Darkblade Savior Read online

  “Everything’s still in one piece, I see,” she said with a wry grin. “It’d be a shame if the Elivasti took anything important from you.”

  “The most important thing in my life is standing right in front of me.”

  “Flatterer.” She snorted and tossed a pair of pants at him. “That sort of sweet talk may get you into Cerran’s good graces, but you’ll have to try harder with me.”

  “And here I thought I was doing so well.” The Hunter gave a mock sigh and pulled on the leather breeches, then shrugged into the cloth tunic she passed him. The fresh clothes felt marvelous—how long had it been since he’d worn anything clean? At least since Kara-ket, though it had been far longer since he’d felt this relaxed. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly at ease enough to let down his guard. With Taiana, it just felt…right.

  “They still fit you, even after all this time.” Her voice was quiet, a faraway look in her eyes.

  The Hunter glanced down at the clothing. Somehow, they felt almost familiar, like he’d worn them before. Had they once been his, from a time long gone? Whatever magick prevented dust from coating the ground had prevented age from decaying his clothes.

  “For a moment,” she whispered, “I worried I wouldn’t recognize you.”

  The Hunter’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t remember what I looked like?”

  She shook her head. “No, but when we were hiding from the Elivasti, we would often change our features. One of the more useful gifts of our forefathers.”

  “Ahh, of course.” In Al Hani, the demon masquerading as Queen Asalah had shown him a bust of Nasnaz the Great. Though the features bore little resemblance to his, she’d insisted they were the same person. “So is this the face you remember?”

  She stepped closer to him and reached out to touch his cheek gently. “It’s not.” A small smile played on her lips. “But your eyes are the same, and that was the part of you that mattered most to me.”

  She kissed him then, a kiss that brought the memories of the love they’d shared a lifetime ago crashing down on him. He only had faint glimpses of their life, but he could never forget the emotions flooding his chest.

  She broke off the kiss and pulled him down onto the bed beside her, then curled up in his arms. His nostrils filled with the scent of her, and her skin was warm against his. He could be content to lie like this forever.

  “What happened to you tonight?” she asked in a quiet voice. “After you went with Garnos, what did you do?”

  He told her about his visit to the Pit and the horrors he’d seen there, as well as the death of the two Elivasti and how he’d used their armor to walk out the front gate. When he spoke of retrieving the pack with the Swordsman’s blades, he pulled out the iron daggers to show her.

  She winced as she ran a finger along the cloth-wrapped lengths of metal. “Does it not hurt you?”

  The Hunter nodded. “Some pains we can grow accustomed to.” He set them back down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Some are worth putting up with.”

  She turned to him and fixed him with a piercing gaze. In her eyes, he saw the woman from his memories, the mother of his child and the love of his life. He couldn’t remember all the details of their past, but he didn’t need to. He had her now, and all that mattered was the future.

  “Tell me of your hunt for our daughter,” he said.

  She lay back on the bed, her expression growing somber. “We searched the North and Northwest Keep on the Base Echelon, but all we found were more corpses and empty Chambers.”

  “There are still more Keeps to search,” the Hunter said in an attempt to comfort her. “We will find our Jaia.”

  “But what of your boy?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “And the Sage? Won’t you need Thanal Eth’ Athaur to destroy the Abiarazi?”

  “The Swordsman’s daggers were created for that purpose.” The words came from his mouth before he remembered the legends of the Swordsman were nothing more than fabrication. Truth be told, he had no idea if the blades truly worked. He had seen the iron hurt the demons, but could the blades kill them?

  “So you will not join me in hunting our daughter?”

  “I would love nothing more.” He drew in a long breath. “More than anything else, I want to find her.”

  “But you feel an obligation to the boy.” A statement, not a question.

  The Hunter nodded. “And I cannot allow the Sage to free Kharna from his prison.”

  She bolted upright. “He must not be allowed to!”

  The intensity in her voice surprised him, yet at the same time brought a sense of relief. He’d spent the last day ignoring the nagging worry in the back of his mind that they would end up at the opposite side of a conflict. After all, the Bucelarii had been bred as the Abiarazi’s household troops, so there was always the risk she would feel loyalty to her forefathers. The demons—all but the Warmaster—had been driven by a desire to restore Kharna, so he’d feared she would share that purpose. Her words put the doubt to rest and drained the last of the tension from his shoulders.

  “I will help you find Jaia,” he told her, “but the moment Garnos sends word that the Sage is vulnerable, that must be my priority.” He motioned to the cloth-bound daggers in his pack. “But I can use those to kill him. And, if Arudan can somehow crack the secret of the Scorchslayers, perhaps they can be turned against the Elivasti and the Sage as well. Perhaps Garnos could even offer some insights on how they work. Whatever we can do to arm ourselves to take down the Elivasti and their accursed master.”

  “I understand.” Her voice turned somber, and her eyes met his. “I and the others will help you bring down the Sage. You will not fight this battle alone.”

  Emotion welled within the Hunter, and he pressed a long, passionate kiss to her lips. “We will fight side by side once more.”

  “As we did a lifetime ago,” she whispered.

  At that moment, the first rays of sunlight peered over the eastern horizon and filtered through the glass walls of their room.

  “Come, Hai'atim.” She stood and reached for his hand. “Let us watch the sun rise together, as we used to do.”

  He came to stand by her side and stared at the lightening sky. The first hints of color had begun to appear on the eastern horizon as the sun poked its glowing face over the mountains. Varying hues of gold, pink, and purple brightened the world.

  To the Hunter’s surprise, he found the glass walls of his room seemed to filter the light, not dimming it yet making it bearable to look at.

  He turned to look at her face, but something in the far distance caught his attention. His brow furrowed as he stared over her shoulder through the glass of the room’s northern wall. A dark, deep red cloud billowed up from the mountains. The solid mass of crimson seethed and boiled with an angry intensity, like a storm of blood instead of rain.

  “What is that?” he asked, pointing north.

  She glanced in the direction and drew in a sharp breath. “It is time,” she whispered. “Er’hato Tashat. The Blood Sun will soon be upon us.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Hunter’s breath caught in his lungs and he whirled toward Taiana. “The Withering? When?”

  “Tomorrow.” Worry sparkled in Taiana’s eyes, and her expression was grim, her face ashen. “When the sun is at its zenith, the power of Enarium will come alive.”

  The Hunter’s fists clenched. “Then we’ve got a day to stop the Sage.” Fear thrummed deep within his chest. He was running out of time to save Hailen. “We can’t let him activate the Serenii magick, at any cost!”

  “Agreed.” Taiana nodded. “When Garnos sends word, we will be armed and ready.”

  Her words brought back a memory of the previous night. “Speaking of arming ourselves, wait until you see this!” He strode into the bathing chamber and retrieved Setin’s suit of blue armor. “Look at the center of the breastplate and tell me what you see. Besides blood, of course.”

  Taiana�
�s brow furrowed as she stared at the armor. “I don’t see anything aside from that dent.”

  “Precisely.” The Hunter tapped the indented section of breastplate. “This was made by a Scorchslayer. Damned thing caught me straight in the chest. I should have been ripped apart like Neroth, but something about this armor saved me.”

  Taiana’s eyes flew wide. “The armor? Saved you?”

  “It felt like a bloody warhorse kicked me in the chest and it knocked me off my feet,” the Hunter explained. “But the armor stopped the lightning from ripping through my flesh.”

  Taiana’s expression grew pensive as she stared at the blue armor. “How?”

  “Not a clue.” The Hunter shrugged. “It didn’t do much to stop a steel spike, but somehow it’s resistant to the lightning from those Scorchslayers. And, even better, I know where you can find more suits of armor just like them.”

  “Let me guess, on the Elivasti.” Sarcasm echoed in her tone, and she gave him a withering look. “We just have to kill them to get the armor.”

  “Nope.” A broad grin split the Hunter’s face. “I already took care of that part for you. Even hid the bodies out of sight, so the rest of the purple-eyes won’t find them. All you have to do is send Kalil or Cerran to go collect them, and you’ve got ten suits of Elivasti armor handy. Though, I will warn you a few of them have holes in them.” He shrugged. “Not much I could have done about that.”

  “Ten suits of armor?” Taiana’s eyebrows rose, and she stood straighter. “That’s more than enough to replace that bronze rubbish Kalil and Cerran have been using.”

  “Aye, so it is.” The Hunter nodded. “Plus, I tucked away their spikestaffs, so you’ve got enough to spare.”

  “And,” Taiana said, a note of excitement in her voice, “if Arudan has cracked the secret of those Scorchslayers, we’ll finally be able to fight the Elivasti instead of skulking around in the shadows.”

  “Just the four of us?” the Hunter asked.

  “It’s a start.” Taiana’s hands clenched by her sides, and her midnight eyes sparkled. “At last, with the Withering upon us, it is fitting that we prepare to make our stand. I would have liked to have more men at my side to face the Sage and his minions, but we will make do with what we have.”

  Her eyes took on the calculating look of a commander, and she paced the room deep in thought.

  The Hunter didn’t disturb her, but instead strode toward the pile beside the bed where she’d placed his leather armor, long sword, dark cloak, and baldric. It felt good to put his armor back on, even after just a few hours without it. The Elivasti armor was heavy and uncomfortable, though far better than any plate mail he’d ever seen. The lighter leather armor would offer far less protection, but it gave him freedom of movement. For now, he’d wear his own armor, though he’d likely have to don one of the blue suits when the time came to fight the Sage.

  The familiar weight of his long sword and baldric comforted him. He checked to make sure everything was in place, and when he turned, he found Taiana standing in front of the northern wall of their room. Her fingers drummed on the glass, and she said nothing for a long moment.

  Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. “We can’t move yet,” she said in a firm voice. “The Sage is still locked up in Hellsgate, and it’s silly for us to try anything until he comes out into the open.”

  “So what, then?” The Hunter sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of boots Taiana had placed there for him. “We could lurk near Hellsgate, and the moment the Sage leaves—”

  “No, we can’t wait for the Abiarazi, either.” Her voice was firm, confident. “Cerran will go to collect the armor, and Kalil will keep an eye on Hellsgate for any sign of the Sage or word from Garnos.” Her midnight eyes met his, and steely resolve flashed there. “You and I will continue our search of the Keeps for Jaia, and for more Bucelarii still alive.”

  The Hunter nodded. “A solid plan. We could always use a few extra hands in the battle against the Sage.”

  “Precisely.” Taiana strode toward the bed, sat, and began pulling on her own boots. “With the Withering almost upon us, we must move quickly. There are twenty-two Keeps yet to be searched.”

  “Can we get to them all?” the Hunter asked.

  “We have to. Our child is counting on us.” She gripped his hand hard. “And all of Einan as well. The Sage cannot be allowed to free Kharna, no matter what.”

  The Hunter grinned and returned the squeeze. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

  “Then let’s do this.” She stood, scooped up the suit of Elivasti armor, and strode from the room.

  The Hunter followed her down the stairs. It felt strange not to be in command for once, but he would defer to her in this much. She knew the ways of Enarium far better than he, and the other two Bucelarii followed her orders. Garnos would reach out to her, not him, with news of Hailen or the Sage.

  For now, the smart play would be to let her take charge. The moment she got him close enough to kill the Sage, he’d make his move. His desire to find his daughter wouldn’t trump his mission to protect Hailen or stop the Abiarazi. Nothing would get in his way, not even the other Bucelarii. He’d go through Cerran and Kalil if he had to.

  And what of Taiana? He half-expected to hear the demon ask the question, a mocking edge to its words. The voice in his mind saw treachery and deceit in the eyes of every man, woman, and child. Doubtless it would try to warn him that she would betray him.

  He wanted to push aside the concern—after all, she was his wife, and their missions to stop the Sage and free Jaia aligned. Yet, a part of him recognized that their paths differed. She was concealing something from him, and that knowledge made him hesitant to trust her fully. And, when it came down to it, Taiana put their daughter’s priority ahead of all else. The Hunter could not do that, not with Hailen in danger. He had sacrificed so much to protect the boy—would he be willing to do so again, this time with his wife? Could he turn his back on the daughter he’d never met, all for the sake of a child not of his blood?

  He refused to think about it. He’d cross that bridge if, gods forbid, he ever reached it. For now, he had to focus on the present mission.

  “Cerran!” Taiana’s voice rang out in the high-vaulted ballroom with a note of urgency. “Cerran!”

  The red-bearded man appeared in the doorway of the room beside Arudan’s. “What’s the fuss?” He arched a bushy eyebrow.

  “I’ve a mission for you,” Taiana told him.

  “Yes!” Cerran straightened. “Anything to get me away from milkmaid duty. Baldie’s rambling again.”

  Taiana’s spine stiffened at Cerran’s words, and a shadow flashed in her eyes as she turned to the Hunter. “Drayvin brought down a company of purple-eyes last night and hid their bodies. I need you to go and retrieve their armor and weapons.”

  Cerran’s face fell. “Shite, Taiana, here I thought I’d be doing something useful.”

  “Like getting the one thing that will save your life when you face Scorchslayers next?” the Hunter asked, a mocking tone to his voice.

  “What’s he yammering about?” Cerran’s gaze went from Taiana to the Hunter and back again.

  Taiana held up the suit of blue armor and jabbed a finger at the dent in the breastplate. “I’ll give you two guesses at what made that.”

  The red-haired man’s jaw dropped. “Bloody hell!”

  “Bloody hell is right.” She thrust the armor into the red-haired Bucelarii’s hands. “Should’ve ripped him to shreds, but just knocked him back a few feet.”

  “Damn,” Cerran breathed. He glanced at the armor, the Hunter’s chest, and back to the dent in the blue metal.

  “We don’t have time for Arudan to figure out how the armor works,” Taiana continued, “but it’s enough to know it does. If it can turn aside even one of those lightning bolts—”

  “That’s one lightning bolt that doesn’t rip us to bits.” Cerran nodded.

  “There are also several s
pikestaffs with the bodies,” the Hunter put in, then shrugged. “Though you may have to pull them out of the corpses.”

  Cerran gave a dismissive wave. “I don’t mind a bit of blood on my hands.”

  That seemed a perfect summation of the Bucelarii. If the Hunter’s memories were accurate, a river of human blood stained their hands. They had served as soldiers in the Abiarazi army. Though he could not remember that life, time apparently hadn’t dimmed the red-haired Bucelarii’s warlike nature.

  Cerran fixed the Hunter with a firm gaze. “Just tell me where to find them, and I’m off.”

  The Hunter explained where he’d hidden the bodies behind the boulders outside the city gate.

  “Seriously?” Cerran scowled. “Couldn’t you have dragged them inside the city instead? The Elivasti have almost certainly sent reinforcements to cover the West Gate by now.”

  “I have faith you’ll figure it out,” Taiana said. “Bring it all back here, and gear up for battle.”

  “You saw that crimson cloud, yes?” Cerran asked.

  Taiana nodded. “We have until noon tomorrow to do what we need to. Drayvin and I will get to the Keeps and see if we can find any of our brothers still alive in those Chambers.”

  Something passed across Cerran’s eyes at that, and the Bucelarii’s expression grew unreadable. “Aye, Captain.” He nodded and turned on his heel.

  “Where is Kalil?” Taiana called after the red-haired man.

  Without looking back, Cerran jabbed a finger at Arudan’s chamber, then disappeared down the ladder into the tunnel that led out of the building they called home.

  “What a pleasant fellow.” Sarcasm bled into the Hunter’s voice.

  Taiana ignored the comment as she climbed the stairs toward Arudan’s chamber. She didn’t bother to knock, but opened the door slowly, peering inside.

  The Hunter’s sensitive nostrils caught the coppery tang of blood within, and his gut clenched.

  “Arudan?” she called. When no answer came, she pushed the door open.