Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  “Yes, sir!” With a salute, the three of them moved off to continue the search.

  A new sound reached her ears: the tromp, tromp of heavy booted feet marching at double-time speed. Despair washed over Issa. She had spent her entire night fighting to quell the Indomitables’ rampage, but now more had come to throw fuel on the fire. She wanted to scream in rage—she had no more strength to fight another company, to shout more bloodthirsty soldiers into submission.

  Yet as she turned to face the patrol, hope surged within her. In the light of the rising sun, she caught sight of Hykos at the head of the Indomitables. Five Sentinels and a score of Protectors marched at his back. Their eyes held no trace of the frenzied, near-berserk light that twisted the faces of the rampaging soldiers she had fought all night. Grim determination hardened their faces as they marched in neat, disciplined ranks.

  Issa nearly wept in relief.

  Instantly, Hykos and the high-ranking Indomitable officers began barking out commands to the soldiers nearby. Ten-man patrols hurried off down every side street to restore order and get the situation under control.

  It took all of Issa’s willpower to remain upright. Every muscle and limb threatened to give way. Tension drained from her body and she let out a long, slow breath. For the first time in hours, she relinquished her grip on her sword, sliding it back into its sheath on her back. Her fingers, wrists, and forearms ached from carrying the heavy blade, yet the pain faded beneath the cool wave of relief that bathed her at the sight of Hykos’ face.

  Enyera appeared from the ranks of Indomitables. Dark circles lined her eyes and sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, yet a resolute expression hardened her face.

  Relief surged within Issa at the sight of her trainee. “You got here just in time.”

  Yet the severity of Enyera’s expression set Issa’s heart racing.

  “I have orders to escort you to the Alqati Tier,” Enyera said.

  Confusion furrowed Issa’s brow. “Orders from whom?”

  Enyera’s eyes darkened. “The Elders of the Blades command your presence at once.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hello, there!” Kodyn grinned. “Lovely place you have here. Could use a bit of cleaning, but—”

  He threw himself to one side and flared out his cloak, twisting his body to the side as he fell. Time slowed to a crawl as the crossbow tracked his movement and Handsome’s finger squeezed the trigger. The cable snapped tight—a heartbeat slower than a regular crossbow—and the steel arms flexed forward, sending the broad-headed bolt hurtling toward Kodyn. Pain flared along the side of his neck as the steel tip carved a bloody furrow into the skin.

  Kodyn hit the ground and came to his feet in a roll, unsheathing and hurling a throwing dagger in one smooth motion. Handsome batted aside the flying blade with his crossbow even as his hand shoved forward a lever set into the stock. A spring-loaded bolt flew out of the end of the bow, straight at Kodyn’s chest.

  He had a single instant to act, dropping into a crouch. The bolt whistled mere inches from the side of his head.

  Kodyn’s heart hammered in his ribs as he reached for another knife, but Handsome didn’t give him time to draw. The assassin charged in silence, sliding home another lever in the wooden stock of his crossbow. An arm-length spike extended from the nose of the crossbow and clicked into place. Handsome pulled back the bow for a forward thrust that would drive the sharp, narrow tip through Kodyn’s leather armor and into his chest.

  In desperation, Kodyn twisted at the last second, barely in time to avoid being skewered. The tip of the spike snagged on the right pauldron of his armor and knocked him staggering backward. Handsome bared his teeth in a snarl, shoving hard to drive Kodyn against the wall. Kodyn read the man’s intentions clearly: pin him and stick him. A plan Errik, Master Serpent, had taught him to use against smaller, faster opponents.

  And Kodyn was smaller than Handsome. The assassin stood a few fingers taller and broader in the chest, his arms all lean, corded muscles.

  But Kodyn was also faster. He allowed the assassin to shove him backward, but his free right hand whipped around and crashed into the side of Handsome’s head. The wide grip of the push dagger slammed into the assassin’s temple with stunning force. Handsome stumbled, the tip of his crossbow-spike ripping free of Kodyn’s armor.

  In the instant that the weapon flew wide, Kodyn lashed out with a straight, quick punch at the assassin’s midsection. The finger-length blade of his push dagger punctured Handsome’s stomach, and Kodyn’s other fist pummeled the wound a moment later.

  Handsome cried out in pain, his right hand releasing its grip on his crossbow’s stock to clutch at the bleeding wound. Kodyn’s fists were a flurry of lightning-fast punches—hard knuckles bruising flesh while sharp steel punched through muscle and organs.

  The assassin staggered backward, bleeding from a half-dozen wounds in his stomach. He fixed Kodyn with a curious glare. “Who…are you?” he snarled, jaw clenched against the pain. “What do you…want?”

  “Answers!” Kodyn pointed the bloodied push dagger at him. He forced confidence into his voice to mask the frantic beat of his heart. “Tell me who hired you to kill Councilor Angrak.”

  Handsome’s red-marked face hardened. “No.” A single word, but it echoed with unyielding defiance.

  He rushed Kodyn again heedless of his wounds, both hands gripping the stock of his crossbow. Kodyn bared his teeth in a growl and tore his long sword free of its sheath. His first chop bent the steel spike but failed to turn aside the momentum of Handsome’s charge. The assassin slammed into him with the force of an enraged bull, lifting Kodyn off his feet and driving him against the stone wall.

  Sparks flared to life in Kodyn’s vision. The world whirled around him, violently dizzy, and Kodyn gasped as pain coursed through his chest, ribs, back, and skull. He crumpled, dazed, his vision blurry. The stupor lasted only a heartbeat, but it was more than enough time for Handsome to bring back his leg for a kick.

  A steel-toed boot collided with Kodyn’s gut, just beneath his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. Kodyn sagged, fighting to draw in even a thread of air. Agony burst to life in his torso and set his head pounding.

  With a silent sneer, Handsome lifted his crossbow high and prepared to drive the crooked spike home in Kodyn’s side. Desperate, Kodyn lashed out with the dagger in his right hand. A weak blow, but the blade was sharp. The flesh of Handsome’s ankle parted beneath steel. Kodyn shoved harder, trying to drive the narrow, teardrop-shaped blade into the heel, slice the tendon, anything to slow the assassin down.

  Handsome cried out and stumbled backward, tearing the knife from Kodyn’s hand. Pain twisted the man’s face as all his weight landed on his wounded leg. Blood gushed from the deep gash and Handsome fell, hard.

  The assassin collapsed onto his back, but his single retreating step had carried him near the hole of the vertical shaft. Kodyn heard a loud snap as Handsome’s spine struck the lip of the shaft. His strong body went limp, his spinal cord severed. His head and shoulders fell into the hole and slowly, one heartbeat at a time, dragged his weight down.

  “No!” The word burst from Kodyn’s lips in a pained gasp. He threw himself toward the assassin, reaching for the man’s ankle to stop him.

  Too late.

  Cloth and leather slid from beneath Kodyn’s fingers as the weight of Handsome’s body dragged him into the shaft. A long heartbeat later, a gut-wrenching thump echoed from far below.

  Acid churning in his stomach, Kodyn scrambled toward the hole in the floor and looked down. Handsome’s body lay in a shattered heap on the hard stone ground. Yet a hint of hope pierced his dismay—Handsome still lived, gasping for breath, his limbs twitching.

  Kodyn climbed down the ladder as fast as his bruised, battered body permitted. He had to stop and catch his breath, but he forced himself to continue the descent until he reached the assassin. The man was dying, his skull as shattered as his arms, legs, and ribs. He had se
conds, not minutes, before death claimed him.

  “Who hired you?” Kodyn seized the assassin’s shirt and shook him. “Which of the Necroseti paid you to kill Councilor Angrak?”

  Coarse laughter bubbled up between Handsome’s bloodstained teeth. “Good…luck…with that!”

  “Tell me!” Kodyn screamed in the man’s face. “Was it Madani? Natoris? Which one?”

  Handsome’s jaw clamped firmly shut, his mouth pressed into a tight line. He made not a single sound as life fled from his shattered body. With a last defiant glare at Kodyn, his eyes rolled up and his head hung limp.

  Kodyn remained motionless a long moment, glaring at the dead assassin. It took his fingers long seconds to unclench and release Handsome’s blood-soaked shirt. The body fell back to the ground with a quiet thump and lay still.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it! He pounded a fist against the dead man’s chest. He’d come so close; if only the stubborn bastard hadn’t insisted on taking his secrets to the Long Keeper’s arms.

  Again, he let out his anger and frustration on the body—Handsome wouldn’t mind. Yet this time, his fist clinked against something hard within the assassin’s clothing.

  Curious, Kodyn reached into the inner pocket of Handsome’s cloak and his fingers closed around a long, smooth object. The light leaking through the narrow opening in the stone wall shone on a glass vial with a cork stopper and a dark grey liquid swirling within.

  What in the Keeper’s name is this?

  Curiosity burned within him, yet he’d spent enough time around the poisoners and alchemists of House Scorpion to know better than to pop open the cork and smell or taste its contents.

  A quiver ran through his hands, setting the liquid within the glass vial trembling. Chills seeped down Kodyn’s spine and stole the warmth from his limbs. He found his legs suddenly weak, his arms heavy. The realization struck him with the force of a sledgehammer to the gut: I nearly died!

  He had faced death before—any fall from the Hawk’s Highway could prove fatal, and he’d fought off dozens of Gatherers less than two days earlier. Yet that had been different. Then, he’d known his skill and speed could save him. Here, however, there had been no doubt in his mind: Handsome could have killed him. Only a generous helping of luck had spared his life.

  If only that luck had kept Handsome alive long enough to talk!

  Kodyn swallowed the acid surging in his throat and forced himself to focus on the body before him. He’d found this strange vial of whatever-in-the-bloody-hell it was hidden in Handsome’s clothing. Perhaps he could find something else—something to point him in the direction of whoever had hired him to kill Councilor Angrak.

  He rifled through the dead man’s pockets—it felt wrong, macabre, yet he had no time for nerves. His search yielded little: two well-forged straight daggers, a handful of Shalandran coins, and a silver locket that held a crude, faded etching of a woman’s likeness. Yet no proof of who had hired him.

  Damn! Kodyn sat back on his heels and tried to think of what to do next. Maybe there’s something in his lair that I missed the first time.

  Standing, he moved toward the ladder and began to climb, but his shaking hands and trembling legs slowed his pace. It was a natural reaction to the near-death ordeal—Errik had warned him about it, something even the bravest warriors and killers experienced—but at that moment, it was slowing him down.

  It seemed an eternity later before Kodyn reached the top, gasping and out of breath. He pulled himself into the room and scanned the small chamber for anything he might have missed. Right beside the shaft, he spotted a small wineskin that hadn’t been there when he entered.

  Handsome must have brought it to add to his collection, Kodyn thought, shooting a glance at the empty wooden casks.

  He gave the room a thorough once-over again, this time checking beneath the straw-tick mattress, overturning the blankets, and searching the floor for any hiding places or secret caches. He no longer needed to worry about the consequences of disturbing the assassin’s lair.

  His search turned up two purses heavy with coin, a smaller velvet purse filled with gemstones, and a parchment that seemed to accompany an account at the Coin Counter’s Temple. Handsome had earned a living commensurate to his name—a small fortune lay tucked literally beneath his bed, and more stored in the Reckoners’ vaults.

  Coin aplenty, but nothing that ties him to the Keeper’s Council or the Necroseti! Kodyn ground his teeth in frustration. All that, only to come away empty-handed.

  Well, not quite empty-handed. The coins and gemstones would come in handy for bribes or as a gift to the Black Widow. And that vial with the dark grey potion seemed an odd thing for an assassin to carry.

  Master Serpent had told him of assassins that carried poisons—both to use against their enemies and to ingest in case of capture. Yet this was like no poison Kodyn had seen on the shelves of House Scorpion.

  So what the bloody hell is it? Handsome was far beyond answering his questions, so he had only one way to find out. Time to get back to Temple of Whispers.

  With a final glance at the assassin’s lair and the shattered body at the base of the shaft, Kodyn scrambled down the ladder and out of the exit that opened onto a back alley of the Cultivator’s Tier.

  If anyone can figure out what’s in this vial, it’s the Secret Keepers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aisha slowly drifted out of her dreams—dreams of running through the Ghandian plains with Nkanyezi, training with her mother, and sitting at her father’s feet while he regaled her with stories of the Kish’aa. Sleep retreated one peaceful heartbeat at a time, releasing her from the warm embrace of rest and back into the world of wakefulness.

  A chill hung in the stone room, but Aisha was surprised to find someone had draped a blanket over her as she slept. She sucked in a breath—it could have been an enemy come to kill her, Kodyn, or Briana, and she hadn’t awoken.

  One look at the two figures sleeping peacefully on the bed soothed her anxiety. Hailen had been asleep when she returned hours ago, and Briana had joined the young boy in rest at some point in the night. Without windows to mark the passage of time, Aisha had no idea how long she’d slept. She only knew that she felt refreshed and at ease. Rest and pleasant dreams had wiped away the worries of the previous days.

  She felt better, more alert, her strength and determination renewed. Her conversation with Imbuka played over in her mind, yet it no longer brought the same turmoil of emotions. She had come to terms with her powers—embraced them with her whole heart, this time knowing full well the cost—and that filled her with a sense of peace. Peace that, no matter what happened, she had made the choice.

  Her hand went once more to the pendant around her neck. Thimara’s spirit burned quietly within her, yet the spark of life flared brighter the moment her fingers touched the stone. Aisha lifted it before her eyes and studied it, watched the blue-white light swirling within its depths. Something as simple as a stone had changed her world. This strange Serenii pendant somehow amplified her powers, cleared her mind, allowed her to communicate with the spirits more clearly. She didn’t understand it, but perhaps Briana and Hailen did.

  If Suroth was studying it, he might have written about it in his journal.

  Aisha stood and padded on silent feet toward the room’s lone desk. Suroth’s journal lay open, revealing page upon page of writing that looked like gibberish to her. The Arch-Guardian’s cipher made his notes impossible for her to understand.

  Thankfully, Hailen and Briana had taken a few notes. Aisha studied the parchment upon which Hailen had written the key to unlocking the cipher. The series of squiggly lines, circles, dots, and dashes could be translated—provided she wanted to take the time to learn the code.

  But her eyes slid past the journal to rest of the items cluttering the desk. Glass tubes and jars, some empty, most full with powders and crushed leaves she didn’t recognize. Mixing bowls of ceramic and clay. A grey stone mortar and pestle with t
he base stained a deep purple. Many more alchemical tools that would have been at home in House Scorpion, which meant nothing to Aisha.

  And beside them all, apart from the clutter, lay three bright blue flowers with soft, small petals.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Aisha whipped around at the sound of Briana’s voice. The Shalandran sat on the bed, her eyes heavy with sleep and regret.

  “I’ve tried everything I can think of,” Briana whispered, “and I just can’t figure out how to stop the Whispering Lily’s effects.” She stood, careful not to wake Hailen, and padded toward Aisha. “I’ll keep trying, I promise, but…” Her voice trailed off and she let out a long breath. “I can’t promise I’ll find a solution for your…problem.”

  Aisha forced a smile. “It’s fine, actually. That man I went to see, the shaman your father spoke of, he warned me against using it.” She recounted her conversation with Imbuka and his ominous words.

  Briana’s eyes grew wide and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Aisha, I’m so sorry!” Sorrow sparkled in her eyes. “I can only imagine how difficult this all is, and now to find out that there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Actually, there may be more hope than we thought.” Aisha reached within her tunic and pulled out the pendant. “Remember how I said this acted like a storehouse for the power of the spirits?”

  Briana nodded.

  “Well, that’s not all it can do.” Aisha frowned down at the stone. “Somehow, when I touch it, it makes it easier for me to hear the voices of the Kish’aa. My guess is that it’s sensitive to the sounds or reverberations of the spirits.”

  Briana’s eyes flew wide. “Like what Hailen was saying about the other Serenii artifacts and the words he used to activate them?”

  Aisha smiled. “Yes.” She was glad to be talking with Briana about it, if only because the girl was smart enough to understand things that Aisha herself was only beginning to come to terms with. “And if it can help me to communicate with the spirits more clearly, maybe there are more secrets that I haven’t yet unlocked. Secrets your father might have uncovered and written about in his journal.”