Again, the Thunderstriker had carved a hole in the Stumblers’ ranks, and Kodyn lurched toward that gap. He threw himself, off-balance, through the ranks with speed born of desperation, barely managing to leap over fallen bodies and ducking grasping hands.
He clung to the third Thunderstriker as long as he dared. Thevoris and Ryneos had joined him, and the two of them barreled into the Stumblers, throwing them out of the way. Kodyn lowered his shoulder and charged as well. He drove them back as long as he could, but the moment he felt their forward momentum slowed, he ripped the string free and hurled the Thunderstriker. He held his breath, tensed for the explosion.
Nothing happened.
The Stumblers pushed back against them, claws carving furrows down Kodyn’s arms, face, and neck. He growled and shoved harder. They had to keep pushing, keep fighting to get through.
BOOOOM!!
The walls rattled and dust rained from the ceiling as the Thunderstriker exploded. The concussive blast knocked Kodyn backward, set his head ringing. A flash of light blinded him. Sparks whirled in his vision. He staggered, stumbled over a fallen Stumbler, struck the wall hard.
A hand gripped his, and instinct set him whirling, lashing out. His blow was blocked by a strong forearm. He managed to recover his wits in time to forestall his next instinctive attack. Through the blurring light dancing across Kodyn’s eyes, he could barely make out a familiar, dark-bearded face illuminated by the crimson glowstones. Thevoris propelled him forward, straight toward the exit.
Spots flared in his vision and his ears rang with the force of the blast. Everything around him faded to a dull hum, the world going silent after the deafening explosion. He heard nothing but the thump, thump of his pulse hammering in his ears. Blinking hard, he staggered onward, toward freedom.
The way was clear, but he had seconds to get the door open before the Stumblers recovered. Fumbling in his pocket, Kodyn pulled out Suroth’s lockstone and held it up toward the wall.
The locking mechanisms clicked and the door rumbled slowly open. Hope sprang to life in Kodyn’s chest. We’re almost—
His hope shattered. The white lights within the tunnel illuminated the emaciated figures of hundreds of Stumblers, packed together like sheep in a stone pen.
Shite! Kodyn backpedaled, frantic. He didn’t have time to trigger the closing mechanism; it was all he could do to avoid the grasping hands that reached for him.
“Run!” His hoarse shout echoed along the passage.
He couldn’t go back; the way to the west was thick with Stumblers. Their only hope of getting into the palace was through the Terrestra, the last passage to the east. He refused to think of what they’d do if that tunnel was barred. If they didn’t get into the palace, there was nowhere safe in Shalandra.
Ahead, dozens of Stumblers stood between him and freedom. He abandoned all pretense of stealth and caution, drawing his sword and dagger. He swallowed hard, pushing back against the dizziness, the disorientation. He had to fight, had to break through, or else they all died. Roaring, he charged the creatures and launched himself in a desperate attack. No precision or skill, only brute force driven by desperation.
He couldn’t cut them all down, but he could clear a way for the others. Ignoring the Stumblers lurching along beside the wall, he concentrated his efforts on bringing down the creatures in the middle of the passage. Loud cracks and thumps from behind filled him with hope; the Secret Keepers were keeping the Stumblers back, protecting Ennolar, Briana, and Hailen.
A glimmer of hope burned bright in the core of his being as he caught sight of the tunnel that led into the Terrestra. It stood open, which meant Hallar’s Warriors had let the Stumblers in. Yet, only a handful of the creatures barred their path. If they could just get into the Terrestra, they could find refuge in the thick foliage. They’d figure out how to deal with the Stumblers in the gardens once they were safe.
A wordless cry of rage burst from Kodyn’s lips as he rushed the last few Stumblers between him and freedom. He hacked, slashed, stabbed, and chopped, his body a ceaseless blur of motion. He had to get through, had to get his comrades to safety. They were counting on him.
Suddenly, there were no more. Only an open door and the tunnel to freedom. He raced up the passage toward the Terrestra, Thevoris and Ryneos a step behind. They made short work of the five Stumblers lurching along the tunnel. Kodyn leapt over the last body, raced toward the blank wall at the end of the passage, and slammed his hand onto the gemstone. The mechanism clicked and the door rumbled slowly open.
Light, glorious, brilliant daylight, spilled into the tunnel, and a fresh, cool breeze ruffled Kodyn’s face. Lush greenery greeted him, and a triumphant laugh burst from his lips. He raced out into the Terrestra, reveling in the sensations of soft grass beneath his feet, the warmth of the sun bathing his face, the smell of plants and trees. After the enclosed walls of the tunnels, the wide-open gardens felt absolutely magical.
His comrades spilled out of the tunnel behind him. Lunus came last, the wooden crate of Thunderstrikers—now half-empty—tucked beneath his arm. He triggered the mechanism and the stone wall slowly closed.
Kodyn suddenly found himself gasping for air, his lungs burning, his head pounding. Yet a thrill of triumph surged within his chest. He was alive! Against all odds, he’d survived the Stumbler attack and made it to safety.
Through the trees, in the distance, he saw the most beautiful thing: Aisha, tall and strong, alive.
Chapter Twenty-One
Anxiety clenched in Issa’s gut as she mounted the ramparts beside Lady Callista. She gasped at the sight of the Stumblers surrounding the gate. Thousands of them, clad in threadbare rags, covered in dirt and blood.
All frozen in place.
The creatures appeared immobilized, as still as statues. The only sign they still lived was the rasping, gurgling sounds issuing from a thousand monstrous throats.
“Situation report, Tannard,” Lady Callista barked.
Issa instinctively stepped to the Lady of Blades’ left side, opposite the cold, hard-faced Invictus. Tannard had always been apathetic, cruel, as hard as Alshuruq’s rocky slopes. Now, however, he appeared as human as the others. Blood stained his face, his hands and forearms, and the black steel of his armor and flammard. He’d lost his helmet in the battle and sustained a deep gash across his right cheek, opening flesh to the bone. Yet his eyes still glittered with cold, grim determination.
“Casualties are heavier than I’d like, but manageable,” Tannard rumbled, his voice hard as the stone beneath their feet. “The gate’s holding, though for how long, I can’t tell you. The more we beat them back, the harder they press and the more join their ranks.” His face darkened. “It was a close thing, but suddenly they stopped. Been like this for a full ten minutes.”
Issa’s eyes went to the creatures flooding Death Row and the Path of Gold below. Monstrous figures clad in tattered rags, yet eerily unmoving. A shudder ran down her spine.
What could have enough power to cause that?
Movement from Death Row caught Issa’s attention. A palanquin appeared on the main avenue, its lacy curtains, lacquered wood, and elegant details as ornate as any Dhukari litter. Yet it was not borne by Kabili slaves—instead, more than twenty Stumblers had been shackled to its poles, carrying the burden atop their monstrous shoulders.
“Lady Callista!” she thrust a finger toward the slow-moving litter.
The Lady of Blades narrowed her eyes, tracking the palanquin’s steady movement up Death Row, approaching the gate. It stopped fifty paces away, and to Issa’s surprise, the Stumblers bent and lowered it to the ground. They remained unmoving, their bodies twisted in an awkward position, as two figures emerged from within the palanquin.
The first wore the black-and-gold robes of a Necroseti priest, yet he was short, bent over, his back hunched. Half of his face hung slack, as if twisted by a malady, and he had lost all the hair on his head.
“Groebus,” growled Lady Callista.
The second figure was the priest’s polar opposite: tall, broad-shouldered, with lustrous dark hair that hung in a braided tail down his back. His features were hidden by a metallic mask that had been carved into the likeness of a face.
“Tethum?” Lady Callista’s voice rang across Death Row. “You are the one behind these abominations?”
“After a fashion, yes.” The taller, masked man swept a mocking bow. “Though my servant here is the one truly responsible for their creation. It was his deliciously twisted mind that conceived the elixir to turn your people into Stumblers. And it is he who controls them, at my command.”
Issa bared her teeth in a snarl. “Traitorous Necroseti!”
“Is it treachery when a loyal hound bites the hand that has beaten and starved it for years?” Tethum spoke in a harsh voice, edged with a bestial growl, yet slightly slurred by his mask. "Is it treachery when a priest of the Long Keeper, god of death, chooses to serve one that will bring about the death they have served their entire life? Groebus simply chose the right master. It is my fervent hope that you will do the same.”
“I always suspected you were half-mad,” Lady Callista called back. “But you’re a fool if you think this pitiful rabble of yours has any chance of defeating us. Surrender now, and I will offer you the mercy of a quick death.”
“Always so predictable, Lady Callista.” Tethum shook his head. Though his mask hid any expression, disappointment echoed in his rumbling voice. “Allow me to change your mind.”
He turned and whispered something to the hunchbacked priest. Groebus barked out a word in a strange, guttural language, one Issa had never heard on her many visits to the Foreign Quarter. It rang with an ancient, terrible note, one that dripped evil and darkness.
It was a word of command, recognized only by the Stumblers and their deformed master. The creatures around the palanquin suddenly returned to life. A hundred of them turned and shambled down Death Row toward the Path of Gold. A slow, unstoppable tide of ragged cloth and gaunt death.
Silence hung thick over the defenders. All along the wall, men tightened their grips on weapons or made the sign to ward off evil. No one spoke, all simply watched the slow-moving Stumblers and their masters. Dread sank an icy dagger into Issa’s gut.
Five minutes dragged by before the Stumblers returned. Issa’s gut clenched as she recognized the figures dragged between them. Figures with golden headbands and the same padded tunic she wore beneath her armor. Ormroth, Chirak, Tiaten, and a dozen others she recognized. The Blades that had gone to help fight at the South Gate, all stripped of armor and weapons, prisoners of the Stumbler horde.
“By the Keeper!” growled Tannard from beside Lady Callista.
Groebus barked the command word once more, and the Stumblers froze, some mid-step. A shudder of revulsion slithered down Issa’s spine.
“Tell me, Lady Callista, are you willing to condemn your people to death?” Tethum’s gesture encompassed not just his captives, but the entire city. “My Stumblers are in every corner of Shalandra. One word from me, and they will kill every man, woman, and child of every caste, on every tier. The City of the Dead will live up to its name.” He turned to the nearest captive, an Ypertatos Issa recognized by sight but not name. “And the first to die will be your loyal Blades. Is that a price you are willing to pay? The end of Shalandra, the death of millions, all for the sake of power?”
“You expect me to surrender because you threaten my people?” Lady Callista shouted back, defiant, anger blazing in her eyes. “You would not be the first enemy to do so, yet Shalandra still stands, strong and proud.”
“True.” Tethum inclined his masked face. “But can you stand by and watch as your people die one by one?”
The man moved so quickly Issa barely saw him. His hands flashed out, fingers clamped around the Blade’s neck, and he gave a quick jerk. Issa felt the loud snap that echoed off the sandstone walls of the Keeper’s Tier. The Blade collapsed, his body thumping on the ground, and lay still.
The captive Blades and Indomitables shouted their fury and struggled against their monstrous captors. Ormroth and Chirak actually managed to break free and laid bare-handed into the Stumblers, bringing down a dozen before they were overwhelmed by the creatures, buried beneath the sheer weight of numbers.
Anger flared within Issa as she watched her comrades fighting for their lives. She ached to be down there, to join them in the battle against the traitorous Tethum and Groebus. Her fists clenched so tight her gauntlets creaked.
Tethum turned his metallic face back toward the wall. “I have your men, Lady Callista. Every one of the Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades that held the South and East Gates. The Fortress and the Citadel of Stone, too, will fall. By the time the sun sets, the city will be mine. I offer you a chance to spare the lives of those who serve you.”
“In exchange for what?” Lady Callista growled.
“Your complete and utter surrender,” Tethum said, his tone casual, relaxed.
The Lady of Blades snorted. “Is that all?”
“It is not.” Tethum shook his head. “You will also deliver to me the Crown of the Pharus and that which you call the Blade of Hallar.” Venom dripped from his words, his voice growling suddenly harsh, bestial. “Do that, and I will allow your people to live.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Tannard snorted. “Truly, the sort of offer that any soldier worth his shalanite would seriously consider.”
“If you don’t, your men die.” Tethum gestured to the prisoners. “Then my Stumblers take the gate and tear every one of you to shreds. And everyone in Shalandra—from the fattest Dhukari to the poorest Mahjuri—dies.” His voice lowered to a growl. “Or perhaps they will join the ranks of my Stumblers. You will die at the hands of your friends, your family, your comrades-at-arms. This is one battle you cannot win, Proxenos.”
Issa turned to Lady Callista, eager to hear her retort. But the Lady of Blades remained silent a long moment, her face twisted in thought.
A shout of “Kill the demon!” shattered the momentary stillness.
Warriors clad in heavy steel plate mail boiled from the alleys bordering Death Row and charged the mass of Stumblers surrounding Tethum. Though only three-dozen strong, they hit the creatures with such ferocity, their attack so surprising, that the masked man and his hunchbacked priest were too shocked to respond. More than a hundred Stumblers fell in the space of a single heartbeat.
Issa’s jaw dropped at the sight of this new army. The warriors wore armor nearly as heavy as the Blades’ full plate, and they wielded long, straight swords of bright steel. They fought with skill that any Indomitable would envy, carving through the ranks of Stumblers.
“The Cambionari stand with Shalandra!” cried the warrior in the lead. “Bring down the demon!”
Hope surged within Issa as the armored warriors punched deep into the horde of monsters. A handful broke off to engage the monsters holding Ormroth and the other captives. They actually managed to cut the prisoners free while their comrades drove straight toward the Iron Warlord and Groebus.
Issa scarcely dared to breathe. Whoever these warriors were, they could put an end to the battle here and now. Barely a hundred Stumblers stood between them and their enemies. The monstrous creatures moved too slowly, their clawed fingers and snapping jaws useless against the heavy armor and flashing swords.
Tethum recovered quickly. “Stop them!” he shouted to Groebus.
The Necroseti priest barked the command word, and instantly the Stumblers around the palanquin came to life. Hundreds of them, thousands, milk-white eyes turning toward the threat to their masters, bodies crushing together. The armored warriors’ forward momentum slowed, stalled, and stopped completely as they faced a solid wall of flesh.
No!
The Stumblers fell upon the warriors, dying by the scores, yet bringing down first one, then another, then two more of heavily-armored men. Against so many, the warriors had little chance.
In
the chaos of battle, Issa spotted Ormroth and the other captives racing up toward the gate. They had broken free of their captors and now pushed through the still-frozen Stumblers that had been assaulting the wall. Groebus had not yet given them the command to attack. Ormroth had a chance, but they’d have to move quickly to reach safety before the Necroseti realized his prisoners were escaping.
Tannard whirled and shouted to the soldiers below. “Get that Keeper-damned gate open! We’ve got friendlies.”
The gates swung ajar, just enough to let Ormroth and the other captives in two at a time.
Tethum seemed to realize this, for he barked an order and Groebus shouted the command word. Instantly, the Stumblers around the gate came to life, clawing at the fleeing prisoners, their assault on the gates renewed.
“Shove them back!” Lady Callista called. “Close the bloody gates!”
Issa drew her sword and made to move, but a glare from Lady Callista stopped her. If the Indomitables already holding the gates couldn’t get them closed, Issa’s presence wouldn’t make a difference.
A roar echoed from the soldiers below, followed by a loud BOOM as the gate closed. Iron and wood groaned beneath the press of the Stumblers, but the Indomitables managed to get the locking bar in place before the creatures could overwhelm them.
Relief coursed through Issa as Ormroth and the other captives staggered into the black-and-white-tiled plaza beyond the gate. Yet her relief turned to horror as she turned back to the scene of battle below.
The heavily-armored warriors—Cambionari, the leader had called them—were surrounded, Stumblers pushing toward them from all sides. The dense crush of monstrosities overwhelmed them one at a time. Stumblers died by the score, only to be joined by creatures summoned from the assault on the wall by Groebus’ command word. The wall of flesh between the Cambionari and the Iron Warlord grew thicker, and the ranks of the warriors thinned.
All throughout, harsh, guttural laughter echoed from beneath Tethum’s iron mask.
Heirs of Destiny Box Set Page 179