Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Issa straightened and saluted. “Yes, Invictus.” Turning on her heel, she strode from the War Room. Her steps led to the staircase that would bring her up to the room with the secret tunnel. Exhaustion tugged on her muscles and the pain of her wounds hadn’t faded, yet there was no way she could rest, not while her grandparents were in danger.

  A glimmer of happiness sprang to life within her as she caught sight of a familiar figure sitting in a room on the upper floor. Hykos’ eyes were closed, his head leaned back against the wall, and his chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. A thick bandage wrapped his injured knee, but his face showed no signs of pain.

  Rest well, Hykos. The time would come when she, too, would find a chance to close her eyes, but not yet. First, I’ve got to save my grandparents.

  A figure detached from the shadows of the hallway opposite the room she sought. Issa tensed, but relaxed as she caught sight of Evren.

  “You’re going after him, aren’t you?” Evren asked before she could speak. “The High Divinity.”

  Issa’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?” His question caught her by surprise; in her worries for her grandparents, she’d pushed the Ybrazhe’s revelation to the back of her mind.

  Evren nodded. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, the one that looks like you’re about to do something stupid.”

  Issa’s jaw clenched. “Don’t try talking me out of this.” She wasn’t going to find the High Divinity, but he didn’t need to know that. She faced a desperate battle to get to her grandparents. Her armor and flammard protected her, but he’d never keep up with his daggers and simple street clothing. No way she’d risk him getting hurt in the skirmish.

  Evren gave her a wry grin. “I’m not here to stop you, just to…” He pursed his lips. “…make sure you don’t get yourself killed, I guess.”

  Issa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He cared enough to want to keep her safe? She’d thought of Kodyn, Aisha, and Briana more as friends, but Evren had always hung back, remained more guarded.

  Evren’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Hey, I’ve been there myself, dead set on doing something dumb for the right reasons. Sometimes, when things are at their worst, you’ve got to take a big risk. But every time I did, I nearly got myself killed.” He shrugged. “I’d just hate to see you wind up dead. After everything you’ve done to help us, I figure it’s time we had your back.”

  An involuntary smile spread across Issa’s lips. The way he talked, it almost sounded like they were friends.

  Yet her smile faded a moment later. A true friend wouldn’t lie like this. If he planned to come with her, he needed to know—

  “I know how hard you’ve been fighting to bring down the Keeper’s Council.” Evren seemed not to notice her inner struggle. “Now, with the proof that Tinush is the link to the Ybrazhe, it means the Council is directly responsible for everything that’s going on right now. I want to be there when you haul him in front of Lady Callista. The look on his face is going to be absolutely priceless!”

  Though he spoke in a lighthearted tone, an earnest seriousness shone in his eyes. He, too, had suffered at the hands of the Ybrazhe. Putting an end to the Syndicate—and, through them, the Keeper’s Council—meant one less threat to his life. No wonder he was dead-set on marching into the Hall of the Beyond to arrest Tinush!

  A war of indecision raged within Issa. More than anything, she wanted to race to the Artisan’s Tier and fight her way to her grandparents. Yet she had sworn to serve Shalandra, not just herself. Saving her grandparents would be selfish and self-centered, given the turmoil gripping her city. The right choice, the choice she had vowed to make the day she took the oaths of the Keeper’s Blades, would be to go after Tinush.

  She felt torn in two. Desire battled duty, and love for her family struggled against her loyalty to the Keeper’s Blades and what they stood for. If she chose her grandparents, her city suffered. If she chose her city, what would happen to Saba and Savta? Could they hold Killian’s smithy much longer? Or were they even now being overrun by rioters? Even without leadership, the Ybrazhe thugs besieging the smithy wouldn’t stop until they completed their objective—likely the murder of Killian and anyone else within the forge.

  Issa knew what she had to do. The decision was crystal clear in her mind, but it took all of her willpower to actually reach it. Shalandra comes first. Three simple words, barely formed into a thought, yet they left her as exhausted as if she’d just run the Blades’ Two Hundred. But they were the right ones. She had vowed to serve, to sever all ties to her past. Though she could never truly give up her grandparents—they were her only family—she could carry out her sworn duty to the city. Shalandra needed her more.

  “Let’s go, then.” She nodded, though her head felt heavy. “Another pair of hands will make hauling Tinush into the palace a whole lot easier.”

  “And, all geared up like that, you’re about as sneaky as a thunderstorm in the desert.” Evren tsked. “I figured you’d need an expert to help you find a secret way into the Hall of the Beyond.”

  “You’d be wrong on that!” Issa grinned. “When it comes to sneaking into the Keeper’s Temple, I’ve already got that covered.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Evren had to admit he’d been wrong about Issa. She could be far stealthier than he expected. Despite the fact that she wore full plate mail, helmet, and that bloody huge sword, she made only fractionally more noise than him as they ran through the Serenii tunnels. Something about her armor made it eerily silent.

  She also moved with caution, placing each step precisely. Though she lacked the skills of a thief like him, she’d clearly spent a great deal of time sneaking around. He thought of one of the few conversations he’d shared with her—before her acceptance into the Keeper’s Blades, she’d been an Earaqi and lived on the Cultivator’s Tier. Who knew what she’d been forced to do in the name of survival?

  Seems there’s a lot I don’t know about her.

  Upon their first meeting, he’d seen her as nothing more than who she appeared to be: a stern, straight-laced soldier serving her Pharus. Yet each subsequent encounter had given him a deeper glimpse into the woman beneath. An orphan raised by her grandparents. A low-caste laborer that had dedicated herself to lifting her family out of their squalor. A dutiful warrior loyal to her commanding officer, too honest to spy on Briana and the rest of them.

  The way she’d panicked when hearing of the threat to Killian’s life and the way the blacksmith had greeted her—with familiarity and warmth she’d reciprocated—revealed another layer beneath. She had known where to find his strongbox, the secret of that black book of his.

  Now, faced with the chaos and destruction of her city, Issa was torn between two loyalties: one to the Earaqi she had lived with her entire life, one to Lady Callista and the rule of order. She had killed her own people to protect the men under her command.

  Evren had no trouble understanding why she’d made the choice to kill the Ybrazhe thugs. They were the cause of the chaos, the ones responsible for the deaths of so many on both sides of the battle. A battle between people of the same city, Shalandrans one and all, Issa’s fellow Earaqi and fellow soldiers. The situation had demanded expediency and Issa had responded with warranted ruthlessness. Thanks to her actions, her people had gotten out alive. Better yet, the Syndicate thugs were talking.

  She had changed since the day they met. Still the same soldier, yet she had a new hardness within her, one born of necessity. Her city was ablaze, awash with bloodshed, chaos, and death. Her life had gone up in flames. That would harden anyone.

  Yet a part of him still watched her with wary eyes. She’d made the choice not to kill the remaining Syndicate thugs, but by the look on her face, it had almost gone the other way. A part of him suspected that she would do whatever she had to for the sake of her people, no matter how ferocious

  And doing so could cost her soul.

  Evren had lived with the guilt of Lect
ern Uman’s accidental death, even though he’d fought back in the name of survival. The things he’d been forced to do while living on the streets of Vothmot, he’d never be able to shake some of those memories. If going with her meant he could help her avoid adding more stains to her conscience, he’d take the risk.

  Even if that means we’re sneaking into the belly of the beast.

  How they’d pull that off remained to be seen. Issa seemed confident in her ability to get them into the Hall of the Beyond without the need for a lockstone like the one Kodyn carried. Evren retained a healthy dose of skepticism that she could manage it, though she deserved a chance to try.

  “This way,” he said, pointing toward a passage, a movement that sent a twinge through his aching shoulder. “This one gets us out as close as possible to the Keeper’s temple, just like you asked.”

  “Good.” Issa nodded, her teeth shining bright in the crimson glow of the gemstones. “Once we’re out, I’ll lead us to the way in.”

  Evren accepted this in silence and led them toward the blank wall at the end of the tunnel. He triggered the gemstones and the stone slid aside. The cool darkness of the starry night awaited them outside. Midnight would be upon them in an hour or two, giving them perhaps six hours to get into the Hall of the Beyond and snatch up Tinush before the rising sun made their job substantially more challenging.

  As Issa slipped out into the night ahead of him, Evren searched the dark sky for the Hall of the Beyond. West of their position, seven black shapes thrust upward from the Keeper’s Tier, the spires of the Seven Faces blocking the stars.

  To Evren’s surprise, Issa turned east, away from the temple. Biting down on his confusion, he followed her without question. If she said she knew the way in and it happened to be somewhere else, he’d give her a shot.

  Their journey lasted only a minute before Issa slipped into the open gate of a mansion that appeared abandoned. Crumbling stone walls, shattered glass windows, and unkempt gardens met his eyes. Curiosity furrowed his brows. This is the way in?

  Issa strode into the house, through the grand hall, and down a smaller passage that led to a set of stairs cut into the stony ground. Before descending, Issa reached into a small cubbyhole next to the staircase and drew out an oil lantern. It seemed the mansion wasn’t abandoned as he thought.

  The lantern had a strange self-lighting mechanism of flint and steel, triggered by a small lever set into the metallic base. The fire was small, barely more than a flickering flame the size of Evren’s fingernail, but the polished metal mirrors amplified its brightness to illuminate the staircase.

  Two floors down, Evren found himself staring down a narrow tunnel that had been crudely carved out of the stone. As far as the lantern light revealed, no more than ten or twenty paces, it ran straight toward the Hall of the Beyond.

  “Well, this is interesting,” Evren whispered as they slipped down the tunnel. “This gets us in?”

  Issa nodded. “I’ve been told it’s for the Necroseti that want to slip in and out of the temple unseen.” Her face screwed into a frown. “Likely for those too low-ranked in the priesthood to know about the Serenii passages.”

  “Yeah, the Secret Keepers say that’s a secret reserved for only a few outside the Keeper’s Council.” A question formed in his mind. “But how, exactly, did you say you found out about this?”

  She, an Earaqi, shouldn’t know about something like this.

  Issa shot him a glance, a strange hesitance in her eyes. “I used it to sneak into the Crucible.”

  Evren raised an eyebrow. “Crucible?”

  “Right, I forgot you’re not from here.” Issa gave him a smile. “All Shalandrans undergo certain tests during their years of education at the Institutes of the Seven Faces or the Academies of the upper tiers. Those selected by the Necroseti as potential Blades undergo the Crucible, a test to determine if they are worthy of serving the Long Keeper.” She gestured to the sword on her back. “We must fight to claim these blades. Yet even winning the battle is only the first step. Only those blessed by the Keeper himself are worthy to wield the swords.”

  “But why did you have to sneak into the Crucible?” Evren asked. “Were you too old to take the tests or—?”

  “My grandparents refused to let me train.” Issa’s jaw clenched and her expression grew suddenly tight. “They didn’t want me to fight, though they never explained why. I had to learn…elsewhere. Someone else who cared about what I wanted.”

  The anger in her voice surprised Evren, but another part of what she’d said leapt out at him. The way she spoke about that “someone else”. Evren had a memory of a dusty training yard surrounded by wooden weapons racks behind a smithy on the Artisan’s Tier.

  His eyes flew wide. “Killian trained you?”

  Issa remained silent, but the surprise on her face all but confirmed his supposition.

  Suddenly, the relationship between Issa and Killian made sense. They were more than simple acquaintances. The way the two had greeted each other after the battle with the Ybrazhe had struck Evren as strange at the time, but now he understood. The way Killian had fought the Syndicate, Issa was lucky to have him as an instructor.

  “Damn! Ever since we rescued him, I’ve been trying to figure out the connection between the two of you.” Evren fixed her with a curious stare. “For a minute, I thought you might have been one of his Mumblers, but…”

  “No.” Issa shook her head. “He never pressed me to join.” Her expression grew puzzled. “I even asked him about it once, why my training was different from the others he recruited to his Mumblers. He just said it was ‘a necessary precaution’. I still don’t know what that means, and he never bothered to explain. Eventually, I stopped asking. All that mattered was that he was training me to become this.” She gestured to her armor and sword. “To fight for my city and...” Again, that strange pause. “…my family.”

  The words hung in the air, something heavy with a meaning that was lost on Evren.

  A moment later, Issa’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know Killian?”

  Evren grinned. “That’s one hell of a story. Let’s just say we’ve each got a vested interest in helping each other out.”

  “Doing what, exactly?” Issa cocked her head, suspicion written in her eyes.

  Evren’s gut tightened at the question. Something told him she wouldn’t be as accepting of his mission to steal the Blade of Hallar as Killian or Briana. He could explain to her the truth of Kharna, the Serenii, and the Devourer of Worlds, but that seemed a little too monumental a revelation for a time like this. Yet he had to give her an answer.

  “I’m here for Hailen.” The best fabrications were built around a kernel of truth. “Getting him into Suroth’s household was a step toward helping him discovering his powers.” Issa had been present when Hailen explained what his blood could do with the Serenii artifacts.

  Understanding dawned on Issa’s face. “And Killian was the one to put you there.” A statement, not a question.

  “Yes,” Evren said. Clearly she knew at least some of what the blacksmith did. “And thanks to that, I’ve ended up in the Ybrazhe’s sights. I’ll be glad when we’re finally rid of the bastards once and for all.”

  “Like you said, the Syndicate is broken.” Issa’s eyes darkened. “Blackfinger is in chains, along with most of his thugs. Angrak is dead. All that remains is to deal with Tinush and anyone else on the Keeper’s Council that’s in league with them.” She clenched her mailed fists so hard her gauntlets creaked. “Then we can return our attention to restoring order to the city. Shalandra will finally be rid of the Ybrazhe.”

  Leaving only the Gatherers, Hallar’s Warriors, and anyone else who’s stirring up trouble, Evren thought. But, at least with one problem out of the way, maybe there will be a chance to bring peace. Ending the riots would be the first step toward a brighter future in Shalandra.

  Before he could continue the line of questioning, the passage ended at a door. Made of heavy oak
banded with iron, it had a finger-thick locking bar to hold it shut. To Evren’s relief, the deadbolt had been left unlocked by whoever passed this way last.

  The door opened with only a tiny creak of hinges, revealing a dark stone staircase beyond. Issa went first, holding the lantern high as she climbed. The stairs only rose one floor before splitting off into three passages that ran north, east, and west.

  “Which way?” Evren asked in a whisper.

  “That way’s the Crucible,” Issa replied, pointing west. “But if we’re looking for Tinush, we’ll want to check the temple itself.” She gestured down the northern passage. “My guess is this way.”

  “Your guess?” Evren’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you said you knew!”

  “No, I said I knew a way into the Hall of the Beyond!” Issa’s face hardened. “We’re in the temple, so now we’ve got to figure out where to find the High Divinity.”

  Evren threw up his hands. “Keeper’s teeth, you could have told me that before we left. We could have at least gotten a basic layout of the temple, figured out where we’re most likely to find our target. Instead, we’re going in half-blind?”

  Lines of tension appeared around Issa’s eyes and mouth, as if she bit back words that ached to burst free of her lips. After a long moment, she shrugged. “We’re here now, so we figure it out.”

  With a sign, Evren nodded. “So be it.” He glanced down the three passages. “So that north one leads us to the main temple buildings?”

  “I think so.” Issa inclined her head. “I mean, I’m pretty certain.”

  Evren snorted. “Hooray.”

  Fire flared in Issa’s eyes. “You’re welcome to go back,” she snarled. “But I’m not leaving until I’ve got Tinush in custody. I’ll haul him in front of Lady Callista even if I have to throw him over my shoulder.”

  It sounded so strange to hear someone like Issa speak thus about a priest, especially one as high-ranked as Tinush. Like so many other cities on Einan, the culture of Shalandra revolved around religion—in this case, exclusive worship of the Long Keeper, god of death. They had bred into the people an innate reverence for the Necroseti, his priests on Einan. For many, raising a hand in violence or even speaking against a priest like the High Divinity would be paramount to heresy.