Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Two men died in quick succession, throats slashed and bellies opened by a quick thrust of his short sword. Their patchwork leather armor could turn away a slicing attack, but Master Serpent had taught him to use quick, hard thrusts that could punch through anything short of studded leather, chain mail, or solid plate. The assassins wore little more than hardened leather jerkins, no match for the ferocity of his attacks.

  The remaining Gatherer proved skilled, turning aside Kodyn’s thrusts with deft strokes of his short sword. Kodyn’s charge slowed and stalled as the cultist battled him to a halt. The man fought with surprising skill, his sword darting and flashing at Kodyn so fast that it took all his concentration to deflect, block, and dodge.

  Kodyn gasped as the Gatherer’s blade carved a line of fire along the back of his knife hand. The man grinned as the dagger fell from Kodyn’s grip. Triumph blazed in his eyes as he raised his sword to renew his onslaught.

  In that moment, a terrified scream echoed through the house—high, shrill, reeking of panic. Kodyn’s blood turned to ice. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Briana!

  Grim determination hardened within Kodyn. He’d sworn to protect Briana, and now was his chance to prove it. There was no retreat, no escape, no clever plan to outmaneuver his enemies. He had to fight—for her, and for Aisha, who doubtless was already locked in a desperate battle of her own.

  With a roar, he brought his short sword around in a wild swing at the Gatherer’s head. The man knocked aside the blow with a contemptuous snort. His backhand drove at Kodyn’s face, the sword slicing straight at his throat.

  But Kodyn wasn’t where the Gatherer expected. The moment he’d felt the sharp clang of his blow being blocked, he threw himself into a dive at the man’s legs. Jarl, his mother’s giant of a friend, had taught him the art of the low tackle. Wrapping his arms around the man’s knees would give him leverage to bring him down. Kodyn didn’t want to bring him down. He wanted to end the man here and now.

  His right shoulder drove into the Gatherer’s kneecap with the force of his charge. Bone crunched and the cultist’s leg bent backward at a terrible angle. The man screamed, his sword swinging high above Kodyn’s head. He fell with a piercing cry of pain—a cry silenced a moment later as Kodyn drove his short sword into the man’s side.

  I’m coming!

  He leapt over the dying Gatherer and sprinted the remaining distance to Briana’s room.

  Five men had charged in, but two more remained in the hall. They turned to engage him, but he was an unstoppable force of rage-backed steel and muscle. His block knocked one’s wild swing into the other’s arm, eliciting a wail as the sword bit deep into muscle, all the way to the bone. His dagger punched through the unwounded assassin’s leather armor and slid between ribs. Even as the man sagged, Kodyn brought his short sword down in a powerful chopping blow that cut deep into the side of the assassin’s neck. The dark-cloaked figure fell with a gurgling, gasping cry.

  Kodyn spared a single glance to make sure everyone in the hall was dead or incapacitated, then hurtled the dresser barricade in a powerful leap. He had to get to Aisha and Briana before—

  Aisha’s final opponent sagged as she ripped the head of her assegai free of his chest. Kodyn’s heart stopped at the sight of the blood covering her face, arms, and clothing.

  He crossed the three steps toward her in an instant. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not badly.” Aisha winced and pressed a hand to a cut on her thigh. Blood flowed from a small cut in the side of her cheek.

  “Let me take a look,” Kodyn insisted.

  Reluctantly, Aisha allowed him to examine her leg. A quick glance told him the cut, while painful, hadn’t severed any arteries or damaged the bone. He tore off his servant’s shawl and used it to bind the wound.

  Kodyn met Aisha’s eyes. “That one will leave a scar.”

  Aisha shrugged. “I’d take that over being dead any day.”

  Relief washed like a cool balm over Kodyn and, before he realized what he was doing, he threw his arms around Aisha’s neck. “I was worried I wouldn’t make it in time.” He felt as if he could finally breathe. They were safe.

  Aisha stiffened, then relaxed and wrapped her arms around him. “Glad to see you did.” Her voice echoed the emotion surging within Kodyn.

  After a moment, Aisha broke off the embrace and turned to where Briana crouched between her massive canopy bed and the stone wall. “Are you hurt?” Genuine concern echoed in her voice.

  “N-No.” Briana shook her head. She accepted Aisha’s help to stand. “Thanks to you.” Her eyes went to Kodyn and the bloodstained weapons in his hands. “Both of you.”

  As Aisha helped the Shalandran girl to the bed, she shot a glance over her shoulder at Kodyn. “What happened to you? You were supposed to be back from your meeting with the Black Widow hours ago.”

  “I never made it to the meeting.” Kodyn crouched beside one of the fallen assassins and used his dagger to slice the man’s sleeve. “I ran into a few of our old friends instead.”

  Aisha grimaced as her eyes fell on the Gatherer’s tattoo.

  Briana cried out and clutched at the Ghandian girls’ arm. “Gatherers!”

  Brow furrowed, Aisha fixed Kodyn with a worried look. “How did you know they were coming?”

  Kodyn related everything that had happened from the moment he spotted the Gatherers to his eavesdropping on their secret meeting to his hurry to return to the Keeper’s Tier with the warning.

  “I don’t know what happened, but something caused that crowd to turn ugly fast,” Kodyn said. “I barely made it out of the press of people in time to avoid the impending stampede.”

  Aisha shot him a questioning glance. “But if you couldn’t get up here, how did they?” She thrust a finger at the fallen assassins.

  “The same way they’ve managed to avoid the Necroseti, Indomitables, and everyone else hunting them.” It was a guess, but years spent slinking around secret ways above and beneath Praamis were enough to confirm his suspicions. “The Secret Keepers might not be the only ones that know of the Serenii tunnels around the city. The Gatherers could be using them to move around the city’s levels unseen.”

  Aisha swore in her native Ghandian—the salty language would have made any Praamian laborer’s ears burn, but thankfully only Kodyn understood the words.

  He smiled. Good to see she’s still the same Aisha. He’d noticed the shift in her since leaving Praamis, but now something more had changed. The shadow had left her eyes, the burden gone from her shoulders. She stood straighter, head held higher, and she seemed almost…happier. He didn’t understand but he determined that he’d ask her about it the first chance he got. Whatever she’d been through, she’d endured enough alone—he was here to help her as much as she’d come to help him.

  Aisha once more spoke in Einari. “If they are using the tunnels, the Secret Keepers need to know about it.” She turned to Briana. “As soon as your father returns from the Palace of Golden Eternity, we’ll show him the blank map Ennolar gave us.”

  Briana stared blankly at Aisha. Kodyn noted the vacant expression, the fearful tremor in Briana’s hands, and the way her eyes darted around as if seeing enemies in every shadow. She’d recovered from her captivity at the Gatherers’ hands, only to find herself attacked once more in her home. That could leave scars on even the strongest person.

  To her credit, the Shalandran girl finally managed to speak. “Yes,” she said in a quiet voice. “My father.”

  Aisha went over to sit beside the girl, provide the reassurance of her presence. Kodyn knew of what Aisha had endured at the hands of the Bloody Hand—she’d be best-suited to help Briana get through the traumatic experience.

  Uncertain of what to do, Kodyn set about examining the corpses scattered across the floor. Each of their right forearms bore the mark of the Gatherers. However, none wore headbands, kohl, or beauty marks to identify their caste. He hadn’t been in Shalandra long enough to distinguish the upper an
d lower castes. Yet, the fact that they were hard, lean men told him that they couldn’t be the heavy-set Dhukari. Perhaps Alqati, but he guessed it was more likely they were Kabili, Mahjuri, or Earaqi.

  Not that that information helped much right now. But at least the discovery confirmed the suspicions that had led him to accompany Briana here to Shalandra. The Gatherers in Praamis had been a fraction of their true number, which meant killing them hadn’t put an end to the threat to Briana. Had he and Aisha—Aisha, mostly—not been here, the girl would have been captured again. Or, worse, killed in the attempt.

  He tensed as the sound of pounding feet echoed in the corridor and spun toward the door, dagger and sword held ready. He’d fight to his last breath—the Gatherers would die before he let them take Briana.

  The tightness faded from his shoulders as men wearing the gold breastplates of Suroth’s household guard charged into the room. They, however, didn’t relax. Instead, they seemed to perceive him as a threat—despite the fact that the bodies of the assassins clearly lay littered around him and Lady Briana was safe—and raised their swords to attack.

  “Hold!” The shout came from Rothin, the head of Suroth’s guards. “They’re Lady Briana’s bodyguards.”

  Kodyn only lowered his weapons after the guards sheathed theirs. He wouldn’t take any chances, not after hearing that one of the guards and Briana’s own maidservant had played a role in her abduction.

  Rothin’s eyes widened as he stared at the bodies littering the floor. “The two of you did this?”

  Kodyn inclined his head toward Aisha. “Mostly her. I arrived in time for the clean-up.”

  Rothin shot an incredulous glance at the Ghandian girl on the bed beside Briana, then back at Kodyn. “The Arch-Guardian clearly made the right choice in bringing you on.” He held out a hand. “Without you, we would have had only bad news to deliver to our master upon his return from the palace.”

  Kodyn gripped the man’s hand. His eyes mirrored the sincerity that echoed in his voice.

  “We got lucky,” Aisha said. “Lady Briana and I were on the garden terrace and saw them coming.”

  Rothin winced. “Some of our own were working with these men and opened the tradesman’s entrance. We managed to take one alive. Nessa will have the truth out of them by daybreak.” He crouched and stared down at the tattoo inked into one of the assassin’s forearms.

  “Gatherers,” Kodyn said. “They were responsible for taking Lady Briana out of Shalandra last time.”

  “Accursed cultist!” Rothin growled down at the body. “Twisting our reverence of the Long Keeper as an excuse for their bloodshed and murder.” He stood and fixed Kodyn and Aisha with a solemn gaze. “The guard will be doubled, and I will only put men I trust on duty. By the Sleepless One, I swear this will never happen again.”

  “Thank you, Rothin.” Briana had recovered enough to speak in a quiet voice. “My father always trusted you, even after everything that happened with Osirath and Eldesse.”

  “My lady honors me.” Rothin bowed. “And I will do everything in my power to live up to the Arch-Guardian’s trust.”

  He turned to his men. “Search the rest of the mansion. If there are any more of these damned death worshippers hiding, I want them found at once.”

  With a nod to the three of them, Rothin stalked out of the room, his guards on his heels. Kodyn had little doubt the man would be as good as his word. Rothin seemed to be a good man put in the unfortunate position of finding himself surrounded by traitors.

  At that moment, Nessa appeared at the door.

  “Oh, Nessa!” Briana stood and ran toward the Steward. “I’m so glad you’re…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

  Nessa’s face had gone the same ashen grey as her hair. Sorrow glimmered in her dark eyes and tears streamed down her age-lined face.

  “Word has come from the Palace of Golden Eternity,” she said in a quiet voice. “The Gatherers made an attempt on the Keeper’s Council.”

  Briana sucked in a sharp breath. A dagger of ice drove into Kodyn’s belly. From the look on Nessa’s face, he knew exactly what she was about to say.

  “The Pharus and the Necroseti survived.” Nessa wiped her tears and reached for Briana. “But your father…”

  “No!” Briana gasped, hand flying to her mouth. Kodyn leapt forward to catch her as her legs gave way.

  “Forgive me, Lady Briana.” Nessa bowed her head. “Your father was slain in the attack.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Anxiety thrummed within Issa’s chest as she marched through the Palace of Golden Eternity. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, the golden tiles and walls splashed with the blood of traitors. Servants, Blades, Indomitables, even a member of the Keeper’s Council had died in the attack on the Pharus.

  What started out as a good day had ended in anguish. At least Etai had survived the attack—she’d bear a scar on her cheek, but she’d gotten lucky to escape with such a minor wound. Kellas’ armor and skill had saved him.

  A six-man squad of Keeper’s Blades—all Ypertatos assigned to the Pharus’ personal guard—had relieved her two hours earlier. The adrenaline rush brought on by the attack had refused to let her rest despite her fatigue. She’d volunteered to aid in the clean-up efforts.

  Then the summons had come in the form of a stone-faced Tannard.

  “The Pharus demands your presence,” was all the Invictus had said.

  Now, striding along behind Tannard, Issa could only swallow down her nervous anxiety. Did Kellas tell the Invictus I abandoned my post? Is the Pharus going to personally expel me from the Blades for deserting my comrades?

  She tried to tell herself that worrying wouldn’t solve anything, that she’d find out what the Pharus wanted with her soon enough. It didn’t help. Her stomach was a mess of knots as she followed Tannard through the massive gold and silver leaf-decorated double doors that led into the Pharus’ private chambers.

  Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres sat on an enormous golden throne, with massive eagle’s wings at the crest, velvet-cushioned armrests, and a plush seat. Above and behind him, high-relief carvings in the sandstone depicted the stern faces of men—likely the Pharuses before him—frowning down at the back of his head. A reminder, perhaps, that his ancestors knew every decision he made.

  To Issa’s surprise, the Lady of Blades stood guard beside the throne. General of the Shalandran military, the highest-ranked officer in the Keeper’s Blade, yet she was given the duty of guarding the Pharus that all in Shalandra knew she hated. She hadn’t bothered to wash the blood off her armor, face, and hands.

  Tannard stopped at the silver line that marked the respectful distance from the throne and Issa did likewise.

  “Issa of the Earaqi,” the Invictus said.

  The Pharus stared at her in silence for a long moment. His eyes, dark and almond-shaped like all Shalandrans, bored into her with a piercing scrutiny that discomfited her far more than Tannard’s cold disdain. His lips twisted into a pensive frown, his strong brow furrowed.

  Issa forced down her anxiety and stood straight, head held high. No matter what happened here, even if the Pharus decided to punish her for deserting her post, at least she had the knowledge that she’d saved the Lady of Blades and helped to foil the attack.

  “I find myself in a curious position,” the Pharus said, his tone musing. “It is not often that I am indebted to one of my subjects.”

  Issa held her breath. Indebted? That, and the fact that he addressed her with the informal “I” and “me” rather than the regal “we” and “us”, set her curiosity burning. Whatever he had summoned her for, it bore greater importance than she currently understood.

  “I am told that you are the one that gave warning of the attack.” The Pharus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  After a moment, Issa nodded. “Yes, Bright One. But my comrades—”

  “Yes, I know of the actions of your fellow Blades-in-training, Etai and Kellas.” Pharus
Amhoset Nephelcheres gave a dismissive wave. “I have heard all about it from your commander.” He shot a glance at Lady Callista, the sneer on his lips a match for the venom in his words. “Despite our…differences, I can admit that the Lady of Blades may have something wise to offer from time to time.”

  Callista Vinaus’ face could have been cut from shalanite for all the emotion her face revealed. Despite her well-known disdain for the Pharus, she was on duty and would comport herself with the respect due her monarch.

  The Pharus snapped his fingers and a servant hurried forward. The Pharus lifted a small glass vial from the tray in the servant’s hands. “Do you recognize this?” he asked Issa.

  Issa stared at the vial a long second. “Yes,” she said finally. “The assassins carried them.” The acid had very nearly killed her, Etai, and Kellas.

  He pursed his lips. “It seems these assassins not only plotted my death, but they intended to make me suffer. A truly cruel, agonizing end.” His eyes fixed on her and he leaned forward. “An end I was only spared by your actions.”

  “It is no more than my duty,” Issa said. “I swore myself to serve the Long Keeper and his servant on Einan. You, My Pharus.”

  “A good answer.” A smile tugged at the Pharus’ lips as he leaned back in his throne. Long seconds passed as his strong fingers toyed with the little glass vial filled with acid.

  “Tell me, Issa of the Earaqi,” he finally said, “if I offered you anything in Shalandra, what would you ask for?” His almond-colored eyes once again pierced her, as if reading her soul.

  Issa hesitated. He clearly expected an answer, but what? Her next words could have a direct effect on the rest of her life.

  She chose the honest answer. “Nothing, my Pharus.”

  “Nothing?” The Pharus arched a dark eyebrow. “Is there nothing your heart desires?”