Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  But first, the Blades would pay their respects.

  Byrach, the Archateros that had overseen Kellas’ training, stepped forward and placed a hand on the young Dhukari’s body. “A fine warrior, proud, confident, and skilled. He would have made an excellent Blade.”

  Issa was surprised at the sorrow in Byrach’s eyes. Kellas might have treated her and Etai with typical Dhukari disdain, but he’d evidently made a positive impression on Byrach.

  Lady Callista stepped forward next. As the Proxenos, commander of the Blades, her duty was to speak for the fallen. “Kellas, son of Pentius, Warden of the Southern Marches, let no one here doubt that you served with pride and fought with courage. Go into infinity, Brother, and find rest in the Long Keeper’s arms.” She glanced around the chamber. “Are there any others who would speak for the fallen?”

  Silence hung thick in the chamber. Issa felt a stab of pity—no one else had any words to say for the young man.

  Her surprise doubled when her feet moved, propelling her forward. Words flowed from deep within her and poured from her mouth.

  “I never liked Kellas,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm. “He was arrogant, hot-tempered, and vocal in his dislike of the lower castes. He never let me forget that he believed himself better than me because of his birth and wealth.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “And yet, never once did I doubt that he would make an excellent Blade. As his Archateros said—” She inclined her head to Byrach. “—he was proud and confident. Yet he earned that pride and confidence through his skills with his sword and the ferocious drive of a warrior that burned within him. He always strived to be the best he could be. Our city would have been a safer place for his strength and prowess. For that reason, we are all a little worse off for his death. May he find the peace he deserves.”

  The words dried up as quickly as they had come. She stepped back into her place beside Etai, emotions swirling within her chest. Death had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember—her parents had died shortly after her birth, depriving her of their presence.

  Yet this death seemed somehow…different. Almost as if it were her fault that he had died. He’d been given her assignment, taken her place on the Slave’s Tier. He lay dead on that slab because he’d walked the Way of Chains in her stead. It made no sense, she knew, but such feelings rarely did. What logic knew beyond a doubt, the heart sometimes struggled to accept. Deep down, she held a certainty that the blame for Kellas’ death didn’t rest on her shoulders, but she couldn’t help remembering her battle with the Gatherers in the Artisan’s Tier. She’d failed to capture or kill them all; had one of those that fled the skirmish somehow been responsible for Kellas’ death?

  For now, she could allow herself a brief moment of pity for the Dhukari that had fallen serving the same mission, the same city, and the same god that she served.

  Lady Callista stepped forward again. “Guardian of death, warrior of the fallen, you are relieved of duty. Your brothers and sisters stand watch over you.” She gave the corpse the salute of a Keeper’s Blade: right fist to left shoulder, back ramrod straight, head held high. Steel clanked and rattled as thirty Blades mirrored her gesture, then returned to stand at attention.

  And that was it. No grand fanfare like so many other Dhukari, no endless chanting of Necroseti priests droning a final ritual over the fallen. Upon acceptance into the Keeper’s Blades, Kellas had forsworn all ties to his family. He served the Long Keeper, Lady Callista, and the city of Shalandra. The simple ceremony and his entombment in the ranks of shalanite sarcophagi guarding the Tomb of Hallar was his final reward.

  It felt…fitting. Issa might not have liked him, but he had earned his place in the Keeper’s Blades just as she had. For that alone, she would honor him as a fallen comrade.

  Byrach and three more Keeper’s Blades moved to collect the bier upon which Kellas’ body would be carried into the Crypts. The rest of the black-armored soldiers filed out of the towertop room and marched in silence down the circular staircase.

  Issa matched Etai’s pace but could find no words to speak. The Mahjuri girl had suffered far more humiliation at Kellas’ hands than she, but it seemed Etai’s feelings matched her own. They would not speak ill of the dead until the dead could no longer hear them.

  Hykos stood waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, with Chirak, Etai’s Archateros trainer, by his side. “Wait,” Hykos said. “Both of you. We are summoned.”

  Issa restrained her curiosity and fell into position beside Hykos, Etai doing likewise beyond Chirak. Hykos would tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know it.

  Her answer came a few moments later as Lady Callista descended the stairs and nodded to the four of them. She needed no words—they fell in step behind the Lady of Blades.

  In silence, Lady Callista marched them through the Citadel of Stone and across the training yard, toward the tunnel that connected the Citadel’s north wing with the Palace of Golden Eternity. Issa had come this way before, and she knew the path that led toward Lady Callista’s private office.

  The Lady of Blades paused outside the door. “Issa, you and Hykos first.”

  Issa shot a curious glance at Etai. The girl gave a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders and stopped beside her Archateros.

  Issa and Hykos entered Lady Callista’s office, a simply-furnished room with a broad oak desk and chair, a pair of plush armchairs, and shelves piled high with parchment, scrolls, and books. The western wall of the office was adorned with racks of blunt and bladed weapons. Once again, Issa couldn’t help noticing the single hanging shelf and the bundle of sky blue cloth on the southern wall. A strange decoration in such a practical room, yet it was not her place to ask.

  Lady Callista unbuckled the sheath of her two-handed flammard and leaned it against the side of one armchair. She turned, perching on the edge of the heavy wooden desk, and fixed Issa and Hykos with a piercing stare. Her gaze seemed to linger on Issa, and once again Issa felt that strange something in Lady Callista’s eyes. Almost as if she had recognized something with Issa and waited to see if Issa recognized it in her.

  Issa’s curiosity burned. There’s something she wants to say, something she wants to ask, but what?

  She didn’t know, but she had questions of her own to ask. Hours earlier, Lady Callista had repeated the same words Issa’s grandfather spoke the day she left to join the Blades. “Strike first, strike true.” A simple sentiment, yet one that Issa would never have dreamed to hear echoed from not only the Lady of Blades’ lips, but the mouth of Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres himself. The Pharus had said they were the words of “a Blade I once knew” while Lady Callista proclaimed them the advice of “a friend and mentor”.

  Once again, the question rang in her mind. How does she know my family?

  Issa suspected her parents had fallen in service to the Keeper’s Blades, a fact reinforced by the way her Saba had reacted to the news that she had been accepted. Yet her father would have been too young to serve as Lady Callista’s mentor. It made no sense, yet the connection was undeniable. What could her Savta and Saba, simple Earaqi laborers, have in common with two of the most powerful people in Shalandra?

  She was determined to find out at the first possible opportunity. Yet one look at Lady Callista’s forbidding expression made it clear that now wasn’t the time.

  Lady Callista broke the silence. “That was kind.” Her eyes fixed on Issa. “Your words for Kellas.”

  Issa swallowed the lump in her throat. “No one should be forgotten, even an arrogant prick like Kellas.” She forced a weak smile. “He might not have been too bad, given time. After the palace—”

  “After you saved his life,” Lady Callista cut in.

  Issa inclined her head. “After that, he actually was getting better. Maybe coming close to death had begun changing him.”

  “We’ll never know.” The Lady of Blades pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes
shut. “But we will know how he ended up on that cross.”

  She lowered her hands, opening her eyes. “I expect the two of you to assist in the search for his killers. A search that will begin on the Slave’s Tier.”

  Issa’s gut clenched. Of course. The Dhukari and Alqati always found a reason to blame the Mahjuri, Kabili, and Earaqi for their problems. The lower castes were convenient scapegoats that could not fight back.

  Lady Callista met Issa’s eyes. “I know what you are thinking. You believe that I am simply seeking to pin the murder on the lower castes because it is easy.”

  Issa struggled to hide her shock.

  “I read the report of your incident with the Indomitable patrol two nights ago,” Lady Callista told her. “Your feelings on this matter are plain, and understandable, given where you were raised.”

  Again, those words held a depth of meaning Issa didn’t fully comprehend.

  “Yet, in this case, there is no mistake.” Lady Callista’s jaw muscles worked. “Byrach informs me that Kellas was sent to lead a company of Indomitables on patrol through the Slave’s Tier, given that you and Etai both were occupied on the Artisan’s Tier.”

  Those words drove the dagger of guilt a little bit deeper into Issa’s stomach. Had she not been on the Artisan’s Tier protecting Briana, doubtless she would have been relegated to the Slave’s Tier again. She might have been the Gatherers’ victim, yet here she stood while Kellas lay dead on hard stone.

  Fire flashed in the Lady of Blades’ eyes. “The Indomitables never returned from their patrol, nor did Kellas. Yet everyone was so caught up with the attack on the Gatherers, the crowds in the Slave’s Tier, and Councilor Angrak’s procession that their absence escaped notice.” Her fists clenched by her side. “By the time it was discovered, it was too late.”

  “So you think they were attacked on the Slave’s Tier?” Issa asked.

  “That would be the simplest explanation.” Lady Callista inclined her head. “And yet there are no Indomitable corpses, no signs of a struggle. You saw Kellas. There were no wounds, no bruises, nothing to indicate he’d fought for his life. Simply silent, cowardly death by poison.”

  Acid surged in Issa’s gut. “And you want us to find out what happened and where.” A statement, not a question.

  “By any means necessary,” Lady Callista growled, her face as hard as shalanite. “I don’t care what it takes. You will find out what happened and make damned certain the guilty are brought to justice.” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “I want their heads on spikes in Murder Square!”

  The Lady of Blades’ anger surprised Issa. She had believed Lady Callista a stern, controlled officer, yet over the last few days, she had seen the woman’s human side. This fury and hatred, this outrage over the death of one of her loyal servants only amplified that humanity beneath the hard military facade.

  Hykos had remained silent throughout, his usually animated face a solemn mask. Now, he straightened and saluted. “Of course, Proxenos. We will find the truth, no matter what.”

  Lady Callista nodded to Issa and Hykos. “Your regular training will be postponed until this matter is settled. This is to be your only mission. I will make certain all the Elders are informed.”

  “And what of Lady Briana?” Issa asked. The Arch-Guardian’s daughter had barely escaped an attack by the Gatherers with her life, and only because she sought sanctuary with the Secret Keepers. “Surely she must be guarded as well.” She was surprised to feel a sense of genuine worry—not only for Briana, but for Kodyn, Aisha, Evren, and Hailen. They had fought side by side, shared their secrets, and included her in their confidences.

  Oddly enough, a part of her felt more accepted among them than she had among the Keepers’ Blades. The kindness of Hykos and Etai couldn’t outweigh Tannard’s cruel ruthlessness. Only among the ragtag group of foreigners and the outcast Dhukari had she truly felt like just one more member of a pack.

  “Lady Briana is safe in the Temple of Whispers,” Lady Callista replied with a shake of her head. “She is beyond the reach of her enemies. Nothing short of an army could pluck her from the Secret Keepers’ grasp now.” Her face hardened. “Right now, you are needed to deal with this problem. The balance of power and peace in Shalandra hangs on a knife’s edge. The people need to know that the Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades will keep them safe, but how can that be the case if they cannot avenge their own?”

  Though Issa wanted to protest, she had to admit Lady Callista was right. Briana and the others would be safe within the Temple of Whispers. But the streets of the Slave’s Tier could turn into a battleground with just one wrong word, one act of wanton violence. The lower castes already despised the Indomitables—and, by extension, the Keeper’s Blades, who they lumped into the same league.

  So be it. My place is on the streets, where I can help to keep the peace.

  The search for Kellas’ murderers would turn ugly, there was no escaping that. But if she could stop the situation from getting worse, she would be fulfilling her oath to serve the city and its people.

  She straightened and saluted. “Yes, Lady Callista.”

  Lady Callista returned the salute. “Find them,” she growled. “Hunt the bastards down. Do not stop until every Gatherer in Shalandra is dead!”

  Chapter Six

  Worry roiled in Evren’s gut as he hurried up the Path of Sepulture, the main avenue that ran along the western edge of Shalandra, connecting the Slave’s Tier with the Artisan’s Tier. The sight of so many children dead from the horrific disease had shaken him to the core.

  The image of Hailen lying lifeless and covered in blue, oozing scabs sent a shiver down his spine. If this new form of Azure Rot spread through Shalandra as quickly as the Bloody Flux had infected Vothmot, not even the stone walls of the Temple of Whispers guaranteed protection from the plague. Hailen, Briana, Aisha, Kodyn, and Issa could join the ranks of those corpses.

  Anxiety lent an urgency to his steps. He didn’t dare break into a run for fear of calling attention to himself—the Ybrazhe might be hunting him, and the Indomitables were on full alert after the Gatherer attack on the Artisan’s Tier—but walking just felt too damned slow. He settled for a fast-walk that ate up the distance but still allowed him to remain inconspicuous.

  At the late hour, traffic on Trader’s Way was heavy, the final rush of shoppers trying to make their last purchases before the market closed and vendors started hauling away wagonloads of goods. The thick press of people and passing carts made for slow going. Evren finally resorted to slithering through the crowd rather than matching their pace—he didn’t have time to waste with the dawdling or burdened men and women around him.

  The colorful assortment of fresh fruits, vegetables, grains, legumes, and other produce came as a welcome sight. Through Commerce Square, the Artificer’s Courseway would be mostly clear until he reached the Temple District. It took a bit of maneuvering to push through the people filling their baskets and hand carts with the last of the foodstuffs, but he finally burst through onto the main avenue beyond.

  By the time he reached the Temple District, the sun had all but set, with only the final threads of fading daylight to guide him past the marble-tiled grandeur of the Sanctuary—the only edifice that stood between him and his destination.

  The Temple of Whispers was a squat stone building that resembled an enormous vault, down to the massive steel door that guarded its entrance. The brilliance of the golden sandstone had dulled to a dusty ochre, a shade brighter than the muted brown robes of the priests that served the Mistress, goddess of whispered truths and secret trysts.

  Two Secret Keepers stood guard outside the door—the same two that had been there the previous night, the ones that had aided their desperate flight from the Gatherers. Relief washed over him; no need to waste time trying to talk his way through, because the two would recognize him.

  His brow furrowed as one of the priests stepped forward, a hand upraised to stop him. The man said not
hing—difficult to form words without a tongue—but his stern frown and the shake of his head spoke volumes.

  “I’m here to see Briana,” Evren said.

  The two priests exchanged glances and their fingers flashed, the same way Kodyn, Aisha, and Briana’s did. Evren guessed it was some sort of silent communication but had no idea what it meant.

  After a moment, one of the Secret Keepers lifted a hand in a gesture that clearly indicated “Wait”.

  Evren ground his teeth but forced himself to nod. No sense pissing off the people I’ve come to ask for help.

  The priest hauled open the vault door just enough to slip inside, leaving Evren alone with the other Secret Keeper. The man never looked at him but kept his eyes fixed on the street and the passing people.

  Instinct and hard experience filled Evren with a powerful urge to flee. He had bad experiences in temples—the one he’d lived in back in Vothmot had seemed beautiful on the outside, but on the inside housed vices, abuse, violence, and terrors that he still struggled to forget. He and a fellow apprentice had finally endured enough and fled, accidentally killing a Lectern in the attempt. Even now, more than five years after his escape, he would never feel safe around priests and temples.

  Evren swallowed the surge of acid in his throat. Hailen’s in this temple, he told himself. If nothing else, that has to be reason enough to go in. Shoving down the instinctive fear, he shifted from foot to foot, his impatience mounting as the minutes dragged on. Years of thieving on the streets of Vothmot had taught him restraint when stalking or observing a target. Yet this wasn’t something as simple as stealing a loaf of bread from a baker’s tray or lifting a fat merchant’s purse. The lives of everyone in Shalandra could very well hang in the balance.

  It seemed an eternity—but could really only have been five or ten minutes—before the huge steel door swung open and the Secret Keeper emerged. The man beckoned silently for Evren to follow.