Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  As usual, he kept a close eye on the crowd—old habits of scanning for threats in the shadows, usually in the form of the Duke’s Arbitors or Praamian Guards, died hard. The faces that met his gaze showed stunned surprise, wide-eyed confusion, and curiosity. They had come for a grand spectacle and they’d gotten one, vastly different from what they’d expected. Some looked uncertain whether they should boo, cheer, stampede, or hurl rotten vegetables. Kodyn vastly preferred the last option.

  His brow furrowed as he caught sight of a figure in the crowd. For a moment, Kodyn thought he recognized the man—short, bald, with a deformed face and crooked spine. He wore robes far simpler than the ornate Dhukari shendyts and sheath dresses worn by the crowds around him. Though a plain golden headband encircled his forehead, he resembled a Zadii more than a pompous Dhukari.

  Where have I seen him? There was something terribly familiar about the man with the hunched back, but he couldn’t place it.

  Yet it wasn’t just the familiarity of his features that bothered Kodyn. Something else about the man seemed subtly wrong—the direction of his gaze. Every eye in the crowd fixed on Lady Callista and Councilor Angrak, but this man’s eyes fixed above the crowd, toward the south.

  Kodyn followed his line of sight, and his blood ran cold as he realized where the man was looking. The rooftops!

  There, barely visible against the bright afternoon sky, something moved. Barely more than a dark shadow on the roof of a five-story mansion south of the Path of Gold, but Kodyn caught a metallic flash, like sunlight glinting off steel.

  Every muscle in his body tensed and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He had just taken his first step toward Lady Callista—the intended target, he was certain—and opened his mouth to shout “Assassin!” when a long, dark shape hurtled through the clear blue sky.

  Time slowed to a crawl and dread settled like a stone in Kodyn’s stomach he watched the missile hurtle toward Lady Callista. It cleared the heads of the crowd, passed over the Keeper’s Blades lion-fanged helmets, and slammed into Councilor Angrak.

  Angrak was hurled to the side as if by a massive invisible hand, and he crashed into the Keeper’s Blade to his left. To the Councilor’s right, Lady Callista was a flurry of motion. She whipped her sword free of its sheath and spun to the south, as if instinctively sensing the direction from which the attack had come. A lifetime of martial training and experience made her ready for anything.

  Silence gripped the Path of Gold for a moment, the crowd too stunned to act. Then came the explosion of noise, a din of shouted questions, gasps, cries, barked orders, and, in the case of one gaggle of particularly shrill Dhukari, high-pitched screams.

  Kodyn’s eyes darted back toward the roof where he’d spotted the dark shadow. The shape was moving, as if the man crawled backward on his belly, a clever way to avoid being spotted. Yet Kodyn had spotted him—he wouldn’t let the man escape.

  Without hesitation, he charged the crowds lining the south side of the Path of Gold and shouldered his way through. He ducked into a broad side street and raced south, toward the wall that separated the Keeper’s Tier from the Defender’s Tier below. His eyes roamed the rooftops as he ran. Instincts honed over years running across the Hawk’s Highway pinpointed the most direct route between the rooftop and the nearest avenue of escape. He cut down a back street, too broad for the assassin to jump, and ducked into a narrower alley.

  The man had only one way out: the wall.

  Ice seeped down his spine as he spotted the assassin atop the sandstone wall. A hood covered the man’s face and a cloak enveloped his entire body, concealing his clothing beneath. But when the man turned to scramble down the hanging rope, his hood fell back. Kodyn caught a glimpse of a bright red birthmark covering the entire right side of his clean-shaven face.

  Then, a heartbeat later, before he could make out any more details, the assassin dropped from view beyond the wall.

  Kodyn skidded to a halt. Keeper take it! The assassin had gotten away. In the time it took him to climb to the rooftop and reach that rope, the man with the birthmark would disappear into the Defender’s Tier. But perhaps the accomplice wouldn’t.

  Whirling, Kodyn sprinted back toward the Path of Gold and shoved through the crowds again. He scanned the throngs on the north side of the broad avenue, searching for the hunchback with the twisted face.

  He, too, had disappeared.

  Kodyn’s heart sank. Lady Callista hadn’t moved, though her Blades had hustled to form a protective wall around her. Councilor Angrak hadn’t moved, either. Blood stained the golden sandstone avenue in an ever-widening pool around his ornate black-and-gold Necroseti robes. His eyes were open, staring sightless at the sky.

  He would never incriminate the Keeper’s Council now.

  Kodyn shot a glare back toward the Hall of the Beyond. None of the Necroseti were visible, but he knew they watched.

  Fury burned in his chest. They’re behind this! The Keeper’s Priests might not have pulled the trigger, just as they hadn’t wielded the daggers that slew Suroth, but he could feel in his gut that they were responsible for Angrak’s death. And I’m going to hunt that assassin down and prove it!

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The previous year, the Four-Bladed Storm had swept down the slopes of Alshuruq and devastated the Artisan’s, Cultivator’s, and Slave’s Tiers. The force of that storm paled in comparison to the fury raging within Lady Callista as she paced her office. Issa had never seen the normally-calm Lady of Blades so angry. Her curses set the stone walls trembling.

  Issa stood silent and still, her own anger simmering deep within her. Though she had no personal enmity toward the Keeper’s Council—aside from her instinctive distrust and dislike for Dhukari in general—but loyalty had led her to throw in her lot with Lady Callista and the Pharus. Thus, the death of Councilor Angrak and the stymying of their plans to bring down the Necroseti left her as frustrated and enraged as the Lady of Blades.

  Finally, Lady Callista’s tirade slowed. She spun toward her desk, seized the jar, and hurled it against the wall. Glass shattered, spraying black dust and stone chips across the golden sandstone. “Worthless!” Her voice rang off the ceilings and floors. “All the Council needs to do is insist that Angrak operated without their knowledge and they come out of this untouched.” She spun toward the men and women that stood like silent onyx statues in the office. Each of them wore the markings of Ypertatos and Invictus, the highest-ranked Blades aside from the Elders of the Blade.

  “How in the fiery hell did this happen?” Lady Callista raged.

  “An assassin on the rooftops of the home of Iathin,” replied one Invictus, “a prominent Dhukari with a hand in—”

  “I know who in the Keeper’s name Iathin is!” Callista Vinaus spat. “My question is how the bloody assassin got past a hundred Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades?”

  Another Invictus spoke up, her face a mask of calm unshaken by Lady Callista’s rage. “Rope. Bastard climbed the wall from the Defender’s Tier. It’s possible he had help from someone on the Keeper’s Tier.”

  Growling, Lady Callista slammed her mailed fist into the desk again, hard enough to make the wood groan. “Damn it!” Her fingers clenched and loosed, as if around a sword hilt. With effort, she relaxed her mailed fist, her nostrils flaring and strong jaw working as she struggled to wrestle her anger under control.

  “Go,” she said in a quiet, hard voice. “Find the assassin and bring him to me. No matter what it takes. Even if you have to break down every door in the city, find him. The Council must not escape justice!”

  “Yes, Proxenos!” The twenty Blades marched out of the office, some in a bit more hurry than expected from such fierce warriors. Issa made to leave, too—Lady Callista might want a bit of time to regain her composure.

  “Prototopoi.”

  The single word stopped Issa in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder and found Callista Vinaus shaking her head.

  “Stay.” When the la
st of the Blades had filed out, Callista Vinaus gestured to the door. “Close it. We must speak.”

  Issa obeyed. Curiosity and a hint of fear burned in her chest as she turned to face the Lady of Blades.

  Lady Callista dropped into her chair and closed her eyes. “By the Keeper, we were so close!” She ran a hand over her face, her shoulders drooping as if beneath an immense weight.

  For the first time, Issa saw the woman beneath the armor and stern commander’s façade. Lady Callista Vinaus was beautiful, strong, and proud, yet burdened by duty and her desire to do right by her Pharus—a man she despised—and her city. For a moment, the woman almost reminded her of her grandfather, Nytano. Though they were castes apart, both had an internal strength of spirit and indomitable will. A will being sorely tested by recent events.

  After a long moment, Lady Callista opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Issa. “You are to be commended for your efforts, no matter how things turned out. From what I hear, you and your trainer, Archateros Hykos, proved instrumental in locating the Gatherers’ hiding place.” Her eyebrows rose an inch. “Within the Keeper’s Crypts, no less. What made you think to go in there?”

  “Aisha,” Issa replied honestly.

  Lady Callista cocked her head. “Briana’s Ghandian bodyguard?”

  Issa nodded. “She spotted a Gatherer in the Temple District and followed him into the Crypts. She was the one who brought word of their location.”

  “And you decided to leave Briana, who I had charged you to protect, to deal with them?”

  Issa’s gut clenched. She had made a difficult decision in the moment, and now the time had come to deal with the consequences. The fact that the second Gatherer attack had nearly killed Briana likely meant the consequences would be severe.

  Lady Callista’s brow furrowed. “Again, abandoning your post.” After a moment, she gave a dismissive wave. “And yet, again the right choice.”

  The words shattered the knot that formed in her shoulders, and Issa found she could breathe again. “I left Etai to protect Briana, my lady,” she replied. “I’ve seen Etai fight and—”

  “I’ve spoken with Chirak, Etai’s Archateros.” She shot Issa a sly smile. “While her words lack the proud glow that fills the reports I’ve received from Hykos, it confirms that Etai is as competent a Blade as we can hope for. I will make certain to commend her personally as well.”

  Issa smiled. Her friend—after all they’d just been through together, she could truly consider Etai as such—deserved praise for her bravery and skill.

  “Do you trust her?” Lady Callista’s eyes narrowed.

  “Trust her?” Issa asked. “Trust her enough to include her in our efforts, you mean?”

  Lady Callista nodded.

  “I do.” Issa spoke without hesitation. “Etai is as loyal and brave as anyone I’ve met. She played her part without question, even without full knowledge of what we were doing.” She had wanted to tell Etai more, yet Lady Callista had sworn her to secrecy. “If we bring her into this mission, I have no doubt she can be trusted.”

  The Lady of Blades fixed her with a long, searching look, her lips pressed into a pensive line. “Your words confirm what Chirak has already told me. I will fill her and Archateros Hykos in on as much as they need to know. The three of you will continue to assist Lady Briana and her companions in their efforts, though their presence in the Secret Keeper’s temple likely means they no longer need your protection.”

  “Yes, Lady Callista.” Issa’s face revealed nothing, but relief washed over her like a cool balm. She’d hated every minute spent guarding Briana’s door. Not because she resented the order to protect the young woman—Briana had gotten her past her innate dislike of the Dhukari quickly enough—but because she was a warrior, a person of action. Standing inactive simply wasn’t in her nature.

  “From what I’ve seen of Briana’s companions, they have a tendency to be in the wrong place at the right time.” Lady Callista’s smile was wry. “First they foil an attack on Suroth’s mansion, then they somehow manage to foil an Ybrazhe attempt to take over the Artisan’s Tier and lead us to the Gatherers' hideout. And that young Praamian, Kodyn, proved himself surprisingly resourceful when he…found Angrak’s documents and convinced Grand Reckoner Quodaro to turn over the testimony of this Reckoner Dyon.”

  Her face hardened. “But now they’ve made enemies of both the Ybrazhe and the Gatherers—and trust me, there are more Gatherers out there. Doubtless the Keeper’s Council has already managed to connect them to Angrak’s arrest. They find themselves arrayed against forces far more powerful than they could possibly imagine. It’s up to you and your fellow Blades to protect them.”

  Issa bowed. “Yes, my lady.” She opened her mouth, then hesitated.

  “Speak your mind, Prototopoi,” Lady Callista commanded.

  “I told them.” Issa’s stomach tightened as the words rolled off her lips. “They know that I’m working for you to bring any information that could prove useful.”

  Lady Callista’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

  Issa met the Lady of Blades’ gaze without hesitation, trying to hide the anxiety that tightened the muscles of her spine. “Trust must be given before it is received.” The words were her Saba’s. One of her grandfather’s many wise sayings.

  The Lady of Blades’ reaction surprised Issa. For a moment, it appeared as if she recognized the words—certainly the sentiment, if not the specific phrasing.

  “A wise choice, perhaps,” Callista Vinaus said after a prolonged moment of contemplation, “if not the one I would have made. Yet I will admit that years of service in the palace has made me far more distrusting than I was as a young Blade. A friend and mentor of mine used to tell me, ‘Strike first, strike true’. When dealing with the Necroseti, that is the only way to succeed.”

  Issa’s jaw dropped at the familiar words. Her, too?

  The last time she’d spoken with Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres, he’d repeated the words from “a Blade he once knew.”

  The same Blade that had been Lady Callista’s mentor?

  Confusion, curiosity, and doubt set Issa’s mind whirling. Had Lady Callista been mentored by the same person that trained her parents? Or, had her Saba somehow heard those words from a Keeper’s Blade and repeated them to her? Somehow, impossibly, there was a connection between her dead parents and both Lady Callista and the Pharus.

  But what? How? The questions slammed into her mind with staggering force.

  She opened her mouth to let them out. Now was the time to use Lady Callista’s goodwill to get her talking and find out more about her parents. She could learn the identity of the person that had spoken those words—the words she’d heard from her grandfather’s mouth. So many questions burned within her that they warred with each other to escape her lips.

  She never had a chance to ask.

  The door burst open and Tannard strode into Lady Callista’s rooms. Issa was stunned by the expression on the Invictus’ face. She’d never seen him without that hard, cold mask of disdain or a total absence of emotion written in his face. Now, worry sparkled in his dark eyes and his cheeks were pale, lined with something akin to unease.

  Tannard, uneasy? The thought disturbed her far more than she cared to admit.

  The ominous tone of his voice only cemented her fears. “My lady, you need to come and see this.” He turned to Issa. “You, too, Prototopoi.”

  * * *

  The crowds around Murder Square parted before a stone-faced Invictus Tannard and an enraged Lady Callista. Issa followed on their heels, horror writhing like acidic serpents slithering in her gut.

  It took all her self-control not to gasp, gape, or simply empty her stomach as she saw the body.

  Kellas—or a beaten, bloodied, and lifeless version of what had once been the proud young man—hung from a cross. He had been scourged, his limbs shattered, and his hands and feet nailed to the wooden posts. His eyes hung wide, his face slack and pale in death—a s
trange contrast to the bloody mark tattooed into his chest: an almost-complete circle connected to two lines that bent outward in a perfect right angle. The center of the circle depicted something that resembled a sun and moon in close alignment.

  Issa’s blood ran cold. The mark of the Gatherers!

  Her eyes fell on the words painted in a deep, dark crimson—Kellas’ blood—onto the wall behind the cross.

  “Child of Secrets, Child of Gold,

  Child of Spirits, bring the judgement foretold!”

  -----

  Kodyn, Aisha, Evren, Hailen, Issa, and Briana’s epic journey continues in:

  Storm of Chaos

  (Book 3)

  Chapter One

  Death had wiped the arrogance from Kellas’ face. Once a proud warrior training to become a member of Shalandra’s elite warrior brotherhood of the Keeper’s Blades, he now hung limp and lifeless on a crude cross. His killers had stripped his armor and nailed him naked to the wooden post erected atop the platform upon which the guilty of Shalandra took their last breaths before execution. Blood trickled down his outstretched arms and shattered legs, the crimson a stark contrast with the lifeless pale hue of his bronze skin.

  Yet the thing that sent a shiver down Issa’s spine was the mark carved into his chest. The almost-complete circle connected to two right-angle lines, with a closely aligned sun and moon in the heart of the circle.

  The grisly sign of the Gatherers, worshippers of the god of death. A final insult to the fallen youth, accompanied by a warning to all of Shalandra.

  “Child of Secrets, Child of Gold,

  Child of Spirits, bring the judgement foretold!”