Darkblade Seeker_An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 11

  He waved to the Sage with the other. "Your move, I believe."

  The Sage pushed his Bloody Minstrel into a square adjacent to the Swordsman. The Hunter had to move the Swordsman; if he didn't, the Bloody Minstrel's "aura of disease" would claim the piece before his next turn. But moving the piece would give up the advantage of the stronghold and expose it to the Sage's Mistress. The Mistress could only move twice in the game, but could traverse the entire board in a single bound. He had one choice.

  He reached for the carved figurine of a female warrior wielding a spear. "Derelana returns to the board."

  The Sage stroked his chin. "Clever. Though you have used up your Bright Lady's ability."

  The Bright Lady, goddess of healing, could restore one god to the board per game. The Hunter had held off on the move, saving it for a moment of desperation. Like right now.

  The Sage retrieved the Hunter's Swordsman and placed it beside his captured pieces. "Disease claims all in the end." After a moment of contemplation, he advanced a serf toward the Hunter's pieces in the valley. "And now, you have the Beggar God to do with as you please."

  The Hunter nodded. He moved his Beggar God across the board, capturing the Sage's Maiden.

  "Curious, isn't it?" The Sage thrust his chin at the piece. "The Beggar is the weakest piece, but remove the Swordsman from the board, and it becomes the most powerful."

  "Perhaps those who created the game knew the truth."

  Many Einari considered the Beggar God an outcast among the gods. In Voramis, the Hunter had learned the truth: within the Beggar God remained a shred of Kharna, the Great Destroyer. The gods, desiring to humble the schismatic Kharna, had transformed the shell of his flesh into the twisted, broken Beggar God. Yet they had only been able to defeat the Destroyer after the Swordsman had sacrificed himself. It can't be a coincidence.

  "An intriguing thought." The Sage tapped the bloodwood board with a manicured fingernail. "Yet even the mightiest have a weakness." He captured the Hunter's piece with his Watcher—a stern-looking man carrying a dagger in one hand and a set of balances in the other. "No matter how powerful the god or the man"—he gave the Hunter a meaningful look —"there is always a vulnerability."

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes. What's he driving at? Is this another test? Then realization dawned. Of course.

  He met the Sage’s gaze. "Perhaps," he said, "even a warrior as mighty as the Warmaster has a weakness to be exploited."

  "Perceptive as ever, Hunter." A sly smile broadened the Sage's face. "We are clearly of a mind, you and I. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself soon. Or, better still, we may just create such an opening to exploit."

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Nizaa," the Hunter growled and toppled his Master.

  A grin broadened the Sage's lips. "A well-fought battle, Hunter."

  "Against a far superior opponent." The Hunter drained his goblet and held it out for the servant to refill. The chill of the wine did little to dull the heat in his face. He'd never mastered the art of losing with grace. "And with that resounding defeat, I must depart."

  "I seem to have kept you far longer than either of us anticipated." The Sage glanced at an ornate golden water clock sitting atop a bloodwood side table. "The sun will rise in a few hours, and you look exhausted."

  The demon wasn't wrong. The Hunter's head ached, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. Each encounter with the Sage took a toll on him. The guise he now wore—his own face, flesh, and mind—was proving the most difficult of all. He had to measure every word, every gesture, even every thought with care. His earlier battle with the Warmaster had sapped his strength. He wanted nothing more than to pass the remaining night hours asleep in his plush bed.

  Unfortunately, he had no hope of that. He'd resolved to explore the Sage's temple in the quiet hours, hopefully when fewer Elivasti strode the halls. A sleepless night awaited him.

  He bowed to the Sage. "My thanks for the fine meal, and the…enlightening conversation."

  "One I hope we will soon continue." The Sage gave him a meaningful look. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"

  The Hunter nodded. "If time and my exploration of the Elivasti city permits, I would welcome a chance to have my vengeance on you." He motioned to the Nizaa board. "You will find me a quick study."

  "I truly hope that is the case. There is much for you to learn in these halls." He fixed the Hunter with that eerie, unblinking stare. "Much I could teach you, given the chance."

  "Until the morrow, then." With a bow, the Hunter departed.

  Two of the four Elivasti guarding the Sage's door fell into step beside him. He said nothing, but kept a brisk pace as he strode through the halls and down the stairs. The shorter guards trotted to match his speed, yet never spoke a word of complaint.

  Reaching the door to his room, he gave his escort a cheerful wave and a mocking kiss. "Goodnight, lads. Keep a sharp eye out to make certain this door doesn't grow legs and run off, eh?"

  The purple-eyed Elivasti took up silent vigil at his door, masks hiding their expressions.

  The Hunter knew he shouldn’t taunt them—they were only doing their job, after all—but the ridicule masked his frustration. With them stationed outside his rooms, he had little chance of slipping out unseen. Not through the front door, at any rate.

  Thankfully, they have no idea anyone is foolish enough to take the other way out.

  He stripped off the formal outfit and slipped into his usual clothing—a simple tunic and breeches, leather vest, harness, and heavy cloak with all its hidden pockets—with a sigh. He was only too glad to be free of the heeled shoes; how anyone could stand all that clacking, he'd never understand. He'd take his soft-soled boots any day.

  The window opened without a sound, and he stepped onto the balcony. The moment he left the temple, the demon’s voice filled his head with its demands. Long seconds passed as the Hunter wrestled it into submission, silence. He shivered as he peered over the banister of the balcony outside his room. Moonlight shone on the unbroken sea of clouds that blanketed the lands of the Hrandari far, far below.

  Keeper's icy teats! That's a long way down!

  He'd climbed to the highest points of the Black Spire in Praamis, Voramis' Palace of Justice, and the Palace of the al-Malek in Aghzaret. Yet somehow, the temple's height seemed far more terrifying. Nothing but a few dozen paces of rock separated the base of the temple from an endless plunge down the mountainside.

  Ignoring the instinctive fear twisting in his gut, he pulled himself onto the railing. His toes hung over empty air; solid ground lay hundreds of very long paces below. His fingertips felt along the wall for a hold. Finding purchase, he swung his foot out in search of footing. His soft-toed boots allowed him to dig his toes into a gap between two enormous stone blocks.

  Taking a deep breath, he transferred his weight to his left foot. For a gut-wrenching moment, he had an image of the masonry crumbling, sending him plummeting to the rocky ground. A plunge from this height could prove fatal, even to him.

  His perch held.

  He let out a long breath. He had to cover a few dozen paces horizontally, followed by a vertical climb up to the stone bridge. With no light to see, it would prove challenging.

  Thankfully, weather had worn away at the stone of the ancient Serenii temple. Water had burrowed into cracks in the masonry and frozen, creating gaps large enough to serve as handholds. Finding toeholds proved more challenging. His arms soon ached from supporting his weight, but he forced himself to continue. The Sage's rooms should be directly above his. He had only a few paces to climb up and he could peer in through the broad windows of the antechamber where they'd spent the evening.

  The demon still sat at the table, Nizaa board set before him, his fingers steepled and brow furrowed in concentration.

  Damn!

  The Hunter looked to his right and left. A short distance from his left hand, the exterior of the temple gave way to a balcony similar to his. If it opened onto the Sage's rooms, perhap
s it would provide him an entrance the Elivasti guards would never suspect.

  Gritting his teeth against the fire in his arms, the Hunter clung to the temple like a spider on a wall. The traverse was no easy task—he'd learned that horizontal climbs always looked easy, but they were significantly more difficult than vertical. Even a vertical descent was easier.

  Gasping for breath, the thin mountain air burning in his lungs, he slipped over the railing onto the Sage's balcony and peered through the closed picture windows. The soft glow emanating from the walls revealed a bedchamber: an enormous four-posted bloodwood bed frame, ornate side tables, a plush chaise lounge beside the window, and a deep shag rug of what could only be Ghandian silk.

  But nowhere did the Hunter see anything that could contain documents or information of value. Scrolls lay next to a neat pile books on one of the bedside tables, but the Hunter doubted the Sage would leave anything important in plain sight. If the room held hidden compartments or doors, he hadn't the skill to find them.

  His heart sank. Well, so much for that plan. With the Sage next door, he'd be an idiot to try to search the room. He needed to find an opportunity when the demon was away.

  But when will that be? Perhaps he could find a time tomorrow when the Sage left his chambers, but the demon would no doubt return in the afternoon to prepare for the Warmaster's party.

  The party!

  The Warmaster expected him to come, but surely he could find an excuse to leave before the Sage did. He'd need no more than half an hour to search the demon's rooms thoroughly.

  So be it. It wasn't the perfect plan—he'd have to endure an evening in the company of the brutish Abiarazi, no doubt with the Sage watching his every move and judging his every word—but if it lured the Sage away from his chambers, it would have to do.

  The glow in the Sage's bedroom flared suddenly bright as the door opened. Heart thundering, the Hunter ducked out of sight. Just in time. The Sage appeared at the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out into the starry night.

  The Hunter held his breath. His dark cloak blended with the shadows of the balcony, but if the Sage opened the window and stepped out…

  He tensed as the handle rattled. His hand darted toward Soulhunger, which hung on his belt. No way he could talk his way out of this; better to eliminate the demon now, even if it meant he didn't get all the answers he'd come for.

  But the window never opened. The Sage disappeared from view. The Hunter's heart hammered against his ribs as he waited, still and silent. He didn't dare move for fear the Sage would see him.

  After long minutes, the light within the Sage's rooms dimmed to a muted glow. The Hunter wasted no time in slipping over the railing and scrambling back down the stone face of Kara-ket. He leapt onto his balcony, rushed inside, closed the window behind him, and slumped against the wall.

  Keeper's teeth, that was too bloody close!

  He sat there, his muscles aching, his pulse racing. If the Sage had seen him…

  It didn't matter. The Sage hadn't seen him. Better still, he'd gotten away clean after finding a back way into the demon's rooms. He doubted the Sage would station Elivasti in his bedchambers. No human would try to climb in through the windows, so the Sage had no reason to expect a Bucelarii to do so either.

  And, thanks to the Warmaster, I have the perfect way to get the Sage away from his rooms.

  Stripping down to his breeches, he poked his head out of his door. The two Elivasti hadn't moved.

  "Any chance one of you lads would fetch me a pitcher of wine, or a glass of water?" He cleared his throat with a theatrical cough. "The mountain air has left me feeling parched."

  The masked guards didn't blink.

  He sighed and shook his head. "Very well. Had to ask. Until tomorrow!"

  The Hunter closed the door firmly behind him. Yes, no way I'm getting out that way. Not without the Elivasti reporting my movements to the Sage.

  For tonight, he had no choice but to bide his time. His search for the Sage's plans would resume tomorrow—after he got a good look inside the Warmaster's temple, of course. He needed to learn the lay of things in order to plan how best to kill them.

  He climbed into the plush bed with an eagerness that surprised him. His muscles ached from the day's exertions, and the prospect of sleep held a great deal of appeal.

  He would take advantage of his confinement to rest. At first light, he would be ready for his search for Master Eldor in the city of the Elivasti.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Hunter eyed the masked Elivasti at his side. Some company he is.

  The man had stood waiting outside his door that morning. He'd fallen into step beside the Hunter and led him through twisting corridors and down stairs without a word.

  Dread twisted the Hunter's stomach at the sight of the double doors. Within the Serenii temple, he had peace from the demon's strident demands. Once outside, the shrieks and screams would return in full force. He took a deep breath and steeled his mind against the torment.

  But instead of leading him through the doors, the Elivasti turned down a side hall and down another set of stairs. The Hunter counted fifteen flights of stairs before they reached the bottom. The dull stone of the walls, ceilings, and floors lacked the ornateness of the upper levels. The torches on the wall seemed one gasp away from suffocation, and he'd been in chillier icehouses.

  He was only too glad to see the door at the end of the tunnel. A pair of white and black-clad guards stood beside the entrance, their postures alert, eyes wary. Without a word, they lifted the bar and swung open the steel-banded door.

  The shrieking voice slammed into the Hunter with staggering force. What the demon lacked in coherence it made up for in intensity and volume. Tears streamed from his eyes as the screams shredded his thoughts. He pictured himself fighting off a formless, shapeless monstrosity, pushing it back one stroke at a time. Brick by brick, he poured his will into the imaginary wall meant to encircle that hideous presence, until the screams retreated to a faint wail in the back of his mind.

  He drew in a deep, shaky breath. His head pounded with the effort; a shooting pain set his eyelids twitching. But he could manage the voice…for now.

  Straightening, he turned to his escort. The cloth mask hid the Elivasti's face, but an unmistakable curiosity burned in his violet eyes.

  The Hunter steeled his expression. "Lead on."

  The Elivasti strode down the dirt path, and the Hunter followed. He drank in the panoramic view: the craggy mountaintops, the field of white clouds that obscured the Hrandari Plains, the perfect blue sky. And, above all, the city of the Elivasti.

  The order and symmetry put the architects of Voramis to shame. Instead of a chaotic mess of buildings in all shapes and sizes, row after row of square houses spread out from the base of the temples. Some had a second floor, but there was a determined uniformity in the tightly-packed construction. The structures, while by no means approaching the wealth of Upper Voramis, appeared sturdy and well-built.

  Narrow streets divided the houses into neat cubes with a precision any mathematician would envy. Here and there, swaths of green mingled among the flat roofs and white limestone walls. The water that flowed through the gutters looked clean enough to drink. The city lacked the "lived in" quality that had made Voramis seem almost alive. And there was something missing, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

  Then it hit him. The smell! He drew in a deep breath. An Elivasti walked not two paces away, but to the Hunter's nose he was invisible. The odors of wet earth and fire smoke hung over the city, but it was devoid of the myriad scents that marked every human as unique.

  One feature stood out among the perfection: a wall, carved from the dark stone of Shana Laal, encircled a large portion of the city. It cut through the ordered streets with a brutality that spoke of afterthought rather than careful planning.

  The Hunter pushed his curiosity to the back of his mind. He doubted his laconic companion would offer more than
a grunt. Instead, he focused on making a mental map of their path through the city. A steady stream of Elivasti ebbed and flowed around them. Few paused for more than a moment of polite gawking. They wore simple, practical clothing, but they looked well-fed and with no sign of the disease or hunger that plagued Lower Voramis. Men and women moved about their business at an unhurried pace. Compared to the towns and cities the Hunter had visited, the Elivasti led calm lives.

  What a curious dichotomy. They serve demons, yet they live better than most of Einan.

  Guilt nagged at the Hunter as he thought of Hailen in Kharan-cui. Alone, among strangers, and in an unfamiliar place. He'd had no choice—Hailen would never survive the climb, and the Hunter couldn't risk the Sage or Warmaster using him as leverage—but he didn't have to like it.

  I have to end this soon. I can't leave him alone much longer.

  A part of him wondered if returning to the boy would be any better. He'd come so close to leaving Hailen at the nearest House of Need. The Beggar Priests would care for him, protect him from the threats he couldn't understand existed. But what happened in the desert had changed his mind. Hailen's blood activating the standing stones. Healing him from the iron. His eyes turning the same shade of purple as the Elivasti walking beside him. He couldn't leave the boy now, not until he understood whatever change had come over him.

  He had come to Kara-ket in the hopes of finding the purple-eyed man from his memories, and the Mistress' luck had smiled on him. Master Eldor's presence at the training grounds raised his hopes; the man had to be able to provide answers about his past. Surely the Elivasti who had trained him would remember him. He would know what had happened to Hailen, even provide a cure.

  But first he had to find the man.

  He could ask his silent guide, but didn't risk the Sage discovering his association with the man. Right now, with Hailen safely in Kharan-cui, the demon had nothing to use as leverage against the Hunter, no weaknesses to exploit. A connection to Master Eldor could—and, knowing the Abiarazi, would—be exploited.