Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Seconds later, the locks clicked and the shackles fell away. Issa rubbed her wrists, glad to be free of the restraints. Without hesitation, she scooped up the guard’s dagger and leapt through the open door of the cell, slamming the heavy steel grate behind her. By the time the Necroseti guards discovered the dead guard, she’d be long gone.

  She had taken two steps toward the door when something in the next cell over caught her eyes. Black steel armor, heavy full plate mail with spiked shoulders and elbows, lay discarded on the dusty floor. Beside it, a two-handed flammard rested against the stone wall, its black steel blade encased in a sheath of leather-wrapped wood.

  Her armor and sword. The heavy suit of full plate mail and the two-handed flammard of a Keeper’s Blade.

  The guards had stripped off her armor yet hadn’t taken it away. They’d made the mistake of leaving it where she could find it.

  A savage grin twisted her lips as she set to work donning the armor. Let’s see them capture me now.

  When the company of twenty spearmen had come to arrest her in Killian’s smithy, she had been lost in her grief over her grandfather’s death. She’d surrendered to stop them from attacking Evren, Killian, and her grandmother.

  Yet now, she stood alone. With no one to fight at her side, and no one for the Necroseti guards to threaten. She would battle until her last breath, as long as her family and friends were safe.

  Thoughts of her family brought a surge of emotions to Issa’s chest. The image of her Saba’s bloodstained, lifeless face and cold hands brought a lump to her throat. Yet his final words, and the words of her Savta, echoed in her mind with shattering force.

  “Your parents still live,” they had said. “Mother and father both. You know them as Callista Vinaus, Lady of Blades, and Amhoset Nephelcheres, Pharus of Shalandra.”

  The truth had rocked her to the core, had broken something within her. Yet her arrest and imprisonment had given her time to rebuild herself, recover her inner strength. Now, she would face the truth the way she always had: defiant, with her head held high and her sword ready.

  She drew her flammard from its sheath. The weight of her sword and armor comforted her. She was a Keeper’s Blade, chosen by the god of death. She would fight through an army of Necroseti guards to reach Lady Callista. She had to confront the woman—her commanding officer and her mother—and demand answers. Keeper have mercy on anyone who stands in my way.

  Issa raced down the short tunnel that led from the underground cells into the Crucible, the grand arena where she’d battled seventy-five people to claim the blade she now carried. Once again, she would fight for her life, yet this time she fought with the blessing of the Long Keeper and the tools of an elite warrior.

  Sunlight shone at the end of the tunnel, and Issa squinted against the brightness as she raced into the arena. To her surprise, she found only two hours had elapsed since her imprisonment. Her despair, confusion, and sorrow had made it seem so much longer.

  But those dark emotions had faded from within her, leaving only grim resolve. She stalked across the sands, determined, her face set in a grim smile.

  Let them try and stop me from escaping! Her heart pounded in anticipation of battle. She welcomed the thought of letting out her rage, grief, and pain on enemies.

  Golden sand crunched beneath her feet, and the high sandstone walls seemed to sparkle with an auric brilliance in the early morning light. The stands were empty and silent, yet Issa felt an energy crackling through her, the same as she had the day she fought for her right to serve the Long Keeper. Her eyes went to the twin thrones of the Pharus and Lady Callista. Her parents. She’d fight through an army of enemies to reach them, to finally have the truth of who she truly was.

  Her steps led across the sands, toward the gateway set into the southern side of the arena. There, she knew, a hidden passage led out of the Hall of the Beyond and into an abandoned mansion on the Keeper’s Tier. She had used it to sneak into the Crucible and undergo the trial of steel in defiance of her grandparents’ wishes. She’d led Evren into the temple to arrest Tinush, then again as she fled to save her grandparents from the Ybrazhe attack.

  Now, it would lead her to freedom. And answers.

  A strange sound filtered through the blood rushing in her ears: a dry rasping, almost a half-cough, like leaves dragged across stone. It came from her left, from the eastern entrance to the Crucible. And, she realized a moment later, from behind her, from the northern entrance.

  Her gaze traveled east, and her brow furrowed as she caught sight of figures in the high-arching gateway that led toward the temple’s sprawling grounds. She tightened her grip on her blade in expectation of a fight. It would take more than a company of Necroseti guards to stop her from escaping.

  Yet the things that shambled into the daylight weren’t guards. Emaciated, gaunt figures with rags that hung from bony shoulders and skin that bore blisters as black as night. Black threaded their veins, a stark contrast with the weeping blue sores that dotted their pale, almost waxy skin. Their eyes had rolled back in their heads until only the whites were visible. They shuffled, shambled, and staggered, as if unconscious or drunk.

  Or dead.

  Horror slowed Issa’s steps, an icy dread seeping into her muscles. Stumblers?

  Superstitious Shalandrans whispered of creatures animated by dark magics long ago lost to the world. It was said that only solid stone could shield the spirit from the evil sorcery and prevent the dead from returning to life.

  Impossible!

  Stumblers were nothing but myth and legend, tales of horror spread by Intaji stonemasons to entice gullible people into hiring them to carve out burial crypts, graves, and sarcophagi for the deceased.

  But there was nothing mythical or fictitious about the monstrosities that lurched into the Crucible. They were as real as they were horrible, creatures of nightmare, the dead unleashed against the living.

  And, somehow, they had come for her.

  Her gaze darted to the northern entrance and found more of the foul creatures emerging from the shadows. Five, ten, twenty, fifty. More and more, shambling into the Crucible, flooding the revered sands with their tainted presence. They shambled toward her, their claw-like fingers outstretched, filling the air with that horrible rasping, gagging sound.

  Issa poured on the speed, racing toward the southern entrance and the way out. She had to reach the tunnel before the Stumblers surrounded her.

  She was five paces from the tunnel when the shadows began to move and the first Stumblers appeared from the darkness. First one, then two more, then a dozen.

  Issa skidded to a halt and cast about wildly for another way. The sandstone walls ringing the arena stood at least twenty feet high, far too tall for her to climb. Like all of Shalandra, the Crucible had been carved from the very stone of Alshuruq. The four entrances in and out of the coliseum disgorged hideous hordes of Stumblers.

  The arena where her life as a Keeper’s Blade had begun would be her final resting place.

  Chapter Two

  “You intend to break Issa out of the Hall of the Beyond?” Lady Callista fixed Evren with an incredulous look. “The Necroseti have barred their gates, and I’m certain they have their spearmen watching every one of the Serenii tunnel entrances into the temple.”

  “Maybe.” Evren shrugged. “But Issa showed me another way in.”

  The Lady of Blades’ brow furrowed. “Issa…showed you a way in? How did she—”

  Evren shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” If Issa wanted Lady Callista to know that she’d snuck into the Keeper’s Temple for the Crucible, that would be her story to tell. “What matters is that I can get into the temple right now and find her.”

  A sudden brightness glimmered in Lady Callista’s eyes, pushing back the despair that stained her expression. “Truly?”

  Evren nodded. “I can get to the Hall of the Beyond in less than half an hour, slip in, break Issa out of wherever they’re holding her, and get her to fr
eedom before the Keeper’s Council know I’m there.”

  He was massively over-simplifying what doubtless would be a complex process—Evren had no idea where in the Keeper’s Temple Issa would be imprisoned, or how many guards would stand in his way. But at that moment, Lady Callista needed hope. Evren had never seen the stoic, calm, strong-willed Lady of Blades as crushed as when she received the news the Necroseti had Issa in the temple. There was something there, something he intended to explore, but after he made sure Issa was safe.

  He owed Issa that much. She had been arrested for the murder of High Divinity Tinush and the assault on Councilor Madani—acts for which he was responsible.

  Lady Callista fixed him with that unnerving, piercing gaze. “If you can do this,” she said, her voice matching the burning intensity in her eyes, “if you can get Issa out, you have but to name a reward and it will be yours.”

  Evren resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. That tone held far more depth of meaning than a commander concerned for her subordinate. The look in Lady Callista’s eyes, or perhaps it was the urgency echoing in her voice, gave Evren pause.

  She truly cares about Issa. He realized. There’s something more here, something I’m missing.

  But the time for questions would be later. At that moment, he had to focus on getting Issa out. He owed her that much—after all, he was the reason the Necroseti had arrested her. The offer of a reward only strengthened his resolve.

  “You have my word, Lady Callista.” Evren placed his hand over his heart, the way all honorable Vothmoti did when swearing a solemn oath. “I will bring Issa back to you, no matter what.”

  The Lady of Blades seemed to relax, and a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you.”

  “And I’m going with him.” A new voice echoed down the corridor. Strong and confident, accompanied by the clacking of heavy boots on the gold-and-silver tiles.

  Evren and Lady Callista turned toward the speaker. Hykos, Issa’s Archateros trainer, strode down the hall toward them. His black Shalandran steel armor had lost its sheen of polish, but was stained with blood and as battered as its wearer. Hykos’ jaw muscles worked with every other step; his kneecap, shattered in the fight outside the Hall of Bounty, hadn’t yet fully healed. Yet the light of resolve shone in his eyes, a burning inferno that no pain could quench.

  “Archateros, I—” Lady Callista began.

  “All due respect, Proxenos, but you won’t stop me from going with him.” Hykos inclined his head toward Evren. “If he’s going to risk his life to rescue Issa, I’m going to be there with him. I’m not too wounded to fight, especially not against a handful of Necroseti spearmen.” He gave a derisive snort. “And Issa’s my prototopoi. It’s up to me to make certain she’s safe.”

  Now Evren allowed his eyebrow to rise. And that’s all it is, eh? He’d seen the way Issa and Hykos looked at each other. The worry in Issa’s eyes when Hykos fought to give her time to escape, the concern in Hykos’ voice as he tried to dissuade Issa from going after the Ybrazhe stronghold.

  There was no doubt in Evren’s mind. There’s definitely something there.

  Hykos drew himself up with barely a wince. “You can order me to stand down, Proxenos, but know that is one order I cannot obey. If you choose to dismiss me from the Keeper’s Blades, do so after I rescue Issa.”

  Lady Callista seemed to have reached a similar conclusion. Though her expression remained solemn, Evren caught a slight hint of amusement crinkling her eyes. “Peace, Hykos.” She raised a hand. “I was simply going to inquire into the state of your wounds.”

  “Oh.” A flush rose to Hykos’ dark cheeks.

  “But your determination does you credit. You have my blessing to accompany Evren on this, the most important mission of your life.” Lady Callista fixed Hykos with a piercing gaze. “Find her, Archateros. At any and all cost.” Her eyes darted to Evren. “I don’t care if you have to kill every Keeper-damned priest in that temple. Bring me Issa back, alive.”

  “Yes, Proxenos.” Hykos’ mailed fist clanged off his black steel breastplate in the Blade’s salute.

  Together, Evren and Hykos turned to stride down the hall. Lady Callista’s voice rang out behind them. “But when you return, Hykos, we will speak of the reasons for this defiance and determination to rescue your prototopoi.”

  From the corner of his eye, Evren caught the sudden tightening of Hykos’ face. A hint of color rose to his cheeks but the Keeper’s Blade never slowed his step.

  “This way.” Evren turned down an adjoining passage, leading Hykos toward the secret passage.

  Hykos watched, curiosity burning in his eyes, as Evren triggered the Serenii-made mechanisms that opened the hidden entrance to the tunnels. “How is it that you know of these?”

  Evren shot him a grin. “I know a guy.”

  Hykos fixed him with a stern glare, clearly unimpressed and unaccepting of that dismissive answer.

  Evren chuckled. “Serenii secrets have sort of become a part of my life in the last few years.” He hurried down the dimly lit passage ahead of Hykos. “They may have disappeared from Einan millennia ago, but the more you look, the more you’ll find the marks they left on the world. I’ve just been spending time with people who have made it a point to go seeking them out.”

  “Is that what brought you to Shalandra in the first place?”

  The question, though asked in a careless tone, made him nervous. “What do you mean?” Evren asked.

  Hykos’ chuckle echoed from behind him. “You’re not from here. Your accent, it’s all wrong, if you’ve an ear for such things.”

  Evren’s shoulders knotted, and his fingers twitched, as if aching to grip his jambiyas. He was alone in the tunnels with a heavily-armored Keeper’s Blade, one fully capable of cutting him to shreds. And that Blade knew that he wasn’t Shalandran, a fact only the Black Widow had sussed out before. How much did Hykos know? Had Issa told him of Evren’s mission to Shalandra? What did Hykos plan to do with that knowledge?

  “Don’t worry, Evren.” Hykos’ voice held no trace of threat or menace. “I have no intention of revealing your secrets. If Lady Callista chooses to trust you, I trust her judgement.”

  Relief flooded Evren, yet he still couldn’t fully relax. If Hykos knew the real reason he’d come to Shalandra—to steal the Blade of Hallar, an ancient relic of the Serenii—he might be far less understanding.

  “I’ve heard of everything that you and your friends have done in the name of peace and justice in Shalandra,” Hykos continued. “And I know what you did to help me back on the Cultivator’s Tier, outside the Hall of Bounty. Anyone who would throw themselves in danger for someone they hardly know is a man worth trusting. The fact that you are risking your life to save Issa is all I need to know about you. For now.” Those words held an edge.

  “And what about you?” Evren shifted the conversation quickly—too much talk about him could lead to some questions he’d rather not answer. “I can hear you wincing with every step, and I saw those wounds you took in the battle. I know you’re Issa’s trainer, but is that the only reason you’re coming with me?”

  Evren chuckled inwardly. Hykos’ answering silence all but confirmed his theory.

  “For what it’s worth,” Evren said in a quiet voice, “I think she’ll be glad you demanded to help spring her from the Keeper’s Temple.” He shot a glance over his shoulder at the Archateros. “It’ll mean a lot to her. More than you might realize.”

  Hykos’ expression had grown pensive, yet a hint of something deeper—hope, perhaps?—sparkled in his eyes.

  Evren grinned. “Give it some thought, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows what could happen once this is all over?”

  Hykos gave no indication he’d heard Evren, yet his expression didn’t quite remain inscrutable. His lips twitched as if in thought—or in a small smile.

  They reached the end of the corridor, and Evren stepped aside for Hykos to pass. Removing his helmet, Hykos plucked off his headba
nd and pressed the silver disc against the wall. Evren had been relieved when Hykos volunteered to accompany him—and not only because the Blade would be handy in the inevitable fight to free Issa. The passages into the palace were guarded by special locking mechanisms that could only be triggered by certain resonator stones, such as the one Kodyn carried. Or, he’d discovered, the stones given to every one of the Keeper’s Blades upon their Anointing.

  The moment the stone wall slid open, Evren’s senses were immediately on full alert. A strange dry, gasping sound, like bones rubbing against each other, echoed in the tunnel, accompanied by the quiet scuff of sandaled feet on stone.

  Evren’s hands darted to his daggers and drew them in an instant. A moment later, Hykos had his sword unslung. The black steel blade seemed to glimmer in the crimson light of the glowstones set into the tunnel walls. The red glow outlined Hykos’ heavy, spiked armor in a luminous aura that seemed suddenly eerie against the shadowy backdrop and the ghastly sounds echoing from the darkness.

  Knots formed in Evren’s shoulders and his gaze darted down the tunnel, searching for the source of the blood-chilling sounds. Yet he saw nothing. The glowstones lit up the passage for fifty paces to the east and west, yet not so much as a speck of dust stirred. The sound came from far off—from which direction, he couldn’t tell—echoing through the tunnels as if surrounding them.

  Evren pressed a finger to his lips, and Hykos nodded. Whatever was making the sound, they both had no desire to attract its attention.

  Slipping around Hykos, Evren took the lead and guided them through the dark tunnels. Thankfully, they had only a few hundred paces to cover before they found the intersecting passage that opened onto the Keeper’s Tier, right behind the abandoned mansion where Issa had showed him the secret passage.

  Evren’s heart hammered a nervous beat as he and Hykos skulked through the shadows. His eyes never stopped moving, scanning the shadows for any threat. The sound grew both louder and fainter with every step. His gut clenched and a shiver ran down his spine; whatever was making that noise, there was more than one of them.