, meant to drown out that other aroma, the one only he could detect beneath it: the reek of decay, timeless and eternal. The stench of the demon.
Rage and revulsion twisted in his chest, and he tensed in anticipation of an attack. Though the woman before him looked to present little danger, he knew only too well what demons could do. He just hoped Soulhunger and his sword would be enough, though why she had let him this close with his weapons, he didn't know.
The woman made no threatening move; indeed, she didn't even rise to greet him. Instead, she remained on the couch, reclined among plush pillows and soft velvet. Her eyes danced over his form, drinking him in with an eager expression. Somehow, the look on her face made him all the more uncomfortable.
"You have me here," he growled. "Now what?"
"You are not what I expected." Queen Asalah's voice matched her looks: silky, seductive, beautiful. She met his eyes with a calm assurance. "Yet the Sage could not have sent you at a better time. I have positioned myself next to the king, as instructed. All is in readiness for what comes next."
The Sage! That name again. Toramin, the demon masquerading as a wizard among the Order of Midas in Malandria had mentioned the name. Garanis, the demon Illusionist Cleric had as well. But who was he? And why would the demons be taking orders from him?
The Hunter nodded. "That is…good to hear."
Queen Asalah studied him with a curious expression. "I've heard he's been looking for your kind, Bucelarii, but I'm surprised he actually found one. Even more surprising, it's you, after all this time."
The Hunter's mouth dropped. "M-me…?" Surprise stole his coherence. Does she know me?
The queen narrowed her eyes. "Do you mean to tell me you don't recognize me? Surely it could not have been that long since last we met."
"What do you mean?" He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
Queen Asalah steepled her fingers under her chin. "How odd. Perhaps the passage of time has been unkind to you. Tell me, what is your name? Surely you can remember that?" Her smile turned sardonic.
The Hunter ground his teeth, suppressing his irritation at her mockery. She seems to know me. Perhaps she can tell me more of my past.
He forced his clenched fists to relax. "In the cities of the south, men call me the Hunter."
"The Hunter? A bit heavy-handed, wouldn't you say?"
He shrugged.
Her mocking smile faded and the queen nodded. "Very well, Hunter. So you shall be named."
She opened her mouth to continue but the Hunter cut her off. "How did you know I was coming?"
Surprise registered on the queen's face and her mouth hung open for a moment. She raised a warning finger. "I am not accustomed to being interrupted in my own palace. You would do well to show respect to…"
The Hunter stifled a smile. "How?"
Queen Asalah flashed him a look of irritation. "Do that again at your own peril, Hunter."
The Hunter inclined his head, but made no apologies. He could get away with a little impertinence. If she wanted him dead, she'd have ordered her men to kill him. The fact that he still stood, armed, meant she wanted something from him.
A smile touched the queen's lips "Ever the proud Bucelarii." She nodded, as if in approval. "Strong, stubborn, willful—we did well with you."
The Hunter bit his lip to stifle a snort of derision.
"You ask how I knew? Let's just call it a woman's intuition, shall we? The moment I saw you in the square today, I knew you would not hesitate to seek me out. You follow the Sage's orders, just as I do."
The Hunter's mind raced. For some reason, the queen perceived him not as a threat, but as an ally. Garanis and Toramin, the demons in Malandria, had done the same. They'd both expected him to come in peace, and had been shocked to discover his true intentions. He could use that to his advantage. He would play into her hands, keep up the façade of being a confederate. If it meant answers about his past and access to the king, he would leave the demon alive. For now…
"And here I am."
"And here you are." She smiled, with genuine warmth it seemed. "After all these years, you have returned."
He raised an eyebrow. "Returned?"
Queen Asalah nodded and pointed toward a statue in the corner of the room. "Tell me, Hunter, do you recognize that face?"
The Hunter darted a glance at the marble bust on a gleaming pedestal before returning his gaze to the queen. "I do not. Should I?"
"It is Nasnaz the Great, warrior king, first al-Malek of Al Hani." She stared at him, expectant.
"Perhaps, but if you do not remember me…" The queen gave a dismissive wave. "Let me tell you the tale."
"Why do I need to know of the first al-Malek of...?"
Queen Asalah glared at him and drove on, cutting him off. "Centuries ago, when there were still Twelve Kingdoms in this land, there came a man from the north. Nasnaz, he called himself. In the tongue of Al Hani, it is the name given to creatures of nightmare, the sort whispered of in the darkness of a moonless night. A creature born half of human blood, and half of demon." S
he smirked. "Sound familiar?"
The Hunter inclined his head.
The queen leaned against the plush cushion of her divan. "From the north came Nasnaz, riding a midnight black horse twice as tall as any man. It is said he crossed the Whispering Waste—a journey that lasts half a month—in the span of a night. His eyes were empty pools of darkness, and any who stared into them were certain to meet an agonizing death. Their blades could not harm him, and it was said he could not be killed."
He hid a smile. Sounds like the legend of the Hunter, though these Al Hani are far more creative in their storytelling than the citizens of Voramis.
"Into Al Hani he rode, terrible to behold and thirsting for blood. Upon his back hung a sword three paces tall, and in his right hand, he carried a dagger that burned like the sun. None could stand before him in battle. Within half a year, he had driven the nomadic Beddana from the city, withstood the siege of the Khanatal horde, and destroyed the five kingdoms that had formed an alliance against Al Hani. He single-handedly killed a thousand men in the Battle of Al-Birkir."
The Hunter smirked. "Sounds like a great warrior, this Nasnaz."
"The greatest." The queen nodded, her expression somber. "And yet, one day, without warning, Nasnaz the Great disappeared."
He raised an eyebrow. "How unfortunate."
A frown touched Queen Asalah's perfect lips, furrowing her unlined brow. "You mock, but I know the legend to be true. I was there."
The Hunter hid his surprise. "Of course you were. You Abiarazi have long lives. Though I wonder why your face is not carved into any of these statues. After all, you were he, were you not?"
The queen shook her head. "No." She stared at him for a long moment, as if expecting something.
The Hunter gave her a blank look.
Queen Asalah nodded. "We Abiarazi are not the only ones with a lifespan of centuries. I was here—though in a different guise. In fact, we were here together." She thrust a delicate finger at him. "You, Hunter of the south, are Nasnaz the Great."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Hunter's head spun, his mind whirling. Striding to the bust, he studied it more closely. The figure had heavier and thicker nose, jaw, and eyebrows than he, but there was something familiar about the eyes.
By the Watcher! Could it be?
He turned to the queen. "You are certain?"
Queen Asalah nodded. "Of course! There was a time when you and I rode this land together: Nasnaz the Great and Khalid al-Waziri, his faithful servant and advisor."
He narrowed his eyes. "Khalid is a man's name, is it not?"
The queen nodded.
"So if you are a man, why do you now take on the form of a woman?"
The queen smiled at him. "It…suits my purposes." She stood slowly, giving the Hunter a good look at her figure. Her sheer, clinging robes did little to hide her well-formed shoulders, breasts that swelled against the fabric, rounded belly and hips, and long, lithe legs.
Every man's desire, the Hunter thought. His eyes roamed over her body, and saw perfection. His body responded of its own accord.
The queen's eyes dropped to his waist, and she flashed a sultry smile. "Yes, that is the effect intended. This weak feminine flesh has its uses."
It had been too long, but he cursed himself for his weakness. How could he find her appealing? He knew what lay beneath the perfect suit of flesh.
The queen floated toward him, poised and graceful. "What better form to draw the attention of a young, virile ruler of Al Hani? The old al-Malek's tastes ran in a…different direction." With a shudder of flesh and bone, the stunning woman transformed into a young, fresh-faced boy barely out of his teen years. "His desires made it impossible to rise to a place of power. Which is why he had to be done away with."
The Hunter watched, open-mouthed, as the figure transformed into the queen once more. He suppressed a shudder of disgust at her writhing features.
"This form, now, that is a different matter." Queen Asalah smiled at him, all silky seduction and perfection. "This is the one best suited to becoming ruler of Al Hani."
"But if you can take any form you want, why have you not simply seized power before?"
The queen shrugged. "My time will come. For now, I am commanded to wait."
"For what?"
"For you." Her grin turned triumphant. "Your presence means the Sage is ready for me to make my move. Now is the time!"
The Hunter had no idea what was going on, but he'd be damned if he let it show. If she thinks the Sage sent me, I am not a threat, but a comrade.
He could pretend to go along with her schemes, at least long enough to find a way to stop them. She could give him answers into his past, could serve a purpose. Once he had what he needed, he'd rid the world of her taint.
"So now what? Drown the city in blood? That is your true purpose, is it not?"
The queen shook her head. "The Sage has placed me here to take control of the city, but until now, I have been missing the vital ingredient." Her eyes roamed his figure, as if searching for something.
Immediately he knew what she sought. Soulhunger. "Thanal Eth' Athaur."
"Yes. And now I have it within my grasp!" Her voice grew husky with desire. Her almond eyes flashed to his, and for a heartbeat, the color deepened to the midnight void that marked her as a demon. Manic eagerness filled the demon's black eyes. Her fingers flexed like claws, reaching toward him as if seeking to take Soulhunger. "Show it to me!"
The Hunter recoiled from the intensity of her voice. He took a step back, his hand falling instinctively to the hilt of his sword. "Many have tried to take it from me before. You would not wish to share their fate."
Surprise and confusion showed on the queen's face. "Take it from you?" Laughter bubbled from her throat. "My dear Hunter, you have me all wrong. I have no desire for the blade. On the contrary, I want you to use it to achieve the mission for which you were brought into this world. I want to help you kill!"
The Hunter found this hard to believe. "How do I know I can trust you?"
The question was meant for her benefit. She'd expect him to be reticent at first, but if he was sent as an ally, he'd have to pretend to trust her. He never truly would be able to trust an Abiarazi. I only have to keep the ruse up long enough to get the al-Malek's ring. He would deal with her once Hailen was safe.
"The Sage sent you to me. Is that not enough?"
The Hunter crossed his arms. "He expects me to make up my own mind."
The queen stared at him, her expression thoughtful. "You've changed, you know? Nasnaz the Great was ever headstrong, without a thought for the consequences of his actions. I think I prefer the Hunter, for he is a Bucelarii after my own heart."
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek. The gesture was almost familiar, comforting. The Hunter forced himself to remain still, keep his hands away from Soulhunger. He wanted to silence her lying tongue with a quick thrust of the blade, but had to find out more.
Queen Asalah smiled. "I can hear his voice from your mouth. You remind me of him: strong, stubborn, proud. You even have some of his looks, though you've changed the shape of your face."
The queen's words hit the Hunter like a series of concussive blows, rocking him. Off balance, he stammered, "H-him?"
“Me.” The voice in the Hunter's head had remained silent during the exchange with the queen, but it spoke now. “I see Thrz-kha-url continues to play the silent game in shadows. He ever preferred manipulation over brute force.”
Soulhunger added its voice to the maelstrom in his thoughts. Clearly, the blade, too, recognized the Abiarazi before him—further proof that she could provide him answers.
The Hunter swallowed. "H-He named you Thrz-kha-url."
The queen's eyes widened and the color drained from her face. "I have not heard that name in millennia," she said, her voice quiet. She slumped back on the couch, stunned disbelief in her expression. For long moments, she sat in silence, her eyes glazed, unfocused.
The Hunter, impatient, cleared his throat.
Queen Asalah's brow furrowed as she stared at him. "There can be no doubt that you are he. You departed Al Hani as Nasnaz the Great, but you return the Hunter. Though you have changed your appearance, I still see you as you were long ago."
"Changed my appearance? What do you mean?"
She returned his puzzled expression with one of her own. "Have you forgotten everything your father taught you?"
The Hunter tried to speak, but no words came out. The queen's words set his head spinning. Is it possible? What other secrets have been taken from me with my memories?
The Illusionist Cleric's mad cackling echoed in his mind, bringing a flash of fear. He could only hope the madman had lost his scent in the Advanat.
"It seems time has eroded your memory, much as it does to the humans whose blood you share." She shook her head in sorrow. "You have forgotten the power the blood of the Abiarazi can offer you."
"You mean…" The Hunter started, and stopped. He tried again. "I can do…what you do?"
The queen nodded, and her face shifted in a wave of bone, cartilage, and muscle. In the space of a few heartbeats, her features changed from the perfect woman to an old, bearded man, a child no older than a decade, and a young man with startling resemblance to the al-Malek.
"You Bucelarii had the ability, though not to the same extent as your fathers." Her face morphed once more into Queen Asalah, with an amused grin at his shocked surprise. "It was I who taught you before, and I shall teach you again. But first, I would have something from you."
The Hunter swallowed and sat hard on the plush sofa behind him. "What?"
The queen smiled. "The truth, Bucelarii. What is the true reason the Sage sent you here? What does he expect you to do?"
The question snapped the Hunter out of his stunned reverie. He faced a dilemma. He had no way to know why the demon posed as Queen Asalah, or what the ultimate goal was. But, to achieve his task more quickly and return to Hailen, he had to take a risk.
"I have come to kill the king."
The queen stared at him for a moment, expression blank, studying him as if she examined a choice cut of meat. Her eyes—no longer depthless black, but once more soft and brown—roamed over every facet of his face.
Darkblade Protector Page 19
