Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Chirak looked up at Tannard, and her expression went flat, dead. “Yes, Invictus,” she replied in a monotone.

  “Good. Issa will go next.” He turned to Issa. “To the field.”

  Heart hammering in her chest, Issa strode out onto the training yard, sword in hand. She waited, stomach in knots, for the inevitable punishment she knew would come—disguised as a lesson, of course, but no less painful.

  Tannard’s face revealed nothing. “How many assassins did you slay last night?”

  “I do not know,” Issa replied, honestly.

  “According to your comrades, the count was at least eleven, correct?” Tannard looked at Etai, who shrank beneath his glare. When the Mahjuri girl didn’t respond, the Invictus turned toward the western edge of the training yard. “Is that correct?”

  Issa’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Kellas seated on a bench. The Dhukari youth looked like he’d taken a worse beating than she’d given him yesterday. Blood trickled down his cheeks, forehead, and from a split lip, and his nose had seen better, less flat days. All trace of arrogance was gone as he nodded. “Yes, Invictus.”

  “Eleven.” The single word was cold, spoken in an emotionless tone. His gaze locked on her. “If you can defeat eleven enemies, surely you will have no difficulty defeating six.”

  Issa’s eyes narrowed. Keeper’s teeth. By her count, six Blades stood in the training yard: Etai, Chirak, and the third Blade she didn’t recognize. Kellas on the bench and Byrach, his Archateros trainer, hovering behind him.

  She nearly vomited as she looked at the sixth Blade: Tannard himself.

  The Invictus’ eyes revealed nothing as he drew his enormous two-handed sword and strode toward her. “Blades, to me!” he shouted.

  Etai and Chirak exchanged glances, but at Chirak’s nod, the two of them hurried toward Tannard. Kellas, Byrach, and the other Blade joined them a moment later.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t escape me,” Tannard snarled in a voice pitched low for her ears.

  Issa’s blood ran cold as she faced the wall of black-armored warriors arrayed against her. Taking on Kellas or Etai alone would be challenging, but she’d seen both Byrach and Chirak fight often enough to know she had little chance of defeating them. The Invictus had more than twenty years’ service to the Long Keeper. To face any of the higher-ranked Blades would be near-impossible even on her best day.

  But to face all at once? This is cruel, even by Tannard’s measure. Her best hope would be to survive this battle with only half the bones in her body shattered.

  Yet, as her eyes came to rest on Tannard’s harsh features, resolve hardened within her. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her sword and she settled into a low guard stance favored by the Academy of the Windy Mountain. She tracked the movements of her enemies as they spread out to surround her.

  Her defeat was as inevitable as the setting sun, but she would face it without fear or hesitation. She wouldn’t give Tannard the satisfaction of watching her cower.

  With a shout, she charged her nearest enemy—the Invictus himself.

  Chapter Seven

  Aisha hid a wince as she tried to match Briana’s pace. The Dhukari girl swept through the palace’s front door at a pace that belied the elegance of her glide. Aisha’s leg wound made quick movements difficult. She had to move more slowly for fear of reopening the scabbed-over cut.

  Kodyn seemed to sense her pain, for he offered Briana his arm then slowed their pace to match hers. She shot him a grateful nod—she’d never have said anything, but she was relieved not to push herself.

  “Lady Briana,” a voice called from behind them.

  Aisha spun, hand dropping to the wooden shaft of her short-handled assegai spear. Her eyes narrowed as she found another Keeper’s Blade, this one a young man, striding toward them. Somehow, the original Blade, Issa, had disappeared as they entered the palace.

  Aisha stepped in the Blade’s way, and the man stopped a respectful distance away. “My lady,” the Blade said, looking past Aisha to address Briana, “I am instructed by my commander to serve as your protector.”

  “And what of your fellow Blade, Issa?” Briana asked. Aisha glanced over her shoulder. Kodyn had interposed himself between Briana and the black-armored warrior, but Briana showed no sign of fear. Her eyes, however, revealed suspicion aplenty.

  “Called away for training, honored lady.”

  For a moment, Aisha imagined she could see a hint of worry crack the young man’s martial façade. He didn’t look much older than the other Blade, which made Aisha think maybe the two were more than just comrades.

  Interesting. She tucked the fact away in the back of her mind.

  “I am Hykos, Archateros of the Keeper’s Blades.” The young man swept a bow and when he stood, all trace of anxiety had gone from his face, leaving only a warrior’s confidence. “It would be my honor to offer my sword and skills in protection of the adopted daughter of Arch-Guardian Suroth. He was a great man, your father, respected by all in Shalandra.”

  “Thank you for your kind words,” Briana replied. “The honor is mine. I will feel much better knowing one of the Keeper’s chosen stands guard over me.”

  Aisha knew Briana well enough to recognize the change in the Shalandran girl. She’d taken on the same formal, elegant persona that she’d adopted when attending the party in the palace two nights before. Briana the Dhukari noblewoman, adopted daughter of a Councilor and socialite extraordinaire. A far cry from the girl Aisha had come to know in the weeks since they first met in Praamis.

  At Briana’s nod, Kodyn once again offered his arm. Together, they strode through the gold-and-silver bedecked halls of the Palace of Golden Eternity. Aisha fell in a step behind them, with the Blade, Hykos, beside her.

  Aisha studied Hykos from the corner of her eye. He was tall, taller than she or Kodyn, with solid musculature and a posture that spoke of confidence and skill with the two-handed blade strapped to his back. A braided tail of dark hair hung down his back—Aisha decided that it suited his broad, handsome face.

  A ripple of relief ran through her as Hykos made no move to draw his two-handed sword. She had no desire to deal with the spirits of the dead, not right now. Their meeting with the Pharus could put them on the path to vengeance for Suroth’s death. Aisha couldn’t afford to be distracted by the cries of the Kish’aa.

  Deeper into the palace they went, Briana and Kodyn in the lead with Aisha and this new Keeper’s Blade bringing up the rear guard.

  Two Keeper’s Blades stood at attention before a pair of gold leaf-bedecked double doors, which Aisha guessed led to the Throne Room. The black-armored warriors held their huge two-handed swords drawn, tips grounded between their feet, hands clasped around the hilts. Aisha’s jaw clenched as she saw the blue-white wisps floating in lazy circles around the black steel, more than a dozen between the two swords. Their eyes fixed on her and their mouths opened in wordless cries.

  At their approach, the guards raised their swords and stepped forward. “Halt!”

  “The Pharus is expecting me,” Briana said, her voice ringing with the commanding tone of a noblewoman.

  The two Blades stared at her, suspicion etched into the lines of their hard faces. One looked past Briana, his eyes flashing over Aisha and stopping as they came to rest on Hykos.

  “Archateros!” He snapped a salute, tapping his right fist against his left shoulder.

  “Katoteros.” Hykos returned the salute. “Lady Briana, adopted daughter of Arch-Guardian Suroth, will be permitted to enter.”

  “Of course, Archateros.” With a short bow, the two men hurried to open the doors.

  Aisha shot a glance at the Blade beside her. He can’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old, yet commands respect even at such a young age. Interesting.

  It reminded her of the way people deferred to Ilanna, Kodyn’s mother and Master of the Night Guild. Ilanna was far shorter and smaller than most of her fellow Guild members, yet every one of
her comrades and subordinates respected her—many even feared her. Her actions, temperament, and nature proved far more imposing than size, strength, or skill.

  Aisha stifled an awestruck gasp as the double doors swung open. The entire Throne Room seemed to sparkle with a dazzling brilliance that nearly blinded her. Yet it was not from the precious metals that adorned the halls—instead, the color came from the chandelier high overhead.

  Hundreds of glass globes hung suspended by metal wires, each one shining with an internal illumination. Each globe produced a different color of light—hues of blue, green, red, soft white, warm gold, and a hundred more—that, when reflected from the polished metal situated around the room, filled the chamber with a brightness that not even the midday sun could match.

  There was no doubt in her mind: this was Serenii-made.

  Her eyes dropped from the chandelier to the Pharus’ throne: a chair of gold, crested by outstretched eagle’s wings. Behind and above him, high-relief carvings in the sandstone bore the stern, solemn faces of men that frowned down on Shalandra’s ruler.

  Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres looked up as they entered. In the light streaming from the chandelier, his golden conical crown, headdress, and robes almost blinded her. For a moment, surprise flashed across his strong features, and a furrow rippled his arched brow. Yet the surprise disappeared an instant later, replaced by a regal smile.

  The Pharus stood from his golden throne. “Lady Briana, we bid you enter and be welcome.” His voice rang out loud and clear in the huge hall, and he gave a dismissive wave to the well-dressed men and women—all Dhukari, judging by their ornate golden headdresses, kohl-rimmed eyes, and the abundance of black beauty marks on their faces. “Leave us.”

  Everyone in the Throne Room hastened to obey, though many shot Briana dark looks as they passed. Others nodded or spoke a quiet word of greeting or condolence, pity in their eyes. It took fully two minutes before all of the Dhukari finished filing from the room. Only the four Keeper’s Blades beside the Pharus’ throne remained unmoving. The black-armored warriors could have been carved from the same stone as the faces on the wall above them.

  When all in the room had gone, Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres descended the dais upon which his throne sat and strode toward Briana. “Briana.” He settled his strong hands on her shoulders. “You have my deepest sympathies on your father’s passing.”

  Aisha was surprised not only at his words—he spoke with an informal, almost personable tone—but at the genuine sorrow in his eyes and the gentle, almost familiar gesture.

  “Thank you, Bright One.” Briana bowed her head. “I believe the knowledge that his Pharus mourns his passing will comfort him on his journey into the Long Keeper’s arms and into the Sleepless Lands beyond.”

  “He will be missed greatly.” A shadow passed across the Pharus’ eyes. “I owe him a great debt. My assigning one of the Blades’ finest warriors to your protection was a small step toward repayment.” His brow furrowed as he caught sight of Hykos beside Aisha, but again, he schooled his expression an instant later.

  “You honor me, my Pharus.” Briana smiled.

  “Tell me, what do you know of those responsible for your father’s death?” Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres fixed her with a piercing gaze.

  “Nothing, Bright One,” Briana replied. “However, if the rumors are true, they are the same Gatherers that abducted me in the first place and made a second attempt last night.”

  “Gatherers.” The Pharus’ face creased into a scowl and he stepped back, his hands balled into fists. “As if the Necroseti weren’t bad enough.”

  Aisha hid a smile. So Suroth was right. The Pharus hates the Necroseti. If Briana played this right, she could convince the Pharus to help them. Though what he’d help them do remained to be seen.

  Briana glanced around, then spoke in a quiet voice. “I share my Pharus’ sentiments. My companions and I are determined to bring justice for my father.”

  The Pharus raised an eyebrow. “You intend to hunt down the Gatherers?”

  “And any that played a hand in my father’s death.” Briana’s voice took on a hard edge, her meaning clear. “No matter who they are or what power they wield.”

  “Intriguing.” A ghost of a smile played on the man’s lips, and he raised a strong hand to stroke his clean-shaven chin, which bore eight beauty marks—one more than the highest-ranked Dhukari, an honor reserved for the ruler of Shalandra alone. “I see your father’s spirit within you. He would be proud to see you respond thus. Perhaps I might be able to assist you in this endeavor. With information, at the very least.”

  “You honor me, Bright One.” Briana bowed. “Anything you can offer would—”

  A small door behind the golden throne banged open and a tall warrior in the armor of a Keeper’s Blade strode into the room. By the way the tall woman prowled across the hall toward the Pharus, Aisha knew she had to be Callista Vinaus, Lady of Blades. A hard woman with a hard face and a commander’s poise. The anger burning in her eyes froze over when she caught sight of Briana and the others. Without a word, she marched toward the Pharus and whispered something into his ear.

  Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres’ face creased into a scowl. “Finally,” he snapped. “And here I was believing you and your trusted men were as incompetent as the Keeper’s Council insists you are.”

  Lady Callista Vinaus remained silent at the insult, her expression revealing nothing.

  “I will accompany you shortly. But first.” He turned to Briana. “Tell me, my lady, what brings you to me today?”

  Confusion twisted Briana’s face. “You…summoned me, sire.”

  “Summoned?” The Pharus frowned. “You are certain?”

  “Yes, Bright One. Your messenger—”

  Pharus Amhoset’s eyes narrowed. “I sent no messenger, no summons.”

  Briana paled, her breath catching in her lungs.

  Aisha’s mind raced. If not the Pharus, then who?

  “Then I beg my Pharus’ humble pardon,” Briana replied, her voice almost strangled. “I must have been mistaken.”

  The Pharus nodded. “No matter.” He fixed her with a curious gaze. “But the time may come when I do send word. When I do, be ready.”

  “Of course, Bright One.” With a deep bow, Briana turned and strode from the Throne Room, just as the Pharus departed on the heels of Lady Callista.

  Briana’s face was pale, her finger white around Kodyn’s arm. The moment they were outside the Throne Room and out of earshot of the Blades standing guard, Briana turned to them. “Whoever sent that messenger had access to the livery of the Pharus’ official messengers. Someone powerful, from here in the palace, and they forged that message to get us out of my father’s mansion!”

  Kodyn cursed. “We need to get back to your house, now.”

  As they hurried down the gold-and-silver-tiled corridors toward the front, Aisha felt a sick sense of dread forming in her stomach. Whatever awaited them at Suroth’s mansion couldn’t be good.

  Chapter Eight

  Kodyn galloped ahead of the slow-moving, slave-borne palanquin in his haste to return to the mansion. Trusting Aisha and the armored Blade to keep Briana safe, he urged his horse to move faster through the late-afternoon crowds.

  His breath caught in his chest as Arch-Guardian Suroth’s mansion came into view. A wall of heavyset spearmen wearing burnished steel breastplates atop black robes stood before the front gate. Five stood off to the side, holding their long spears leveled at Rothin and his men, who had been stripped of their gilded breastplates and short swords. All of Suroth’s servants stood on the street as well, watching the spectacle in wide-eyed horror.

  “Nessa, what’s going on?” Kodyn called as he reined in his horse.

  “The Necroseti’s guards are removing all of the Arch-Guardian’s belongings!” Nessa’s eyes were wide, her face a mask of mingled outrage and shock. “Everything!”

  Sure enough, as Kodyn leapt down from his horse, he caught a gli
mpse of the mansion’s interior through the open gate. Bareheaded Kabili and Earaqi laborers wearing the black robes of Necroseti servants hauled Suroth and Briana’s belongings out in armfuls and dumped them atop the mountain of clothing and furniture that lay heaped in the center of the courtyard.

  Kodyn strode toward the guards barring the gate. He searched out the one that seemed in charge, a pudgy man with drooping jowls and a permanent sneer. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

  “Step back, foreigner,” barked the guard. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “It damned well does!” Anger surged within Kodyn’s chest. “I am Lady Briana’s personal protector, contracted by the Arch-Guardian himself. As such, I am fully within my rights to demand you explain what in the fiery hell you’re doing!” He bared his teeth, hand dropping to his sword.

  The Necroseti’s guards responded in a moment, and Kodyn found himself facing half a dozen sharp steel spearheads. Clearly they had prepared for resistance.

  “Kodyn?” Briana’s voice echoed from behind him, and Kodyn turned to find Briana peering out from her palanquin. The moment the slaves set the litter down, Briana stepped out and stalked toward them, Aisha and the Blade on her heels.

  Anger flashed in Briana’s eyes. “Explain yourself!” She fixed her gaze on the heavyset guard barring Kodyn’s path. “You know who I am, who my father was.”

  “We know,” the man said with a nod. He drew a scroll from within his black robes and thrust it roughly at Briana. “This will explain everything.”

  Briana tore the scroll from his grasp and unrolled it, hands trembling with fury. Her eyes went wide as she read and her lips pressed into a tight line. By the time her gaze reached the seal at the bottom of the scroll, she looked ready to rip the fat man’s head from his shoulders with her bare hands.

  “You cannot be serious!” Briana snarled at the guard. “My father’s body has not yet been interred in the Keeper’s Crypts and your masters pull this?”