Darkblade Seeker: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Hero of Darkness Book 4) Read online

  The Sage studied him with a curious expression. "I never pegged you for a theologian, Hunter."

  "I'm not. I've never given the gods much thought, at least not before I found out the truth about Soulhunger. And the truth about my heritage."

  "Ah." The Sage smiled. "Let us continue. The arrival of the Abiarazi is not far down."

  In the next image, shorter, less bestial humanoids flowed across the face of Einan. The depiction emanated tangible disdain for the men mingling with the Serenii.

  "The advent of man," the Sage said. "Raised up from the apes by the gods as playthings. Servants to the Serenii."

  Hundreds of primitive men toiled to erect the cities of the Serenii. The Hunter could almost hear the cracking of whips, the creak of ropes, and the groans of straining men. As the cities rose, the ranks of the humans swelled until they outnumbered the Serenii.

  The Sage paused at the next carving, running a finger along the wall. "The War of Gods. The mighty Kharna strives to rule."

  A stormcloud cast a shadow on Einan, boiling with rage and fury. Eleven bright figures glowed on the opposite side of the image. Darkness and light battled in the heavens with such violence the Hunter had to shield his eyes.

  The images moved in time with the Hunter. The Serenii stood in an enormous city, gathered around a pillar that gleamed with stygian light. A hole hovered over their heads, and tendrils of blackness writhed from the gaping mouth. A chill ran down the Hunter's spine. The hole opened wider and hordes of bestial creatures spilled across Einan, standing between the Serenii and the dark void.

  The Hunter met the Sage's eyes. "The summoning of the Abiarazi."

  The Sage nodded. "They drew us from our worlds to join the fight against the gods."

  Einan bled and died as the gods raged in the heavens. The ground seemed to shake beneath the Hunter's feet. Mountains cracked and crumbled, and an enormous wave washed across the land. A ragged tear that could only be the Chasm of the Lost opened across the landscape. Cities collapsed, the works of the Serenii destroyed. Screams of the dead and dying drifted to him from across time.

  One city stood firm amidst the chaos—it could only be Enarium. Legions of demons poured from the city, marching toward a battlefield strewn with the corpses of humans. The bestial Abiarazi dragged the dead toward Enarium, no doubt to feast on their fallen foes.

  The Sage gave him a vicious grin. "Those were great days, indeed. A time of triumph and conquest."

  His smile turned to a scowl as he reached the next image. A single bright figure faced the darkness over Einan: the Swordsman, confronting Kharna. The flesh of the Sage's index finger shifted, his fingernail elongating, and he seemed to struggle to keep his hand at his side.

  A smile played on the Hunter's lips. Dozens of marks marred the perfection of the figure. The Abiarazi truly do hate the Swordsman. With good reason. The god of war had ended their conquest of Einan, though it had cost him his life.

  The images shifted, and now a figure lay bound to a stone altar, surrounded by eleven bright figures. It had to be the binding of Kharna. Yet somehow, the bas-relief lacked the horror that had permeated the scenes of chaos and destruction. Instead, it radiated a sense of urgency, of dire need.

  "Thus was Kharna betrayed, bound, and stripped of his power." Anger filled the Sage's voice. "The gods twisted his body into the form of the Beggar God and condemned him to exist as a shadow of his former self."

  The Hunter studied the image closely. He'd expected the mad god to rage against his captors, yet Kharna's expression seemed…serene. His arms lay crossed over his chest, an oddly peaceful pose for a prisoner.

  "What does the inscription say?" He pointed to the Serenii symbols beneath.

  The Sage sneered. "Translated to the tongue of humans, it reads 'Entombed against the return of the Devourer'."

  A detail drew his eye. A crack? A ragged line carved across one corner of the bas-relief, slicing through the landscape. I wonder how that happened. None of the other images had suffered damage. He ran a finger over the line. Instead of the jagged, sharp edges of broken stone, it felt smooth to the touch. Almost as if it belongs.

  That couldn't be. The blemish looked so out of place amidst the perfection of the carvings. An unformed thought nagged at the back of his mind.

  The scene shifted. Kharna's bound body descended into darkness. Twelve bright figures stood behind him, light streaming from their hands.

  The Sage's jaw muscles tensed. "He lies in his prison to this day, waiting to be freed. But not for much longer. He will soon be released, and the Twelve will pay for their treachery!"

  The Hunter said nothing. He'd heard the story of the War of Gods before, but he'd never imagined he could live them. The carvings bore such vivid detail, as if he were there in person. Yet they triggered a dissonance in his mind. Something about them was off, but he couldn't figure out what.

  He moved forward, eager to see the next scene. Blank stone met his gaze. "That's it?" He turned to the Sage. "It just ends there?"

  The Sage nodded. "I share your frustration, Hunter. I have often found myself wondering what happened next."

  "But you were there. Surely you remember what occurred. What happened to the Serenii? They couldn't have disappeared!"

  The Sage's brows drew together. "I…" He shook his head, as if wrestling with a stubborn memory. His frown deepened. "I…don't know. After they summoned us to Einan, I never saw them again. Though, in all truth, we were too focused on our conquest to care about the Serenii. When the Destroyer fell, those of us who could hide did. I concerned myself with staying alive."

  Chaos whirled in his thoughts. If the Serenii were as powerful as the Sage believed, they wouldn't disappear from one moment to the next. But what happened to them?

  For a moment, the Sage seemed lost in thought, disoriented.

  The Hunter seized the moment. "Where do you come from?"

  The Sage's head snapped up. "What?"

  The Hunter smiled inwardly. He'd caught the Sage off guard. "I know not all Abiarazi are from what the humans call the 'fiery hell'." Queen Asalah, the demon in Malandria, had come from a realm of ice and frozen wastelands. "What was your home like?"

  The Sage frowned. "I-I think that's enough for now." Without a word, he strode from the room, leaving the Hunter alone with the blue-green scenes of history.

  Chapter Eight

  Two Elivasti stood waiting when the Hunter emerged from the room. They flanked him as he strode down the corridor.

  "I assume the Sage ordered you to keep an eye on me?"

  The purple-eyed guards said nothing. Their black and white masks hid their expressions, but they couldn't conceal the tension in their postures or how tightly they gripped their weapons.

  "I hope he didn't insist you use the privies with me. Not that I'd mind your help wiping my arse, but it might be uncomfortable for you two."

  Silence met his challenge.

  The Hunter gave them a smirk to hide his irritation. He'd expected the Sage to have him watched, but that didn't mean he had to like it. The guards would make getting information difficult. He'd have to lose his shadows if he intended to find out more about the Sage's plans. That first meant finding the Sage's chambers and office; he doubted the Elivasti would be helpful enough to point him in the right direction.

  For now, he'd play along. It was too soon to test the limits of the Sage's welcome.

  The guards never said a word as he returned to his room and pointedly shut the door in their faces. He gave his gear a quick examination; no one had tampered with his bags or removed anything. His plain, utilitarian sword rested in its sheath against the wall, and the cloth wrapping the Swordsman's iron blades remained untouched.

  Satisfied, he strode to the window. The Hunter would never grow weary of the view from atop Shana Laal. Sharp snow-capped peaks cut a jagged path across the crystal blue sky. Lazy puffs of white drifted between them and the hazy green of the Hrandari Plains that stretched toward the h
orizon.

  He, however, focused his attention on the window. A moment's examination revealed that it wouldn't open. The material—transparent as glass but far more durable—ran in an unbroken pane that covered the aperture, leaving no crack or seam for him to work at.

  So much for getting out this way.

  The Sage had no doubt chosen this room specifically for its limited access. With one way in and out, through his Elivasti guards, the Hunter was effectively trapped.

  He glanced at the sky. The sun would reach its zenith in an hour. He had no desire to waste the rest of his day confined to his rooms, even if that meant putting up with his Elivasti shadows. He'd use the time to explore the temples and the mountaintop upon which they sat.

  The Elivasti outside his door fell in beside him as he strode through the corridors and down the main stairs. He was surprised to see the Sage standing before the enormous jade statue, his brows furrowed in contemplation.

  The demon looked up at the Hunter's approach. "Ah, Hunter, you must forgive my abrupt departure. With my mind focused on the future, I often forget about the past—and the pain the memories bring."

  "Count yourself fortunate, then. At least you have memories."

  The Sage inclined his head. "You have my word that I will do whatever I can to help in your quest for answers."

  "Everything I've seen of these temples has aroused my curiosity. Tell me about Kara-ket. What do you know of its secrets?"

  The Sage fixed him with his intense gaze. "Believe me when I say I know everything about this place, Hunter. I walked these halls with the great Serenii themselves, when mankind was still in its infancy."

  Excitement set the Hunter's skin tingling. "The Serenii? So they did build the temple?"

  "Indeed." The Sage pointed to the symbols etched into the walls. "Those markings are a recorded history of the Serenii, carved into undying stone."

  The Hunter's pulse quickened. Here was a chance to discover the truth about the Serenii, the oldest race on Einan, now forever lost to history. "Can you read it? What does it say?"

  Irritation flashed across the Sage's face. "Of course I can read it!" He gave a disdainful snort. "I, alone of all my brethren, was blessed to receive the tutelage of the Serenii. The secrets they taught me…" He shivered with delight. "The power they wielded rivalled the gods themselves."

  "What happened?"

  The Sage's head whipped around. "What?"

  "What happened to the power? If you learned the secrets of the Serenii, why not simply rule Einan as they did."

  The Sage's gaze burned. "They took it." His lip curled in disgust. "The cowards fled this world after the War of Gods, taking their power with them."

  The intensity in the demon's obsidian eyes sent a shiver down the Hunter's spine. Suppressing a grimace, he turned back to the jade statue and waited for the Sage to continue.

  "There is very little on Einan left of the Serenii. But what there is…" The Sage's voice echoed with desire. "It is enough to serve our purposes."

  "The Great Destroyer," the Hunter said in a slow voice.

  "He must be reborn. Only he can restore me—restore us—to our full might and glory."

  And there it is. The truth of the matter. Every Abiarazi he'd encountered had the same goal: to return Kharna, the Great Destroyer, Devourer of Worlds, to Einan. They dreamed of a world of war and death, where they could roam free in their true forms and wreak bloody havoc on the weaker humans. The Hunter had seen their ideal world—whether in a vision or memory, he didn't know—but he had no desire to see it restored.

  This was why he had come to Kara-ket. Soulhunger throbbed in the back his mind, eager for blood. The dagger would put an end to the Sage and his plans. He could cut off the head of the snake and throw the demons' plans into chaos. With the Sage dead, he could hunt down every Abiarazi on Einan.

  But not yet. It would be rash to eliminate such a vital resource before extracting every drop of information. He could stay his hand a few more days and use that time to learn as much as possible from the demon and his violet-eyed servants. He'd study the layout of the twin temples—both temples. He needed to find the Sage's quarters and come up with a plan to eliminate the demon without alerting his guards. Then, he had to find a quiet escape route to flee Shana Laal after the deed was done. He would be prudent and bide his time. He had a week before he had to return to Kharan-cui. The innkeeper's memory would grow shorter as the pile of coins dwindled.

  He turned to the Sage. "How long do you intend to have me guarded?"

  The Sage held up his hands. "You chafe under the watchful eye of my Elivasti. I understand your desire for freedom, and I assure you it is only temporary." The Sage gave him a thin smile and a shrug. "Provided you prove yourself a man I can trust."

  "Trust is a two-edged blade. It must be given to be received."

  "Well said." The Sage nodded. "I know enough about you to see you are not a man to be trifled with. I would show you something."

  The Hunter followed him down a short corridor and into an open gallery. A crisp breeze tugged at his hair, but the air held none of the chill he'd expected this high up. In the light of day, the deep brown stone of the pillars, banisters, and tiled floor glowed with a timeless luster the finest marble in Praamis could never match.

  But the true treasure was the view of the world spreading out from the Yathi Mountains. The Hunter stood at the enormous window, drinking in the emerald Hrandari Plains visible through the holes in the cloud line. Here and there, jagged Yathi Mountain peaks thrust snow-capped fingers through the puffy white.

  The Sage stood at the railing beside him. "Beautiful, is it not?"

  "Truly, I've never seen anything like it. Not even the perfect blue of the Frozen Sea compares."

  "To be able to trust me, you must understand what drives me. Why I do what I do." He motioned to the world spread out before him. "This is the reminder of what I am striving for." His unblinking stare unnerved the Hunter. "I have lived for thousands of years, and I've seen the truth of humanity. Mankind is filled with violence and hate. If left alone, they would destroy themselves and this beautiful world in the process. I cannot allow such perfection to be ravaged, thus I endeavor to bring peace to this world. My actions are all in the best interest of Einan."

  But not for its people. Queen Asalah, the demon monarch of Al Hani, had said much the same. The Abiarazi cared little for human life, yet had created a paradise of flora amidst the desert. Perhaps the Sage, too, believes that his slice of the world will be spared when the Great Destroyer returns.

  The Hunter knew better. He'd witnessed the horrors Kharna and his demon hordes perpetrated upon the land of Einan and its occupants. Men torn to bloody ribbons by fangs and claws. Women and children devoured in an endless orgy of wanton carnage and gluttony. Cities burned to the ground, lands turned to ash. For every demon like the Sage, there were hundreds more like the First who cared nothing for the world. They sought to rule a world devoid of human life.

  And that is why he cannot be allowed to live. Up here in his mountaintop fortress, he has not seen the truth of humankind.

  Through the decades spent as the legendary assassin of Voramis, the Hunter had seen men and women indulge in every vice, debauchment, and depravity under the sun. Humans had done things that twisted his stomach and made him sick. Yet he had also encountered the other side of the coin, people who made him believe that humanity, despite its flaws, deserved saving.

  He half-expected the voice in his mind to protest. Yet no mocking insults or snarled demands echoed in his head. A weak throbbing far in the back of his mind was his only reply. Something about the temple suppressed the demon's presence, kept it locked away. A part of him dreaded his return to Kharan-cui, when he would once again depend on Hailen's presence to hold the insistent demands for death at bay.

  He pushed the worry aside. One problem at a time. He had the Sage believing he was slowly being won over. His plan to worm his way into the demon's confid
ences was succeeding better than expected.

  "I can respect your desire to work for the good of this world." He turned to the Sage and held out a hand. "'Tis a far nobler goal than lining your pockets with gold or seeking to rule men."

  "And I would have you join me, Bucelarii." The Sage clasped his forearm. "There is much we can do together, you and I."

  The Hunter held the demon's gaze, keeping all traces of his true feelings from his expression. "Of that, I have no doubt."

  Chapter Nine

  The Hunter's stomach chose that moment to growl.

  "Forgive my poor manners." The Sage chuckled. "I'd forgotten you humans need to eat more often." He snapped his fingers and an Elivasti stepped onto the gallery. "Bring us food and drink."

  The silent warrior bowed and re-entered the temple. Moments later, two servants rushed from within. One bore a platter heaped with food—roasted game hens, a brace of wildfowl, toasted seeds and grains, and an assortment of exotic fruits. The other carried a sweating silver pitcher and two cups of shimmering crystal. With a deep bow, she handed a goblet to the Sage.

  He took a sip and swished the wine in his mouth. "Ahh, the fruits of Nysl are ever a delight." He held the wine up to the window. "See the way the light plays through the wine, showing the clarity and color?"

  The Hunter sipped the vintage. During his years as the legendary assassin of Voramis, he'd adopted scores of disguises to hide his true identity as he mingled among the high and low-born of Voramis. One such disguise, a wealthy Praamian fop by the name of “Lord Anglion”, had attended wine samplings among the nobility of Praamis and Voramis. The arrogant lords loved to make loud pronouncements on the wine's "legs" and "body". He'd thought it all pompous absurdity. So long as the wine tasted more like fruit than vinegar, he would drink it.

  "It's good."

  "Good?" The Sage snorted. "My dear Hunter, this is a Flitan Rosado, the finest wine sold in Nysl—indeed, anywhere on Einan!" He swirled the wine in his glass. "The Nyslians do not allow a single bottle of Flitan to leave their city. I have procured this wine at great cost."