Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  “Carry this memory with you always.” Tannard fixed her with a piercing glare. “The Long Keeper’s wisdom is not for us to understand; when he decides that it is your time, you too will be placed to rest here.” His expression darkened to a scowl. “But it is up to you to earn that place!”

  Issa recoiled from the intensity in his eyes and voice, and it took all her willpower not to retreat a step.

  “The blade chose you and the Long Keeper marked you, but you must prove your worthiness to serve him every day.” Tannard jabbed a finger into her thick steel breastplate. “Through your deeds, your dedication, your determination. Every time you fail, every time you falter, you insult the Long Keeper and prove yourself unworthy.”

  He whirled and seized Issa’s gorget, pulling her close until their faces were mere inches apart. “Do. Not. Fail.” He spoke in a low, harsh voice. “When the day comes that you are laid to rest beside your fallen brethren, what will your stone say?”

  Fear froze the words in Issa’s mouth. Defeat had scrambled her brain, and the ferocity of the Invictus’ tirade overwhelmed her. It was as if the strong, proud champion from the Crucible had been shattered, leaving only the nervous Earaqi girl Issa had been when she started training with Killian. Tannard hadn’t just beat down her body—he’d crushed her soul beneath his heel and spat on the splinters.

  Tannard released her armor so suddenly Issa stumbled. He rounded on his heel and strode farther up the hill. “Follow me.”

  A fist of iron squeezed Issa’s lungs, and it took a supreme will of effort to stand when she felt a heartbeat from collapsing. Yet Tannard gave her no time to recover. Issa was forced to hurry after him through the sea of black tombs. She didn’t try counting—there had to be thousands of them, stacked like neat boxes ready for the market, each bearing the corpse of a Blade fallen in the Long Keeper’s service. Each sarcophagus bore the name of its inhabitant, the mark of the two-handed flammard, and a summary of their life and death.

  Then came the Tombs of the Pharuses. Each stood nearly a hundred feet tall, with a stone high-relief carving depicting the face of the Pharus, with ornately carved details that set Issa’s head swimming. Beloved names like Nofre-kat the Bloody, Anhurmes Thoth III, Thema Amenthes of the Golden Sunrise, and Sen-ma Ramerabai, victor of the Thousand Skull War and hero of Harabai Pass. Despised names like Tachus Snakespine, Pen-Amen Rere, or Odion the Defeated. Every one of the Pharuses since Hallar himself to Mordus Khnemu Nephelcheres, father of the current Pharus.

  The sight of such splendor humbled Issa. She felt like a trespasser, a thief stealing among the greatest and most powerful rulers of Shalandra’s history. A failure.

  Her gut clenched as she realized Tannard’s true destination. She had heard the tales of the Tomb of Hallar—everyone in Shalandra had—yet she never dreamed of laying eyes on it. Now, the Invictus marched her toward the holiest place in the city.

  The Tomb of Hallar was nothing like the rest of the Keeper’s Crypts. It lacked the lavish ornamentation, high-relief carvings, and intricate stonework. It had been carved from the single vein of shalanite close to Alshuruq’s peak, a solid mass of midnight stone that stood out for its simplicity among the golden sandstone surrounding it. A single slab of shalanite guarded its entrance, its surface marked with thousands of strange-looking symbols.

  “This,” Tannard said, gesturing toward the black stone wall, “this is the Blades’ greatest honor. What you see before you is the Tomb of Hallar.”

  Hallar, Shalandra’s founder and the first Pharus, had defeated the tribes of the four mountains—Alshuruq, Zahiran, Shahkukha, and Dalmisa. Under his rule, which lasted more than six decades, the city of Shalandra had been carved from the mountainside. He had created the system of castes and the five tiers of Shalandra, which had led to peace and prosperity at a time when war gripped Einan. This tomb, his final resting place, hadn’t been opened in more than two thousand years. In the center of the slab, at the height of Issa’s chest, was a small, perfectly circular hole. Whatever key was intended to be used to open this door had been lost for millennia.

  To Issa’s knowledge, no one but the Pharus, the Keeper’s Council, and the Necroseti ever visited the Tomb of Hallar. Yet the two men who stood solemn and silent before the slab bore the black spiked armor, snarling lion helmets, and two-handed flammards of Keeper’s Blades.

  “You might have noticed that the Citadel of Stone is set on the west of the Keeper’s Tier.” Tannard spoke in a quiet voice. “What is an insult to the rest of Shalandra is our highest honor. For thousands of years, since the beginning of our great city, the Keeper’s Blades have been set to guard this place. Not only in life, but also in death.”

  Issa’s eyes wandered over the black shalanite sarcophagi that stood arrayed in neat rows—was it her imagination, or did they resemble battle lines?—in front of the Tomb of Hallar. Each bore the same depiction of the two-handed sword, but the inscriptions on the lid were longer, more detailed.

  Her eyes roamed over the inscriptions of the tombs nearest her. “Abethar, Invictus, called Moonspear, fallen at the Battle of Eagle’s Crest.”

  Issa sucked in a breath. Abethar was Shalandra’s most renowned general during the Hundred Weeks’ War, which ravaged the entire south of Einan more than eight hundred years before her time. He’d earned the name Moonspear for his ability to fight in the darkness as well as other men fought in the day. In the Battle of Eagle’s Crest, he’d killed more than three hundred enemies before succumbing to his own wounds.

  The next name set her heart pounding. “Kemassis, Ypertatos, called Undying, claimed by the Long Keeper during the Bloody Five.”

  Kemassis had earned the name Undying because he’d been wounded more than a hundred times during his years fighting in the Hundred Weeks’ War. The Bloody Five had been the final battle in the war, a five-day melee that left more than a hundred thousand dead and thrice that number of wounded.

  More and more names met her eyes. Shishak Queenslayer, savior of Shalandra during the Red Queen’s Blight. Bicheres the Bold, who sacrificed himself to buy Pharus Ati Bakenrath time to escape the Ravennath hordes. Tosorthros Stilltongued, the mute Blade said to have been twice the height of a man.

  So many of the greatest heroes of Shalandra’s history had served in the Keeper’s Blades. All had been laid to rest here, in front of the Tomb of Hallar. A final honor.

  Tannard fixed her with that stern, piercing glare. “We guard this place until Hallar’s return, or until the Hallar’s Chosen—the Child of Secrets, Child of Gold—arises. But only those that served well in life are selected to guard this place forever.” He thrust a finger toward those tombs. “But those Keeper’s Blades were worthy. Could you say the same of yourself after today?”

  Issa’s face burned with mingled anger and shame. Shame that she had failed and anger that he’d actually expected her to succeed when he’d arrayed such uneven odds against her. Yet standing here, amid the tombs of the greatest heroes of Shalandra, she couldn’t help feeling guilty at her own failure.

  She was a Keeper’s Blade—as mortal and human as anyone else in Shalandra, yet favored by the Long Keeper. As Tannard had said, by her failures, she insulted the god of death that had chosen her. As if he somehow made a mistake by elevating her above the rest of Shalandra. He needed no words now; the condemnation burning in his eyes buried a dagger in her gut. The aches and pains of her beating paled in comparison to the torment of her shame.

  Tannard turned to the two Blades standing before the Tomb of Hallar and saluted. “Guardians of death, warriors of the fallen, you are relieved of duty. Your brothers stand ready to serve.”

  The Blades returned the salute, turned to Issa and Hykos, and said in unison, “May the Keeper grant his eternal vigilance over Hallar’s final resting place.”

  Issa repeated the words with Hykos, and she fell in step beside the Archateros as he marched toward the black stone wall to take up guard position. Hykos drew his huge black-bladed flammar
d and grounded the tip between his feet. Issa did likewise, matching his rigid, ceremonial stance.

  Tannard’s gaze pierced her. “The Long Keeper makes no mistakes. He comes for one and all, from the lowest Mahjuri to the Pharus himself, claiming man, woman, and child in equal measure. Death will come for you. When that happens, where will you be buried?”

  The words rang in Issa’s ears as the Invictus turned on his heel and marched off behind the two retreating Blades. The weight of her steel armor and flammard suddenly seemed an immense burden—one she had proven herself unworthy to bear.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kodyn’s gut clenched at the anger burning in Arch-Guardian Suroth’s eyes, the sharp movements of his fingers. Beside him, Aisha drew in a sharp breath.

  Did Briana betray us? His eyes went to the petite Shalandran girl standing beside her father. He’d had to tell her his plan to steal the Crown of the Pharus—he’d need her help to get close enough to get his hands on the relic, which only Suroth was allowed to access during the Ceremony of the Seven Faces and the Anointing of the Blades.

  “It’s not like that, Father!” Briana protested. She turned to Kodyn, eyes pleading and red-faced. “I’ve been trying to explain it to him.”

  Arch-Guardian Suroth’s fingers fairly flew. “Explain that they’ve come here under the guise of stealing one of Shalandra’s most holy relics!” He shifted his stance—a subtle change, from relaxed and confident to wary, alert, one foot slightly back and knees bent, ready for a bare-handed attack. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you both here and now.”

  “Father!” Briana moved to stand between Suroth and Kodyn. “Don’t—”

  “We want none of your Night Guild filth here!” Suroth’s eyes blazed.

  “You know of the Night Guild?” Kodyn’s eyebrows rose.

  “Of course.” The Arch-Guardian’s lip curled upward into a half-snarl, half-sneer. “Every city is home to such human refuse. Even here in Shalandra we have our own version: the Ybrazhe Syndicate. Little more than thieves and thugs, a stain on our city.”

  “We’re not like that!” Kodyn protested.

  “Or at least, we’re not.” Aisha’s gesture included the two of them. “We’re not here to steal the Crown of the Pharus. Or at least not in the way you’re thinking.”

  Suroth’s expression darkened. “Explain,” he signed.

  “No one could ever accuse the Night Guild of being law-abiding citizens,” Kodyn said quickly. “But our job is to maintain order in Praamis.”

  The Arch-Guardian’s eyes narrowed and he gave a derisive snort.

  “It’s the truth.” Kodyn squared his shoulders and stood straighter. “My mother is the Master of the Night Guild, and she receives orders from King Ohilmos himself.” He heard Aisha’s sudden intake of air—he’d have to explain that one to her later. “You know as well as I do that there will always be crime in cities like Praamis and Shalandra. The Night Guild is simply organized crime. Our assassins, thieves, poisoners, and brothel-keepers control the crime rate in the city, keeping things balanced and in order. In the last decade, during my mother’s reign as Guild Master, Praamis has known a peace and stability not seen for more than two hundred years.”

  That last bit might have been exaggerated—he doubted that even Darreth, his mother’s fussy and all-knowing aide, would have facts that specific. But the grain of truth remained. Since the death of the last Master Gold, the Night Guild had driven the Bloody Hand out of Praamis, eradicated the flesh trade, cut off the supply of Bonedust and other drugs filtering into the city, and maintained order. It didn’t matter that they stood on the wrong side of the law; the Night Guild served as another form of justice and peacekeeping that the Praamian Guard could never match.

  Suroth didn’t look convinced. “And yet, you are still nothing more than thieves sneaking into Shalandra, using the pretense of bringing my daughter home to me.” His eyes flashed. “How are you any better than the ones that took her from me?”

  “Because we don’t actually want to take the Crown of the Pharus.” Kodyn met his gaze without hesitation. “We just need to steal it.”

  He winced as he realized how stupid that sounded, so he tried again.

  “To become full members of the Night Guild, each of us—” He gestured to Aisha and himself. “—have to complete an Undertaking, a task that proves our worthiness. Not only worthy of a place in the Guild, but worthy to serve the Watcher in the Dark, the god of thieves.”

  “You claim the Watcher as your patron deity?” Suroth’s eyebrows rose. “I’m certain Judiciar Tealus might have something to say about that.”

  “We’re not exactly part of his priesthood.” Kodyn grinned. “The Watcher in the Dark is the god of the night, of justice, and of vengeance. What is more just than stealing from those who have more than they deserve? Is there a holier vengeance than seeing murderers, rapists, and arsonists executed?”

  Suroth inclined his head. “A well-chosen god, indeed.”

  Kodyn’s heart leapt. He could see he was getting through to Suroth, though the Arch-Guardian hadn’t relaxed from his combative stance.

  “When I found Briana held by the Gatherers,” Kodyn pressed on, “I insisted that I would bring her home. Yet I knew that I could not simply abandon my place in the Night Guild, my duties to my House and my mother. So I did the only thing I could: I chose an Undertaking that would bring me to Shalandra. The only thing I could think of was to steal the Crown of the Pharus. But I don’t actually need to steal it or take it away from Shalandra. All I need to do is prove that I can steal it.”

  “That makes no sense.” Suroth looked confused.

  Kodyn chuckled. “Let me tell you about my mother’s Undertaking. She chose to scale the highest tower in Shalandra—”

  “The Black Spire?” For a moment, eager excitement sparkled in the Arch-Guardian’s eyes. “I have longed for years to visit that Serenii monument. Is it truly as tall as they say?”

  “Taller.” Kodyn grinned. “And it is currently the residence of Duke Elodon Phonnis, Praamis’ Chief Justiciar and brother to the king. It was considered an impossible task, yet she determined to do it. All she had to do was scale the Black Spire and place a lit lamp in the uppermost room—simply to prove herself worthy and capable.”

  “Ah, I understand.” Suroth nodded, and a fraction of the tension faded from his stance. “We have similar rituals at the Temple of Whispers.”

  Relief surged within Kodyn. This might actually work! He had dreaded the inevitable confrontation when Arch-Guardian Suroth found out the truth. He’d hoped the goodwill earned by returning Briana would suffice to smooth over the Secret Keeper’s anger and suspicion, maybe even convince the Arch-Guardian to help. His Undertaking demanded that no one within the Night Guild offer aid—there were no rules against enlisting the help of others.

  “To prove myself worthy, all I need to do is get my hands on the Crown of the Pharus and prove that I am capable of stealing it.” He gestured to Aisha. “My trusted companion came not only to help me protect your daughter, but to bear witness that I actually achieved the task.”

  “See, Papa?” Briana’s tone turned scolding. “That’s what I was trying to explain!”

  “And once your Undertaking is complete?” Suroth asked. “What then?”

  “I have to return to Praamis before my eighteenth nameday,” Kodyn said. “But that is almost a year away. There is no reason I cannot stay in Shalandra and help protect Briana. Both of us.”

  He shot Aisha a glance. Ria had sent Aisha along to watch his back, but something about her behavior since leaving Praamis told him she’d become embroiled in concerns of her own. He wanted to find out what that was and see what he could do to help, but until he did—or until she chose to clue him in—he’d have to focus on his own Undertaking.

  Her nod indicated that she agreed. Hell, it had been her plan in the first place, so it was him agreeing with her.

  “But that’s not ou
r only reason for coming to Shalandra.”

  The words poured from his mouth before he realized it. Something about Suroth made him want to be honest—if nothing else, he needed to be certain the Arch-Guardian wasn’t his enemy.

  Skepticism shone in Suroth’s eyes. “There’s more? What else have you come to steal?” A hint of a scowl twisted his lips.

  “Nothing.” Kodyn straightened and met the Arch-Guardian’s gaze without hesitation. “We’ve come to deal with the Gatherers.”

  That sparked Suroth’s curiosity. He cocked his head, interested.

  “The Gatherers murdered Praamians. Men, women, even children.” Anger surged within Kodyn. “Their damned rituals nearly killed a friend of mine, and I’ll be damned if I let them come back to my city and kill more of my friends. Aisha and I have come to find out as much as we can about them. If we can find a way to stop them, to put an end to their bloodthirsty rituals, I’m going to do it.”

  He fixed Suroth with a solemn gaze. “You know they’re the ones that took Briana, which means you’re just as invested in dealing with them as we are. Together, we can find the ones responsible for Briana’s kidnapping and take them down.”

  Suroth’s expression changed, his stubborn cynicism wavering in the face of Kodyn’s intensity.

  “I swear,” Kodyn said, “in the eyes of the Watcher in the Dark and upon the life of my loved ones that I intended to return Briana home before I ever found out who her father was. But the fact that you are a member of the Keeper’s Council means that you are in a position where you can help me. That influenced my superiors within the Night Guild to accept my quest. That’s why I have been permitted to escort her safely home. But while I’m here, I’m going to do everything in my power to deal with the Gatherers.”

  He fixed Arch-Guardian Suroth with a somber gaze. “From what Briana has told me, you are a good man in a city of vipers wearing the guise of Keeper’s priests. I understand if you feel you are unable to help me; indeed, I will not resent it if you decide to have me arrested for attempting to steal the crown. But you have my word that I will do everything in my power to protect your daughter, even if you cannot help me. And if you do help me with my Undertaking, I will do nothing to betray your trust or endanger your position in the city. Together, we can take down the people responsible for harming Briana.”