“Hailen, this is Issa of the Keeper’s Blades.” Briana spoke in a tone midway between friendly and formal. “Issa, this is Hailen, Evren’s brother and my research assistant.”
Evren couldn’t see Issa’s expression, but she cocked her head as she studied the boy seated on the bed.
Hailen grinned, closed the book, and hopped off the bed. “Nice to meet you, Issa.” As he held out a hand, Evren caught sight of the shallow cut on his forefinger. Worry thrummed within him; Hailen had been experimenting with the Serenii artifacts, activated by his blood.
“And you, Hailen.” Issa gripped the boy’s hand and shook.
Hailen’s eyes boggled as he realized just how much taller the Keeper’s Blade was. Her snarling lion helmet and the spikes protruding from her shoulders made her appear even larger and fiercer. A grin broadened Evren’s face as Hailen shot him a surprised look.
Briana reached for one of the black stone artifacts on the bed and held it out to Issa. “These are Serenii-made.”
The simple statement elicited a stunned reaction from the Keeper’s Blade. She nearly dropped the stone one second, then cradled it with a fascinated reverence the next.
“My father spent his life studying everything he could find on the Serenii.” Briana plucked up her father’s journal. “These pages are filled with all the information he wanted to share with me, despite the Secret Keepers’ fanatical devotion to secrecy. When Angrak took over my father’s mansion, he tried to claim the books and artifacts for himself. Only Hailen’s quick thinking kept all of this from falling into the hands of the Necroseti.”
Not just the Keeper’s priests! Dread settled like a stone in Evren’s gut as a dire realization dawned on him. He might have passed them to the Gatherers or the Ybrazhe. He had no idea what the death-worshipping cultists or the Syndicate could hope to gain from those things, but he’d much rather they didn’t have even a chance of unlocking the power of the Serenii.
“It is my hope that we can find something in my father’s journals that can help us unlock the secrets of the Serenii artifacts,” Briana continued. “They could be powerful weapons to turn against our enemies, but only if we can learn more about them. Which is why I insist that it is not yet time to reveal this information to Lady Callista. Right now, they are nothing more than ancient stones, as inert and useless as the ground beneath our feet.”
Issa’s expression grew pensive, as if debating whether or not her oath to Lady Callista and the Keeper’s Blades superseded her promise of secrecy to Briana. Finally, she nodded and handed back the stone. “You will inform Lady Callista the moment they become useful?”
“Upon my father’s soul, I swear it.” Sincerity echoed in Briana’s words.
“Then my lips are sealed on the matter.” Issa gave Briana a little bow.
“Thank you.” Briana smiled at the Keeper’s Blade, then turned to Hailen. “Show me what you have uncovered.”
Hailen hesitated, shooting a questioning glance at Evren. There was only one reason for the boy’s equivocation: he’d found something linked to his blood, as evidenced by the cut on his finger. He’d shared the secret of his Melechha heritage with Briana, Kodyn, and Aisha, but he was looking to Evren to know whether or not he could share it with Issa.
A thousand fears flashed through Evren’s mind in that instant. If the Lady of Blades knew the truth of Hailen, she’d be a fool to let such power slip through her fingers—or worse, end up in the clutches of the Necroseti, Gatherers, or Ybrazhe Syndicate. If Issa somehow let the information out at the wrong time or to the wrong person, Hailen could end up imprisoned “for his own safety” or killed.
He gave a subtle shake of his head. Hailen’s secret was one he wouldn’t risk falling into the wrong hands.
“Well,” Hailen said, his tone hedged with caution, “I wanted to show you how much of the Serenii language I can read. Thanks to your father’s journal, of course.”
Evren recognized the tone, the same one Hailen used when trying to convince the Hunter that he hadn’t finished off the last of the creamed honey when all of them knew he had. He’s many things, but he’s definitely not a good liar.
“Look.” He plucked up an ink brush he’d gotten from somewhere—Evren guessed Nessa had a hand in its acquisition—dipped it into a glass pot of black ink, and began painting on one of the blank parchments that lay strewn across the bed.
“These are the Serenii runes that I believe refer to the Vault of Ancients.” His fingers maneuvered the brush with confidence, his strokes clean and tidy, forming runes. Hailen’s handwriting was as beautiful as Evren had seen during his years in the Master’s Temple. “Though, from what I can figure out, the Serenii called it ‘room of waiting’.”
He set about painting a second line of runes just below the first. “I’ve always seen these symbols next to any mentions of the vault. I think they are referring to some sort of key—see here the marking for ‘opening’ and ‘mechanism’—but I can’t be sure until I know more.”
Hailen held up the parchment to Briana with a triumphant smile.
Evren concealed a relieved sigh as the boy finished his explanation without revealing his heritage as a Melechha to Issa.
Briana seemed genuinely delighted at his progress. “We’ll decipher my father’s writings far faster once you learn to read more of the Serenii runes and my father’s cipher.” She flipped through the journal until she found a specific page. “This is the translation key. Memorize these characters and this sequence of numbers, and…”
Despite his interest in ciphers and codes, he couldn’t force himself to keep listening as Briana went off on a long-winded explanation of the alphanumerical cipher. He was running on too little sleep, and fatigue slowly crept up on him.
Lead settled into Evren’s muscles with every passing second and his eyelids began to droop. He’d had only a few hours of rest each night for the last week, and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. Silently, he slipped from the room.
Choosing a comfortable seat against a nearby corner, Evren leaned his head back against the wall. He’d been pushing so hard for so many days that it felt strange to finally have a moment to relax and do nothing. The last of their leads had gone cold until Kodyn broke into Angrak’s mansion tonight and obtained the incriminating evidence. Here, with a Keeper’s Blade standing guard at the door, he could finally let out the breath that he felt he’d been holding since the death of Brother Modestus.
The problem of the Vault of Ancients still nagged at the back of his mind, but right now he was too tired to worry about it. They had the map Ennolar had given Kodyn, which would get them into the palace and close enough to the vault. The rest could wait until after he’d slept a few hours. He no longer had to worry about finding a way to protect Hailen or uncover some nefarious plot.
For the first time since his arrival in Shalandra, Evren slipped into an untroubled sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Issa shifted to her right foot to ease the tension on her left knee and ankle. The weight of her armor dragged on her shoulders and made her spine ache, but the worst part of standing guard was always the discomfort in her lower body. Lack of motion could cause the blood to pool in her legs and feet, potentially leading to fainting. She had to constantly shift back and forth to keep her circulation up.
Yet no amount of irritation would distract her from her duty of watching the few people passing by. From her position, she couldn’t quite see the Artificer’s Courseway, though she could tell that traffic along the main avenue was slowing simply by the reduced number of people that passed the side streets to her right and left. The sparsity of passersby gave her time to study each man, woman, and child carefully for any hint of a weapon or any indication of excessive curiosity—more than would be warranted by the presence of a Keeper’s Blade in the Artisan’s Tier, that was.
With Briana occupied in her father’s journals and the others either resting or planning, Issa had decided to do
what she’d been ordered to. The afternoon had passed in a weary blur. The few hours of sleep she’d had that night wouldn’t sustain her much longer. Thankfully, Briana’s Steward, Nessa, had been kind enough to bring her food and drink.
She’d spent much of the afternoon mulling over her conversations with Briana and the others. She had been surprised by her own forthrightness when admitting to being here on Lady Callista’s business. Yet there had been no regret even as she spoke the words. She needed them to trust her, and her honesty had gone a long way toward earning the truth of Briana and her two bodyguards.
Evren was a different story. Issa hadn’t missed the subtle, silent exchange between Hailen and Evren. There was more to this matter of Arch-Guardian Suroth’s private journals than they had revealed. At the same time, given the fact that the information belonged to a Secret Keeper, the most enigmatic and reclusive of the priesthoods, she couldn’t exactly blame them.
The sight of a familiar black-armored figure set anxiety roiling within Issa. Hykos’ expression was somber, his jaw muscles clenched tight. Few things could make the usually cheery Archateros look so grim. His face and the way he marched toward her at a hurried walk told her that he didn’t come bearing good news.
“Tannard’s sent me to relieve you,” Hykos told her. “He expects you in the Citadel of Stone at dusk, or else.” He didn’t say what the Invictus had threatened, but his ominous tone made it clear that Tannard had something particularly cruel in mind.
Issa’s jaw dropped. “Dusk?” The sun had already begun to dip toward the western horizon and would set in less than two hours. Her only hope of making it across the entire Artisan’s Tier, up two levels to the Keeper’s Tier, and again westward to the Citadel of Stone would be at a dead run. Once again, Tannard demanded the impossible of her.
With an angry growl, Issa set off at a run. She had no time to bid farewell to Lady Briana or her companions, no time even to stop for a drink of water or bite of food. Any delay, even stopping for a busy crowd or a passing wagon, could prevent her from reaching the Citadel by Tannard’s ridiculous deadline.
Sweat drenched her undertunic by the time she reached Trader’s Way, but she forced herself to keep up a steady pace. She had run the Full Score—twenty laps around the huge training yard in heavy armor—alongside the rest of her fellow trainees, yet this was insane. Her lungs begged for air and her leg muscles burned with every step. She could almost hear Tannard’s rumbling voice in her mind.
“The Keeper’s chosen does not succumb to fatigue,” he’d growl at her. “A Blade must be able to run until their legs turn to jelly and they’ve sweat every drop of fluid out of their bodies, and still keep running.” That last bit might have been an exaggeration, but he would make some exaggerated claim along those lines.
Perhaps, once she received the Keeper’s gifts like the other Anointed Blades, she’d have endurance like Chirak, Etai’s Archateros trainer. But at that moment, she had nothing more than her determination and years of training in Killian’s practice yard to keep her going.
Darkness pressed in against the edges of her vision as she reached Death Row and turned north. The ascent nearly shattered her willpower. Weighed down by her armor and two-handed flammard, she could do little more than gasp for air and pray to the Long Keeper for strength.
Somehow, impossibly, she managed to make it all the way to the top level. The guards at both the Defender’s and Keeper’s Tier gave way for her without question, and Issa didn’t slow to satisfy the curiosity burning in their eyes. She could only keep running, keep gasping for air, keep fighting to drive down the feeling of dread that she’d never make it in time.
A frustrated growl burst from her lips as she sped past the entrance to the Palace of Golden Eternity. She needed to get to Lady Callista and pass on the information Briana and her comrades had uncovered—a surprising amount, given their current predicament.
But something told her Lady Callista wouldn’t shield her from Tannard’s punishment. Even if the information helped the Lady of Blades take down the Necroseti, Tannard would be waiting to administer her next torment. Her only hope lay in reaching the Citadel of Stone before Tannard’s deadline, then somehow slip away into the palace to update Lady Callista. The delay grated on her but at that moment she had no choice but to keep going. On she ran, arms pumping, sword smacking against her back and legs with every step.
Her legs finally gave out as she reached the Hall of the Beyond and she collapsed against the enormous sandstone temple. She lay on the dust-covered ground, gasping for air. Her legs, back, and feet ached from the relentless pace but all she could think of was the triumph in Tannard’s eyes as he inflicted whatever new cruel punishment he’d cooked up for her.
The stony face of Hallar glared down at her from above the palace. Those eyes, as black as shalanite, fixed on her. The scarred lines of his face seemed to shout at her to get up, to keep fighting, as he had every day of his life.
With a groan, she forced herself to her arms and knees, then her feet. She stumbled on, pulse pounding in her ears. Her slow shuffle became a steady walk, then jog. Faster and faster until she was running despite the pain racing through her body.
Her grandmother’s words from the last time they’d spoken echoed in Issa’s mind. “Nothing can stop you, nechda. The only one who can stop you is you. You only fail when you stop fighting.”
She nearly wept as the Citadel of Stone came into view at the western edge of the Keeper’s Tier, and still the sun hadn’t touched the top of the golden sandstone cliff. Issa poured every shred of strength into the final run. She broke into a sprint, her legs pumping and sword clanking as she closed the remaining distance to the open gates.
I did it!
She collapsed just over the threshold. Sweat streamed off her face and mingled with the dust of the road. Her stomach heaved, and it took all of her effort to keep the vomit down. Tears of exhaustion and relief streamed from her eyes.
A shadow fell across the ground beside her. She didn’t need to look up to know it was Tannard—his very presence seemed to suck the last traces of warmth from the evening.
“Glad you could join us,” he rumbled. His voice held no trace of happiness, anger, or irritation…nothing at all. His words were as emotionless as his stony face. “If you’re done with your little holiday, it’s time for your real training.”
Issa bit her lip until it bled. Every shred of self-control went into keeping her clenched fists on the ground beside her. Exhaustion saved her from losing the battle with her temper—she was simply too tired to attack the callous bastard.
“Any day now, Prototopoi.”
Issa lifted her head, though it took an immense will, and met his dark, cold eyes. “Of course, Invictus.”
Her muscles protested as she forced herself upright. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs, and the world spun in crazy circles. Yet she stood anyway, swaying slightly, and held Tannard’s gaze.
“Training yard.” He thrust a finger west, toward the tunnel that cut through the eastern wing of the Citadel and opened onto the open yard at its heart.
Issa took one agonizing step, then another, and still more. Her numb feet cried out but she kept walking for fear she’d collapse if she stopped.
In the shadow of a stone archway, away from prying eyes and listening ears, Issa finally did stop. “Wait,” she said in a low voice. “I have to speak to Lady Callista.”
Tannard shot a disdainful glance over his shoulder. “Of course. While you’re at it, perhaps you’ll share a quiet dinner with the Pharus and dance with Hallar himself, eh?”
Issa ground her teeth at his mocking tone. “The Lady of Blades commanded me to come to her with information she needed to hear. I have such information, so I need to go see her at once.”
Tannard stopped, turned on his heel, and stalked toward her. “And I’m just supposed to let you go?” He snorted. “You’re not the first prototopoi to come up with some wild story to get out of traini
ng.”
“You were there when she called me to her office this morning!” All of the pent-up rage within Issa’s chest burst out in a furious shout. “If she didn’t tell you what she wanted me for, that’s not my fault!”
Tannard moved so fast Issa barely had time to react. His fist flashed out in a blur. She had no strength to raise her arms to block the blow. All she could do was turn with the punch to soften the impact.
It still felt like being struck by a charging ox. Blackness closed in on her vision and when the world swam back into focus around her, she clung to the wall. Pain raced through her jaw and she could taste blood in her mouth.
“Beware your tone, Prototopoi!” Tannard had gone from blazing fury to a cold monotone in an instant. “You owe your commanding officers respect.”
“As do you!” Issa spat blood into the dust. “Which is why you have to let me speak to Lady Callista. I’m simply following her orders to—”
“Give me the information.” Tannard cut her off with a savage chop of his hand. “I will relay it to her while you are training.”
Issa clamped her mouth shut, though it sent a fresh wave of pain through her jaw. Tannard’s mailed fist would leave a bruise, she knew, but at that moment it only added to her anger.
“No.” She met his eyes. “For Lady Callista’s ears alone.”
“You say it is urgent,” Tannard rumbled. “The only way the Lady of Blades hears it now is if you give it to me to tell her.”
Issa fixed him with a defiant glare. She wanted to fight, wanted to argue until he gave in, but one look in his eyes told her that she’d have more luck squeezing wine from a diamond. And she was too tired for another battle of wills. All she wanted was to get away from the cruel Invictus before he found some new way to torment her.
Yet she wouldn’t risk her sensitive information falling into the wrong hands. Lady Callista instructed that I bring it to her and her alone. But if this is the only way to get it to her…
“Tell her Angrak,” Issa told the Invictus.
Heirs of Destiny Box Set Page 62