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  Darkblade Seeker

  Hero of Darkness (Book 4)

  By Andy Peloquin

  Copyright. Second Edition

  ©2018, Andy Peloquin

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

  Any resemblance to persons, places living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

  Life for a Life

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The Hunter's journey continues in Darkblade Slayer:

  Hero of Darkness (Book 5):

  More Books by Andy Peloquin

  Try This Prequel Story!

  About the Author

  Glossary

  Gods of Einan

  Darkblade Seeker Characters

  Nizaa

  Objective:

  Game Setup

  Advantages:

  The Pieces:

  Rules for Play:

  There is no evil; there is only desire, and what you will do to achieve it.

  Chapter One

  The Hunter danced on empty air. Only his tenuous grasp on the cliff averted a plunge to certain death. He clawed at the craggy precipice, desperate for a handhold. His heart pounded a furious beat against his ribs. His right hand quivered, his grip threatening to give way. Numb fingers felt for any crack or seam in the stone, no matter how small.

  There! He thrust two fingers into the crevice. Sharp rock carved furrows into his flesh. Blood—his blood—trickled down the cliff face, but he felt nothing. The cold and wind had stolen all feeling from his hands hours ago.

  His soft-soled boots found purchase on a narrow ledge. The Hunter clung to the rock face, every muscle in his body trembling with fatigue and fear.

  That was too close!

  He swallowed the acid bubbling up from his throat and willed his stomach to stop its terrified cavorting. He'd survived many deaths; he had no desire to find out if a fall from this height could kill him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Somewhere down there, Hailen, the boy he'd rescued in the Beggar Temple in Malandria, waited for him. The proprietor of the town's smallest inn had been only too happy to care for Hailen; the pile of coins the Hunter left guaranteed his eager compliance. But if he plummeted to his death, what would happen to the boy?

  The sun hung low in the sky, the daylight fading fast. He had to find a place to camp for the night. He needed rest, out of the biting, shrieking wind that whipped through the Yathi Mountains after dark. The gale could rip him from the rock face and send him plummeting to the valley hundreds of paces below.

  Gritting his teeth against the ache in his exhausted muscles, he continued the ascent. Of course the “Sage” would be at the top of some impossibly high mountain. Bastard demon!

  He cursed the day he heard the name of the “Sage". That was the day Bardin, the Malandrian beggar who'd become his friend, had died at the hands of the demon Toramin.

  When first he encountered the Demon of Voramis—masquerading as both the First of the Bloody Hand and Lord Jahel of the Dark Heresy—he'd thought it ill fate. But after meeting Toramin and Garanis, the Abiarazi wearing the form of an Illusionist Cleric, he'd begun to fear the infestation was more widespread. Queen Asalah, the demon queen of Al Hani, had confirmed his suspicions. All three demons had spoken of the Sage's plans for Einan, and the role he had assigned them.

  So this Sage was the head of the snake, the marionette artist pulling strings behind the scenes. His plans would lead to chaos and slaughter across Einan. The Hunter could not allow that.

  True, humans had shunned him, inflicted cruelties on him, and endeavored to eradicate his kind. Yet a few individuals had proven mankind a cause worth championing. Farida, who had been delighted to see him though he hid behind the disguise of a pudgy tailor. Bardin, the half-mad Malandrian who had offered him, a total stranger, shelter and food, crude as they might have been. Hailen, the too-naïve boy unable to grasp the cruelties of the world, a child who saw everyone as a friend. These, and others, had shown him the bright side of human nature. He couldn't allow people like them—the weak, helpless, and innocent—to suffer in the Abiarazi's bloodthirsty campaign to conquer Einan and return Kharna, the Great Destroyer, to the world.

  Which is how he found himself clinging to a frozen cliff face, far too high above the Hrandari Plains. If demons did this Sage's bidding, the Hunter had no choice but to hunt him down and put an end to his machinations. Without the Sage to give them commands, the other Abiarazi would prove much easier to eliminate. Einan would be free of demons, permanently.

  But finding the Sage meant scaling Shana Laal, the highest peak in the Yathi mountain rage. Right now, the Hunter found himself regretting his decision. Is it too much to ask for a quiet lake or forest?

  He kept up a steady stream of curses as he climbed, both to ward off the chill and his trepidation. Atop Shana Laal, he would find Kara-ket, the twin temples occupied by the Masters of Agony and…

  And who? Therein lay the source of his anxiety.

  Torturers, he could face. He'd first encountered whispers of the Masters of Agony, virtuosos of the sanguine arts, over a decade earlier. Even Lord Jahel, the Demon of Voramis, had spoken of them with reverence. One
particularly popular tale—of questionable veracity, but impressive nonetheless—told of a victim they'd kept alive for years. And that was after they'd severed his limbs and flayed the flesh from his bones.

  The Hunter had little doubt he could face the Masters of Agony. He spoke the language of violence as fluently as any on Einan. But the torturers only held one of the temples. What would he find in the other? In the absence of facts, his mind conjured images beyond the bounds of reality.

  The cliff crumbled beneath his right boot, and shards of stone tumbled free. The Hunter's stomach churned as he watched the rocks disappear into the mists below.

  One problem at a time.

  He forced himself to keep climbing. He'd always loved the heights of the Palace of Justice. He'd climbed the Black Spire in Praamis, stared across Malandria from the pinnacle of Lord Apus' towering mansion, and gazed out over Al Hani from atop the al-Malek’s enormous palace. But these heights were altogether foreign—and terrifying.

  A shrieking filled the Hunter's mind, echoing the stinging wind. Damned demon! Can't you be silent?

  The voice—it had been a voice once; now, it mostly screamed and wailed incoherently—belonged to his ancestor, the Abiarazi who had fathered him on some human woman he couldn't remember. It refused to leave him in peace, but only granted him brief periods of silence after he fed its demand for blood.

  It's getting worse.

  He'd killed the previous morning, before beginning his ascent of Shana Laal. He hadn't bothered to learn the name of his victim, but the man had been found guilty of molesting his young daughters. The Hrandari's strict code of punishment sentenced him to hang. The Hunter had delivered the Watcher's justice a day early.

  That death should have been enough to keep the voice at bay for at least another day or two. It's coming back too quickly.

  The weight of his gear—weapons, minimal supplies, and thin blanket—threatened to drag him from the wall with every agonizing step. The straps of his pack gouged into his shoulders. Blood trickled from myriad cuts in his fingers, rendering the cliff walls slick. Though his flesh healed, every step upward brought new wounds and added to the quiver in his muscles. The howling polar winds, the screeching in his mind, and his exhaustion increased the Hunter's desperation.

  There has to be something around here! He scanned the rocks overhead. Some sort of cave, crevice, hollow…anything.

  High above, he caught a glimpse of an overhang. A patch of darkness beneath hinted at a break in the sheer cliff face. He forced his tired body onward. Just a few more steps, and he'd be able to rest. Even his inhuman stamina could reach a breaking point. The monstrous Shana Laal seemed determined to push him to his limits.

  The fading sunlight sparkled on the snow-covered cliff. Sunset bathed the mountains in a soft glow, mixing violent hues of red and orange with gentler purples and blues. Tired as he was, the Hunter had to stop and drink in the panorama. The world spread out at his feet, disappearing into the horizon in every direction. Awe wrestled with his terror at the immense height.

  The sun dipped beneath distant hills, and the final vestiges of daylight disappeared. The moon, already high in the darkening sky, grew brighter as the sunlight bade its last farewell. Shivering from the biting wind, the Hunter pushed himself to climb faster. The false sunset granted him a few extra minutes, but night would overtake him sooner than he'd like.

  The temperature plummeted with the dying light. The wind tugged at the Hunter's cloak with frosty fingers. The blood that dripped from his fingers froze into patches of crimson ice, and an unreal cold sliced through his fur-lined cloak, chilling him to the bone.

  The Hunter gasped in relief as he pulled himself up onto the ledge beneath the overhang. He lay on the hard, cold stone, panting. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of pain through his limbs. The biting chill faded beneath the agony of knotted muscles unclenching, and he labored for each breath in the thin, icy air.

  Groaning, he pushed himself up to his elbows and studied his perch. A narrow ledge ran beneath an outcropping of rock, disappearing around a corner. His heart sank. He couldn't stay here. The cliff offered little protection from the wind and snow. He had to find another place to spend the night.

  He eased himself out onto the ledge, wincing at the pain in his hands. Already they had begun to heal, all but the deepest wounds closing. But the ache of cold and fatigue remained. Muttering a curse, he clutched the stones and worked his way around the cliff. He made slow progress, ever aware of the chill seeping through his cloak. Sleet soaked into his long hair and dripped down his neck. A shiver ran down his spine. Shana Laal took its toll in blood as the sharp rocks carved fresh gashes in his frozen hands.

  A shout of triumph escaped his lips as he rounded the bend in the cliff. The final rays of daylight shone on a hole that disappeared into darkness. A cave!

  He crouched at the entrance, keen eyes scanning the shadows. Thick, all-consuming obscurity filled the cave. Instinct screamed at him to flee; who knew what lay within.

  The Hunter pushed the nagging worry aside. I'd take a horde of bloodthirsty demons over that biting wind any day!

  He didn't bother with the heavy sword on his back. He doubted he'd have much room to wield it. Besides, Soulhunger will serve far better.

  The dagger slid from its sheath with a whisper of steel on leather. A quiet presence throbbed in the back of his mind. Soulhunger, the dagger bequeathed to him by his Abiarazi ancestors, had fed on the blood of the guilty Hrandari. He'd silenced its demands, for now. The insistence would return—it always did. Now, if only that accursed demon would shut up as well!

  After a day of shrieking wind, the silence of the cave felt…eerie. The screeching in his mind only made it worse. A primal terror set his heart hammering against his ribs, twisting his stomach in knots. Tightening his grip on Soulhunger's hilt, he drew in a deep breath, then another. The rush of blood in his ears made it impossible to hear anything.

  He crept deeper into the cave, clenching his fists to suppress the tremor in his hands. I'm just exhausted, he told himself. The Hunter is never afraid!

  A low rumble echoed through the cave. The Hunter froze, not daring to move. It came again, and again. The steady, rhythmic sound was almost like…snoring? The scent of dried blood and wet fur filled the cavern.

  One hand on the cave wall, he slithered forward, the soft soles of his boots making no noise. Warmth emanated from the cavern ahead. The rumbling grew louder with every step.

  His heart sank as he realized the source of the sound. A Keeper-damned Yathi Brumal bear. He'd heard of the massive omnivores that lived high in the Yathi Mountains. The tales had painted them as sleeping giants, but woe to the unwary mountaineer who entered their demesnes.

  Crouching, he pondered his next move. If he made no sound, he could retreat without alerting the bear to his presence. He dreaded a night huddled at the mouth of the cave, but at least he'd be out of the wind. A fight in the dark would be terribly one-sided, and not in his favor.

  He shuffled away from the slumbering creature as quietly as he could, but his heel struck a rock. He toppled backward and the crash of steel on stone reverberated through the cave. He scrambled to his feet in a heartbeat, slipping the pack from his shoulders, but the damage was done.

  The rumble turned to a low, dangerous growl, accompanied by the sound of massive paws thudding toward him. Acting on instinct, the Hunter threw himself to the side. His head slammed into the cave wall and the world whirled.

  Enormous claws slashed his face, carving deep furrows. The Hunter screamed in agony. Hot blood gushed from the wound. He staggered beneath the impact of the blow, waving Soulhunger blindly before him. A huge paw struck his hand, knocking the dagger from his grip and snapping his wrist. Another scream burst from the Hunter's lips.

  With his left hand, he fumbled for the long sword on his back. Before he could draw, a massive furry body slammed into him, hurling him from his feet. He crashed into stone and slumped to his hands
and knees. A roar thundered through the cave, and the scent of the predator filled his world. Something struck the side of his head with the force of a charging horse, knocking him to the ground. An immense weight pressed on his chest, and his ribs creaked. Agony raced through every muscle in his body. His uninjured left hand was trapped beneath him; only his right hand was free. Pain flared through his shattered wrist as the bone healed, but not fast enough. He had seconds before the bear ripped him to shreds.

  A terrifying memory slammed into him. A rust-colored bear emerged from its den, transformed into a slavering, snarling thing of nightmare. Dark eyes locked on to the man, the creature's paw slapped the ground. Mouth open, fangs bared, its pink mouth contrasted with blood-red fur.

  The bear's scent mixed lust and rage, overpowering the man. Claws and fangs backed by prodigious strength sought his flesh. He gripped a makeshift weapon in trembling fingers. Human eyes locked on to beast's. Intelligence no longer burned in the bear's eyes; only maddening need remained.

  He was trapped in the Chasm of the Lost once more. Sensations washed over him: the reek of blood and lust, the brilliant shine of crimson rocks, the overwhelming dread.

  Fear flashed through his mind. The bloodbear towered over him and weighed four times as much, with strength enough to tear limb from limb. He fled the death hunting him.

  Now, pinned to the ground by the enormous beast, escape was impossible. Death had found him.

  Chapter Two

  The reek of blood and rotting meat permeated the Hunter's nostrils. Warm saliva dripped onto his face. Ice coursing through his veins, he gathered his legs beneath him and, with strength borne of terror and desperation, poured every shred of his inhuman might into his muscles. The bear's bulk shifted. The pressure lifted from his chest, and he sucked in a shuddering wheeze.

  Twisting his torso, he wrenched free his trapped left arm in the heartbeat before the bear's weight crashed back down atop him. His breath whooshed from his lungs, and he fought for air. His ribs creaked and buckled beneath the pressure. Agony flared along his sides as bone snapped. He cried out, and the bear answered with an ear-shattering roar.