The returning voice of his inner demon set his head pounding, and Soulhunger added to the cacophony in his mind. His fists clenched as he tried to ignore the throbbing ache developing behind his eyes. He felt tired—so tired.
Either give Hailen the opia and risk death, or do nothing and risk madness. He was trapped in an impossible situation.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Hunter lost the battle to sleep for the second night in a row. Specks of dust danced in the bright daylight. The sun had risen hours before, yet he lacked the energy to roll out of bed. The smell of stale sweat filled his nostrils. Kicking off the suffocating blankets, he tried to find a comfortable position in the bed. The silence in his mind—so calm and peaceful when Hailen was near—felt eerie. He wished the numbness in his arms and legs would spread to his racing mind. He needed sleep. Even Bardin's silver pendant failed to soothe him.
Despite the heaviness in his body, images and thoughts whirled through his mind like leaves carried by a gale. He'd wrestled with the dilemma of the opia all night long. The thought of subjecting Hailen to the potentially fatal Expurgation twisted his stomach, but the alternative held no more appeal. He levered himself upright. Perhaps if he saw the boy, talked to him, it would help make up his mind.
Dressing quickly, he buckled on his sword belt and strode from the room. He would stop by the enclosure to see Hailen, then visit Master Eldor for a few hours of training. Physical exertion had always helped him muddle through problems in the past.
The demon's voice echoed in his head as he exited the Sage's temple. Despite himself, he almost welcomed its presence. The struggle to remain sane gave him something to focus on, to take his mind off the problem of Hailen.
Few Elivasti paid him attention as he strode through the narrow streets of their city. His presence no longer a novelty, only a handful even looked up at his passage. None called out a greeting. After the commotion of cities like Malandria, Voramis, and Aghzaret, he found the subdued mood of the Elivasti unusual. That, and the utter lack of smells. His sensitive nostrils should detect the unique scents of the hundreds of men and women around him, but the city seemed devoid of odors. Only the aromas of cooking food and the unfamiliar pungence of the steam greeted him.
Another reminder of how odd these people are.
Everything about the Elivasti seemed inhuman—which they truly were. Descendants of the Serenii, they had as much in common with mankind as he did.
The Elivasti guards stationed at the enclosure swung open the gate at his approach. He caught a glimpse of Hailen playing with a handful of children. The boy laughed and chattered away, without a care in the world.
The Hunter's feet refused to move. He couldn't bring himself to enter the enclosure. What could he say to the boy? Could he tell him about the Irrsinnon and how it would slowly drive him mad? Would Hailen understand the risks of the Expurgation? He turned away from the gate. I will not ruin his happiness. Not until I must.
A weight settled on his shoulders. He'd thought seeing Hailen would solve the problem, but it only made things worse. Anything he did would put the boy's life at risk. How could he decide which of the two terrible fates Hailen should endure? He wanted nothing more than to spare the boy further hardship, but either outcome meant suffering.
He needed something to clear his mind, to distract him from the dilemma. Perhaps Master Eldor could offer advice.
When the old Elivasti opened the door to the smithy, he seemed to have aged a decade overnight. "I've been expecting you." He stepped aside to let the Hunter enter.
The air in the smithy seemed less oppressive than it had days earlier. The holes in the ground glowed brightly, and that same pungent odor hung thick in the room though no steam wafted from the fissures.
"How can you stand that smell?"
Master Eldor shrugged. "Living up here, you get used to it." He strode past the Hunter and out into the practice yard. "I've heard that they delve many leagues beneath the surface. Some say the heart of Einan itself."
A memory flashed through the Hunter's mind. He once again stood in the Serenii tunnels beneath Voramis, bound to the midnight obelisk.
He could once again feel the blood draining from the weapon, absorbed by an immense force. He tasted the almost-tangible power flowing around him; sensed it being pulled far, far down, reaching tendrils deep into the core of the earth.
An enormous heartbeat echoed in his mind, thumping with enough force to shatter mountains.
He shuddered. He'd never forget that feeling of terror mixed with overwhelming awe. The heart of the Destroyer.
When they entered the training ring, Master Eldor turned to him. "Judging by the pain in your eyes, you were at the Expurgation last night. You saw what happened to young Daladar."
Daladar. So that was his name. At least someone remembers him. The Sage and the Warmaster had shown no remorse or sorrow at the youth's death.
"It happens, you know." Mournful resignation echoed in Master Eldor's voice. "Far more often than we'd like."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Of course it does!" Master Eldor's eyes glowed with anger. "You think we want to see our children die?"
"Then why carry on with the Expurgation? If the opia—"
"What choice do we have? The opia is our only option. Without it, we would be confined to those few places on Einan touched by the Serenii." Shadows of memory darkened his face. "Before we came here, we lost far too many of our young to the Irrsinnon."
The image of the shrieking, screaming youth flashed through his mind. "A fate far worse than death."
"Indeed. But now, thanks to the Expurgation, we can roam free."
"At what cost?"
"A steep one." Master Eldor shook his head. "Make no mistake, each and every one of us knows the price. But if we are to give our children a better future, we have no other choice."
The Hunter snorted. "A better future? As slaves to the Abiarazi?"
Master Eldor's face grew as hard as Shana Laal. "Never slaves!" he snarled. "Servants, but perhaps not for much longer."
What's the difference? From where the Hunter stood, there was none. "You serve those monstrous creatures, carrying out their wills. But at the cost of how many lives?"
"We do what we must to stay alive in a world where we do not belong. Surely you can understand that."
Master Eldor's words pierced the Hunter to the core. The Elivasti—this one, at least—served the Abiarazi out of expedience. They honored the oaths sworn by their ancestors, but loyalty only partially factored into the decision. The Elivasti served because it was the only way to keep their children alive, intact. The Hunter could understand that. He did, indeed, know what was required to survive.
A silence fell between them, stretching out for long minutes. When the Hunter spoke, it was in a quiet, strained voice. "What would you do?"
Master Eldor stroked his neat salt-and-pepper beard. "The opia?"
The Hunter nodded. "Death or madness, which would you choose? Which did you choose?"
Eyes filling with pain, Master Eldor's turned away from the Hunter to lean on the stone beside him. For a long moment, he remained silent. When he faced the Hunter once more, tears glimmered in his violet eyes, and he spoke in a quiet voice. "To give your boy the opia would mean his death. It is no choice at all."
The Hunter's eyes widened. "Is that what happened to your son?"
Master Eldor flinched, as if the mention of his son struck him a physical blow, and gave a slow nod.
"Tell me about him."
The Elivasti gave him a sad smile. "He was a lot like you. Cocksure, arrogant, skilled. He would have made a worthy warrior, indeed." His shoulders slumped, and he pressed two fingers to his eyes.
"What happened to him?"
"The Expurgation. He was found…unworthy." Master Eldor swallowed, his eyes sliding away. "The opia…"
The Hunter rested a hand on the Elivasti's shoulder. Silence passed between them. After a mom
ent, Master Eldor raised his eyes to meet the Hunter's gaze. "Though it happened long ago—"
"It feels like just yesterday," the Hunter finished. "The torment of memory is a heavy burden, indeed." He carried his own burdens. Farida. Bardin. The children taken by Il Seytani's bandits. They all weighed on his shoulders, reminders of why he had to protect Hailen.
"So you'd counsel against giving the opia to the boy?"
"The decision must be yours. Were he mine, I know what I would do. Leave him in the enclosure, where he is safe in the shadow of the Serenii."
And in a place where the Sage or the Warmaster could easily get at him, use him as leverage against me. He couldn't let that happen. Hailen had suffered enough for a lifetime. But if he can't stay here, where can I take him? And will he survive the journey?
The madness had seized Hailen after an hour or so away from the enclosure. What would happen when the Hunter took him from Kara-ket? Did he dare? He couldn't stomach the thought of seeing the boy succumb to the Irrsinnon.
Master Eldor gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry I cannot give you the answer you seek. This is a choice you must make for yourself." He stepped toward the racks and drew two wooden practice blades. "But I can prepare you for the other impossible task you face."
The Hunter caught the sword Master Eldor tossed him and stared at it for a long moment, then growled. "So be it."
"Fair warning," the old Elivasti said in a humorless voice, "I've been taking it easy on you the last few days. Now things get tough."
The Hunter's eyes widened. That was easy? All thoughts outside combat faded as Master Eldor attacked.
* * *
"Sloppy!" The cane snapped against the Hunter's shoulders. "You drop your elbows, and your strikes lose power and your defense weakens. Raise those arms."
The Hunter grimaced as the rod smacked the underside of his arms. His body quivered with exhaustion. He'd spent the better part of the day training, and Master Eldor had pushed him to his limits. Though the pain of his wounds had gone, the burning ache of fatigue coursed through his muscles. And still Master Eldor's drills continued.
The Elivasti's voice rang out in the walled yard. "Advance, advance, retreat, block, parry and thrust, retreat, hold. Again, elbows higher!"
Ignoring the fire in his shoulders, the Hunter raised his sword and repeated the form. The length of steel had never weighed so much. He moved on leaden feet, sweat streaming down his face.
Master Eldor tutted. "All those hours I spent teaching you, wasted! You fight like a bull in heat—charging forward, striking with less precision than a blind, fingerless archer."
"Enough!" The Hunter's lungs burned, and every muscle ached. His sodden tunic clung to his body. He'd repeated the form—one Master Eldor called the Sailmaster—for what felt like an eternity.
"You think you're done, Hunter?" The cane snapped against his lower back. "Straighten up, or you'll practice until the sun sets."
The Hunter blew out his breath and tried to ignore the pain in his arms and legs. His knees trembled, but if he sagged, Master Eldor would make him start all over again. He'd suffered torment at the hands of men who delighted in torture and bloodshed, but they paled in comparison to the sting of Master Eldor's cane and his sharp, scolding tongue.
"Keep your back straight!" The stick cracked against his chest. Master Eldor pointed to the hourglass sitting atop the water barrel. "You do not move until the sands run out."
The Hunter locked his gaze on the grains of sand trickling from the upper bulb, heart hammering against his ribs hard enough to snap bone. The level dropped with such terrible slowness, he thought his legs would explode from the effort of holding the half-crouched stance.
"Time!"
With a gasp that bordered on a sob, the Hunter slumped. Somehow, Master Eldor had managed to push even his inhuman stamina beyond its limits. He lay there, too exhausted to move.
Daylight and Shana Laal faded as a sudden rush of memories took over.
He lay in bed, too exhausted to move. The day of training had taken its toll on him. Yet he forced himself to rise. He rummaged in the darkened tent until his hands closed on his pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he stepped from the tent.
A cool midnight breeze washed over him. He shivered and pulled his pilfered cloak tighter. No fires burned in camp this night, no guards stood on watch. The Elivasti feared no attack; none knew they were even camped here.
Anger flared bright in the Hunter's chest at the sight of Master Eldor's tent. He pushed aside his sorrow; he had no time to feel remorse for leaving the Elivasti camp. Not after what had happened to—
"Get up!" Master Eldor's voice snapped him back to reality. The Elivasti stood over him, hand outstretched. "The last thing you want is for your legs to seize up."
Blinking away the ragged threads of memory, the Hunter took the proffered hand and, with a groan, pulled himself to his feet. His eyes locked with Master Eldor's. For a moment, he hovered between two worlds—the world where he stood atop Kara-ket, and the one where he slipped from the Elivasti camp like a thief in the night.
Master Eldor released his hand. "Good, now walk it off."
Though his muscles protested, the Hunter limped around the training ring. Chaos seethed in his mind. Though they were from the world long forgotten, the emotions—disgust, fury, hatred—curling like a stone in his gut were all too real.
What happened all those years ago? What made me hate him so?
He couldn't look at Master Eldor, not yet. Not until the rage within him abated.
"Enough for one day, lad." Master Eldor placed his cane on the weapons rack.
"Thank the gods!" The Hunter spoke through gritted teeth. The torture had ended, but those conflicting, churning feelings, wherever they came from, dissipated slowly. "You keep calling me 'lad'. You realize I'm far older than you, right?"
Master Eldor shrugged. "Old habits. Just like your old habit of shuffling your front foot forward before a lunge." He tsked. "We'll have to practice that one tomorrow."
The Hunter grimaced. "Practice, you call it? You'd give the Masters of Agony a run for their money."
"I proudly accept your compliment." Master Eldor grinned and bowed. "Now, it's time for you to go."
"Oh?" The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "I have somewhere to be?"
"Unless you want your legs to seize and stiffen, you've got to move around for at least a quarter hour." Master Eldor's expression grew somber, and the heartless, commanding teacher gave way to the concerned Elivasti. "Besides, I think it's time you paid your boy a visit."
The Hunter started. He'd come here to take his mind off his dilemma over Hailen's fate, and it had worked. For the last four hours, he'd thought of nothing but the precision of his movements, the fire in his muscles and lungs, and the stinging crack of Master Eldor's cane. The weight of his decision settled on his shoulders once more.
"You're right." He set his practice blade on its rack and bowed to Master Eldor. "Until tomorrow."
"Tomorrow." Master Eldor nodded. "One day closer to making our move."
Mind racing, he strode from the training yard, through the smithy, and into the streets beyond. He'd thought the exertion would clarify the matter in his mind, illuminate the right course to take. He was wrong. The burden of anxiety only felt all the more overwhelming for the weariness of his body.
The sight of the enormous wall set the Hunter's stomach cavorting. Once again, he couldn't bring himself to enter, but instead climbed the stairs and leaned on the parapet overlooking the enclosure.
The reek of rot and decay wafted toward him, and his gaze darted to the obsidian obelisks at the far end of the enclosure. The very air around the stones seemed heavy with gloom.
I can't leave Hailen here. Not so close to those stones. After what happened in the Advanat, he couldn't let Hailen get close to the monoliths. But that meant removing him from the enclosure, from Kara-ket itself. Once out of the shadow of the Serenii, Hailen would once again be a
t the mercy of the Irrsinnon. He couldn't let the boy deteriorate into madness. But was subjecting him to the opia any better?
He leaned on the parapet, scanning the enclosure in search of the familiar figure. Hailen chased a pack of older boys.
Look at him. Laughing, playing, happy. The boy showed no sign of his usual fatigue. His cheeks held a flush of color the Hunter had never seen. He has come to life up here. And I'm going to take that all away from him.
It was not a matter of “if”, but “when” the Hunter would leave Kara-ket. Once he'd killed the Abiarazi, he'd resume his journey north. But that meant removing Hailen from the enclosure, where he was, for the moment, safe. He knew so little of the Elivasti curse. Where on Einan would he find a safe haven for Hailen?
Try as he might, he couldn't convince himself Hailen was better off with him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"You seem distracted."
The Hunter's head snapped up to regard the Sage, who sat across the Nizaa board, staring at him with a curious expression. Without thinking, he pushed a random piece forward.
Tsking, the Sage captured the piece. "Keep playing like that, and you'll be out in three moves."
The Hunter couldn't bring himself to care about the game. He'd spent the last hour in sullen silence, brooding on his impossible decision. Staring at the Sage's smug face didn't help his mood.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Best we call it, then."
Disappointment crossed the Sage's face. "Perhaps some wine?"
The Hunter nodded. He'd barely picked at the bread, cheese, fruits, and nuts arrayed on the table beside them. Wine could help to shut off his anxiety, and he needed to be free of his worries over Hailen more than he needed a clear head to play Nizaa.
As he sipped the sweet chilled wine brought by the Sage's servant, he took in his surroundings. The bright afternoon sunlight magnified the opulence of the demon's sitting room, giving the crimson bloodwood a deeper, richer hue. Everywhere he turned, the golden walls reflected the sun's brilliance.
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