Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  She forced herself up to her knees, gritting her teeth. You want vengeance? She shouted silently at the spirits. You wish justice for your deaths?

  Hundreds of ghostly eyes turned toward her, empty yet shining with that strange blue-white light. Their mouths opened in a silent, whispering scream in her mind.

  YES!

  Then you will have it, she roared in her mind, but my way!

  The spirits retreated and suddenly Aisha could breathe, could control her limbs. She stood, shaky but unwavering.

  I am Umoyahlebe, and I answer the call of the dead. She raised her clenched fists high. But I do not serve you. You will serve me!

  Aisha focused on the twin sparks of Eldesse and Osirath sizzling up and down her arms. She imagined herself seizing the glowing embers in her fists, stopping them, then pushing them down toward her fingertips. Her breath came in ragged gasps, sweat streaming down her face, but she could feel the energy responding to her will. It heeded her commands, slipping from her biceps to her forearms, her wrists, her palms, and finally her fingers.

  She stared down at her hands, watching the sparks dancing between her fingertips. The blue-white light obeyed her will—the will of a Spirit Whisperer.

  Triumph surged within her, and she turned her eyes on the wall of Kish’aa. If you would have vengeance, give me your power, and I will seek out the guilty. You will be avenged through me!

  For a moment, nothing happened. The spirits remained unmoving, their empty eyes fixed on her. Then one seemed to shimmer, as if blown on a summer zephyr, drifting toward her slowly. A woman, grey-haired, her skin covered by the strange blue blisters, her head twisted at a terrible angle. As her spirit flowed and merged with Aisha, an image slammed into Aisha’s mind: starving, in agony, yet struggling with every shred of defiance as strong hands closed around her neck. Hands that bore the tattooed mark of the Gatherers.

  Another spirit floated forward, then another, and still more. Five, ten, twenty, each bringing their own memory of death. Some had succumbed to illness, like Thimara, yet their cries for vengeance echoed with no less intensity than those murdered by men and women bearing the mark of the death-worshipping cult. Aisha couldn’t understand each of them—many of their deaths seemed senseless, unconnected to the Gatherers in any way she could discern—but their enmity for the cultists burned as hot and bright as Eldesse and Osirath.

  Energy sizzled within her hands, and it took all her concentration to keep the power from surging through every fiber of her being. Finally, she felt as if her skin would burst into flames from the crackling force of the spirits she had absorbed.

  Enough! She staggered back, her clenched fists lowering to her sides. You will have your vengeance.

  For a moment, she feared the Kish’aa would ignore her command. She couldn’t take any more—already, too much power crackled through her body.

  Yet the wall of spirits made no move toward her. They fixed determined eyes on her, and their voices echoed in her mind one last time.

  Vengeance!

  Slowly, like mist carried away by a morning breeze, they dispersed until Aisha stood alone in the Keeper’s Crypts.

  No, not alone. Within the core of her being, she could feel the dozens of spirits she had absorbed. Feel their emotions, their burning desire for vengeance. The dead would have what they desired.

  She whirled back toward the Gatherers’ camp, but stopped as she caught sight of figures moving through the tombstones up the hill. To any mortal eyes, they would be invisible in their black cloaks, but the blue-white light of the Kish’aa outlined them clearly for her to see. They were too far away for her to get an accurate count, but they had nearly reached the level of the Artisan’s Tier and the way out of the Keeper’s Crypts.

  Briana and Kodyn!

  Her mind raced. She had no idea how long she had been trapped in her discourse with the dead, but somehow the Gatherers had mobilized and gotten a head start on her. She had to get back to warn the others.

  The spirits protested as she turned eastward, away from the huddled Gatherers, but Aisha gritted her teeth against the pull on her limbs. We do it my way! she growled silently. That means protecting my friends from the ones who killed you.

  After a moment of struggle, the tension suddenly snapped and she could move freely once more. Her eyes sought the Gatherers up the hill but they had moved beyond her line of sight.

  Fear gripped her stomach. She had to get to her friends in time to warn them of the danger.

  Please, let me be in time!

  The thought rang in her head as she staggered upright and stumbled forward on numb legs. Her feet were leaden, her muscles suddenly drained, yet she pushed on. She would fight on until her last breath.

  She scanned the Crypts for any sign of an Indomitable patrol to send after the Gatherers or bring word to Briana. But the Crypts stood empty, silent, the darkness broken only by the blue-white glow of the Kish’aa and the myriad of solemn stone faces watching the shadows.

  Aisha’s stumbling gait quickened to walk, then a jog, then finally a full-on run. Faster and faster, her strides lengthening under her long legs ate up the ground. She released her grip on a fraction of the fire crackling within her and allowed it to flow through her body. A gasp burst from her lips as energy coursed in her veins, a surge of lightning that set every muscle in her body ablaze and burned away all traces of exhaustion.

  Suddenly, she could run free and unencumbered by such mortal things as fatigue. The power of the Kish’aa flowed through her. She had answered the call of the spirits and this was how they kept their end of the bargain.

  She fairly flew up the steep incline toward the Artisan’s Tier. Yet even as she raced out of the Keeper’s Crypt and down the Artificer’s Courseway, she knew she’d never overtake the Gatherers before they reached Briana. She had to hope Kodyn and the others could hold out until she reached them.

  Energy crackled through her as she raced past the Sanctuary. The spirits of the dead cried out to her but she ran on, ignoring their pleas. She could take no more power—already, she felt as if she would burn alive from the inside out—yet there was no denying the breathtaking might that coursed through her.

  Her gut clenched as she saw the figures locked in furious combat around the house. Dozens of shadowy figures fought in the streets, a swirling mass of glinting blades and swirling cloaks.

  A savage war cry burst from her lips as she drew her assegai spear and charged the nearest enemy.

  The Gatherer turned toward her, stunned, and managed a half-hearted swipe of his sword. Aisha danced out of the path of his blow and drove the head of her short-handled spear into his gut. The power of the Kish’aa drove her arm forward hard enough to punch through his leather armor and the flesh beneath. Blood and bile spilled onto the cobblestones as she ripped the assegai free and spun toward her next enemy.

  Two more Gatherers charged her, and suddenly the spirits within her flared to life of their own accord. Aisha thrust out her hands as she had in Briana’s bedroom and ten blue-white sparks shot out of her fingers. The lights leapt through the darkness and flew straight toward the men. Aisha’s jaw dropped as the two Gatherers hurtled through the air, slamming into the side of Briana’s house. Bone crunched and the smell of burning flesh filled the night as the dead had their vengeance upon their killers.

  Hands seized her from behind, and Aisha whirled, her fist lashing out. The man screamed as his flesh sizzled and he was hurled backward like a ragdoll in a tornado.

  Dagger in her left hand, assegai in her right, she danced through the Gatherers, a whirlwind of spinning blades and striking wood. Two more cultists fell in seconds, and she found herself fighting beside Archateros Hykos and his enormous sword. A sword that now bore a blue-white glow of those he had killed, a glow only she could see.

  Aisha’s eyes followed the swinging blade, mesmerized. It seemed to strike with more force than regular steel, each blow backed by the power of the spirits clinging to its length. Jus
t like her attacks. Somehow, the swords could actually absorb and use the power of the Kish’aa.

  “Look out!” Hykos shouted, and leapt toward Aisha. The flame-shaped blade passed a finger’s breath from her side, almost close enough to slice her clothing. Energy danced between her skin and the sword’s surface like burning cinders kicked up by a breeze.

  A quiet “Hurrrgh” sounded behind her, accompanied by a weak cough and a clatter of steel on stone. She whipped around and came face to face with a Gatherer. His face was twisted into a mask of pain, his fanatical expression marred by the blood trickling from his mouth. His hands clutched at the black blade of Hykos’ sword buried in his chest. The sword gave a quiet hiss as Hykos pulled it free. The Gatherer fell back without a sound, mouth agape and eyes fixed on the sky.

  “Thank you,” Aisha told the Blade.

  For answer, Hykos saluted with his sword and turned to continue fighting. Aisha took in the battle scene at a glance. She followed Kodyn as he dashed toward the door, broke through the Gatherers, and turned to take up defensive position beside Rothin. Her eyes snapped toward Issa and the others beside her. The two Blades—two?—and the Indomitable patrol had managed to drive a group of fifteen Gatherers away from the house and were now locked in a furious combat. The cultists fought with zeal and the ferocity of madmen, but they faced opponents in heavy armor and wielding longer swords. They had the situation under control.

  Aisha almost turned back toward the door to go help Kodyn, but caught a hint of movement in the corner of her eye. One of the Gatherers had broken off from the pack or hung back, and now slipped through the shadows in an attempt to escape. Yet one obstacle barred his path to freedom: Issa, fighting two Gatherers a few steps in front of her patrol.

  Moonlight glimmered on a short sword, and Aisha watched as the cultist raised his sword to attack. Issa was so focused on the enemies in front of her that she failed to see the one coming at her from the side.

  Aisha’s right arm moved of its own accord, driven by the power of the spirits still within her. She whipped her spear up, back, and forward, her fingers releasing it at the perfect point, as she’d trained to do a thousand times. The short-handled spear lacked the heft and balance of the buffalo spears used by Ghandian hunters, but it flew straight and true. Blue-white energy crackled along its length as the last of the Kish’aa sought vengeance for their deaths. The forearm-length blade buried into the man’s side and the force of the throw hurled him away from Issa. He collapsed, gasping for air as blood gushed from his sliced lungs. Yet he could not cry out—smoke rose from his mouth as the sizzling, crackling energy burned him alive.

  Issa finished off her two enemies with a powerful horizontal chop that severed a head and carved through ribs. Even as she kicked the dying Gatherers off her blade, she glanced to the side and down at the dying man. Her head snapped up, eyes locking on Aisha.

  Aisha gave her a smile and a nod. “You’re welcome!” she called over the clash of blades.

  She had no time to see Issa’s response, for a cry from Kodyn brought her head whipping around toward the door. The young Praamian stood defiant in the entrance to the house, his swords flashing, yet Aisha could see that he was about to be overwhelmed by the three Gatherers attacking him. One actually looked ready to rush in and throw himself on Kodyn’s blades to make way for the others.

  Aisha took that one down first. She crossed the distance to the Gatherers in three steps and drove her dagger into the man’s back. The blade slipped along the right side of the Gatherer’s spine, tearing a gaping hole in the large vein near his kidney. A weak gasp and a grunt of pain escaped the man’s lips even as blood gushed from the wound. Aisha spun, twisting her body and bending the man backward over her knee. The Gatherer fell to the street, his head striking stones with a dull crunch. He didn’t get back up.

  The last two Gatherers died moments later. Kodyn’s sword took one in the chest, and Hykos brought his huge two-handed blade around in a powerful blow that chopped through skin, muscle, organs, and spine. They flopped to the ground, their arms thrashing, bleeding out in a matter of seconds.

  A final clash of steel on steel rang out on the street, accompanied by a wet thud of a blade striking home. Issa snarled as she ripped her flammard free of the Gatherer’s chest. Even as the man sagged, the Keeper’s Blade hurried toward them.

  “Two of the bastards got away!” Anger blazed in her eyes as she flicked the blood from her blade.

  Aisha resisted the urge to step back from the huge sword. It glowed blue-white, so bright it nearly hurt her eyes—more than a dozen spirits clung to its blade.

  “Did you see which way they went?” Hykos demanded.

  Issa nodded. “That way.” Her finger thrust in the direction of the Temple District. “I don’t know where they think they’ll hide among the temples, but—”

  “No,” Aisha cut in. “Not the temples. The Keeper’s Crypts.”

  Issa’s mouth snapped shut, and she turned to Aisha, eyes narrowed. “What? How do you know?”

  “I went there.” She shot a glance at Kodyn and Hykos. “I was waiting outside of the temples, when…” She hesitated. If she told them the truth, that she’d followed the cries of the dead, they would call her insane. “…I saw some men slipping through the shadows,” she lied.

  The time would come when she would have to explain, but not now. They had a good chance of putting an end to the Gatherers once and for all, with Issa, Hykos, and the others.

  “I followed them into the Keeper’s Crypts, down the hill and deep into the mountain. Near a huge statue of a man with a scythe.”

  Hykos, Issa, and the other Blade exchanged glances. “The Crucible of Fortune!”

  The name meant nothing to Aisha, but she nodded. “I saw more than a hundred there, but someone—a thief, by the looks of him—brought them a message.” She shot Kodyn and Issa a meaningful look. “They are working with the Ybrazhe.”

  Angry mutters echoed among the Indomitables. Aisha glanced at them and was surprised to find they were all young, none older than Hykos and one perhaps two or three years younger than Briana. They had to be trainees like Issa.

  “Damn the Syndicate!” the other Keeper’s Blade growled. Her gauntleted fists formed into a tight ball as she heaped a string of curses onto the Ybrazhe.

  “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” The determination in Issa’s voice matched her grim expression. “But right now, we’ve got a nest of Gatherers to root out. Hykos, you’re coming with me and—”

  “Into the Crypts?” This came from one of the Indomitables behind Issa. “What about the living dead? The Stumblers who come to life after dark? I’d rather not face those, thank you!”

  “Which is exactly why the Gatherers have remained hidden all this time.” Issa’s expression had grown pensive. “They’re hiding in the one place no one thought to look for them. Until now.” She turned to the third Blade. “Etai, you’re staying here to keep an eye on Briana.”

  “What?” The Blade’s eyebrows shot up. “But you said Lady Callista—”

  “Entrusted us with the mission of keeping Briana safe.” A meaningful look flashed in Issa’s eyes. Though the meaning was lost to Aisha, the girl, Etai, seemed to understand. “Hykos and I will take the Indomitables into the Crypts and see what we can do about the Gatherers.”

  “There were more than a hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty,” Aisha said, trying to remember how many she’d seen. “It looked like a base camp or hideout.”

  “Good.” Issa nodded. “If the numbers are bad and we’re too outnumbered, we’ll hang back and keep an eye on things until we can get reinforcements. But right now, we’ve got their location, and I’ll be damned if I let them slip through our fingers again.”

  “Agreed,” Hykos said. He turned to Etai. “Keep them safe until we return, and I will make personally certain that Lady Callista knows the part you played in tonight’s victory.”

  That seemed to cheer up the young girl. �
��Yes, Archateros.” She saluted, then turned a smile on Issa. “Make the bastards pay!”

  Issa’s expression grew fierce. “Damned right!” She turned her piercing eyes on Kodyn and Aisha. “When I return, we must get you to Lady Callista before noon.”

  Kodyn arched an eyebrow. “Noon?”

  Issa glanced at her Indomitables, Etai, and Hykos. After a moment of hesitation, she drew Aisha and Kodyn aside. “The Lady of Blades says that if we don’t make our move before the Councilor is anointed at high noon in the Hall of the Beyond, it will be too late.”

  Aisha sucked in a breath. Too late? Likely that meant the Necroseti and the Keeper’s Council would use their power and the strength of their temple walls to shield Angrak.

  Kodyn frowned. “Then I’ll go now.” He patted his pocket. “I’ve got what we need to convict him. I can ask for an audience with Lady Ca—”

  “No!” The forcefulness of Issa’s hiss surprised Aisha. The Keeper’s Blade glanced around, as if danger lurked in every shadow. “We can’t risk anyone leaking the information to the Necroseti before Lady Callista is ready to move. No one will question your presence if you’re with me, but alone, a foreigner, you’ll stick out like an ox in a pastry shop.”

  Aisha grinned at the mental image of the broad-shouldered young man bumbling through stacks of delicate baked goods.

  “Fine,” Kodyn said, half-growl, half-sigh. “But the minute you’re done with these Gatherers, you get back here so we can get the information to Lady Callista immediately.”

  “I’ll be here.” With a nod, Issa turned on her heel to face her patrol. “Indomitables, fall in! To the Keeper’s Crypts, double-time!”

  Aisha watched Issa, Hykos, and the Indomitables marching west, toward the Keeper’s Crypts. A part of her wanted to go with them—to be there when the Gatherers were brought down, to help the spirits find their vengeance—but she knew her place was here, with her friends.

  Yet she couldn’t help feeling somehow…different. Something had changed tonight. She had controlled the spirits, had used their power consciously. Her Umoyahlebe gift had saved the lives of her friends once more and she had wielded the Kish’aa.