Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Issa raced past the Keeper’s Council toward Hykos and Evren.

  “Wait!” Madani’s shrill cry echoed above the rasping, gurgling cries of the Stumblers. “Protect us, in the name of the Long Keeper, whom you have sworn to serve.”

  Evren stifled a snort. Not a bloody chance. He felt a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction at seeing the fat priests in mortal danger. A part of him was eager to hear Issa’s furious reply; they deserved no less after ripping her from her grandmother’s side less than an hour after her grandfather’s death.

  He turned to help Hykos up the stairs, but Issa’s words stopped him.

  “In the name of the Long Keeper,” she said, “whom we have sworn to serve, we will offer you our aid.”

  Evren’s eyebrows shot up. He whirled back toward her, a retort on his lips. Yet he stopped. The look in her eyes spoke volumes.

  “Thank you!” Relief pierced Madani’s panic. “You just need to hold them off long enough to reach the altar room!” He thrust a pudgy finger toward the top of the steps. “There’s a hidden passage there that takes us into the palace.”

  Evren felt vindicated; he’d been right in his assessment of the Necroseti. Men like them always had another way out. Their own survival came first, no matter how many of their subordinates had to die to save them. “Do they connect to the network of Serenii tunnels?” he asked.

  The corpulent Madani seemed taken aback by the question. “How do you—”

  “Answer the question,” Issa said. “The tunnels are flooded with Stumblers. If this passage is connected to the main passages, we can’t go that way.”

  “No!” Natoris shook his head. “There is only one way in and out of this passage. The other side opens into the palace, in the High Divinity’s private chamber.”

  Evren nodded. “Well then, I say we’ve had enough fun for one day, yeah? Let’s get the bloody hell out of here!”

  The ascent to the altar room took far longer than he expected—not only because of how damned many steps had been carved into the southern face of the temple, but because the pudgy Necroseti were terribly out of shape. The priests huffed and puffed, demanding respites after only a few minutes of exertion. Were it not for the presence of the Stumblers lurching up the steps behind them, Evren had little doubt they’d move even slower.

  Even then, they barely managed to outpace the monsters. Twice, Issa had to turn to face the creatures, hold them back long enough for the Necroseti to recover their wind to keep climbing. Evren fought on her right, Hykos to her left, with the flanks anchored by the spearmen. The first Necroseti guard fell as the Stumblers lurched toward him; the second succumbed to the creatures as they broke off to continue their hurried retreat.

  On one of their many breaks, Evren found his eyes drawn past the horde of Stumblers, past the temple ground, and beyond the sandstone wall surrounding the temple. Horror coursed through him at the sight of Shalandra flooded with the slow-moving creatures. When his eyes went to the Temple District, worry for Hailen and Briana drove an icy dagger into his gut.

  They’re safe, he told himself. Locked in the Temple of Whispers. No Stumbler’s getting through that vault door.

  Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t truly feel the reassurance. He wouldn’t stop worrying until he saw the two of them unharmed with his own two eyes. Hailen’s bright smile, and the way his violet eyes sparkled. Briana’s dark, glossy hair, the way it curled around her oval-shaped face like a perfect frame. Her smile, the way her eyes crinkled in excitement as she recounted some new discovery in her father’s journal.

  Focus, he told himself. We get out of here first, then I’ll figure out how to get back to them!

  After what seemed an eternity, they reached the top of the stairs and hurried toward the sanctuary as fast as their exhausted feet could carry them. Within the chamber stood another statue, the seven somber faces of the Long Keeper staring down upon a golden altar. Yet Evren had eyes only for the door at the rear of the room.

  Issa moved ahead of him, throwing the door open and charging in, sword drawn. A moment later, she returned. “The way is clear.”

  Evren and the now-heavily limping Hykos hustled into the room, followed by the five Keeper’s Priests. This chamber was smaller, barely large enough to hold a plush couch and an ornate wooden table with a single chair. A doorway at one side of the room led down a descending spiral staircase, likely into the temple itself.

  Yet Madani huffed his bulk across to the opposite wall. “Here.” He pressed a thick-fingered hand against a blank section of stone. The moment the ring on his middle finger touched the wall, Evren heard the thunk of the stone mechanisms unlocking, and the door slid open. White glowstones set into the wall revealed a second, narrower staircase descending into the temple. “This will lead directly to the palace. A private tunnel only accessible from two places in Shalandra.”

  “Perfect!” Evren shot the Councilor a too-sweet grin. “And look, more stairs!”

  Madani failed to completely stifle his groan. None of the other Councilors seemed eager to descend the narrow, twisting stone steps. Yet the rasping, gurgling sound of the climbing Stumblers was all the encouragement they needed.

  Issa led the way down the staircase, and the Necroseti hurried down the stairs as fast as their prodigious frames could manage. Hykos placed a hand on Evren’s shoulder. “We bring up the rear.” He spoke in a low rumble, a meaningful look in his eyes. “Make sure they’re all safely in the passage.”

  Evren nodded. “Sure.” If there truly was only one way in and out of the tunnel, it didn’t matter who went first. They’d end up in the palace either way.

  The journey down the steps seemed far shorter than the ascent to the sanctuary, though Evren wrote that off to far less fear for his life. He went second to last, close at hand to help Hykos if needed. The soft white glow of the gemstones seemed to make Hykos’ sweaty, pain-twisted face seem paler, yet the stubborn Archateros waved off any offer of help.

  Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and set off along the tunnel. Evren guessed the path led northeast, toward the section of the palace reserved for the Keeper’s Priests. The good news is that the trek isn’t nearly as long as the journey from the palace to the Crucible.

  By his guess, it took them just over half an hour to make the journey. Fear and exhaustion seemed to have subdued the Councilors. None spoke a word as they trudged wearily through the dimly lit passages toward safety in the palace.

  Evren tried to feel relief that they would be safe, but he just didn’t feel it. He had no way to get to Hailen and Briana in the Temple of Whispers—the Serenii tunnels were as clogged with Stumblers as the streets. He couldn’t truly rest easy until he saw them unharmed with his own eyes, yet at that moment, he could do nothing for them. His only hope was to work with Lady Callista to find a way to deal with the problem and restore order to Shalandra. He’d have to trust the Secret Keepers would protect them.

  At that moment, the tunnel ended in a blank wall. They had reached the palace.

  “This is the way out?” Issa asked.

  Madani nodded, a movement that set his jowls wobbling, and made to step past her. “The lockstone there opens it, but you’ll need my ring to—”

  “Thank you, Councilor Madani.” Issa caught his outstretched hand before he could reach the door. A fierce grin split her face. “I’ll take that.”

  “How dare you?” Madani’s splutter of outrage echoed loud in the tunnel as Issa wrested the ring from his finger. “I am a Divinity of the Necroseti, priest of the Long Keeper—”

  “Yes, yes, god of death, whom we have sworn to serve.” She rounded on the man, eyes blazing. “But I don’t serve you.”

  Madani recoiled from the fury in her voice, the intensity of her gaze. He stammered but no words came out.

  Issa lifted her sword and leveled it at the Councilor’s throat. “Which is why, by the authority of Callista Vinaus, Lady of Blades, and Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres of Shalandra, I her
eby place each and every one of you under arrest for treason.”

  Madani’s face purpled and he spluttered, “Y-You dare—”

  “I dare!” Issa snarled in the man’s face. “For the sake of Shalandra, the city you and your ilk have oppressed for far too long. But no more!”

  Madani retreated a half-step, bumping into Natoris, who turned to flee and found himself crashing into Hykos. Suddenly, Evren understood why the Archateros had chosen to bring up the rear. The towering Keeper’s Blade made a formidable wall of steel, and his sword arm didn’t so much as tremble as he shoved Natoris back into place one-handed and pointed his flammard at the other Councilors.

  “It’s over.” Issa’s solemn words echoed through the tunnel. “The day has come for you to stand judgement for your crimes against Shalandra.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kodyn’s mind raced. That fire I started in Groebus’ lab might have destroyed the Stumbler-making potion. The blaze had spread from the hideous monsters to the shelves, the distraction buying him enough time to escape. Yet if it hadn’t, if that large jar of the alchemical potion had survived, Groebus and the Iron Warlord could have a massive cache of it. Worse, if Groebus had somehow gotten his hands on the alchemical formula, he could make more.

  The only thing to do, then, is to put an end to the alchemist himself. Doing that solves all the problems.

  Groebus had been the one to open the way for the assassins that killed Suroth. He’d doubtless set the Gatherers on Briana, then sent Hallar’s Warriors to capture the artifacts when that first attack failed. The hunchback had manipulated the Ybrazhe Syndicate to stir up the riots and bring chaos. He’d sent both the Gatherers and Hallar’s Warriors to flood the Heartspring with poison.

  No, that doesn’t make sense. Kodyn’s brow furrowed. Why would he send two different groups of people at the same time, to the same place?

  The thought set his head spinning. The Keeper’s Council and the Iron Warlord controlled the Ybrazhe, the Gatherers, and Hallar’s Warriors. Groebus was the nexus between the two vying factions. Yet if Groebus was trying to kill the lower-caste Shalandrans using the Azure Rot poison, why would he then send Hallar’s Warriors to flood the Heartspring with the poison to turn the populace into Stumblers? And if he intended to transform the city into an army of Stumblers, why use the Azure Rot?

  He couldn’t understand. He was missing something, some crucial piece of the puzzle that would make everything clear. Until he found it, he would continue stumbling around in the dark.

  Anger flared bright and hot within him. He’d spent enough time doing precisely that, groping blindly, facing one enemy after another, fighting to survive. Now was his chance to go on the offensive, to bring down the ones responsible for so much chaos and suffering in the city.

  And it all starts with the damned hunchback.

  He turned to Ennolar. “You said your people are trying to break down the poison, yes?”

  The Arch-Guardian nodded. “Progress is slow, but as with all alchemical formulas, we will discover its true nature given time.”

  “What if we could get our hands on the alchemist that made it?” Kodyn asked.

  Ennolar’s eyebrows shot up. “The Necroseti, Groebus?”

  “Damned right.” Kodyn snarled. “I know where to find him. Not in the Hall of the Beyond, but hiding with his master in a fortified mansion on the Keeper’s Tier. Last I saw, he had a few score Hallar’s Warriors to guard him. Give me a dozen of your best fighters, and we’ll have both of the bastards in chains by the end of the day.”

  Ennolar narrowed his eyes. “You intend to beard the beast in its lair?”

  “I’m going to drag the damned beast out by its hind legs and beat the stuffing out of it.” Fury edged Kodyn’s words. “Thevoris can break out the really nasty potions. Get him talking, extract the formula for this black alchemical potion from him, and anything else we can use to put an end to this new threat.”

  If he could capture Groebus and the Iron Warlord, he’d have solved one of the two problems plaguing Shalandra. With the Mistress’ luck and a generous helping of Uryan’s special Plowman’s Consort, the Secret Keepers could get Groebus to divulge whatever he’d used to manufacture the potion to create Stumblers. It would, at the very least, stop the hunchback from turning the rest of Shalandra into those foul creatures.

  Ennolar’s expression grew pensive, yet a moment later, he nodded. “So be it,” his fingers replied in the silent hand language. “A dozen of my best fighters to accompany you up to the Keeper’s Tier to bring in Groebus.” His face darkened, anger flashing in his eyes. “Bring him here and we will see to it that he is punished for perverting the Mistress’ truths. The secret will die with him.”

  “Music to my ears!” Kodyn grinned.

  “And what of them?” Briana asked. She and Hailen had stepped out farther onto the rooftop, their gazes fixed on the monstrous creatures roaming below. Now, she turned to them, worry darkening her eyes. “What do we do about the Stumblers?”

  “For now, nothing.” Ennolar pressed his lips into a thin line. “The vault door will keep them out, I’m certain of it. We will continue to study the potion until we discover its ingredients and find a way to reverse its effects.”

  Briana shot Kodyn a hesitant glance, but when she spoke, her voice rang with confidence. “When Kodyn returns with Groebus, Hailen and I intend to go to the palace to see the Vault of Ancients in person.”

  Ennolar’s face took on a stubborn set. “I’m afraid that will not be possible. Your place is here, in the Temple of Whispers, where we can protect you from—”

  “Where you can keep them under lock and key, within your power.” Kodyn stepped toward the bald priest. “They are under your protection, but they are not your prisoners. If you’re so worried about your precious secrets falling into the wrong hands, send along a company of priests to escort them. But they will be coming to the palace.”

  Ennolar glared, his eyes narrowing. “Beware your words, impudent youth. I have tolerated your disrespect for the sake of Lady Briana and my love for Arch-Guardian Suroth, yet my patience wore thin long ago.” The Secret Keeper’s hands flexed and relaxed, his fingers twitching as if he ached to wrap them around Kodyn’s throat. “It is only thanks to our continued long-suffering that you are even permitted to roam around Shalandra with all the proscribed secrets and forbidden knowledge you carry.” His face conveyed a deep anger. “Do not force my hand in this matter.”

  Kodyn’s fists clenched by his side. “Threats never work well with me, something you should have learned by now, Secret Keeper.” His voice dripped fury. “You may have the rest of the world terrified, but I’m not—”

  “Kodyn!” Briana’s voice cracked like a whip. “We cannot fight amongst ourselves, not when we have enemies enough to deal with out there.” She thrust a finger toward the horde of shambling, ragged creatures below.

  Ennolar’s jaw muscles worked and his fingers balled into white-knuckled fists. Kodyn met his glare with blazing defiance. He wouldn’t back down, not if it meant saving his friends.

  Briana stepped closer to the Arch-Guardian. “Ennolar, I, more than most in the world, understand the burden of your vows to protect the Mistress’ secrets. But the knowledge that my father accumulated was meant not to be locked away in the temple’s depths. The Iron Warlord is planning to enter the Vault of Ancients, because he believes it holds the key to bringing on the ‘Final Destruction’ spoken of in prophecy. To stop him, we must understand what he intends to do, how he intends to open it. Only then will we be prepared to combat his plans.”

  Ennolar’s face hardened. “Such knowledge is forbidden to anyone outside the Temple of Whispers. Your father—”

  “My father wanted to protect Shalandra, even if it meant he had to bend the Mistress’ rules.” Briana fixed Ennolar with a stern gaze, her tone echoing with a note of command. “If he chose to share his secrets with me in defiance of the temple’s rules, you know as well as I t
hat he had a damned good reason for doing it. His journal and the artifacts we found in his study are the keys that will open the way to the Vault of Ancients. If we can figure it out, if we can get inside before the Iron Warlord does, we will be ready to stop him.”

  Ennolar studied her intently, a questioning look in his eyes.

  Briana touched two fingers to her lips, then her forehead. “I swear in the Mistress’ holy name that I will safeguard the secrets of Einan. In the Mistress’ name, I vow to dedicate myself to learn the truths hidden on this world, to devote every waking hour, every breath, every thought to the search for knowledge.

  Kodyn’s eyes flew wide as he realized what she was doing. “Briana, don’t—”

  Briana drove on over his protest. “But I vow to do so not in the name of power, profit, or gain, but in the name of Shalandra, Einan, and in divine worship of the Mistress. I give my life to her service, wholly and utterly, forsaking all desires of my own except that which furthers my search for her consecrated truths.”

  Now Briana turned toward him. Sorrow glimmered in her eyes, yet it was underscored by steely determination. “I make this vow,” she said, head held high, “freely and without constraint, in honor of my father, my mother, and my goddess. From this day until the day I draw my last breath, this I swear.”

  Ennolar’s reaction had changed throughout, from surprise to resignation to approval. Now, pride shone bright in his eyes, mingled with a hint of anguish. He, too, recognized the gravity of her decision.

  “So be it.” The Arch-Guardian’s fingers moved slowly, his expression somber. “With these oaths, you are bound to the service of the Mistress, and all of the freedoms and duties that service conveys. We, your brothers and sisters in worship, will strive to aid you in your endeavors to uncover truths hidden to the world.” He let out a long breath. “We will take you to the palace.”

  Briana nodded. “Thank you, Ennolar.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile, burdened beneath the weight of duty.