Heirs of Destiny Box Set
Page 188
“And may the Mistress’ luck go with you, my Pharus.” With a deep bow, Arch-Guardian Ennolar hurried from the chamber.
The door clicked shut behind the departing priest, plunging the room into a tense silence. All eyes fixed on the Pharus and Lady Callista. Kodyn could feel the tension radiating from Evren, Hailen, Aisha, and Briana. They had all come this far, fought so hard, and now was the moment of truth.
“So be it,” said the Pharus after a long moment. “Let us open the vault and discover this secret hidden by my forefather.”
“Thank you, Bright One.” Relief brightened Briana’s face.
“I must attend to the battle.” Lady Callista said. “I will fight beside my men, make certain you have enough time to open the way.”
“All due respect, Lady Callista, but your men don’t need you.” The Blade with the dark, bushy beard stepped forward, folding thick arms across his barrel chest. “You have your finest Blades and Indomitables leading the defense. The time for strategy and tactics has passed. Now, it is a last stand, a battle to the end. And the Lady of Blades’ place is beside her Pharus.” A knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Lady Callista opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the white-haired Blade. “Listen to Elmessam, walida. If this is to be the end, surely that is where you wish to be.”
The Lady of Blades’ face was inscrutable, but Pharus Amhoset’s expression revealed an odd dance of emotions Kodyn didn’t understand.
The woman exchanged a smile with the bearded Blade. “Allow us to serve you, one last time, Proxenos.” In perfect unison, the two of them snapped a crisp salute, gauntleted fists thumping on their breastplates.
Sorrow flitted across Lady Callista’s face, and a visible protest formed on her lips.
“Please, Callista.” To Kodyn’s surprise, Pharus spoke first. The monarch’s voice rang with surprising fondness, an almost tender warmth in his eyes. “I would face my ancestor’s legacy with you by my side.”
Lady Callista’s eyes drifted toward Issa. The young Blade also nodded, her expression pleading.
With visible effort, Lady Callista straightened and returned the salute. “Guardians of death, warriors of the fallen, you are given your duty. Your brothers in service stand ready to fight at your side. May the Keeper grant his eternal vigilance and strengthen your arm in this, our hour of battle.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Evren was surprised by Killian’s words to Lady Callista. I never pegged him for a hero. Then again, it turned out there was a great deal about the blacksmith and former Keeper’s Blade he didn’t know.
“Savta!” Sorrow rang in Issa’s voice and twisted her face.
“Issa, nechda.” The white-haired Aleema smiled, opened her arms to her granddaughter. “This is as it should be. Your Saba and I swore to serve and protect Shalandra with our lives. If I am for the Long Keeper’s arms, then I will join Nytano with pride in my heart.”
Evren turned away; the two deserved a moment of peace to say farewells.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Killian looking at him. The blacksmith gave a slight jerk of his head and strode from the room. Curious, Evren slipped out after the man.
Killian had moved a short distance down the corridor, a solemn look in his eyes. Evren dodged a servant hurrying into the chamber with an armful of sheathed daggers and strode toward the blacksmith.
“Playing hero, are we?” Evren asked.
Killian gave him a wry grin. “I’ll admit, it’s been a long time since I had the pleasure of a desperate last stand.” He rapped his knuckles against the thick cuisse covering his upper leg, just above his injured knee. “Let’s just hope I get off this easy again, eh?”
Evren chuckled. “I’d wish you luck, but that has an awfully gloomy feeling to it.” He held out a hand. “How about I just say ‘Get yourself through this in one piece, you crafty old windbag’?”
Killian returned the grip. “Old windbag? You better pray I fall in this battle, else I might have to give you a decent hiding for that.” A shadow in his eyes belied his mocking, lighthearted smile.
Evren was surprised to find a lump rising in his throat. He’d grown strangely fond of the enigmatic blacksmith. Killian had surprised him by being as kind, decent, and honorable as he was crafty. He was living proof that not everyone on the wrong side of the law was a total bastard.
Suddenly, Killian pulled him close and dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. “Take this, quickly.” He pressed something smooth and hard into Evren’s hand. “If I get through this in one piece, I’ll explain everything. For now, trust that everything I’ve done has been in the name of protecting Shalandra. No matter what it may look like.”
Evren, caught off-guard, could find no words. He stared up at Killian, his mind too stunned to form a question.
“This cannot fall into the Iron Warlord’s hands.” Killian fixed Evren with a burning gaze. “Guard it with your life, or else all of Shalandra will—”
He cut off so abruptly that Evren staggered, his hand released from the blacksmith’s iron grip.
“Ah, Aleema.” Killian’s face brightened and his eyes slid past Evren toward the door. “Allow me the honor of defending Shalandra beside you one last time.”
Evren turned to see Issa’s white-haired Savta emerging from the chamber. Tears streaked her age-lined face, but she gave Killian a brilliant smile. “Elmessam, long has it been since we stood side by side and joined battle.”
“Not since the icy shores of Fehl,” Killian said. “Do you regret the decisions you were forced to make?”
“No.” Aleema shook her head. “But I expect you would say much the same. Even about training our Issa in secret, knowing you went against the wishes of your Ypertatos.”
Killian gave a little bow. “As always, Aleema, I act in service of Shalandra.”
“Indeed.” Aleema unslung her flammard and gripped it tight. “Now come, Elmessam. Battle waits for no man or woman, no matter how aged.”
Chuckling, Killian saluted and stepped aside to make way for the woman. As Aleema passed, Killian shot a meaningful glance at Evren, dropping his eyes to Evren’s hand. With that final wordless message, he turned and strode after Aleema east, toward the front of the palace and the inevitable battle.
The blacksmith’s furtive urgency had thrown Evren off-guard, and his mind took a moment to recover. He glanced down at his hand, uncurling his fingers. There lay a smooth black stone, the shape of two conjoined teardrops, just small enough to nestle in his palm. What the hell did he—
“Evren?” Hailen’s voice echoed from behind him.
Evren’s fingers instantly closed around the stone and he whirled to find the young boy standing in the hall behind him.
Hailen seemed to confuse his shock for worry. “What’s the matter?”
Evren gave a half-hearted wave. “Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “Just wanted to say farewell to Killian.”
“Oh.” Hailen’s face tightened, his eyes brimming with sorrow. “He was a good man, in the end, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Evren nodded. “A good man, despite himself.” He hurried toward the boy and strode into the room.
“—get a message to the Secret Keepers,” Lady Callista was saying as he entered. She, Issa, and Hykos were busy buckling on the daggers the servant had brought.
As if they don’t have weapons enough with those huge swords, Evren thought. Then again, given our enemy, another blade can’t hurt. He checked his own weapons—aside from his jambiyas and two throwing daggers, he was all out of knives. He’d have to fight with what he had, with every shred of strength in his arms and legs. For Hailen, Briana, and everyone else in the room.
“Tell Ennolar to barricade himself and his priests in that office. All of Shalandra is counting on them to craft that antidote.”
“Yes, Proxenos.” Hykos snapped a crisp salute. “Once that is done, it would be my honor to join the ranks of those defending the palace.”
Lady Callista seemed to notice as well. “The Pharus must be protected,” she said, her voice solemn, firm. “It falls to the three of us to guard him with our lives.”
Hykos looked ready to protest, but his eyes slid toward Issa, then the Pharus. “Of course, Proxenos.” Evren could swear he saw a hint of relief in the Archateros’ face. He limped away from the chamber as fast as his injured knee permitted. He turned east, heading toward the Secret Keepers.
“Then lead the way,” Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres said. “There is no time for delay.”
As if summoned by his words, the first sounds of battle echoed through the hall: the thump, thump of heavy bodies crashing against the barricaded front doors, the clattering of armor and weapons, the shouts of relayed orders.
The assault on the palace had begun.
Evren’s gut tightened. If the Stumblers are already attacking the palace itself, that means the gate has fallen. It would only be a matter of time before the creatures overwhelmed the meager defensive force or found a way to slip through one of the many entrances into the palace.
If they didn’t hurry, the Iron Warlord would triumph.
Once again, he felt a burning desire to unclench his fingers and study the object Killian had entrusted him. He needed to get a better look at it, have a clearer understanding what he’d be protecting with his life. Yet he kept his hand firmly closed around the smooth stone. Killian had clearly wanted it kept a secret; he owed that much to the blacksmith that had helped him and Hailen so much during their time in Shalandra.
Lady Callista led the way through the halls toward the Vault of Ancients, the Pharus a step behind her. Issa brought up the rear of the protective guard. Briana, Aisha, and Kodyn hurried after them, as fast as Kodyn could manage despite his nasty limp.
“Hailen.” Evren caught the boy’s arm before he could follow the others from the room. “Are you sure about this?”
Hailen turned to him, confusion written on his face. “What do you mean?”
“You remember what happened the last time you encountered Serenii technology, in Enarium.” Evren gave him a meaningful look. “You nearly died.”
“That wasn’t the fault of the Serenii mechanisms.” Hailen shook his head. “That was the Sage trying to use my blood.”
“You know what I mean.” Evren threw up his hands. “We have no idea what sort of magic is within the vault or the tomb. And with your blood, things tend to go a little…” He wiggled his fingers. “…sideways.”
He had seen the way the artifact lit up in Suroth’s study, and the militants’ corpses riddled with holes—the magic of another Serenii relic.
“I know.” Hailen nodded. “But you know what I am, what I’m supposed to be able to do. I can’t hide from my destiny, no matter how much I wish I could.”
A heavy burden seemed to settle on the boy’s shoulders as he spoke, tugging his shoulders into a stoop. He carried the weight of Einan’s future—his blood was the only thing capable of putting an end to the Great Devourer.
“I feel like this is what I’m meant to do, Evren.” Hailen’s expression grew somber. “If there’s a way I can help to save Shalandra, that’s a start toward saving all of Einan, right? Even if the Great Devourer’s still out there in Enarium, waiting to destroy our world, it won’t matter if the world destroys itself. I can’t get so focused on the big picture that I fail to think about the small things, the little acts that can save lives and turn back evil wherever it’s found. Human, demon, or ancient force of chaos, whatever it is.”
The words stunned Evren. He’d thought much the same thing. But to hear it from the mouth of Hailen made him realize how much the boy truly had grown in the last few years.
He had tried his best to protect Hailen. From the moment he’d found the boy hiding in the back of Brother Modestus’ wagon, he’d done what he could to shield him from danger, harm, and the malevolent actions of wicked men. Yet Hailen was no longer a child in need of sheltering. He had killed bandits, driven off Snarth, used Serenii magic to kill Hallar’s Warriors. He had seen hundreds of deaths in his life, far more than Evren could imagine. He had stared into the face of a being older than Einan itself, had watched it destroy a creature of immense power. Each of those experiences had shaped him, matured him into the young man that now stood before Evren.
But this, this foray into the Serenii-made Vault of Ancients, this was one danger he couldn’t protect Hailen from. Hailen had to face this challenge, for the future of Shalandra, and his own sake. The world needed him to embrace his Serenii heritage and the power of his Melechha blood.
“Thank you, Evren.” Hailen’s quiet words snapped him from his musing.
“For what?” Evren’s brow twisted in confusion.
“For being my brother.” Hailen grinned. “Even though we were born a thousand leagues apart, you truly are my brother. You’ve protected me, trained me, helped me in more ways than you’ll ever realize. It’s thanks to you that I am ready to face my destiny here. And wherever else I will need it. I’m only strong because you showed me how to be.”
A lump rose to Evren’s throat. He found himself at a sudden loss for words; what could he say to that? Anything he could say felt inadequate.
Hailen suddenly threw his arms around Evren. “I love you, Evren,” he said, his voice hoarse. “No matter what happens to us here, I want you to know that.”
Evren embraced the boy, holding him in a fierce hug. “I love you, too, Hailen.” Errant tears brimmed in his eyes and slid down his cheek. For once, Evren didn’t fight the emotions. “Meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. And if our journey ends here, I’ll go down fighting and with a smile on my face because I had the best little brother ever.” He gave a tight-throated chuckle. “Even if you are a smart-arse.”
Hailen laughed and pulled back from the hug. “Right now, it’s that big brain of mine that’s going to save us all. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
“Damn,” Evren groaned. “If you really do pull this off, it’s going to your head. You’ll have an ego larger than Graeme’s.”
“And well-deserved.” Hailen tilted his nose up into the air and gave a snobbish sniff. A beaming smile and childish giggle ruined his haughty air of conceit.
Evren threw his arm around Hailen’s shoulder. “Come on, Brother. Let’s go save a city.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ennolar’s words repeated over and over in Aisha’s mind. “Your power can save the Stumblers, burn the poison from their bodies, but to do so now would only kill them.”
Sorrow welled within her, set the acid in her gut churning. The discovery that her powers could cleanse the Stumblers had filled her with hope. She could not only turn the tide of battle, but she’d been able to help the people affected by Groebus’ black alchemy. After all the suffering in Shalandra, she had felt such relief to know that she could make a difference.
Only to have her relief dashed by the Arch-Guardian.
“They have begun to die in the hours since. Their bodies function, but their brains are not fully in control. Some have ceased breathing, while others’ hearts stopped.”
Nausea surged within her at the thought of so many deaths. She’d cleansed more than a hundred Stumblers in the Terrestra, given them a shot at life once more. Now, they would all die. Because of her.
No, the voice of a Keeper’s Blade echoed in her mind. Because of the traitor.
Anger flared within her so hot and bright it pushed back her misery. The spirits of the Blades she’d absorbed in the crypts filled her with their fury. They had sworn to protect Shalandra in life and death, and now the Iron Warlord was destroying their city. The Kish’aa begged for vengeance against the one that had turned Shalandra’s people against each other.
And they would have it, the moment Aisha came face to face with the Iron Warlord. She might not be able to
cleanse the Stumblers—not until Ennolar and his Secret Keepers formulated enough antidote—but through her, the Kish’aa would punish the one that had brought so much turmoil and suffering to Shalandra.
First, however, they had to find a way to foil the Iron Warlord’s plans. He wanted something within the Vault of Ancients, the secrets concealed in the Tomb of Hallar. With the help of the spirits and those beside her, she would stop Tethum from fulfilling his evil plans.
She shot a glance at Kodyn. The Hawk limped along on her right, but he no longer needed her shoulder to lean on. His wound seemed mostly superficial. He ought to back to his usual spryness with a few days of rest.
Rest. Aisha snorted. I think we could all use some of that. Exhaustion tugged on her limbs, made it hard to keep her eyes open. Were it not for the heat of the Kish’aa coursing through her veins, pushing back her fatigue, she might have been tempted to curl up on the tiled floor and sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d rested.
The others seemed equally drained. Despite Lady Callista’s confident gait, the woman’s shoulders appeared burdened by a new weight. Issa, too, seemed unusually quiet. The Pharus’ arrival had clearly interrupted an important moment between her and the Lady of Blades.
Something seemed to have changed in Issa since the last time Aisha had seen the Blade. A shadow darkened her eyes, yet her face had lost some of its tension, replaced by a new light of determination. She almost hovered protectively as she marched behind Lady Callista and the Pharus.
Maybe that has something to do with the fact that there’s a battle just a short distance away.
The Stumbler assault on the door had been relentless, and the shouts of the men leading the defense rang with an ominous edge of fear. They knew the inevitability of the battle they faced—thousands of Stumblers against scores of defenders. Terrible odds, even on the best of days. Yet Aisha had seen grim determination on the faces of Invictus Tannard and every Blade and Indomitable guarding the wall. They would fight to their last breath in the name of Shalandra, Pharus, and Proxenos.