Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  “Oh.” Briana’s face fell. “I haven’t found anything about the pendant yet.”

  The girl’s words and expressions shattered Aisha’s momentary hope.

  Briana’s twisted expression turned into a frustrated, apologetic frown. “Between trying to figure out the Whispering Lily problem and Evren’s latest discovery, I haven’t had time to—”

  “Discovery?” Aisha’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t seen Evren since he left with Briana the previous day. “What did he find?”

  Briana sucked in a breath. “It’s horrible, Aisha!” A shudder ran down her spine. “He found the bodies of children slain by the Azure Rot. But it’s not the same Rot that’s been plaguing the city for months. It moves too quickly, kills in a few hours rather than weeks. But we think it’s poison!”

  The moment the word left Briana’s lips, Thimara’s presence within Aisha flared to life.

  Vengeance! The dead Secret Keeper’s voice pierced Aisha’s mind with such force that it nearly sent her to her knees.

  Aisha gasped for breath, pain searing her skull and fire racing through her veins. Yet in that moment, the pleas of the dead suddenly made sense.

  There is no revenge against disease, but if all those people died as a result of poison…

  The realization took her breath away. She hadn’t understood the cries of the Kish’aa, the demands for justice and vengeance from those that had succumbed to the plague. Yet if it hadn’t truly been plague but the work of human hands, the dead would want to be avenged against those that had killed them.

  Her hand went to the pendant around her neck. Is that true? She directed her thoughts at Thimara. Were you poisoned?

  Yes. The word rang in Aisha’s mind as clearly as if the Secret Keeper stood beside her.

  Images flashed before Aisha’s eyes. Thimara hunched over a corpse, her knife cutting into lifeless flesh. Grinding leaves, herbs, and powders together for an experimental cure. Failure, frustration. Sickness. Fever consuming her body and pain wracking every fiber of her being. Hope burning bright, a sense of triumph. Weakness, fatigue, and thirst weighing on her as she stumbled toward the Temple District. Falling to the stone street. Darkness claiming her within sight of her home. Sorrow. She would never see Uryan again.

  Too late, I learned the truth. The Rot claimed me before I could share my discovery. Anguish took root deep within Aisha—Thimara felt regret and grief with such force it stole her breath. It falls to you to avenge me and all those fallen to this poison.

  “Aisha?”

  A familiar voice, Briana’s. It sounded distant, as if from the depths of a vast gulf. “Aisha?” Worry echoed in that voice. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  Aisha blinked and suddenly the world swam into focus. Her lungs burned, a wave of exhaustion set her reeling. The journey between the world of the spirits and the realm of the living left her as drained as if she’d sprinted across the Artisan’s Tier.

  Worry sparkled in Briana’s dark eyes. “What happened? Did you…?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you just talk to one of the dead?”

  Aisha drew in a ragged breath and nodded. “Thimara, the Secret Keeper that lived in the house we stayed in. She told me—”

  “Thimara?” Briana’s eyebrows flew up. “She’s the one that was studying the effects of the Azure Rot before she died weeks ago!”

  “I know.” Aisha swallowed the swell of Thimara’s emotions surging within her. “And before she did, she discovered that the Azure Rot was poison.”

  The girl’s jaw dropped and she fixed Aisha with a long, hard stare. “What?” she finally managed. “And you’re just telling us now?”

  Aisha shook her head. “I…didn’t know until you told me that it might be poison.”

  “I don’t understand.” Confusion twisted Briana’s face. “If you can talk to the dead, why didn’t Thimara tell you before?” The question was so matter-of-fact, as if she discussed a cut of meat with a butcher rather than a mysterious ability to communicate with spirits.

  Aisha frowned. “Until I found this pendant, it was like…” She searched for an explanation that made sense. “Like trying to talk underwater. You can hear the voices, but it’s hard to know exactly what’s being said.”

  Briana cocked her head, as if struggling to understand. “But not now?”

  “With this—” Aisha held up the pendant. “—I can hear as clearly as I’m talking to you. And it’s more than just sound. I sometimes get these…images, like flashes of their lives. Or emotions they felt when they were still alive. The Serenii stone makes them less vague, but it’s still just bits and pieces.”

  Briana nodded. “I think I understand.” She screwed up her face. “My father always spoke of memories like the rooms of our mansion. Some doors are left open so you can always access those rooms, but many are closed, inaccessible. It takes something to open that door—a trigger for the memory. A smell, a sound, a word, even a feeling.”

  The explanation made sense to Aisha. Mention of the word “poison” had brought Thimara’s spirit to life. Even now, just thinking about it, caused the spark within her to glow brighter.

  “So if Thimara confirmed that it’s poison, all that’s left to do is for Evren and the Secret Keepers to return from the Hall of Bounty and find out what kind of poison it is.” Briana shot her a curious look. “Could Thimara tell you what to look for?”

  Aisha placed a hand to the pendant and turned her attention toward Thimara’s spirit. Do you know what poison?

  Thimara tried to communicate—Aisha felt a sharp, acidic bite worming through her stomach and had an image of a clear liquid—but the answer was too vague to make out. Frustration mounted within Aisha as the spirit struggled in vain to fill her mind with the thoughts.

  She shook her head. “Maybe the door to that memory is closed.”

  “So be it.” Briana sighed. “At least the Secret Keepers know to look for poison. And, thanks to you and Thimara, we know they’re on the right track.”

  Aisha nodded. “That’s good enough for now, right?”

  “Definitely!” Briana beamed. “And while they do that, I’ll start looking in my father’s journals for any information about the pendant. The fact that it was in his office means he was studying it. He might have written something down that—”

  She never finished the sentence. The door slid open to reveal Kodyn, red-faced and sweating, as if he’d just run halfway across the city. He also winced with every step and blood trickled from a cut in his neck that hadn’t been there the previous day.

  “Where in the bloody hell have you been?” Aisha demanded, worry spiking her pulse.

  “Nice to see you, too.” Kodyn gave her a grin, but it was shaky, strained. She could see it in his eyes: something had happened, something that rattled him to the core of his being.

  Yet triumph echoed in his voice as he pulled out a small object—a glass vial filled with a dark grey liquid—and held it up. “I think I might have found something important.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knots formed in Issa’s stomach as she followed Enyera up Death Row toward the gate into the Defender’s Tier. Why do the Elders of the Blade want me?

  A summons from Lady Callista made sense, but not the Elders. She’d only seen them once during the trial of stone in the Hall of the Beyond. Yet Enyera had made it clear: they had commanded her presence by name.

  The Defender’s Tier was a flurry of activity. Black-armored Indomitables marched double-time along the Warrior’s Path, fresh-faced soldiers hurrying through the gates to descend the main avenue that led to the lower tiers while tired patrols moved west to the Fortress to recoup after a long night on the streets. The near-frenzied level of movement seemed so odd, almost frenetic, compared to the usually calm streets of the Alqati level.

  Confusion furrowed Issa’s brow as Enyera led her toward a three-story building two streets west of Death Row. What’s going on?

  Messengers hurried in and ou
t of the structure, barely evading collisions with the steady flow of high-ranked Indomitable officers and their retinues. To Issa’s surprise, four Keeper’s Blades stood guard in front of the building, their huge flame-bladed swords drawn and grounded between their feet.

  A buzz of muttered voices, barked orders, and urgent conversations echoed loud inside the building. The spacious front room of the three-story construction had been turned into a War Room of sorts, complete with a broad wooden table that had been spread with maps of Shalandra. A pile of parchments lay strewn atop the maps, doubtless reports from the various companies of Indomitables scattered around Shalandra.

  In the middle of it all stood five men and four women. Broad-shouldered, clad in the spiked black armor of the Keeper’s Blades, and each carrying a flame-bladed sword, these nine Elders were the highest-ranked military officers in Shalandra. They served Lady Callista directly, each overseeing a specific aspect of Shalandra’s martial forces personally.

  The sight of all of the Elders set the acid in Issa’s gut churning. This is truly serious!

  She had seen most of them only once, the night of her trial of stone and her acceptance into the Keeper’s Blades. One of them—a bald-headed man with battle-scarred cheeks and thin, furrowed brows—had been her instructor mere days ago.

  “Invictus Dyrkton!” Issa gave a sharp salute. “You summoned me?” She stood ramrod straight, her face a mask of composure despite the anxiety churning in her gut.

  The Invictus looked past her and nodded at Enyera. “Thank you, Indomitable. You may return to your patrol.”

  “Yes, sir!” From the corner of her eyes, Issa caught the worried glance Enyera shot her way, but the Earaqi soldier hurried away without another word.

  Issa met the searching gazes of the nine Elders.

  “Is it true that you ordered Indomitables not under your command to arrest their Dictator and a fellow soldier?” Invictus Dyrkton asked. His voice held no trace of emotion, but a hint of something dangerous blazed in his dark eyes.

  The churning in Issa’s gut intensified, but she forced herself to nod and reply calmly, “Yes.”

  “Explain.” This from another of the Elders, a woman who appeared to be in her fifties, with the square jaw and stern frown of a career commander.

  Issa lifted her head. “I found Dictator Umild attempting to violate a Mahjuri woman, and his subordinate was having his way with the woman’s daughter.”

  Silence and stern expressions met her statement. Anger mingled with the anxiety clutching at Issa’s stomach and she clenched her jaw. If they disciplined her for protecting people unable to protect themselves, they weren’t the wise Elders everyone in Shalandra believed them to be.

  She barreled on. “I understand that, as prototopoi, I do not have the full authority of a Blade that has been Anointed. Yet when I saw what the Indomitables were doing to the Slave’s Tier—not just Dictator Umild and his subordinate, but all those present—I knew that if I didn’t intervene, the situation would worsen. We would end up with—”

  Invictus Dyrkton raised a strong hand. “Enough.”

  The quiet word drove a dagger of worry home in Issa’s chest. Her hands balled into fists by her side. Whatever happens, I know that I did the right thing.

  “Your actions, while unorthodox, proved correct once again,” Invictus Dyrkton said. “Though you overreached the limited authority granted to prototopoi, in this case, it saved a lot of lives.” His face darkened, his eyes going flinty. “Which is why you have been summoned. You are needed to save lives again.”

  A maelstrom of emotions swirled within Issa: relief at not being punished, pride at what amounted to glowing praise from the stern Elders, and confusion at what they wanted.

  “The Lady of Blades has sent orders for you to command the detachment of Indomitables sent to arrest Aterallis on suspicion of murder.”

  Issa froze. Murder? Confusion twisted her face into a frown. Had she heard right?

  “I understand that it is a great responsibility to be given to one so young,” Invictus Dyrkton said. “Yet, given your actions in the Slave’s Tier, it is our belief that you are well-suited to this duty.”

  “With all due respect, Elders,” Issa finally managed to get out, “but what in the bloody hell?”

  The nine Elders exchanged displeased glances; clearly, no one under their command had dared to speak to them with such disrespect in a long time.

  Yet Issa didn’t let their sour faces stop her. “The man Aterallis may be delusional with all of his talk of the Final Destruction, but if any of you have heard him speak, you will know that he preaches a message of peace.” Issa shook her head. “To accuse him of murder is insanity!”

  Invictus Dyrkton nodded. “Be that as it may, the evidence is against him.” The scars on his cheek made his face seem even more pinched and drawn.

  A chill ran down Issa’s spine. “Evidence?” The word came out harsher than was prudent when speaking to commanders far above her rank.

  Another of the Elders, a towering giant of a man with a chest-length beard oiled and tied into a neat braid, stepped toward a side table and removed a cloth, revealing a bloodied dagger. “This was discovered in the alley behind the derelict warehouse where Aterallis and his followers have been squatting. Along with the bodies of the missing Indomitable patrol.”

  Issa’s retort died unspoken. A bloodied dagger could be dismissed, but paired with the corpses of the Alqati that had accompanied Kellas, the evidence was impossible to ignore.

  No, she wanted to say. That can’t be.

  Aterallis didn’t just preach peace—he had just stopped the crowd from turning to a riotous mob even after the Indomitables had wreaked havoc on the Slave’s Tier. Issa couldn’t simply imagine that soft-spoken man murdering a Keeper’s Blade and an Indomitable patrol in cold blood.

  “You’re certain?” She didn’t care that she was dancing close to crossing the line into insubordination and noncompliance to a direct order—Saba and Savta had raised her to ask questions when things felt wrong, to stand up against injustice. Situations like this and the rampaging Indomitables were the reason she had wanted to become a Keeper’s Blade.

  “As a member of the Dhukari, Aterallis will be given a fair trial before the Pharus and the Keeper’s Council.” Invictus Dyrkton’s voice was heavy. “But for that to happen, he must first be taken into custody and brought to the Palace of Golden Eternity.”

  “We understand that tensions are running high in the Slave’s Tier at the moment,” the giant with the braided beard said, “which is why you are given the task of bringing Aterallis in. Peacefully.”

  A fist of iron squeezed at Issa’s heart. “His followers—”

  “May resist.” Invictus Dyrkton inclined his head. “And it is up to you and your hand-picked contingent of Indomitables to bring him in without violence. I accept that this is easier said than done, but Lady Callista believes you are capable of carrying out this mission.” He exchanged glances with the others. “A belief that we all share.”

  Pride filled Issa with a warm glow, yet she couldn’t shake the hesitant nervousness bubbling up inside her. This situation was all but guaranteed to go awry, no matter what she did.

  “In addition to the two ten-man patrols of Indomitables that will accompany you to arrest Aterallis,” Invictus Dyrkton said, “we are sending four full companies into the Slave’s Tier and an additional two each in the Cultivator’s and Artisan’s Tiers, here, here, and here.” He gestured toward the map, pointing out where the companies would be stationed. “If the situation threatens to get out of control, they have full authorization to protect you and assist in any way necessary.”

  Cold dread seeped into Issa’s bones. The Indomitables formed up along the Warrior’s Path wore heavy armor, the sort they’d wear into combat—or a riot. The last time they’d carried those full-length shields had been during the Fifty-Day Revolt. The casualties had numbered in the thousands—not only the Mahjuri and Kabi
li demonstrators, but Indomitables as well—before the unrest was quelled and the Blades restored peace.

  “Sir, I believe that is a mistake,” Issa said. “The Indomitables have already caused enough damage in the Slave’s Tier with their hunt for the Gatherers. If the Mahjuri and Kabili see their streets flooded with soldiers in full armor, it will simply pour fuel on the fire. Even the tiniest spark could cause the situation to get out of hand.”

  Invictus Dyrkton fixed her with a stern gaze, his face pinched and drawn with worry. “Precisely why we are expecting you to prevent those sparks.” He drove a clenched fist into his open palm with a loud smack. “Aterallis must be brought in peacefully, for all of Shalandra’s sake.”

  * * *

  Issa hated what she had been ordered to do—what she had agreed to do—yet had no other choice. The Elders of the Blade, highest-ranking Keeper’s Blades beneath Lady Callista, had given her an order. And there was no arguing with the evidence. Though she hadn’t seen the Indomitables’ bodies personally, she doubted the Elders would give an order like this without verifying the situation.

  And yet, it still felt…wrong. In those brief seconds of speaking with Aterallis, everything he’d said had been about peace, forgiveness, and mercy. The low-caste Shalandrans were right to love and believe in him; he embodied the message he preached.

  It didn’t make sense, but she had no choice. She was a Keeper’s Blade, first and foremost.

  The gaze of every Earaqi followed her and her twenty Indomitables down Death Row. Fires shone in their eyes, anger twisting their faces into scowls. Fists clenched, shoulders tensed, men and women alike muttered amongst each other. Word of the Indomitables’ rampage through the Slave’s Tier must have reached every corner of Shalandra by now. Though the Earaqi had not been directly affected, they knew they would be next if the situation escalated.