Darkblade Slayer Page 9

  Yes, he would recognize the man anywhere. And, judging by the suspicion written in the Beggar Priest's eyes, the man would recognize him as well.

  The Hunter's gut clenched as two Wardens strolled past, their mirrored metal armor turned a rosy red by the glow of the stained glass window. If the priest said anything to attract attention, he'd be putting too many people at risk. The Hunter had no desire to fight his way out, but there was no way he'd let the Cambionari, the Illusionist Clerics, or any other Keeper-damned priest stop him.

  He stepped close to the priest and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Say the wrong thing, do anything to draw attention, and everyone in the chapel dies."

  "It is you," Father Reverentus hissed. Fury flashed across his age-lined face. "How dare you show your face here after—"

  The Hunter seized the old man's arm and tugged him toward a doorway at the rear of the Chapel of Radiance. Father Reverentus tried to break free, but the Hunter's iron grip held him fast. When he opened his mouth to cry out, the Hunter pressed the tip of his dagger against his throat. "Don't make me do it, Priest."

  His heart thundered a furious beat as he and Father Reverentus strode toward the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder and found the Wardens eying him with barely passing curiosity. They had more important things to worry about than an Under-Lectern and a Beggar Priest.

  The Hunter had to lower his dagger to open the door, but dragged Father Reverentus inside before the old man could raise an alarm or call attention to them. The room was small and lit by a single window set high on the bare stone walls. The only furnishings were a closet filled with Lectern robes, a wash basin, and a table with two wooden chairs.

  The Beggar Priest whirled on him. "What in the Keeper's name are you doing in Vothmot?" He rubbed his throat with his arthritis-twisted hands, but blazing fury filled his blue eyes.

  "I could ask you the same thing, Priest." The Hunter spoke in a flat voice. "You're a long way from Voramis."

  "As are you," Father Reverentus snarled. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Your kind always did manage to find your way back here."

  "Wait, what?" This surprised the Hunter. "What are you talking about?"

  "Vothmot, the first step on the journey to Enarium." The priest's eyes burned with a piercing intensity. "You Bucelarii always returned here, one way or another. It's why you always proved so easy to eliminate. Like dogs to your vomit, you are."

  The vehemence in Father Reverentus' voice came as a greater surprise than the revelation about the Bucelarii. He and the priest hadn't parted ways as friends, but they'd been allies of a sort. Yet now, the man who stood before him looked ready to kill him. Indeed, Father Reverentus' younger days as a Cambionari seemed to be ingrained in him, given the way he reached for a weapon that likely hadn't hung on his belt for the better part of three decades.

  "I should have ordered Brother Securus to kill you back in Voramis," the priest spat. "Your death would have spared a great deal of suffering."

  "What are you talking about, Father?" The Hunter's brow furrowed in confusion. "I killed the First and the Third, like you wanted. Since then, I've killed every Keeper-damned demon I've encountered." All but the Sage, who had managed to escape. The priest didn't need to know about that, though. "I kept my word to you. Of anything, you ought to be thanking me for—"

  "Thanking you?" The priest's voice rose to a furious roar. "After what you did to the Cambionari in Malandria? To Father Pietus?"

  The Hunter's gut clenched. He hadn't wanted to fight, but they had forced his hand. Garanis, the demon masquerading as an Illusionist Cleric, had given the order through Father Pietus, and the Cambionari had obeyed. No one could fault the Hunter for choosing to live.

  He opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but Father Reverentus spoke first. "And then there was Visibos."

  "What of him?" The Hunter shook his head. "I didn't kill him."

  "No, you sentenced him to a fate far worse." Hatred blazed in the Beggar Priest's eyes. "You locked him in that vault to starve to death."

  The Hunter's blood ran cold. His mind flashed back to that night in the House of Need in Malandria. He'd told Visibos he would tell the other Beggar Priests the apprentice was locked in the vault, but that promise had fled his mind in his desperate fight for his life.

  "No," he said in a quiet voice.

  "Yes," Father Reverentus snarled. "They found his body three weeks later. He'd eaten his boots, his clothing, even bits of his own flesh in a vain attempt to stay alive. You condemned him to that horrible fate." His age-lined face twisted into a sneer. "Back in Voramis, when you agreed to help hunt the demons, I told myself that there was something decent in you. I can see now how absolutely wrong I was."

  The words hit the Hunter like a blow to the gut. He truly had intended to ensure Visibos was released from the vault, yet with everything that had happened—the fight with Lord Knight Moradiss and the Cambionari, his encounter with Garanis, the desire to get Hailen away from the horrors of the bloodshed—it had slipped his mind. And Visibos had died because of it.

  The demon tried to break free of the wall he'd erected in his mind, but he gritted his teeth and forced the barrier to hold fast. He had no need to hear that mockery in his head. It didn't matter that Visibos had tried to kill him and would gladly do so again. The apprentice hadn't deserved that death.

  "It was an—"

  "Don't you dare say accident!" Father Reverentus' gnarled hand actually came up to strike him. The Hunter caught the old priest's emaciated wrist, but didn't retaliate. The Beggar Priest had every right to the fury burning through him. The Hunter would feel exactly the same were their roles reversed.

  "I was going to say," the Hunter growled through clenched teeth, "an unfortunate outcome, but I was put in a position where I had no choice." He released the priest's hand roughly and glared at the smaller man. "Sixteen Cambionari surrounded me, and I fought for my life. I am sorry for their deaths, but they left me no other way out."

  "And what of the boy, Hailen?" The priest's voice was cold, hard. "Did he leave you no other choice but to murder him, as well? What did you do with his body, Hunter? Did you even bury him, or did you leave him on the steps of some building like with Farida?"

  The Hunter's hands balled and it took all his self-control not to drive his fist through the priest's face. "I did not kill the boy."

  "Then where is he?" Father Reverentus stabbed a crooked finger at him. "What have you done with him?"

  The Hunter spoke in a quiet voice. "He is safe."

  "With you?" The Beggar Priest barked a harsh laugh. "Do you even know what he is, or is he simply another wayward child you are using to delude yourself into believing you're human? Look how that turned out for the last—"

  The Hunter gripped the priest's throat in a move so fast Father Reverentus couldn't even flinch back. "Don't. Ever. Speak. Of Her. Again." His teeth clenched with such force his jaw ached. "That was not my fault."

  "Is that what you tell yourself, Hunter?" the priest choked out. "That her death isn't on your head."

  "It is on my head," the Hunter snarled. "The First killed her to goad me into destroying the Bloody Hand and the Dark Heresy, and, in doing so, gather enough power for his dark ritual to summon an Abiarazi to Einan."

  Father Reverentus' eyes flew wide.

  "Oh, yes, Priest," the Hunter spat. "You have no idea what happened after I left your accursed temple. All you know is that you humans lived another day. But you will never know what it cost me, what it is still costing me to this day. So do not presume to lecture me on what you perceive to be my shortcomings. After all, isn't it your duty as Cambionari to hunt down the demons? From what I've seen, you're doing a terrible job."

  He released his grip on the priest's throat, and Father Reverentus fell to the ground with a gasp. He stared at the Hunter, his weathered face red, a mixture of fury and remorse in his eyes.

  "I am sorry for what happened to your fellow Beggar Priest
s," the Hunter said in a quiet voice. "I did not mean for Visibos to die. He was simply doing his duty, as were the others. But they left me no choice. I could not let them capture or kill me, not when there were demons roaming Einan." He stabbed a finger at the priest. "You were the one to recruit me to that mission. I am simply doing what you and yours cannot."

  Father Reverentus picked himself slowly up off the ground. His anger had diminished from raging inferno to a low simmering, and he was once again the age-worn, stooped man. He tugged at his robes to straighten them, and he ran a gnarled hand over his bald head as he sat heavily in one of the simple wooden chairs.

  "And what of the boy?" he asked after a long moment. "How does he factor into your mission to kill the demons?"

  "The boy is…"

  The Hunter hesitated. He didn't need Hailen to help him hunt down the Abiarazi, but he did need to find a way to protect the boy from the Irrsinnon slowly claiming him. Did the priest know the truth of the boy's heritage as Elivasti? Or, what was it the Sage had called him, Melechha?

  He fixed Father Reverentus with a hard stare. This priest had told him the truth of his own heritage, and had set him on this path. He was Cambionari, yet he had chosen not to follow his divine orders to kill the Hunter. Maybe, just maybe, he could be trusted to an extent.

  He drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "The boy is not human. He is—"

  "Elivasti, yes." Father Reverentus gave a dismissive wave. "His mother told Father Pietus that much the day he found her lying on the steps of the House of Need in Malandria."

  The Hunter's eyes went wide. He'd never thought to ask how Hailen had come to be in the temple.

  "At first," the priest continued, "we believed the woman's purple eyes marked her as a Bucelarii, but she showed no vulnerability to iron. But she was weak, suffering from the Bloody Flux. She could not return to her people in the Chasm of the Lost, so she asked us to care for her son. Her final words to the priest were, 'This child is special'."

  "You have no idea how true those words are." The Hunter met the priest's gaze without hesitation. "Do you know what a Melechha is?"

  "What?" Father Reverentus jerked backward as if struck.

  The Hunter raised an eyebrow at the forceful reaction. "You recognize the word?"

  "How do you know it?" the priest demanded.

  The Hunter hesitated. "I heard it from the lips of a demon."

  Father Reverentus' face went ashen, and he leaned heavily on the wall. "Blessed Beggar, can it be?" he breathed. His eyes glazed over, his gaze unfocused.

  "What does it mean?" the Hunter asked, taking a seat across from the priest. "What in the fiery hell is a Melechha?"

  Father Reverentus raised his eyes, and the Hunter was shocked to see tears shining there.

  "The Melechha," he said, "are the hope of the future."

  Chapter Twelve

  Father Reverentus' tears weren't of sorrow, but joy. "We had thought them all eradicated or died out, yet is it possible that the boy truly is what you say?" Hope filled his expression. "I know he's got the purple eyes of the Elivasti, but—"

  Father Reverentus paused for a moment. "Tell me," the priest said, straightening, "does he bleed when you touch him?"

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes. "How could you know that?"

  "He does!" Father Reverentus breathed. Words poured from his mouth in a rush. "Where is he? Is he nearby? Can you bring him here now?"

  "Hold on, Father." The Hunter folded his arms. "First, tell me how you knew that he bled when I touched him. Then tell me what the bloody hell a Melechha is."

  The priest jaw muscles worked, but he managed not to unleash the retort forming on his lips.

  "Melechha is the name given to very special Elivasti," he said in a slow voice. "It is said that only the purest blood of the Serenii runs through their veins and gives them special…abilities."

  The Hunter had seen one such ability when Hailen unleashed whatever power was stored in the Dolmenrath, the obsidian standing stones built by the Serenii.

  "They are indistinguishable from the rest of their kind except in a few special circumstances." Father Reverentus thrust a gnarled finger at him. "When they come in contact with those of demon blood, their fingernails begin to bleed."

  The Hunter nodded. He'd wondered why none of the other Elivasti he'd encountered in Kara-ket had had the same reaction to his touch.

  "But, according to the Book of the Supplicant, handed down to us by the founders of the Order of the Cambionari, the Melechha’s blood is the only thing powerful enough to seal Kharna in his prison forever." His words rang with a note of awe. "If he truly is a Melechha, that boy is the weapon to defeat the Destroyer once and for all."

  The Hunter had a sickening feeling in his gut. He had tried to keep Hailen out of harm's way, yet one thing after another put the boy in danger. Now he found out Hailen was the secret to keeping Kharna locked away in his eternal prison. That power had to come at a terrible cost. There was no way he could protect Hailen from that.

  "You must bring him here, Hunter." Father Reverentus' voice grew solemn. "You must turn him over to me, so I can deliver him to the Cambionari here in Vothmot."

  The Hunter's gut tightened. "Cambionari? Here?"

  The priest's eyes went flat. "Yes," he said simply. "More of their order than you will find anywhere else on Einan."

  Ice ran down the Hunter's spine. He'd been so focused on getting into the Master's Temple he'd failed to realize that the nearby House of Need could house any of the secret order of Beggar Priests commanded by their god to eradicate the Bucelarii.

  "But if you deliver the boy to me," Father Reverentus said, "I can persuade them to let you leave in peace. It is a fair bargain, is it not? His life and the future of the world in exchange for yours?"

  "No," the Hunter replied without hesitation. "He must come with me."

  "You will drag him with you in your search for Enarium?" the priest asked.

  The question caught the Hunter off guard. "How did--?"

  "Why else do you think Vothmot is home to the largest contingent of Cambionari on Einan?" Father Reverentus pointed north, toward the Empty Mountains. "For as long as your kind has existed, they have sought to return to Enarium. Every one of them tries, in the end. And it is our duty to be waiting when they do."

  Acid burned in the back of the Hunter's throat. It had made so much sense for him to travel north, to find Her. Everything he'd uncovered—from the answers about his past to the mysteries of the Irrsinnon to the Sage's plans—had led him toward Enarium. And yet, Father Reverentus had said every one of the Bucelarii came here sooner or later. Almost as if the divine hand, fate, or destiny he'd tried too hard to deny drew him inexorably here.

  "The Empty Mountains are no place for the boy," the priest said in a quiet voice. "Let us care for him, train him in the ways of the Cambionari. When he is a man, he will be ready to do what must be done to save the world from Kharna once and for all. You can be free of the burden, and you will be permitted to leave Vothmot in peace." He placed his hand over his heart. "You have my word as Cambionari and priest of the Beggar God."

  The Hunter wanted to reject the priest's offer out of hand, but he forced himself to seriously consider it. Hailen would slow him down on the climb through the Empty Mountains, and Father Reverentus was right in that the Empty Mountains was no place for a child. The boy would be well cared-for by the Beggar Priests. Hailen could have a real life; not just the life of a Melechha raised for war, but a childhood as close to normal as he could ask for.

  But could he say goodbye to the boy? In Kara-ket, he had discovered that he had a child. He had no idea what fate had befallen that child, but he'd come to see Hailen through the eyes of a father. Just as he had Farida, in a way. His mind had unconsciously perceived them as a substitute for the son or daughter he'd been forced to leave. He had cared for them with all of his heart. Yes, Hailen had been put in harm's way, but the Hunter had been willing to die to pr
otect him. Was that any less than the Beggar Priests could offer him?

  The matter of the Irrsinnon weighed heavily on him as well. Soulhunger kept the madness at bay, but the Hunter could see it claiming the boy's mind more and more each day. Only in Enarium would he find the opia to cure the madness and, hopefully, a way to do it without putting Hailen at risk. If he left Hailen behind, could he reach the Lost City and return before the boy descended fully into the grip of the Elivasti curse?

  It felt like lifting a mountain as he drew in a deep breath and spoke. "I cannot." A burden settled on his shoulders. "The boy stays with me."

  Father Reverentus' face hardened as he stood. He looked like he wanted to retort, but he seemed to think better of it and simply nodded. "So be it. You have made your choice."

  The Hunter heard a dangerous edge to the priest's words. He had no doubt Father Reverentus would try to take Hailen from him by force, if necessary. He could summon an army of Cambionari from the nearby House of Need. The moment the Hunter left the temple, he had to flee the city.

  "Farewell, Hunter." The priest turned toward the door.

  "Wait, Father,” the Hunter said, rising to his feet. “Before you go, I have a question."

  Father Reverentus glanced back at him with a curious expression.

  "What is the Withering?" the Hunter asked.

  The priest raised an eyebrow. "You do not know?"

  "If I did," the Hunter retorted, "would I ask?"

  "Fair enough." Father Reverentus inclined his head and turned back to face the Hunter. "The Withering is the name given to the blood sun, an astrological phenomenon that occurs once every five hundred years or so."

  "Is there any reason why it would be special?"

  The priest seemed to think about it for a moment, then shrugged. "No more so than a solar eclipse or the full moon." He stroked his long white beard. "Mystics of old believed it was a gathering of power, but there were never any manifestations of power beyond the sky growing dark and the sun turning crimson.”