Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Briana’s expression brightened, but before she could speak, Uryan’s fingers began moving.

  “However,” the grey-haired woman signed, “let one thing be abundantly clear: you are not a Secret Keeper. You will not have access to anything more than is pertinent for you to continue your father’s research. You and your companions will be quartered in a restricted section of the temple, your comings and goings monitored to ensure that you do not attempt to go where you are not permitted or see what is forbidden to you.”

  Another Secret Keeper, the purple-haired woman, signed next. “The day will soon come when we must speak of your future. Either following your parents’ footsteps in the temple or…” She hesitated. “The choice will be yours.”

  Briana stiffened, yet she nodded. “I understand and agree.”

  “So be it.” Ennolar bowed. “Briana, daughter of Arch-Guardian Suroth, the Temple of Whispers formally extends its sanctuary. For as long as you remain, you are granted the protection of our holy Mistress and are bound to her secrecy. If you break this vow, you will be subjected to the same measures that a consecrated would face. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Briana replied. “And I swear by the Mistress that I will not break the vow of secrecy.”

  “Then it is done.” Ennolar’s expression softened. “Come, child. A place has been prepared for you and your companions. A place where you can rest and recover from all that you have endured.”

  Again, a strange transformation occurred in front of Aisha. Briana went from the poised, proud Dhukari to the young woman, daughter who had lost her father, a Dhukari that had lost her home.

  “Thank you.” She smiled, a tired expression that revealed the depths of her exhaustion, physical and mental.

  The stone wall slid open again and Ennolar motioned for them to follow. Hailen cast an apprehensive glance into the featureless stone passage. The strange luminescent gemstones set into the wall filled the tunnel with a gloomy, almost funereal glow. Aisha’s heart panged for the boy. He’d just agreed to allow Briana to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb to buy her safety. A decision few so young would ever make, yet he’d agreed without hesitation.

  She understood why Evren called him his brother. Hailen had the same strength of will and nobility of spirit. They had endured much together and come out stronger for it. That made them true warriors in a way that no skill at arms ever would.

  Suddenly, the pounding in her head rose to a feverish pitch as Guardian Uryan turned to leave. Aisha nearly cried out with the force of Thimara’s insistence. The spark of life surged so bright and hot Aisha feared she would be burned alive from within. The torrent of emotions once again within her like a stampeding herd of Zabara.

  “Guardian Uryan.” The words burst from her lips with a force beyond her control. “A moment.”

  Uryan stopped and turned to her with a questioning glance.

  Though it nearly killed her, Aisha waited until the rest of the Guardians had filed out of the room. “You knew Thimara, yes?” Her fingers flashed in the silent language, moving almost of their own will as Thimara’s message struggled to burst free of Aisha’s chest.

  The woman’s close-set eyes narrowed, making her face appear even sterner. “What of it?”

  “She loved you.” Aisha nearly wept from the force of the emotions—the fondness, devotion, the yearning—that flooded every fiber of her being.

  Uryan’s eyes narrowed. “Be wary of what you speak, girl.”

  “She carved your names into her windowsill,” Aisha said, a lump rising to her throat. For a moment, she could actually see through Thimara’s eyes, watching her hand chisel the names and that heart into the stone. Thimara reached out through her and took Uryan’s hands.

  The Secret Keeper was so stunned she couldn’t react, but simply stared as if at a woman possessed. Which, in many ways, Aisha truly was.

  “It was done with all the love in her heart.” Now, tears—Thimara’s tears—streamed from her eyes. The dead could not weep, so she would cry for them. “Though she is gone, her spirit still remains. Her memories of you and the way she felt go with her into the Sleepless Lands.”

  A strange look flashed across Uryan’s face. Shocked surprise, confusion, yet a hint of something else beneath—sorrow at the loss of a loved one, tinged with happiness as if she recalled a fond memory. Without a word, Uryan pulled her hands free of Aisha’s grip and she slipped down the tunnel, but not before Aisha caught a glimmer of moisture in her eyes.

  The moment shattered, and Aisha staggered, reeling from the intensity of Thimara’s emotions. She dragged in a shuddering breath for what seemed the first time in forever. She felt as if a burden had lifted from her chest—the burden that had settled onto her when she absorbed Thimara’s spirit into her body.

  Being Umoyahlebe meant so much more than hearing and speaking to the dead, more than simply wielding their power. Every spirit she absorbed into her body gave her its energy, yet it placed upon her the burden of carrying out their wishes. The Kish’aa could only pass into Pharadesi once they had done whatever kept them bound to this world.

  For so many, vengeance had been the only thing keeping them from crossing into eternity. The spirits from the Keeper’s Crypts had dissipated after they were avenged on the Gatherers that killed them. Yet some, like Thimara or Radiana, needed more. They needed to make things right, to pass on a message, or to protect their loved ones.

  Aisha could feel Eldesse and Osirath burning like twin embers within her. Their desires were clear—they needed Briana to know the truth.

  And the only way to help them make the journey into the beyond was through Aisha. She heard the whispers of the dead and spoke for those who had no voice.

  Yet something within her…was wrong. She stared down at her hands, at the blue-white energy that crackled between her fingers.

  The spark of Thimara’s life. She’d passed on the woman’s message to Uryan. So why hasn’t she journeyed into the beyond?

  Chapter Forty-Four

  As Evren hurried through the Temple District ahead of Kodyn, Issa, and Etai, he couldn’t help worrying about Hailen. The boy was locked away among the Secret Keepers, who would love to get their hands on everything he knew about the Serenii, Enarium, the Hunter, and everything else. He had to trust Hailen had spent enough time around the Hunter to learn a bit of circumspection and situational awareness.

  He pushed the concerns aside. Right now, we’ve got to focus on getting to the palace before noon. To get the shalanite sample and the title to the Ybrazhe hideout, he needed to find Killian. Knowing the blacksmith, that would prove harder than he’d like.

  His eyes roamed the streets, trying to pick the Mumblers out the crowd. They’ll probably be lying low given the threat of the Syndicate, but maybe I can find one and get them to tell me where Killian might be hiding. They’d at least have an idea of where the blacksmith would go to ground to evade the Ybrazhe hunting him. But Killian wouldn’t just be cowering in the shadows—Evren had no doubt the blacksmith was even now planning a way to strike back at the Syndicate.

  Let’s just hope he can give me what I need from wherever he’s hiding. And in time. He shot a glance up at the sky; the sun was climbing higher with every passing second, and their time was running out to get to the palace.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” Issa demanded.

  Evren ignored her, instead focused on scanning the crowd in the hopes of spotting a Mumbler. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a young boy pushing through the throng. Though he wore clothing as simple and plain as anyone else on the Artisan’s Tier, there was no mistaking the wary-eyed way he navigated the throng. Yet he seemed almost frantic, on the verge of panic, his eyes never stopping as if he searched for someone.

  Evren hurried in the boy’s direction, but before he could call out, the lad’s gaze fell on him. Eyes widened in recognition and the boy sprinted the remaining steps to Evren. “They’ve taken him!”

  Icy feet
danced down Evren’s spine. There was only one person the Mumbler could be talking about, and Evren had no doubt who “they” were.

  “You’re sure?” he demanded.

  The boy’s head jerked up and down. “Saw them haul him away with my own eyes but lost them near Industry Square. Challon’s had every Mumbler out on the street looking for them but no sign yet.”

  “What’s going on?” Issa’s voice cut into the conversation as the Keeper’s Blade strode up behind Evren.

  The boy’s eyes flew wide as he stared up at the towering warrior in her black armor lion-fanged helm. He sucked in a breath at the sight of her huge sword and, with speed born of fear, he turned and sprinted away.

  “Wait!” Evren called after the boy, but the noisy bustle of the morning crowd drowned out his words. Within seconds, the Mumbler disappeared into the crowd. “Damn it!”

  “What’s the matter?” Kodyn asked.

  “The Ybrazhe,” Evren said, fists forming balls, “they’ve taken…” He shot a glance at Issa, hesitating. “…the guy who’s got the information we need.”

  “Where are they holding him?” Issa’s expression was strange, tense, almost…worried. Her grip tightened on her sword until her gauntlets creaked.

  “I don’t know.” Evren shook his head. He didn’t understand the Blade’s reaction but decided he would go with it. “Last I saw him, he was hiding in near the Smokehouse. But that boy said the Ybrazhe snatched him up near Industry Square…” His voice trailed off, and he sucked in a sharp breath as a thought flashed through his mind. “The mill!”

  Confusion twisted the three faces staring at him. Quickly, he recounted the events of the evening, starting with sneaking out after the lurker, tracking him back to the mill, and freeing Serias from Annat’s clutches.

  “If the Ybrazhe got him near Industry Square, they probably won’t want to haul him through the city for fear of running into any patrols.” Evren indicated Issa and Etai with a thrust of his chin. “So they’ll stash him someplace close at hand. Someplace where they can torture whatever they want out of him.” The shop on Miller’s Alley would serve their needs to perfection.

  “Then let’s go!”

  The urgency and insistence in Issa’s voice caught Evren by surprise. He’d expected that he’d have to talk the Blades into helping him—though the promise of the information Lady Callista needed would have tipped the scales in his favor. Yet Issa seemed more eager than even him, even with the looming deadline.

  It can’t just be about the information. He studied her face, which revealed genuine worry. It’s personal, somehow.

  He tucked that nugget away for later examination. First, he had to get to Killian. They’d never get the information needed to incriminate Angrak if the Ybrazhe broke or killed him. And, strange as it felt, he’d developed a sort of fondness for the blacksmith.

  Back in Vothmot, an aged merchant had helped him after his escape from the Master’s Temple. Kaltris had been the single bright spot in a dark time. He’d given Daver, Evren’s fellow runaway, a safe home and a good living. In a way, Killian reminded Evren of Kaltris—a far gruffer, more cunning, devious version. Saving the blacksmith now would be a sort of repayment for a kindness shown to him a lifetime ago.

  He turned to Issa and Etai. “If the Ybrazhe have him, there’s no way we can free him, just the four of us.”

  Etai and Issa both scowled, and even Kodyn seemed to bristle as if at an insult. Evren, however, had no time for delicate sensitivities or pride at a reputation. His training with the Hunter had emphasized pragmatism above ego.

  “They’ve finally got what they wanted, and after the way I broke Serias free, there’s no way they’re going to take chances of anything happening.” Evren met their gazes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they had at least twenty or thirty thugs nearby.”

  Etai and Issa exchanged glances, then inclined their heads. It seemed the Keeper’s Blades taught a similar common sense.

  “Even with Aisha’s help, it still won’t be enough.” Kodyn frowned, his expression pensive. “We’re going to need back-up.” He shot a glance at Issa. “No chance your friend Hykos or those Indomitables you brought earlier could be summoned?”

  Issa shook her head. “No time.” Her eyes darted heavenward and her jaw clenched. “We’ve got less than three hours to get to the palace. The amount of time it will take me to find them and get them from the Crypts will be—”

  “Not them,” Evren cut off. “Them!”

  Three pairs of eyes turned in the direction his finger was pointing: at a patrol of Indomitables marching westward along the Artificer’s Courseway.

  It took Issa and Etai less than a minute to convince—order, more accurately—the Dictator of the Indomitable patrol to join them. Lady Callista Vinaus’ name lent their commands extra weight.

  “There’s another patrol ten minutes behind us,” the officer said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s the closest we’ll get to reinforcements on the Artisan’s Tier for now. Most of the Executors, Sentinels, and Protectors are up on the Keeper’s Tier preparing for the new Councilor’s grand procession. Or down on the Slave’s Tier keeping an eye on the crowds around that Aterallis fellow.”

  “Twenty Indomitables are more than enough to handle thrice that number of thugs,” Issa said.

  The remark elicited beaming smiles from the black-armored guards—all around the same age as Kodyn. They straightened and gripped their sickle-shaped swords, the spark of determination glimmering in their eyes.

  Issa turned to Etai. “Run ahead, find that patrol, and meet us at the miller.”

  Etai saluted and ran off.

  “Kodyn and I will scout ahead,” Evren told Issa and the Dictator. “Keep an eye out for Syndicate watchers.”

  “Good thinking.” Kodyn punched a balled fist into his palm. “If we can hit them unawares, their numbers won’t matter.”

  “Go,” Issa said. “We’re two minutes behind you.”

  Evren turned to Kodyn. “I’ll take the Artificer’s Courseway and come at them from the south, you take the alleys from the west, yeah?”

  Kodyn cocked an eyebrow. “You’re giving me the approach that goes past the tanneries?”

  Evren gave him an innocent smile. “Praamian like you’ll stand out in a crowd a lot more than I will.”

  Kodyn scowled. “Sure, that’s it, not that you’d rather not wade through that Keeper-damned stink.”

  “Just being practical.” Evren shrugged, but he couldn’t stop a hint of a smile from twisting his lips.

  Kodyn didn’t look pleased but he nodded his assent. “Fine.”

  “Two minutes behind you!” Issa called after them as he and Kodyn raced eastward along the Artificer’s Courseway.

  Evren’s body protested as he ran. He hadn’t had a proper drink of water in hours, and his last meal had been the scraps he’d taken from Hailen’s plate the previous evening. Yet the sense of urgency spurred him onward. He had to get to Killian before the Ybrazhe killed him—and, given the way their encounter with Annat had gone last night, he wouldn’t be surprised to find the Syndicate thug slit the blacksmith’s throat.

  Not if I get to them first!

  Kodyn ran along beside him, looking equally weary yet equally determined. When they reached Trader’s Way, the Praamian headed north and ducked into a side street that ran parallel to the Artificer’s Courseway. Evren continued along the main avenue, threading through the dense early morning throng crammed into Industry Square.

  He scanned the crowd as he ran, eyes wary for anyone who looked out of place: rough-looking men stationed on street corners rather than guarding a specific shop or stall, people standing and obstructing the flow of traffic, or crowds giving a too-wide berth to thugs with scowling faces and heavy hands. They were easy to spot because they stood out from the normal flow of a dense-packed place like the market.

  Though he caught no one out of place, he refused to be lulled into complacency. Every step
closer to Miller’s Alley brought him nearer the Ybrazhe’s hideout. Only idiots would fail to post guards or watchers. Thus far, the Syndicate had proven themselves too competent to make that mistake.

  His vigilance paid off as he came in sight of Miller’s Alley. He spotted the watchers instantly: a bull-necked fellow and a sharp-eyed man with a rat face and the nervously twitching fingers of a pickpocket.

  Their presence confirmed his suspicions—the Syndicate was keeping an eye out, yet it also filled him with relief. If Killian was dead, the Ybrazhe would have abandoned the hiding place and taken the watchers with them.

  The two had taken up position on a corner in the shadow of an overhanging awning. They did a piss-poor job of blending into the crowds, and people shied away from their fists and the batons hanging at their belts.

  Evren, however, proved far less incompetent at evading attention. He kept his head down, his posture slumped, hair hanging around his face to hide his features. With his dark skin, red Earaqi headband, and nondescript clothing, he was just one more face in a faceless crowd.

  Right up until he passed the two thugs. The moment he slipped out of their field of vision, he slithered around behind them, drew his dagger, and chopped at the thin pole supporting the awning. The wood cracked beneath the force of his blow and the awning collapsed. The crossbar caught the taller man square in the face and rapped the second soundly atop his skull. Blood gushed from the big thug’s nose and he staggered backward, colliding with the wall. Evren rushed him and punched him in the fork of the legs as hard as he could. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he sagged atop the unconscious form of his smaller comrade.

  Evren grinned. Two down. A part of him wondered if he should kill them. They wouldn’t regain consciousness in time to give warning to the Ybrazhe in the mill, but they could still join the inevitable fight, attack from behind, or, even if they fled, cause problems down the line.

  The arrival of another Indomitable patrol, with Etai at its lead, saved him from having to make a choice he’d regret. Two Indomitables bound the unconscious thugs as Evren continued on down Miller’s Alley, in the direction of the miller’s shop where he’d found the Syndicate torturing Serias.