Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  “…heard from Blackfinger yet?” his target was saying.

  “No,” came the rough reply. “But he’s likely laying low for now.”

  “He was pissed as hell after he had to abandon his stronghold,” chimed in another voice, this one gravelly and deep. “Never seen him spit so much blood and fury, I haven’t.”

  “Good for him,” snapped the first voice, “but that doesn’t solve our problems here. We’ve got the smith’s place surrounded, but it’s proving difficult to—”

  “No buts, Vorbus.” The second man’s voice rumbled up the alleyway. “Blackfinger’s expecting results, not griping and bitching.”

  “Easy for you to say, Drull,” came Vorbus’ reply. “Looting the marketplaces don’t take much in the way of smarts. But Blackfinger didn’t say nothing about the blacksmith’s Keeper-damned defenses. We’ve spent hours trying to get through it.”

  “And you’ll keep spending hours trying,” Drull growled. “Unless you want to be the one to explain why the most crucial part of his plan failed.”

  I knew it! The Syndicate is using the crowd.

  Thankfully, he’d also been right in his assumption that Killian could take care of himself. Evren had just spent the last hour pretending to help the throng attack the blacksmith’s defenses—it would take far more than a crude battering ram and ropes to get through that steel door or over the spike-topped wall.

  “Keep to your job.” Drull’s snarling voice echoed up the alley. “We’ll keep putting out feelers to find where Blackfinger’s gone to ground.”

  “Maybe send a few of your Crewmen to lend a hand, eh, Drull?” came the gravelly voice. “Vorbus could use a few more strong arms to—”

  Evren never heard the next words. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and spun him around. “What are you—?”

  The man’s eyes went wide in recognition. “You!”

  Evren’s breath froze in his lungs. He, too, recognized the man before him. A towering hulk with a fierce glare, one of the thugs that had snatched him outside the Hall of Bounty and hauled him off to Blackfinger.

  Before he could react, the brute brought a ham-sized fist up and drove it straight at Evren’s face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Issa sucked in a breath. “By the Keeper!” She had heard Evren explain to Kodyn the secret of the lockstones that sealed the Serenii tunnels. Places like the Fortress required a special stone to enter—one, it seemed, that had been embedded into the silver disc that marked Hykos as a Keeper’s Blade.

  Hykos replaced his headband and helmet and shot her a grin. “Like I said, another secret you learn as a Katoteros. Though, the way things are going, Lady Callista might just see fit to read you in sooner.”

  Issa sucked in a breath. Lady Callista!

  The Lady of Blades, the highest-ranked commander, had to know about her grandparents. She was old enough that she might have been a Blade at the same time as her Saba. At the very least, she’d know who could give Issa the answers she sought.

  “She’ll want to know you’re alive.” Hykos’ expression held a depth of meaning Issa didn’t understand. “We’re on strict orders to bring you straight to her.” He glanced at Issa’s torn, bloodied clothing and a blush touched his cheeks. “Unless you want to clean up first.”

  Issa looked down. Large swaths of bare skin were visible through the cuts in her kalasiris and tunic. She shook her head. “No.” She had no time to be embarrassed now, not so close to finding the truth.

  Hykos shrugged and managed to pull his eyes away. “Your call. Either way, Lady Callista has your armor with her.”

  Relief flooded her. She would never have survived the trip to the Cultivator’s Tier clad in her plate mail, yet she found herself missing it. Its weight and the strength of its steel protection comforted her. Compared to her two-handed flammard, the club and short sword she carried felt like pathetic toys.

  “Lead the way,” she told Hykos. She tried her best to match his pace despite the pain in her ribs and legs. Thankfully, he moved slowly enough that she could keep up with only minimal effort and discomfort.

  The corridor ran for fifty paces before ending at a blank wall. Hykos pressed the gemstone that triggered the doorway and the stone slid aside. Soft orange lamplight spilled through the opening, revealing a simple chamber five paces wide and long with nothing more than a metal sconce for hanging the lantern and a barred door.

  Beyond the door, Issa found herself in the stern, bare corridors of the Fortress. It seemed the Indomitables’ stronghold had been decorated by the same martial hand as the Citadel of Stone. The walls, floors, and ceilings were free of adornment or ornamentation. The tromp, tromp of their boots echoed loud through the sparse stone corridors.

  Hykos led their small group through the twisting, turning passages and down a flight of steps to what appeared to be the ground level. There, in the main chamber of the Fortress, stood Lady Callista, the Elders of the Blade, and the highest-ranked Executors commanding the Indomitables.

  Issa’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect to see them here,” she whispered.

  Hykos nodded. “Lady Callista and the Elders relocated their principal command center here and left a smaller force near Death Row. That way, they can be on hand to keep a tight hand on the situation, yet far enough away that they won’t be in immediate danger if the gate falls.”

  The idea of Lady Callista being in danger brought a smile to Issa’s face. She had a memory of the night the assassins attacked the palace: a bareheaded Lady Callista stood in the doorway, fighting off the Gatherers that had come to kill the Pharus. Clad in her black armor and wielding her enormous flammard, she had been an unmovable wall of fury and death.

  “Lady Callista, I bring good news.” Hykos called out as they reached the ground floor.

  The Lady of Blades looked up. Exhaustion darkened her eyes and worry lined her face, yet as her gaze fell on Issa, a small smile tugged at her lips.

  “Issa, glad to see you made it back to us.”

  Real warmth shone in the Lady of Blades’ eyes, and she spoke with a tone of genuine relief that took Issa by surprise.

  “Th-Thank you, Proxenos.”

  The moment passed in an instant, so short-lived Issa almost thought she’d imagined it. “Your armor and sword are in the next room. Suit up and return for your assignment.” Lady Callista’s tone became all business, terse and commanding.

  “If you have a moment, Proxenos, I have questions—”

  “Questions?” Lady Callista raised an eyebrow. “Unless they are in regards to the chaos gripping Shalandra, perhaps we can put them off until after we’ve pacified the rioters, yes?”

  Issa’s resolve wavered in the face of the situation. She needed to speak about her grandparents, to get help for them. Yet the dour expression on Lady Callista’s face forestalled her words.

  “As you can see, we are facing a crisis.” The Lady of Blades gestured at the flurry of activity filling the Fortress, the Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades trooping in and out of the high-vaulted chamber. “I will make time to speak when all this is over. Will that suffice?”

  Despite the tightening in her gut, Issa nodded. “Of course, Proxenos.” With a salute, she headed into the next room. The Lady of Blades had greater worries on her mind at the moment. But once they had the situation under control, Issa would seize the first opportunity she got to question Lady Callista about her Saba and why he wore the armor of a Keeper’s Blade.

  The sight of her armor and sword brought a strange sense of relief. She had come so close to death more times than she could count; now, having the protection of strong steel and the power of her flammard increased her chances of not only surviving the turmoil, but being able to save her grandparents. When the time came, she’d be ready to fight her way through the mob to get to her Saba and Savta.

  A nearby basin held fresh, cool water, which Issa gratefully splashed across her face and hands. Once she�
�d cleaned off the blood, she slipped into the clean tunic and breeches laid out next to her armor. The bruises on her ribs made putting on the gambeson and the heavy armor itself much trickier, but she refused to ask for help. Ten minutes later, sword on her back and helmet clasped under her arm, she strode back into the War Room.

  Lady Callista was busy speaking to a messenger, but close to a score of new faces crowded into the room. Most belonged to the Indomitables’ Executors with their Sentinels, but many were Keeper’s Blades. One in particular brought a familiar tightness to her gut.

  Tannard fixed her with a cold, hard expression. “So you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Prototopoi.” His rumbling, gravel-rich voice held a mocking note and his lip curled up into a little sneer.

  Sorry to disappoint you, Issa wanted to growl. She bit back the retort and instead said. “I was trained well, Invictus.”

  His face did a strange dance, flashing from irritation to surprise to something that could almost be grudging acceptance.

  Issa stifled an inward grin. You think I’m talking about you, you cold-hearted bastard? Hykos’ kindness and Killian’s grim tenacity had kept her alive. She lived despite Tannard’s cruelty, not because of it.

  His taunt failed, he fell silent, his eyes sliding away from her with cool disdain. At that moment, she wasn’t his problem, so she was beneath his notice. Issa did likewise. At that moment, the battle for Shalandra had to be her primary concern—her enmity toward the tyrannical Invictus could wait until after they quelled the riots.

  Lady Callista’s words snapped her back to the present. “The situation is dire.”

  The solemn note in the Lady of Blades’ voice sent icy feet dancing down Issa’s spine. She had never seen Lady Callista afraid, not even when facing down assassins wielding poison and steel. Somehow, the unease in the woman’s dark eyes made the situation seem all the more dire.

  “Most of the Indomitables stationed on the streets have either pulled back to the Defender’s Tier or barricaded themselves in various strongholds around the three lower tiers.” Lady Callista leaned over the map spread out across the table. “However, by the early reports I’ve been receiving, casualties among the Alqati are high. Nearly two thousand dead or too wounded to fight.”

  Issa sucked in a breath. So many?

  The forty-some people around the table seemed equally shocked. One young messenger wearing a golden Dhukari headband paled, putting a hand to his mouth.

  “That is nearly twenty percent of our forces out of the battle,” Lady Callista continued, ignoring the stunned expressions. “Of the remaining eight thousand Indomitables, nearly half are spread out on the three lower tiers. The greatest concentration is in the Slave’s Tier, where they were stationed in the wake of Aterallis’ execution, in an attempt to prevent precisely this sort of unrest.” Her face darkened. “Those companies are also the ones hit hardest.”

  It made sense. The ones stationed on the lowest tier would be the first targets of the Kabili and Mahjuri’s anger.

  “That leaves us four thousand Indomitables to take up the defense of the upper tiers.” Lady Callista looked at the faces around the table. “Two thousand hold the gate to the Defender’s Tier and Death Row, with an additional two hundred at the gate to the Keeper’s Tier and two hundred more within the Palace of Golden Eternity. With six hundred to reinforce those fighting at the gates, that leaves just one thousand Indomitables to restore order to the city.”

  A thousand? Under normal circumstances, that many Indomitables would be enough to cow any of the castes into submission. But this was far from normal. Against nearly two hundred thousand Earaqi, Kabili, and Mahjuri, that seemed a miniscule and ineffective force.

  “Of those,” Lady Callista continued, “I must commit two hundred to guarding the paths within the Keeper’s Crypts.”

  Her words sparked a round of protests. All of the Executors and Sentinels spoke at once, with even a few of the Elders chiming in.

  “All due respect, Lady Callista,” said one Executor, shouting to be heard over the clamor, “that is madness.” The man who spoke wore the black armor of the Indomitables, with three vertical silver stripes through the blue band on the forehead of his helmet. He stroked his long, dark beard with a strong hand. “Placing our men there is a waste of manpower. Those two hundred could be dispatched to hold the Defender’s Tier or—”

  “Your respect is noted and appreciated, Theregus.” Lady Callista’s voice held an acidic bite. “All the same, they will remain at their posts as instructed.” She fixed the men with a stern gaze. “I’m certain you all remember Issa, one of the five chosen by the Long Keeper at the Crucible just weeks ago.”

  All the eyes in the room turned to her. Issa’s stomach did a somersault at suddenly finding herself the center of attention. It took all her willpower to stand upright when she wanted to duck back into the shadows. She had no idea why Lady Callista had singled her out, yet the Lady of Blades never acted without purpose. Gauntleted fists clenched at her side, Issa stood her ground.

  Lady Callista spoke. “She, in the company of Archateros Hykos and ten Indomitable trainees, found a nest of Gatherers deep within the Keeper’s Crypts, on the Cultivator’s Tier. They eradicated the cultists’ camp—and most of the Gatherers themselves, I suspect—yet their very presence within the crypts is proof enough that those behind this uprising are no longer bound by superstition or custom. They desecrate the tombs of the revered dead with impunity.”

  “An indignity!” spat Theregus, his craggy face twisted in revulsion.

  “Indeed.” Lady Callista nodded. “Yet all the same, they have revealed their true colors. While I, too, agree that it’s unlikely that our enemies will travel the crypts when they have the city so firmly in their grip of chaos, I will not discard it entirely. Thus, two hundred Indomitables will hold the Defender’s Tier and Keeper’s Tier, with another two hundred to stand as reinforcements.”

  “Four hundred?” growled another commander, this one with more grey hair than black and deep lines around his eyes. “That leaves a mere six hundred to restore order to the city.”

  “A task which has become even more complicated.” Lady Callista’s face hardened. “I have just received reports that the city gates have been captured by the rioters and sealed.”

  Confusion twisted Issa’s face into a frown. That makes no sense! If the rioters wanted food and valuables, their best choice would be to attack the higher tiers. They wouldn’t hold the gates unless someone was driving them to. Yet another indication of organized thought behind the riots. The question was: who?

  “With the gates closed, the city is cut off from all outside supplies.” Lady Callista’s jaw muscles worked. “Even if the Earaqi were working the fields rather than wreaking havoc, they could not bring the crops into the city to be distributed among the five tiers. I have word that the line of merchant caravans and wagons waiting in vain to enter stretches for a full league to the east.”

  Issa sucked in a breath as realization dawned. “They’re using hunger against us!”

  Again, all eyes turned toward her, but this time she felt no instinct to recoil. Lady Callista’s next words reinforced her certainty.

  “Issa is correct.” The Lady of Blades tapped the markings representing the Halls of Bounty on the three lower tiers. “The stores on the Slave’s Tier are nearly exhausted, and the Cultivator’s Tier has perhaps two days’ rations for all Earaqi. The Artisan’s Tier is better-stocked, but even then, there is not enough food to feed all the Intaji and Zadii.”

  “It will not take much to convince the rioters that the Defender’s Tier and Keeper’s Tier have a bounty of food to offer.” The acknowledgement twisted Tannard’s face into a pinched, sour frown. “Hunger will drive them far more effectively than wealth ever could.”

  “Precisely.” Lady Callista nodded. “For now, the lower castes are occupied in their looting and destroying. They have laid siege to the Temple District and rampaged through bot
h Industry and Commerce Squares. Yet if they were all to turn their attention toward the gate into the Defender’s Tier…” She trailed off, fixing each of the Elders with a stern gaze. “I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that would be for the few thousand men holding the gate.”

  Issa sucked in a quiet breath. Four thousand men against nearly fifty times their number. The gates would only hold for so long against that many.

  “What are your orders, Proxenos?” Invictus Dyrkton stroked his bald head with a hand as battle-scarred as his cheeks, and his thin, furrowed brows appeared worn and aged.

  “Our only hope of survival is to open the gates and hold the Halls of Bounty.” Lady Callista’s face hardened. “If we can give the people the food rather than forcing them to take it, we may be able to quell the unrest.”

  “That’s assuming they’ll listen to reason,” growled one of the Indomitable Executors. “They’re not exactly rational and levelheaded at the moment.”

  “But if they can see that we fight for them, not against them,” Lady Callista pressed, “there is a chance.”

  “So the gates, then?” Tannard asked.

  “Yes.” The Lady of Blades nodded. “We get those gates open.”

  “You know the moment those merchants enter the city, they’ll be mobbed, beaten, and killed,” put in one of the Elders, a giant of a man with an oiled, braided beard.

  “Which is why the merchants will not enter.” Lady Callista shook her head. “But as long as we control the gates, we have access to the supplies waiting outside the walls. We can offer it to the people in the hopes of restoring order. A gift from the Pharus to his loyal citizens, a token in respect for all they have endured.”

  “The Keeper’s Council will never permit it,” growled Dyrkton.

  Disdain flashed across Lady Callista’s face. “Which is precisely why I am speaking of this with you, but when I return to the palace, I will present them with an entirely different plan.”