Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  Lady Callista’s sword wavered. Suspicion and disbelief flashed across her face. “Prove it.”

  “I cannot, my lady.” Burim shook his head. “At least, not without getting close enough to strike him down. But look.” He drew one of the two swords worn at his right hip. The long, heavy blade was darker than steel, made of iron. “Demons cannot be killed by steel, but only pure iron.” He drew a dagger, also iron. “Were I to face a mortal threat, such weapons would be pitiful against steel blades.”

  Iron was strong, but far more brittle than good steel. Weapons made of iron would bend or break in a single battle.

  “Your choice of weapons is hardly proof,” Lady Callista retorted.

  Burim nodded. “Of course.” He turned to Ormroth. “Tell me, Ypertatos, when you looked into the eyes behind the mask, what did you see?”

  To Issa’s surprise, the stalwart Ormroth’s face grew pale. “Black, depthless, like an empty void.” He grimaced, swallowed hard. “Yet not empty, but filled with…evil.”

  “That, my lady, is the mark of a demon,” Burim said. “I can offer you no more evidence, other than the fact that every one of my brethren were willing to die to put an end to the creature.” He released Ormroth and drew his steel sword. “Just as I will fight to the death beside your men for a chance to get close enough to bring the demon down. With his death, my brothers will be avenged and your city will be saved.”

  Lady Callista hesitated. Her lips twitched, a furrow playing across her forehead. Issa could see her struggling to accept the man’s words—they sounded simply too fantastical to be real, yet one look in Burim’s eyes made it clear he believed them to the core of his being. He was willing to die for them.

  Finally, Lady Callista lowered her sword. “Go.” She nodded to the Cambionari. “And may your god grant you strength.”

  “May the Beggar have mercy on all of us,” said Burim. With a salute of his sword, he turned and raced toward the wall.

  “My lady,” Ormroth said, “allow me to join the Invictus atop the wall.” He tried to straighten, but groaned and doubled over the gash in his side. Breathing hard, he looked up at Lady Callista. “The battle is dire, but—”

  “No, Ypertatos.” Lady Callista spoke in a quiet voice. “Our place is not at the gate. Go, take your men and prepare the palace for battle.”

  “But—” Ormroth began.

  “A valuable lesson for the prototopoi.” Lady Callista’s voice was firm, insistent. “A Keeper’s Blade must know when to fight and when to retreat.”

  Ormroth’s face hardened. With effort, he stood straight and saluted—fist to chest, the Blades’ salute. “Yes, Proxenos.” Sorrow darkened his eyes as he turned away and led his small company of wounded, unarmored Blades and Indomitables toward the palace.

  Lady Callista shot a glance back, toward the brave men battling atop the wall and fighting to hold the gate. Already, the locking bar had bowed inward beneath the strain of so many Stumbler bodies, and one iron-banded wooden gate had swung open. Just enough for Stumblers to claw their way inside. The creatures could only get through one at a time, easily cut down by the Indomitables and Blades holding the opening, but the outcome was inevitable.

  The gates would break or the warriors atop the ramparts would be overwhelmed. Soon, in a minute, an hour, or a day, the palace would be overrun.

  A lump rose in Issa’s throat as she watched the brave soldiers fighting to protect their commander, their comrades, and their Pharus. Sorrow flooded her. May the Keeper offer you the comfort of his arms, she said, a silent prayer for her fellow soldiers.

  In silence, the Lady of Blades turned and strode toward the palace. Issa fell in beside her. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Lady Callista’s expression, hard as granite, tears streaming down her strong face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Aisha.”

  Briana’s voice stopped Aisha in her tracks. Turning, Aisha met the girl’s dark eyes.

  “I-I’m sorry.” Briana’s gaze fell away.

  “Sorry?” Aisha cocked her head, puzzled.

  “For giving the Secret Keepers your potion.” Shame darkened Briana’s face. “I used the last of the Shadow Root and Whispering Lily to make it. I-I know how much it meant to you.”

  Aisha drew in a long breath. Briana had been experimenting with the two plants in the hopes of finding a solution for the madness that accompanied her Umoyahlebe abilities. The madness that had claimed her father, and which threatened to claim Aisha as well. She had felt her mind pulling away from her flesh, losing its tether to her body. The unearthly chill in her limbs, a sense of weightlessness, the desire to float free of her mortal bonds—all of these presaged the Inkuleko, the Unshackling, a fate that awaited all Spirit Whisperers who vented too deep into the world of the Kish’aa.

  The potion had offered hope for her future. Without the Serenii pendant Aisha had found in Suroth’s belongings, she would be as vulnerable to the Unshackling as her father. Yet Aisha had clung to hope for more than just herself. Briana’s potion could help all Spirit Whisperers, every Umoyahlebe alive in Ghandia today, and every one born in the future.

  Imbuka, the Spirit Whisperer shaman on the Cultivator’s Tier, had chosen to work with the Iron Warlord in the desperate hope of getting his hands on more Dy’nashia pendants. He’d watched his brother and father succumb to the Inkuleko, and it had been his life’s mission to prevent more deaths. In the end, he had been willing to kill Aisha for the sake of that mission.

  Fear drove men to do terrible things, and Aisha had been forced to kill Imbuka in self-defense. Yet as she’d absorbed his spirit, she had also felt his desire to save Spirit Whisperers. She’d taken that onto herself, a mission she’d accepted to lay his spirit to rest.

  The Iron Warlord had promised Imbuka that the Vault of Ancients guarded Dy’nashia pendants, and he’d offered those in exchange for Imbuka’s Umoyahlebe abilities. Somehow, the power of the Kish’aa would prove critical in opening the vault—or, perhaps, the Tomb of Hallar. Aisha held little hope that the Iron Warlord had actually been truthful; she wouldn’t trust his word, or expect to find any Serenii pendants within the vault. The only hope for her people was Briana’s potion.

  “Briana, look at me.” Aisha placed a soothing hand on the girl’s shoulder, tilted her face up so Briana met her eyes. “You made the right choice. Shalandra needs it more than I do. At least for now.” She held up the pendant. “This solves the problem in the short-term. And once this is over, you can make more, right?”

  Briana’s face brightened. “Yes.” She tapped her temple. “As long as we can get more ingredients, I’ve got the alchemical formula. We still need to test it to be absolutely certain it does what we want it to, but I have every hope that it will work!”

  “Perfect.” Aisha gave the girl a broad smile. There was still hope for her people. First, however, they had to save Shalandra. “And I cannot thank you enough for finding the solution for me. It means more than you will ever know.”

  Briana beamed, a flush coming to her cheeks. Turning, she hurried toward Evren and Hailen, who stood waiting at the intersection.

  Aisha turned to Kodyn, and the Hawk smiled at her. “You sure you’ll be fine?” he asked as they strode down the hall side by side. “That potion could have been the cure.”

  “Imbuka told me the truth of the Shadow Root.” Aisha’s eyes darkened. “It’s not a cure, at least not the way he originally said. It’s a final escape, a way to shut off my powers once and for all. But if I want to remain a Spirit Whisperer and communicate with the Kish’aa, it’s not the solution I thought it was. But maybe, if Briana really did find a way to combine the Whispering Lily and Shadow Root, it could be. It could bring hope for all my people.” She smiled. “We’ll have to wait until after this battle is over to find out for certain.”

  “But the Dy’nashia works, right?” Kodyn frowned, his jaw clenched. “You’re not going to be Unshackled, right?”

  Aisha s
hook her head. “No. The pendant protects me.”

  “Good.” Relief flashed across his face.

  Despite her words, Aisha couldn’t be fully certain. She couldn’t shake the image of Imbuka’s body being torn apart from the inside, the blue-white light of the Kish’aa seeping through hundreds of cracks in his skin. He’d absorbed too many spirits for his body to sustain, and it had shattered his mind as well as his flesh. The Dy’nashia had saved Aisha—it served as a vessel to house the spirits—but for what she needed to do, the sheer quantity of spirits she would have to absorb to put an end to all the Stumblers outside the gate, she didn’t know if the pendant would suffice. She had to take the risk, yet the memory of Imbuka’s final moments filled her with disquiet.

  Is that to be my fate? Is that how I will die, trying to save Shalandra?

  Something the shaman had told her flashed through her thoughts.

  “Imbuka confirmed your theory that we could open the vault, you know,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “Really?” Kodyn’s brow furrowed. “What did he say?”

  Aisha hesitated. It helped no one to reveal the full truth of Imbuka’s complicity with the Iron Warlord. The Umoyahlebe deserved to be remembered not as a traitor, but as the man that helped her.

  “He told me the Serenii had found a way to channel the spirits,” she finally said, “that the power of the Kish’aa would open the way into the Vault of Ancients.” Imbuka’s final warning echoed in her mind. “He also said the Iron Warlord would come after me if he ever learned the truth of my powers.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to keep you far away from that bastard,” Kodyn growled, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

  “Yeah.” Aisha couldn’t quite summon Kodyn’s confidence. To put an end to the battle, she’d have to face the hordes of Stumblers. She had no fear of confronting the Iron Warlord, but she didn’t want to put her friends in harm’s way. And seeing what Tethum had done, it proved that he would go to any lengths to achieve his villainous plans. Including killing her friends to force her to join him.

  But with the power of the Kish’aa to aid me, I will be able to stop him from hurting them. The spirits would shield her friends.

  They walked in silence, Aisha comforted by Kodyn’s presence, the solid reassurance of his confidence. Even if she wasn’t certain what lay ahead, what trials remained to face, she knew she’d have a better chance of getting through with him by her side.

  The farther west they traveled, the simpler the corridors of the palace became. Gold-and-silver-tiled walls and floors gave way to bare sandstone, brilliant in its natural beauty and modesty. No fancy golden lamp sconces or colorful tapestries here; the western sections of the palace bore a martial severity that appealed to Aisha’s practical nature.

  But the simplicity told her they had reached the Blades’ section of the palace, which meant the Vault of Ancients drew close. The Keeper’s Blades had established their presence close to the Keeper’s Crypts—according to Issa, they saw their mission to stand guard over the Tomb of Hallar as one of the most important duties.

  Her gut clenched as they approached the blank sandstone wall that concealed the entrance to the Vault of Ancients. The last time she’d come here, the Serenii mechanisms within the stone had pulled the spirit from her Dy’nashia pendant, absorbing it, setting the magical runes alight with brilliant energy. She caught Kodyn fingering something in his pocket; likely the glowstone that would reveal the pattern of Serenii glyphs etched into the wall. Yet they hurried past without slowing. The time would come when they needed to open the way into the vault, but their current mission led them to the Keeper’s Crypts beyond.

  A corridor led west from the Vault of Ancients, through a broad stone archway and into a dark passage lined with black stone statues. The statues stood silent vigil before another stone wall—not golden sandstone, but a rock darker than onyx. Shalanite.

  The Tomb of Hallar.

  Aisha felt something press against her mind, a vague presence that called to her, tugged her toward the tomb. Yet it was faint, distant, so weak it felt like a gust of breath in a hurricane.

  Before she could give it a second thought, the clash of steel and the shouts of battle reached her ears. The moment they stepped out of the passage and into the high-vaulted chamber before the Tomb of Hallar, the sound amplified, seeming to echo off the walls around them.

  “What in the fiery hell?” Kodyn’s brow furrowed.

  Aisha frowned. The sound came from their left, down the hill toward—

  “The Keeper’s Crypts!” She sucked in a breath. “They’re under attack!!” Drawing her assegai and dagger, she raced through the archway that led into the southern passage and down the hill. There, fifty paces below the entrance to the Tomb of Hallar, a wall of black-armored figures were locked in battle with a horde of Stumblers. The Keeper’s Blades fought to hold back the creatures, prevent them from entering the section of the crypts that housed the shalanite sarcophagi of their fallen comrades.

  Yet the battle was turning against the armored warriors. Though the entrance to this restricted area was only ten paces wide, the Blades numbered just thirty against hundreds. No, Aisha realized as she got a better look at the enemy. Thousands.

  The blue-white light of the spirits filling the crypts shone on the hideous, poison-twisted faces of the Stumblers. Snapping teeth, slashing talon-like fingernails, and the weight of numbers pushed the thirty Blades back. Two fell in the space of a heartbeat, dragged down by the creatures. It didn’t matter that the Stumblers had once lived or that they could be restored—at that moment, they intended to kill the living that barred their path.

  Aisha recognized a familiar figure. Etai fought in the battle line, her huge sword swinging, cleaving through Stumblers. These thirty Blades had to be the reinforcements Lady Callista had sent to stop Hallar’s Warriors from raiding the tombs through their hidden tunnel in the walls.

  Gut clenching, Aisha shot a glance westward, deeper into the crypts. If the Stumblers found that small opening, they could get in and attack the Blades from the side. To her relief, she saw a pile of rubble in the distance where the opening had been. Etai must have sealed it to stop Hallar’s Warriors from getting in. That action had saved their lives…for now. They still faced a horde of Stumblers, with only a handful to hold the line.

  Horror thrummed within Aisha. “We have to help!”

  Kodyn was already drawing his sword. Together, the two of them charged toward the ragged line of Blades.

  Not a heartbeat too soon. One of the Blades along the western edge of the battle took a hard blow and staggered backward, opening a gap in the ranks. Stumblers surged through the hole and pushed the nearest Blades to the side. The gap widened as the elite warriors found themselves suddenly overwhelmed and flanked. Their line would collapse in an instant.

  Aisha and Kodyn hit the creatures hard. Aisha’s spear punched into one’s chest and Kodyn’s sword opened a second’s throat before chopping the arm from a third. Together, the two of them shoved against the Stumblers, throwing them back and re-forming the solid line. Teeth bared in a snarl, Aisha fought the Stumblers back, bringing down creatures as fast as they came at her.

  But the mass of monsters didn’t slow. The wall of Stumblers pressed forward, shoving at their ranks, heedless of the whirling swords and biting steel. Long fingernails raked across Aisha’s left arm and a collapsing Stumbler slammed into her, hard enough to knock her backward. Fear thrummed within her as she staggered and tried to regain her balance. Kodyn’s sword cut down another creature before it could burst through the opening.

  This isn’t going to work! Aisha thought as she hurled herself back into the battle line. The Blades fought with stubborn determination, yet she could see exhaustion lining their bloodstained faces, slowing their arms. The pile of Stumbler corpses had grown to a small mountain before the Blades, yet with every heartbeat, they gave more and more ground.

  “Hold the line for me!” sh
e shouted to Kodyn. “Don’t let them through!”

  Kodyn could only grunt; he was too busy fending off a dozen grasping arms, shoving against the emaciated, rag-clad bodies.

  Aisha whirled to face the rows of shalanite sarcophagi. The stolen swords of the Keeper’s Blades had been replaced, and the cavern filled with the blue-white light of spirits. Rank after rank of dead Blades, sworn to protect their city and guard the Tomb of Hallar in life and death.

  Sheathing her spear, Aisha touched a hand to her pendant and stretched the other toward the spirits. Come to me, champions of Shalandra. Your city has need of your strength and power once more.

  The Kish’aa answered her call. A brilliant wall of blue-white light surged toward her, bathed her in crackling energy and heat. Aisha pulled the spirits into herself, gasping at the sudden rush of energy. Power sizzled through her veins, up her arms, into her hammering heart. Fire scorched her body from the inside out, a cold heat that drove back her exhaustion and filled her with a burning desire to protect, to avenge, to save Shalandra.

  Images flashed through her mind. A general riding into battle, fighting beside her men. A warrior standing alone against a horde of savage enemies. Corpses piled high at the feet of a soldier clad in bloodstained armor, wielding a long-bladed spear.

  They came faster, so fast she could no longer see them, only feel the emotions filling each of the spirits. Elation at a victory, sorrow at a desperate loss. Defeat, horror, hate, joy, love, triumph. A thousand emotions, a thousand desires, yet all focused on one.

  Protect Shalandra.

  Pain flooded her body, the power so overwhelming she feared she’d crack as Imbuka had. Yet she could not relinquish her hold on the spirits…not yet, not until she’d fulfilled their mission.

  These Blades had sworn to serve and protect the city and the Tomb of Hallar in life and death. They would do so, through her.