Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Yet Kodyn knew the answer. He hated to admit it—he still had plenty of reasons to suspect Evren of being a spy, a traitor, or some kind of threat to Briana—yet on this one count the thief had been truthful.

  “He’s telling the truth,” he said. “Every word of it.”

  Such a massive tale—ancient beings of terrible power, a world-destroying evil, magical daggers, demons hiding among humans—had to either be real or a madman’s fabrication. His mother had a knack for telling apart truths and lies; if she believed the Hunter, and the evidence of her own eyes, Kodyn trusted her. Ria’s corroborating testimony only served to reinforce the accuracy of the claims.

  It was Evren’s turn to be stunned. He gaped, wordless, eyes fixed on Kodyn. “W-What?” he finally managed to stammer out.

  Kodyn hid a triumphant grin. “The Hunter of Voramis told my mother in Praamis, and she told me.” His gesture included Aisha as well. “Us.”

  Evren’s eyes darted to the Ghandian girl, who nodded.

  “Wait, what?” Evren still seemed at a loss for words. “You mean…what?!”

  This time, Kodyn couldn’t help letting his grin show. “The Hunter of Voramis, the assassin you work for, came to Praamis a few weeks ago. He came hunting one of these Abaza—”

  “Abiarazi,” Evren corrected, a fraction of a second ahead of Hailen.

  Kodyn scowled. “These demons. Long story short, he ended up working with us—”

  “The Night Guild.” Evren’s words came as a statement, not a question.

  Kodyn snapped his mouth shut, eyes narrowing in suspicion. No one aside from Aisha, Briana, and the Black Widow knew who he really was or what brought him to Shalandra. Unless Evren’s in league with the Black Widow, there’s no other way he could have figured it out, right? Doubt flashed through his mind. Had he or Aisha done or said anything to give themselves away?

  Evren’s expression turned smug. “You’re not the only ones who know things.”

  Aisha continued before Kodyn recovered. “The Hunter helped the Night Guild hunt down the Gatherers, who were murdering people in their strange death-worshipping rituals. Together, the Guild and the Hunter took down those responsible, including the Abiarazi that the Hunter had come to Praamis to hunt.”

  Triumph sparkled in Evren’s eyes, and he exchanged a beaming grin with Hailen.

  Kodyn regained his composure enough to continue. “After, the Hunter came and spoke to my mother, telling her everything about the Serenii, the Devourer of Worlds, the demons, and his mission. My mother actually saw one of these Ab-ee-arazi…” Again, he stumbled on the unfamiliar word. “…with her own eyes. That’s kind of how she knew he was telling the truth about it all. Including that bit about the gods being nothing more than Serenii that the ancient humans worshipped.”

  “And you just believed something so big that easily?” Evren seemed surprised by this fact.

  Kodyn shrugged. “The Night Guild’s never had much use for the gods—beyond the Watcher in the Dark, patron of thieves, of course. Plus, the whole demon-in-human-disguise thing really sold it, at least to my mother, Ria, Jarl, and everyone else who saw the damned thing. Kind of hard to ignore that sort of evidence.”

  Not for the first time, Kodyn wished he’d been there to see it. Not that he regretted choosing to care for Briana and getting the other freed captives back to the safety of the Night Guild, of course. But something like that, a real live demon from the legends, is the sort of thing you only see once in a lifetime.

  Evren turned to Aisha. “And you?”

  Aisha’s expression grew pensive. “My people believe in the Kish’aa, the spirits of our ancestors. The gods are to be revered, but we do not worship them the way the rest of Einan does.” She shrugged. “It was not too hard to believe the Hunter’s tale, though I will admit that there is much about it that I do not understand.”

  “Tell me about it!” Evren nodded. “I’ve been working with the Hunter for almost four years now, and there’s still so much I don’t know.”

  A spluttering sound came from Briana, who had fallen onto her bed at some point. She seemed to struggle to find the words to speak.

  “I…don’t understand!” she finally managed to stammer out.

  Evren smiled at her. “I’ll do what I can to explain it. You see, the Serenii that lived at the same time as early humans offered mankind the shelter and safety of their cities, and—”

  “No, not that!” Briana snapped. “You said that something ‘killed the Serenii’?”

  “Oh, yeah, that.” Evren nodded. “Yes, the Serenii are killed off. Well, the ones that stayed to fight the Devourer of Worlds, that is. All of the rest, the cowardly ones, fled to another universe.” His face scrunched up. “That’s one I don’t quite understand, but that’s how the Hunter explained it.”

  “So the Serenii are dead?” Briana spoke in a clear, precise tone as if trying to make sense of the confusing words. “All of them?”

  “All but Kharna, yes,” Evren replied. “They sacrificed themselves to feed Kharna in his battle against the Great Devourer.”

  “But then if the Serenii are dead, how does he have their blood?” Briana thrust a finger at Hailen.

  Again, surprise registered on Evren’s face. “W-wait, who said anything about Hailen having Serenii blood?”

  “His blood activated the Serenii artifacts.” It was Briana’s turn to speak in the patient voice of a mother explaining something to a recalcitrant toddler. “There’s only one way that would happen, and it would be if he had Serenii blood.”

  Evren’s expression suddenly grew guarded.

  Looks like Briana hit that one right on the head, Kodyn thought.

  “Seems kind of an impossibility, if the Serenii died out…” Briana cocked her head. “…how long ago?”

  “Five thousand years, give or take.”

  Evren’s matter-of-fact tone struck Kodyn as incredibly odd. He’d had a harder time wrapping his mind around the Hunter’s words than he’d let on. Even now, he still struggled with the realization that the gods weren’t actually real. He’d told the truth that the Night Guild never had much need for the gods, yet the worship of the Thirteen was integral in every aspect of Einari culture.

  Warriors swore by the Swordsman or joined the ranks of the Legion of Heroes in service to the god of heroism. The Warrior Priests of Derelana roamed every corner of Einan, delivering holy vengeance in the name of their goddess. The Secret Keepers dedicated their lives to the study of secrets and mysteries of Einan, as their deity—the Mistress, goddess of whispered truths—desired.

  The priests of the Apprentice borrowed and loaned coin in the name of the Apprentice, god of fortune. The Illusionist Priests delved into the arts of the human brain and psyche thanks to the BOOK handed down to them by the Illusionist, god of madness, thousands of years ago. Even here in Shalandra, the entire culture revolved around worship of the Long Keeper, god of death.

  Yet to find it was all a lie proved unsettling. Kodyn had plenty of experience with myths and legends—the tales of his mother’s exploits had been blown far out of proportion over her years as Guild Master—but he still wrestled with the idea that mankind had been so wrong about so much for so long.

  “So,” Briana’s words snapped him back to reality, “if the Serenii died out five thousand years ago, how does Hailen have their blood?”

  “There are people on Einan that are descended from the Serenii,” Evren replied, “called the Elivasti. They—”

  “They are real?” Briana’s eyebrows shot up. “My father always insisted they were more than just legends from long ago.”

  Evren nodded. “Look at Hailen’s eyes.”

  “Evren!” Hailen protested.

  “It’s the best way to prove it,” Evren told the younger boy.

  After a long moment, Hailen sighed. “Fine.” He picked up the candle from the stone windowsill and held it up to his face. “There, see?”

  Kodyn sucked in a breath. “Yo
ur eyes, th-they’re—”

  Briana gasped. “Purple!”

  Hailen nodded. “It’s how you know that I’m a descendant of the Serenii.”

  “By the Seven Faces!” Briana breathed and sat back. “All this time, my father believed it was true, that the Serenii had descendants on Einan. The Secret Keepers’ writings spoke of the ‘violet-eyed children of the Serenii’, but to my father’s knowledge, no one had ever found proof of their existence.” A hint of sorrow flashed through her eyes and she gave Hailen a sad smile. “He would have loved to have met and spoken with you.”

  Kodyn placed a comforting hand on Briana’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m all right,” she said, her voice tight, and quickly turned away to wipe an errant tear. When she turned back, she once again spoke in a normal tone. “So your blood can activate the Serenii artifacts? All of them?”

  Hailen and Evren exchanged glances, then shrugged in tandem. “We don’t really know,” Evren said.

  “There’s not a lot of information available on the Serenii,” Hailen continued, “at least, not that we’ve found. I’ve been studying for the last few years with the Cambionari—a sort of sub-group of priests of the Beggar God that have spent the last few thousand years hunting Bucelarii, half-demons like the Hunter—but their knowledge is limited.” His eyes fixed on Briana. “Which is why I was hoping that I could work with you to study your father’s journals and learn what he knows about the Serenii.”

  Briana bolted upright. “Of course! He taught me the secret cipher that he used to encrypt his writings, so I could read them.” Again, the sad smile returned. “We both loved the Serenii—their art, their buildings, and the promise of their magic.” Excitement pushed back the sorrow in her eyes. “Magic that you can wield, right, Hailen?”

  The young boy nodded. “Yes. I’m what’s called a Melechha, which is a special kind of Elivasti. I somehow have more pure Serenii blood than anyone else. It’s why I can use the Serenii magic when none of the other Elivasti can.”

  “You’ve met the Elivasti?” Briana asked, eyes narrowed.

  “Yes.” Hailen grinned. “In Kara-ket, and again in Enarium.”

  Briana seemed at a loss for words, yet that same eager thrill set her eyes sparkling in the dancing candlelight.

  Kodyn had heard of the Hunter’s journey to the Lost City of Enarium from his mother. Stone monsters, demons and their human servants, towers that gathered magical energy—it was the sort of tale he’d loved as a child, and he couldn’t help his fascination.

  “Great.” Evren’s guarded expression had returned. “We’ve told you everything you need to know about us. Now it’s time you tell us about you.”

  Kodyn exchanged a glance with Aisha and Briana, then nodded. “Our story’s not quite as epic, but once we’re done, I think you’ll find we might actually be able to help each other out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Though Issa and her patrol had left the crowd far behind, the angry shouts and cries still echoed in her mind. They followed her westward along the Way of Chains, pounding in time with her racing heartbeat.

  Anger burned in her chest, but it was drowned out by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Everyone in Shalandra knew that food stores were limited. The farmlands outside the city barely produced a fraction of what the populace needed to survive. The vast majority of food came from outside the city, imported by the Pharus in exchange for shalanite and Shalandran steel, among other commodities. The Keeper’s Council controlled the rations in the name of the Pharus, and they determined the allotment for each caste. If any one caste received more, another received less. Trying to feed more Mahjuri could simply mean starving the Earaqi.

  I can’t just stand by and do nothing! The people of the lower tiers couldn’t survive much longer under these conditions. Between the Azure Rot, the limited water from the Lower Wellspring, and now the lack of food, the situation on the Slave’s Tier was dire. Things on the Cultivator’s Tier weren’t much better.

  But what can I do? She, a simple trainee, barely a caste above the people around her. Keeper’s teeth, I can’t even help my grandparents until I’m sworn into the Keeper’s Blades at the Anointing.

  Yet Issa was determined that something had to change. She would find a solution…somehow.

  The sight of the misery endured by the Mahjuri quickened her pace. She had to finish her patrol, had to get back to guarding Lady Briana, even return to Tannard’s cruelties at the Citadel of Stone. Anything was better than the suffering that surrounded her.

  Angry shouts echoed from ahead, and Issa was immediately alert, every muscle tense. Her stomach tightened as she caught sight of another Indomitable patrol standing around Hallar’s Triumph, a statue of Shalandra’s founder. Or, what had once been a statue. Someone had defaced it, hacking off both strong arms and head, until only a truncated torso and legs remained. Painted across the sandstone base of the statue, bright red words proclaimed “The Child of Secrets has come to save us”.

  The patrol of black-armored guards stood over a pitiful figure huddled against the base of the statue. The man could have been forty or eighty, barely more than a pile of rags, loose-hanging skin, and protruding bones. Blood trickled from cuts in his lip, nose, and forehead from where the Indomitables had struck him with their truncheons.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Issa demanded. She marched double-time, the thump, thump of her company’s boots a reassuring presence at her back.

  One of the Indomitables cast a glance at her, but the retort died on his lips as he caught sight of her Keeper’s Blade armor. “Hallar’s Triumph has been desecrated, and this Mahjuri is guilty of the crime.” He spat the word like an insult.

  “How do you know he was guilty?” Issa stopped in front of the Indomitable—a low-ranked Dictator, judging by the two vertical silver lines cutting through the blue Alqati band on his helmet. She locked eyes with the man. “Did you see him desecrating the statue?”

  “No.” The Indomitable’s expression grew stubborn. “But that doesn’t mean—”

  “Did any eyewitnesses identify him as the one responsible?” Issa glanced around. The streets were all but empty, though a few onlookers had gathered to watch the spectacle. “Any witnesses at all?”

  “No.” Again, the stubborn face to accompany the denial.

  Issa drew herself up to her full height and tried to sound authoritative. “So what proof have you that he is guilty of the crime?” The Indomitable might not know she was nothing more than a trainee.

  The Dictator shrugged. “We found him lying here, beneath the statue. And there’s fresh paint on his robes.” He gave the gaunt man a savage kick in his bony ribs, and when the Mahjuri folded up around the Indomitable’s boot, Issa caught a hint of red paint staining the back of his threadbare shendyt.

  “That is your evidence?” Issa raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “A few drops of paint?”

  “Yes, and that is all the evidence we need.” The Indomitable met her disbelief with dispassion. “There was a crime committed and this one was found at the site. Seems fairly cut and dry, if you ask me.”

  “Cut and dry because he’s actually guilty, or because it gives you a convenient victim to punish?” Anger raised Issa’s voice to a shout. “A man so weak that he can barely stand somehow managed to desecrate this statue and paint these words without getting a drop of that paint anywhere except his back. Which, of course, could never have come from him huddling against the freshly-painted statue for any chance of shelter from the wind?”

  As Issa’s voice rose, the Indomitable’s face hardened, anger smothering any expression. “Yes,” he snapped.

  “And because he is Mahjuri, no one will defend him!” Issa shouted. “No one on this tier dares to speak up in his defense because you will simply accuse them of being guilty.”

  “Guilty’s guilty.” The Indomitable shrugged. He thrust a finger at the man. “Unless anyone says otherwise, he’l
l swing in Murder Square for the crime.”

  “Do you not see the injustice of that?” Issa wanted to scream, to shout, to draw her sword and hack the man down where he stood. “You are going to kill a man for being too weak from hunger and thirst to be somewhere else when a crime was committed?”

  “He’s a Mahjuri,” came the dispassionate response. “One less mouth to feed.”

  Issa’s jaw dropped. For a long moment, anger stole the breath from her lungs, burned away words before they could form on her tongue. Finally, when she spoke, her voice was low, hard. “What is your name, Dictator?”

  “Nular,” the man replied. He straightened, defiance written in his eyes. “And I, unlike you, am actually a sworn member of the Indomitables, Prototopoi.” He sneered the word in the same insulting tone the older Blades did. “That sword you carry doesn’t give you any authority over me. I serve my Executors and the Lady of Blades. Not some snot-nosed trainee too young and stupid to know when to keep her mouth shut and walk away.”

  Instinct and common sense wrestled with Issa’s fury. To the Earaqi, the Indomitables and all members of the Alqati military caste were barely one step below the near-godlike Dhukari. The rational part of Issa knew that interfering with the Dictator could have dire consequences for her future in the Blades—the city’s elite often worked closely with the Indomitables. But right now, she wanted nothing more than to drive her mailed fist into Nular’s face. He wasn’t arrogantly smug like Kellas or cruel and cold like Tannard. He was worse: he simply didn’t care that what he was doing was clearly wrong. To him, the fact that the man was Mahjuri was excuse enough to haul him away to Murder Square.

  Rationale won the battle…barely. Issa’s fists clenched so tight she could almost feel the steel gauntlets bending, yet she managed to rein in her tongue and step aside as Dictator Nular marched the old man in the direction of Murder Square.

  With a growl of fury, Issa whirled and stalked toward Trader’s Way, mind racing. If she could alert one of her superiors to what had happened—surely Hykos would be sympathetic to the Mahjuri man’s plight and help her work the news up the chain to the Elders or even Lady Callista—she might be able to get the man pardoned before he was strung up or beheaded in Murder Square.