Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Ennolar turned to Kodyn. “But first, Groebus must be brought to answer for his crimes against the Mistress. I will see to it that the temple’s finest fighters are prepared for what they must do.” His eyes flitted to Briana. “I’ll send someone in a few minutes.”

  The Arch-Guardian hesitated, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to say more. Then, with a shake of his head, he dropped his hands, turned, and strode down the steps into the temple.

  Kodyn rounded on Briana. “Briana—” he started.

  “No!” Her voice was firm, her words clipped. “It’s the decision I had to make. It was the only way we get what we need.”

  “But you know what you just swore, right?” Hailen put in. Sorrow sparkled in the younger boy’s eyes. “You just swore to become a Secret Keeper. You know, tongue ripped out, vows of silence, locked away in the Temple of Whispers the rest of your life!”

  “Take it back, Briana,” Kodyn urged. “Tell Ennolar you made a mistake. Or, better yet, tell him the truth about the Mistress. She’s not even a real goddess, but a Serenii. You have to find some way to undo it!”

  “There is no undoing it.” Briana’s expression held a note of resignation. “It is done.”

  Kodyn threw up his hands. “There’s no way you want to spend your life locked up in a stuffy temple like one of these—”

  “It is done, Kodyn.” Her words, so quiet and pained, silenced him. She tried to force a smile, but the tears rimming her dark, kohl-lined eyes belied the expression. “I-I believe it’s what my father would have wanted for me, which is why he taught me everything he did. And I’ve run from it for too long.” She turned to Hailen. “I got you trapped in here with me, all because I tried to find a way to escape the destiny my father saw for me.”

  She scrubbed a tear from her cheek and lifted her head high. “But no more. No more running, no more finding a way out. You all have sacrificed so much for me.” Her smile was genuine this time. “You stuck out your necks to rescue me from the Gatherers, brought me home, put yourselves in danger time and again to protect me. It’s my turn to make a sacrifice. Not just to protect you, but for the sake of Shalandra.”

  Once again, Kodyn caught a glimpse of the Dhukari he’d seen in the Palace of Golden Eternity. Beneath the tears, she had an indomitable strength of spirit, a will of unbreakable steel. She wasn’t just a sixteen year old girl he’d rescued from death cultists. She was Briana, daughter of one of the most powerful men in Shalandra, powerful in her own courage, confidence, and determination.

  “Just, please, don’t say anything to Aisha or…” She paused, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Or Evren. Not yet, at least.” Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I want to tell them myself.”

  Kodyn stepped closer to Briana, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course.”

  Hailen wrapped his arms around the girl’s slim waist, and Briana returned the embrace. The three of them remained like that for long moments, frozen in time, a farewell that felt terribly final. None of them spoke; no words were needed. They all knew the burdens that lay in their future, but they had concerns enough in the present to demand their full attention.

  The sound of quiet footsteps on the stairs shattered the moment. The three of them turned to find a Secret Keeper in the stairway, the same one that had led them from Briana’s room to the Guardians.

  “Ennolar sent me to summon you,” his fingers said. “The time for battle has come.”

  “Thank you.” Kodyn nodded to the priest. “I’ll be right down.”

  With a little bow, the Secret Keeper turned and descended, disappearing into the stairwell.

  Kodyn turned back to Briana and Hailen, worry burning in his chest. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, with the Iron Warlord and Groebus in chains. We can put an end to this today, then we’ll get up to the palace, see if we can find Aisha, Evren, and Issa.”

  “Go.” Briana gave a little shooing gesture of her hand. “Be safe, Kodyn.”

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You know me.”

  Briana smiled. “Why else do you think I told you to be safe? If we don’t constantly remind you, you go and do something heroic and stupid.”

  Kodyn mimed a dagger to the chest, his expression one of mock insult. This brought a chuckle to Hailen and Briana both. With a wink, he turned and descended the steps into the Temple of Whispers.

  Ennolar stood at the bottom of the staircase, his expression somber. “All is in readiness. The temple’s finest stand waiting for you to guide them to the black alchemist and his master.”

  With effort, Kodyn forced down a retort. “Good.” He nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Anger surged within him, and it took all his self-control not to unleash it on Ennolar. The Arch-Guardian had forced Briana’s hand, made her swear the oaths just so he would let her do what needed to be done. She had condemned herself to a silent, reclusive life locked within the Temple of Whispers because of Ennolar.

  He drew in a deep breath, but it only fanned the fires of his fury. When this is all over, the Arch-Guardian and I are going to have a long talk. Despite what Briana had said, Kodyn had to try to find a way to break her free.

  He followed Ennolar down the blank stone hallway toward the chamber that opened onto the secret underground tunnel into the Serenii passages. Thirteen Secret Keepers filled the small room. Kodyn recognized a few faces: Robban, the priestess that had led the attack on the Heartspring; Desenne, who had helped them haul the captive Necroseti priest into the palace; and the two Secret Keepers that had stood guard outside the front door. All of them wore grim looks, anger darkening their eyes.

  Good, Kodyn thought. If they’re even half as furious as I am, they’ll carve through Hallar’s Warriors. He clenched his fists in anticipation of the battle. A bit of fighting would do him good, perhaps drain away some of the fury burning like a volcano in his chest.

  Ennolar’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. He shot a glance at the Arch-Guardian.

  “We will speak of Briana’s decision again,” Ennolar’s fingers said, his eyes shadowed and solemn.

  “Damned right we will,” Kodyn growled.

  Ennolar looked as if he wanted to say more, but simply shook his head. “Mistress’ luck smile on you.”

  Kodyn nodded, but dared not unclench his jaw for fear of snarling an insult.

  At Ennolar’s command, Robban pressed a hand to the gemstone and the door rumbled open, revealing the descending staircase.

  Kodyn drew out the glowstone—he hadn’t bothered returning it to Desenne--and led the way down the stairs. He strode as fast as his long legs permitted, anger goading him to hurry. He didn’t wait for the priests; they knew their way around the underground tunnels well enough to match his pace.

  The tunnel ran for fifty paces before ending in a blank wall, but the moment he stepped off the stairs, he felt something wrong. He tensed; movement echoed in the tunnels ahead. A faint scuffing, a swishing of cloth.

  At that moment, a louder sound reached his ears—strange, yet familiar, a sound that grated on his nerves and sent an instinctive shudder of revulsion down his spine. Rattling, gasping, gurgling, like dry leaves raking across bare stone.

  Horror sent an icy chill down his spine as first one, then two, then more of the hideous, corpse-like creatures stumbled down the tunnels toward him.

  Chapter Eight

  “Push them back, damn it!” Invictus Tannard’s voice echoed from below, a growling storm of fury as mighty as the broad-shouldered Blade himself. “You lot, get those reinforcements here and strengthen the gate.”

  From her vantage point atop the wall, Aisha could hear the soldiers’ struggle to hold the gate and peer over the wall to see the Stumblers attempting to force their way in. Wood creaked and metal groaned beneath the weight of hundreds of monstrosities pressing against the huge gates. The locking bar had already bowed inward as more and more Stumblers lurched up Death Row to join the creatures assaulting the palace.

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nbsp; Aisha’s gut clenched. There’s got to be something we can do to push them back!

  The swarm had swelled to nearly a thousand, all shoving each other forward, pressing against the stone walls and gates. Sharp, filthy nails clawed at the iron-banded wooden gate, and the Stumblers shoved forward, crushing the foremost and tramping their fellows in their onslaught. They might be slow, their movements uncontrolled and uncoordinated, yet their sheer numbers had to prove terrifying to even seasoned soldiers. From the grim expressions on the faces around her, it was clear the Indomitables and Blades knew the creatures would eventually break through the gate by weight alone.

  Yet only a fraction of the monstrosities had joined the siege. Tens of thousands more flooded the Keeper’s Tier, with even more shambling throughout lower Shalandra. There had to be close to two hundred thousand—as many Stumblers as Mahjuri, Earaqi, and Kabili on the city’s lowest tiers.

  The rioters had wreaked havoc on the city, yet their violence had been far more restrained. Hungry crowds had attacked the Halls of Bounty, the marketplaces of the Artisan’s Tier, and the homes of wealthier Shalandrans. The looting had been mostly limited to the Artisan’s Tier and Cultivator’s Tier, with the Indomitables holding the Defender’s Tier.

  The Stumblers, however, seemed to have no purpose, no direction other than to lay waste to the city, to kill every human they could sink claws and teeth into. Unlike the coordinated, controlled attacks carried out by the Ybrazhe and Hallar’s Warriors, the monstrosities were in every corner of Shalandra, destroying everything.

  All save for the ones attacking the palace. They seemed to be driven by a single-minded desire to break through the gates and get at the soldiers within. Dozens of the creatures fell in the press, crushed beneath the weight of those around them, yet hundreds more lurched up Death Row to join them.

  Movement from below and to her right caught Aisha’s attention. Scores of the creatures had been shoved aside, away from the gate. Yet instead of being deterred in their attack, they seemed to have come up with a new tactic. They scrabbled at the walls until their nails cracked, and their fingers bled. White bone shone through their pale, waxy flesh, yet still they clawed at the stone as if they intended to dig their way through.

  Aisha was just about to turn away when something stopped her. Four Stumblers had fallen and lay writhing on the ground. Their hideous companions climbed atop their bodies, and soon even more of the creatures piled on. Slowly, the monstrous mound grew higher, higher, reaching toward the parapets with grasping fingers and slavering jaws.

  Horror thrummed in Aisha’s veins. They’re trying to climb over the walls!

  The pile of monsters grew, slowly but with an inexorability that sent a shiver down Aisha’s spine. The creatures clawed at each other, their razor-sharp nails tearing flesh and ragged cloth in their attempts to climb higher. Blood stained the golden sandstone walls as Stumblers died beneath the weight of their companions, and yet still more creatures abandoned the assault on the gate to scrabble up the growing pile.

  Aisha whirled toward one of the other Indomitables stationed on the wall. “Get the Invictus up here! He needs to see this!”

  The soldier, one of the Dictators that had held the South Gate with Tannard, hesitated only a moment before turning and racing down the stairs.

  Aisha turned back to the wall and peered down. The hideous mound had grown to nearly a quarter the height of the wall in the space of half a minute.

  Heavy boots thumped on the stone a few moments later. “What the blasted hell’s so important I—?” Tannard’s growling voice cut off in a curse. “Keeper’s teeth!”

  “They’re going to reach us in a matter of minutes,” Aisha said, her eyes never leaving the creatures.

  The sound of steel whispering on leather snapped her attention toward the towering Blade. Tannard had drawn his sword and now strode down the length of the wall to take up station immediately above the pile of monsters. Drawing her weapons, Aisha slipped along in Tannard’s shadow.

  “We hold them here!” Tannard shouted. He adjusted his snarling lion helm, squared his shoulders, and prepared to meet the enemy. “Not a single one gets into the palace, you hear?”

  “Yes, Invictus!” Twenty throats took up the call along the length of the wall. Those twenty were all Tannard had been willing to spare; defense of the gate was the primary concern, which meant only a handful stood ready to repel this secondary attack.

  Tannard squinted down at her, a scowl on his face. “You’ve no place here. Get down to safety with the rest of the civilians.”

  Aisha clenched her teeth. “Looks like you need every able-bodied warrior. That includes me.”

  After a long moment, the Invictus shrugged. “You get yourself killed, that’s not on my head.”

  “Don’t worry,” Aisha retorted. “I’ll get you through this alive.”

  The huge Blade snorted, but before he could fire back another retort, the first of the Stumblers appeared atop the wall. Tannard struck first, his arms moving so fast Aisha barely saw a blur of black steel. The creature’s head flew from its shoulders and plummeted into the crowd of Stumblers attacking the gate. Its decapitated body toppled backward, bringing down the two Stumblers beneath it.

  A claw-tipped hand clamped down on the stone parapet just in front of Aisha, followed by another. A grotesque face with sagging skin, milk-white eyes, and bared teeth lifted above the ramparts. Aisha drove her assegai into the creature’s open mouth, then she ripped it free in a spray of blood and gore. Yet it hung there, arms locked onto the wall, frozen in death—or undeath, if the legends of Shalandra were to be believed.

  Another clambered over its unmoving companion, sharp nails digging into the bloody remnants of its face, ripping locks of hair loose, tearing flesh. Aisha brought the weighted butt end of her assegai down onto the top of its skull. The steel ball shattered bone and crushed brains, spraying crimson. The creature fell back, its weight dragging the first monster away from the wall.

  A third appeared, then a fourth, and a fifth. Aisha’s dagger and assegai whirled, her arms thrusting forward to drive sharp blades into sagging flesh and jerking back to rip them free. Atop the wall, fighting over the waist-high ramparts, the flowing, dance-like Kim’ware Ghandian battle style would do her little good. This wasn’t the battle for warriors, but for butchers.

  To Aisha’s right, Tannard wielded his sword with the force of a tornado, his black steel flammard a blur in the bright daylight. He held a ten-pace stretch of the wall alone. Crimson stained his gauntlets and vambraces to the elbow, spattered his face and breastplate. Yet he fought in silence, his jaw set, a wild light of battle lust shining in his eyes.

  Aisha thrust, hacked, and bludgeoned the creatures that surged over the wall. Blood dripped down her arms, spattered her face and clothing, turned her palms slick until her dagger and assegai slid in her grip. The stone beneath her feet turned slippery, forcing her to stand fast. She fought until her arms and shoulders ached, her breath burned in her lungs, and her heart hammered a furious beat against her ribs.

  And still the Stumblers came on. The hideous, white-eyed abominations clambered up the wall, scaling the pile of corpses to reach the defenders at the top. Their gasping, gurgling, rattling cries echoed so loud every other sound around Aisha seemed to fade. More and more joined the mountain of flesh until it grew wide enough for the creatures to crest the wall in pairs, then groups of fives and tens. The twenty Indomitables shouted, snarled, and cursed, their sickle-shaped khopeshes scything death through cursed flesh.

  Three Stumblers clambered over the wall in front of Aisha, their clawed hands reaching out for her, seeking flesh and clothing to rend. The sharp steel head of Aisha’s assegai severed their fingers with one powerful blow. Spinning the spear over her head, she brought the butt end onto their arms, crushing bones.

  Yet the monstrosities seemed impervious to pain. Though their arms hung limp, their hands bloody stumps, they still struggled to haul themselve
s over the wall to get at her. Her spear took one in the skull, piercing its brain, and its movements fell still. Two quick thrusts finished off the others before they could recover.

  In the seconds it took to finish off the three, five more had crested the wall, with still more clambering up behind them. All along the length of the rampart, the creatures were gaining a foothold, bringing down first one Indomitable, then a second.

  Time slowed to a crawl as the Stumblers hauled their gaunt, ragged bodies over the walls. Fire blazed in Aisha’s veins, the Kish’aa stored within her Serenii-made pendant flaring to life. The spirits filled her with a burning loathing, amplifying her hatred at the creatures before her.

  In Ghandia, death was believed to be the first step into a wonderful journey to Pharadesi. The dead were honored, remembered, even consulted by the Spirit Whisperers. Ghandians lived their lives to the fullest, knowing that their experiences would shape those who lived on after their deaths.

  Yet these were neither dead nor alive. Instead, they were trapped between life and death, a perversion of both this existence and the one that awaited all mankind in the world beyond. The Kish’aa filled her with their rage, begging her to unleash them upon the creatures that were defiled in life and tainted in death.

  Aisha gave in to the demands of the spirits. Weapons of steel and wood had failed; the power of the Kish’aa would save her now.

  She had no time to reach for the pendant, but simply called on the Kish’aa to come to her aid. During her battle with Imbuka, she had absorbed hundreds of spirits—the dead Keeper’s Blades and those fallen to their strange black swords. Though the Blades had been restored to their flammards, the spirits of their victims had not. Imbuka had broken the tether to the steel swords, and they had chosen to remain within Aisha.

  Now, Aisha called upon their aid. The spirits answered her call, their energy scorching through her body with the power of twin lightning bolts, sizzling along her arms. Blue-white light shone in her veins so bright it pierced her skin, filled the air around her with a glow only she could see. All trace of fatigue was washed away as the power of the Kish’aa flooded her body.