Aisha’s gut clenched as her eyes drifted west, in the direction of the mansion where she’d left Kodyn the previous night. The towering walls and sharp spires of the Hall of the Beyond blocked her view. She had no idea where he was or what sort of trouble he’d gotten into. He had been angry, driven by his desire for vengeance against the people that had hurt his friends. She’d tried to talk him out of doing anything rash, but he was headstrong, driven by his fury. She could only hope she’d gotten through to him.
Aisha touched a hand to the pendant at her throat. Please, she prayed to the Kish’aa. Please keep him safe!
The spirits surged within her, their energy crackling through her veins, pushing back her fatigue and fueling her with vitality. Their words rang in her mind with such force her head ached.
Yet there was a new edge to their voices, an echo of horror that surprised Aisha. The Kish’aa seemed to recoil from the creatures below, as if afraid or repulsed by them.
Her brow furrowed and she focused on the unusual sensation. Something about the spirits and their reaction to creatures felt strangely…off. They had warned her of danger, yet there was more to it, a threat the Kish’aa couldn’t put into words, or that she couldn’t understand.
The nagging feeling persisted in the back of her mind. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but something about these monsters was very, very wrong.
Chapter Five
“Issa!”
For a moment, Issa thought she was dreaming. Hallucinating, exhausted from the days of sleeplessness and the rush of battle. The endless hacking, slashing, cutting, chopping attacks were all that kept the tide of monstrous creatures from sweeping her away. Her armor had turned aside their clawing fingers, but the moment her arms stopped moving and her sword fell still, they would overwhelm her. She would be trampled and torn to shreds.
And her arms were growing so tired. She’d had nothing to eat save the morsel Evren shared with her nearly twelve hours earlier. She’d spent the last three days in an endless cycle of fighting and running, running and fighting. She had battled Syndicate thugs, Gatherer cultists, and Hallar’s Warriors. Now, she faced an overwhelming enemy that she could not hope to defeat.
She wouldn’t go down without a fight, but if she fought much longer, she would go down. It was inevitable. One warrior, no matter how skilled and strong, couldn’t bring down thousands.
The call came again. “Issa!”
That voice, so familiar, pierced the rush of blood in her ears. It took her exhausted mind a few moments to register the call.
Hykos? It wasn’t her imagination.
She hacked down three of the hideous creatures with a single slash, buying herself a heartbeat’s calm in the middle of the battle. In that instant, her eyes snapped toward the sound of Hykos’ voice.
His voice was real. He was real. A towering wall of black steel armor stained with Stumbler blood, his crimson-tinged sword rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He cut through the ranks of creatures with a snarl on his lips and fire burning in his dark eyes.
Eyes that lifted to meet hers.
In that instant, Issa felt her strength renewed. Not the strength of body—her muscles still ached, her bruised ribs sent stabbing pains through her side, and fire flooded her arms and shoulders—but her strength of spirit. She no longer fought alone.
Hykos had come to battle with her.
And he wasn’t alone. Another smaller figure battled beside him. A figure of darting fury, flying fists, and bright flashing steel. Twin daggers darted, thrust, slashed, and chopped, opening ragged wounds in filthy, rag-covered bodies. Evren fought at Hykos’ side.
Two against a multitude, impossible odds even in the best of circumstances. But with those two at her side, Issa suddenly felt as if she could survive anything.
With a roar, she charged the creatures that stood between her and her friends. Ten of them, staggering, lurching creatures that stumbled slowly across the golden sands of the arena. The spikes on her shoulder punched through ragged fabric, parchment-thin skin, and fragile bones. One after another, she drove into them and shoved through their ranks. They fell back with those horrid gurgling, gasping cries, collapsing to the ground, but slowly struggling to their feet to pursue.
Nothing would stop her from joining Hykos and Evren.
Suddenly, she was through the horde, with only open air and bloodstained sand between her and her friends. She crossed the distance in a great leap.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“We were bored,” Evren responded. “Tired of all those fancy feasts in the palace and long naps in comfortable beds. Figured we’d come and see what sort of fun we could have in the Hall of the Beyond.” He grunted as he ducked a fumbling hand and drove a stiff punch into the creature’s gut, hard enough to shove it backward a few steps. “I’m not going to lie, it’s a bit overrated.”
Laughter bubbled from Issa’s chest. She hacked down another Stumbler, her sword carving through his sternum, chest, and spine in a shower of bright crimson. “And here I thought you were just coming because you missed me.”
“Nah.” Evren chuckled even as he hamstrung another creature with one dagger while burying his other dagger into the Stumbler’s gut. He wiped a drop of blood from his face, leaving a long, red streak along his cheek. “Hykos, on the other hand…”
“Lady Callista sent us,” Hykos said, quickly. “The moment she heard you were captured by the Necroseti, she insisted we get you out, at any cost.”
Mention of the Lady of Blades brought a rush of heat and cold to Issa’s gut. Lady Callista. Her mother. The woman that had relinquished her at birth and given her to strangers to raise. All in the name of protecting her from the Keeper’s Council and the multitude of enemies a woman in her position would have.
The thought sapped the strength from Issa’s arms—just for a heartbeat, yet long enough for one of the creatures to seize her sword arm. Hands closed around her legs, her sides, and tugged at her pauldrons. Issa tried to break free but there were too many. In the second it took her to cut one down, two more grabbed at her.
Black steel whistled past her face, close enough that she could feel the breeze ruffling her hair. The hand fell from her sword arm, severed at the wrist. Freed, Issa brought her flammard swinging around, decapitating the two Stumblers dragging at her backplate and left pauldron. Hykos cut away the hands grasping her legs, and Issa could move once more.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” she shouted.
“You don’t say?” Evren snorted. “And here we were having such a great time of it.”
Issa bit back a retort. She knew Evren well enough to recognize that the more terrified he was, the more sarcastic he grew. And if he was anything like her, he was truly afraid. Against so many Stumblers, they had less chance of survival than a butterfly in a tornado.
She had fought in the Crucible to claim her sword and her place as a Keeper’s Blade. She’d survived seventy-five other youths and triumphed. Yet now, against five times that number, she and her two comrades had little chance of survival.
An image flashed through her mind: the arrogant Kellas tottering on a crumbling wooden bridge that spanned the twenty-foot-wide, spike-lined pit surrounding the Keeper’s Steps.
“This way!” Whirling, she hacked down the nearest Stumbler, a gaunt-faced, empty-eyed woman wearing the blue headband of an Alqati. “To the platforms!”
Warmth surged in her chest as Hykos and Evren followed her. Hykos was a solid bulwark on her left, his sword carving great swaths of destruction through the Stumblers. Evren guarded their backs, daggers flashing, finishing off any that survived their flammards.
Cutting down the last Stumbler, Issa raced toward the pit and raced across the narrow wooden bridge spanning the distance. Evren and Hykos followed a heartbeat later. Together, the three of them scrambled up the uneven wooden platforms to the top of the Keeper’s Steps.
Issa reached the uppermost platform fi
rst, Evren a second behind her. Hykos, however, remained four levels below her. He winced every time he placed his weight on his left leg.
The fool came to battle, even though he’s wounded. His kneecap had been shattered in the skirmish with the rioter. The Keeper’s blessing would heal him faster than the average person, but even he needed weeks to rest and recover from injuries as severe as those he’d sustained in the battle at the Hall of Bounty.
She opened her mouth to lecture him on his foolhardiness, but something stopped her. Even wounded, he’d come to battle. He’d come for her. Risked everything to help free her from the Keeper’s Temple. The pain hadn’t stopped him, or the fact that he was invading the Necroseti stronghold.
A new heat flooded Issa, a flush that spread from her chest, through her stomach, and burned to her core. He’d faced impossible odds, for her.
Instead of shouting at him for being a fool, she clambered down two levels and offered him a hand up. Together, they scaled the last four platforms to the top.
Weeks ago, Issa had stood here, had pulled her sword from its stone sheath to claim her place as a Keeper’s Blade. Now, the stone sheaths stood empty, the grandstands devoid of spectators. The Crucible had once again become her testing ground. Only this time, instead of triumph and accolades, her only reward would be survival.
From the top of the Keeper’s Steps, she had a clear view of the entire arena. Of the hundreds of slack-jawed, white-eyed creatures flooding through the openings and into the high-walled coliseum. The monstrosities shambled toward her, arms outstretched as if they ached to claw her heart from her chest. By the dozen, they fell into the pit to be impaled upon the spikes, and their rasping, gurgling cries fell silent.
Yet Issa knew it would only buy them a few minutes. A few of the creatures had stumbled across the wooden bridges and now attempted to scale the platforms. Though their movements were jerky, uncoordinated, there was no doubt in Issa’s mind that they would eventually reach them.
We’ve got to find another way out of here. The Keeper’s Steps had only bought them a short respite to recover and plan their proper escape.
She scanned the ranks of Stumblers, counted quickly. More than two hundred of the shambling creatures had flooded the Crucible. Yet, to her surprise, no more appeared in the tunnels leading from the main temple building to the arena. The tide of creatures wasn’t truly endless.
A memory flashed through her mind: flanked by her Indomitable trainees, wielding swords of wood and clad in simple cloth, charging four lines of heavily-armed and armored Indomitables. Kellas’ sneering face. Tannard’s cold cruelty as he slashed at her.
She’d rushed Kellas knowing he would be the weak point in the battle line. His desire to bring her down, to teach her a lesson, had given her the advantage.
She just needed to find the weak spot here, then charge it with every shred of strength and determination. She’d won a victory over Tannard and claimed the flag that day; now, her prize would be life. Survival against impossible odds.
“There!” Issa thrust a blood-soaked finger toward the eastern tunnel, the one that led from the Crucible toward the gardens that surrounded the main temple building. “If we can cut through the ranks, we can get down that tunnel.”
“You know that just goes deeper into the temple, right?” Evren cocked an eyebrow. “A temple that is home to a lot of Necroseti and guards quite interested in seeing you dead.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ve got bigger worries than just me right now,” Issa retorted. “The Necroseti’s guards might be able to repel the Stumblers long enough for the Keeper’s Council to get to safety.”
“Not out the tunnel we came in.” Hykos shook his head. “That way’s almost certain to be blocked by Stumblers.”
Issa cursed aloud. So much for that!
Yet there was no denying it: the eastern passage was the weakest point in the Stumblers’ ragged horde. The way to the southern passage, the one through which Hykos and Evren had emerged, was thick with the monstrosities, and more emerged with every passing heartbeat.
No, our only way out is deeper in.
If they could get into the temple’s gardens, they’d have a much easier time losing the Stumblers in the foliage. They could plan another strategy, find another way to escape. Hells, if worse came to worst, they could simply scale that beech tree and climb into the top floor of the Hall of the Beyond. That would put all the Necroseti spearmen between them and the Stumblers. They’d have plenty of time to figure out their next move.
She relayed her plan quickly and quietly. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”
“Crazy’s kind of all we’ve got to play with right now.” Evren grinned. “Better than any plan I can think of off-hand.”
Hykos gave her a reassuring nod. “I’ve no doubt the Keeper’s Council will try using one of their entrances to the Serenii tunnels to escape. But when they find that the passages are full of Stumblers, they’ll have to think again. They’re trapped in here, just like we are.”
“Only difference is that we’re not too cowardly to fight our way out,” Issa snarled. “All we’ve got to do is find the right weak spot in the Stumbler horde.” It was a desperate gamble, with the same odds of success as finding gold in a Mahjuri cesspool. But fighting to freedom was far better than fighting to hold ground against an enemy guaranteed to overwhelm them.
“I’ll take the lead,” Hykos said. “You two—”
“Not a bloody chance.” Issa’s jaw clenched. “You’re wounded, even if you want to pretend otherwise. That leg’s going to slow you down, make you vulnerable. I’m the tip of the spear, and you two will back me up.”
Evren shot Hykos a meaningful glance. “I can see why you fancy her. Tough as nails and twice as sharp.” He winked at the tall Archateros. “As soon as punch you as kiss you, she would, but it’s your heart you’re gambling.”
The words brought a flush of color to Hykos’ cheeks. The response shocked Issa. Yet she had no time to examine the thought any further. A Stumbler had managed to clamber all the way up to the uppermost platform and now reached for Hykos’ leg. Issa leapt past the Archateros and drove her sword into the creature’s chest. It fell back with a gurgling, rasping cry, toppled off the wooden platform, and fell into the spiked pit below.
“Let’s do this!” Issa turned to her two companions. “We hit hard and don’t stop moving, no matter what.”
Evren flicked a drop of blood from the tip of one jambiya. “I’m in.”
Hykos nodded. “Lead the way, Prototopoi.”
Now it was Issa’s turn to blush. He spoke the word with a note of pride, a trainer impressed with his student. Turning away to hide a grin, Issa scrambled down the Keeper’s Steps toward the ground.
Two of the Stumblers had gotten across the wooden bridges and were fumbling their way up the Keeper’s Steps. Issa cut them down with two quick strokes, lopping off their heads. The weight of her flammard and the keen edge of the Shalandran steel blade carved through their ghastly flesh and bones with ease.
She took up position on one bridge, cutting down any Stumbler that ventured too close. Yet the press of creatures grew thicker with every passing second. More and more converged toward her, the crowd of shambling bodies packing tighter, barring her path to freedom. But before she could shout for Evren and Hykos to hurry, they joined her on the Crucible’s sands.
“Go!” Hykos said in her ear. “We’ve got your back.”
Gripping her sword tighter, Issa charged.
Forty or fifty Stumblers barred her path. They moved slowly, their movements clumsy and stiff, yet they were as solid a wall of sore-covered flesh and bone as a line of armored Indomitables. Issa dug her heels into the sands and lowered her shoulders, charging them with all the force in her training-hardened muscles. The weight of her armor propelled her forward and she drove into the Stumblers with a tremendous crash of steel striking bodies. Corpse-like creatures were hurled to her right and left, falling to the ground and
tangling with those behind them.
Yet Issa’s charge quickly lost momentum. She had taken down less than twenty before her lungs begged for air and her legs burned. The ground beneath her feet grew slick with monstrous blood. Stumblers pressed in around her, their hands grasping, claws digging for holes in her armor.
Her sword sang a melody of death, the steel ringing as it carved through the creatures. Hykos and Evren fought behind and beside her. Together, the three of them hacked a path through the thickening swarm. Crimson spattered the golden sandstone walls around them, the Blades’ black armor, and their bare flesh. Issa’s sword grew heavy in her hand, the hilt slippery as blood soaked into its leather wrapping. Gritting her teeth, she clung tighter and fought on.
The tunnel to freedom drew closer with every desperate step. Twenty paces. Fifteen. Forty enemies became twenty, then ten. Five more paces, with only a handful of Stumblers between them.
A roar built in Issa’s chest and burst from her lips as she charged the last monsters barring her escape. Her sword swung, rising and falling, hacking, cleaving, hewing sagging flesh and shattering brittle bones.
And then she was through, the last of the Stumblers falling at her feet, head split open by Hykos’ overhand chop. The three of them staggered down the tunnel, gasping for air. Triumph surged within Issa as she ran. Her eyes scanned the darkness of the stone passage for enemies, but the Stumblers had found their way into the arena and now lay behind them.
But how in the Keeper’s name did they get into the temple in the first place?
Chapter Six
Evren winced but bit back a grunt as he raced after Issa, doing his best to support the limping Hykos. One of the horrid Stumbler creatures had dug a sharp nail into his left shoulder, and even the slightest movement sent a twinge through his muscles. Yet he had no time for pain; if they didn’t hurry and find a way out, that horde of monsters behind them would catch up and surround them.
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