Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

“Hit him hard, cut him to pieces, and put those iron daggers in him before he gets back up.” Evren nodded to the blades in their belts. “It’s our only hope of putting an end to him.”

  A thought flashed through his mind: if the Hunter were here, he’d find a way to bring down Tethum without killing him. The Hunter had vowed to hunt demons, not to eradicate them from Einan, but to bind them in the Chambers of Sustenance. Their life forces would sustain Kharna in the battle against the Great Devourer. Locking a demon into the chamber would go a long way toward fulfilling the Hunter’s quest—a quest Evren and Hailen had both joined. But none of them were immortal Bucelarii. It would take all of them to bring down the demon.

  Nervous tension hung thick in the room, the silence a stifling blanket that threatened to smother Evren. His gut writhed, acid churning, his shoulder muscles tied in knots. Sweat trickled down his palms and soaked into the leather grips of his jambiyas. He, like all in the room not worrying about activating the Serenii mechanism, faced the dimly-lit stairway. They would face their enemies head-on.

  Click, click, click.

  The sound of metal-shod shoes echoed in the stairway.

  Click, click, click.

  No rasping, gurgling, or feet scuffing on stone. Just a single pair of boots climbing in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

  Click, click, click.

  A harsh voice drifted up to them. “Beneath the black sky, the Final Destruction will be witnessed by the foretold, the catalysts to the end.” Mocking, bestial laughter reverberated off the sandstone walls. “So it was foretold by the Serenii in a vision to my son five thousand years ago.” More laughter, cold and cruel. “Yet he never suspected that I would be the one to visit it on his city.”

  The Iron Warlord appeared at the top of the stairs. A shudder ran down Evren’s spine—eyes the color of midnight glittered behind the mask of cold metal. Not iron, for that would prove torment to a demon. Steel, hard and severe, sharp features etched into its smooth, polished surface.

  Hykos attacked the moment the demon appeared. The Archateros moved fast, faster than Evren believed possible for a human, his Shalandran steel flammard parting their air in a blur that flew toward the Iron Warlord’s face. Etai was a step behind, the flame-shaped blade of her two-handed sword driving toward the demon’s unarmored chest.

  The demon was faster.

  Tethum slid aside, slipping the path of Hykos’ horizontal chop and stepping into the Archateros’ guard. He struck out with an open palm that crashed into Hykos’ chest. The Blade was hurled backward, feet leaving the air, and he crashed into the wall with a deafening clash of metal on rock. His skull struck stone with an audible crunch. He collapsed to the floor and lay still, a fist-sized dent in his Shalandran steel breastplate.

  “Hykos!” Issa cried.

  Etai’s thrust proved equally useless. Tethum slapped it aside almost contemptuously, seized her arm in a fierce grip, and yanked hard. Her shoulder gave a loud pop, but her cry of pain was cut short as the Iron Warlord slammed his masked face into hers. Cartilage crunched beneath the impact and blood sprayed from her lips and nose. Almost casually, Tethum kicked out her legs and twisted her arm and body in the air. She landed hard, and the snap of bone echoed in the chamber. Issa’s gut clenched as another agonized scream burst from Etai’s lips.

  Tethum slowed long enough to twist his body, hurling Etai down the stairs behind him, before continuing his inexorable march forward.

  “No!” Rage reddened Issa’s face.

  “Issa, don’t—” Lady Callista called, but it was too late.

  Issa leapt past the Lady of Blades and swung her two-handed flammard. The powerful overhand chop should have taken off the demon’s head, but Issa faced a demon. Tethum flowed aside from the attack and the one-handed blow whistled past his head. Evren imagined the face beneath the mask twisted in disdain as the Iron Warlord pulled back his hand for a punch.

  But Issa’s attack had been a feint. Her free left hand darted to her belt, drew the iron dagger, and thrust it toward Tethum’s chest.

  Hope surged within Evren for an instant. A single iron blade wouldn’t kill the demon, but perhaps slow him enough to—

  “Pathetic.” Tethum twisted out of the dagger’s path, and Issa’s blow struck empty air. The demon punched Issa’s breastplate hard enough to dent metal. In that same instant, his other hand snapped out, and his fingers closed around Issa’s throat.

  Lady Callista exploded to life in that instant. She leapt forward, hurling herself onto the demon in a furious onslaught too fast for Evren’s eyes to follow. Fear and anger contorted her face, strengthened her arms, and infused her blows with impossible strength. Tethum tried to evade while keeping his grip on Issa’s throat, but the hook of the khopesh caught him on the right shoulder. Flesh, muscle, and bone parted beneath the blow. The demon hissed, his right arm going suddenly limp, fingers releasing Issa. He darted backward into the shadow of the stairwell and out of reach of Lady Callista’s flashing sword.

  But the Lady of Blades didn’t press the fight. Instead, she seized Issa’s gorget and dragged her away from the demon, and interposed herself between the gasping, wheezing Issa and Tethum.

  “Come, Lady Callista.” The Iron Warlord’s voice growled from beneath his mask, slurring and twisted, the sound of a beast. “The battle is over.”

  A shudder ran down Evren’s spine. What realm of horrors is he from?

  “Shalandra is mine,” Tethum crowed, triumph echoing in his inhuman voice. “Your men have fallen, and the living are even now being given the Basilik’s Kiss. They will soon join the ranks of my Stumblers, as will every man, woman, and child in this city. You cannot hope to defeat me here. Give me what I want, and I will grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

  “Never!” Lady Callista hissed, drawing the iron blade in her off-hand.

  “You don’t even want to hear my demands?” The Iron Warlord cocked his masked head. “Are you so rash—”

  “What do you want?” The Pharus stepped forward.

  “What is mine by right of blood.” His midnight eyes slid toward the Serenii machine, toward Evren. Those eyes were so cold, so devoid of life and humanity they chilled to the bone. “The blade taken from me by my pitiful half-human son.”

  “All this death and chaos for a sword?” Confusion twisted the Pharus’ face as his hand dropped to the dagger tucked into his belt. He, like most Einari, had no idea the true capabilities of those Im’tasi weapons.

  But Tethum knew. “Those blades—the one stolen from me, as well that which you call the Blade of Hallar—” Disdain dripped from his voice. “—are no mere weapons crafted by human hands.” He stepped into the room, closer to Lady Callista and her steel blade. A blade he knew could never harm him. “They are the tools of the Serenii, the key to freeing the Great Destroyer from his prison and restoring him to power over this world.”

  Evren struggled to conceal his shock. He doesn’t know?

  The Hunter had spoken of the demons’ delusions. Time had twisted their memories, and they had come to believe the human legends that Kharna was the leader of the demons, an evil deity that had summoned them from their worlds to wage war against the gods of Einan. Yet it was a lie. Kharna had been their enemy five thousand years earlier, a Serenii that fought to put an end to them, to harness their power to save the world. Kharna had fought for order and balance, a champion against the chaos-blighted demons that sought to unleash the Devourer of Worlds.

  Tethum circled Lady Callista, his eyes fixed on the iron dagger in her hand. “For thousands of years, I have dreamed of claiming what was mine. Every mind-numbing hour I was locked away in that lightless prison far beneath the surface of this world, I ached to wrap my fingers around my son’s neck and squeeze the life from him, snarling in his face as I killed him.”

  Lady Callista moved with the demon, wary of his every twitch, her muscles tensed. Evren ached to help her, but he had to protect Hailen and Briana. He was no elite warrior, no highly-t
rained killer. He was a thief, a street rat, toughened by years of hard living yet no match for a demon on his own. But when his time came, he’d be ready to pitch in and drive the finishing dagger into the Iron Warlord’s chest.

  “To my disgust,” Tethum growled, “when I fought my way to freedom, I found my coward of a bastard son had died. I cannot have my vengeance against him, but by the Great Destroyer, I will turn to ashes that which he loved most: his precious city!”

  “Sounds like a problem you’d want to take up with him.” Kodyn thrust a finger toward the door. “You’ll find him sleeping peacefully one floor down.”

  “Jest all you want!” Anger tinged Tethum’s voice. “It will not stop you from dying in this room. There is no escape, no offer of mercy for you. Your interference in my plans has earned you and your friends a painful death.” His eyes roamed from Kodyn to Aisha, Briana, Hailen, and finally settled on Evren. “Every one of you.”

  “See, that’s no good for me.” Kodyn shook his head. “I’ve got some pretty important things I need to be doing. And it’ll just be too damned inconvenient if you kill me here. So, how about you come back in, I don’t know, another thousand years or three and see what’s going on then?”

  Evren couldn’t help grinning. He’s got a set of bronze balls on him.

  Yet Kodyn didn’t simply talk for the sake of infuriating the demon. Evren caught sight of the young man’s left hand, tucked behind his back, moving in those silent hand gestures the Secret Keepers used to communicate. Aisha seemed to understand his signals and had begun cautiously edging around the stone table. Evren kept his eyes studiously fixed on anything else; he couldn’t draw Tethum’s attention to Aisha trying to maneuver into position for a flanking attack.

  Clever, Kodyn hid a grin. Hit him from all sides, take him down.

  Hykos and Etai had been unfortunate enough to face the demon just the two of them. But between Lady Callista, Issa—who was struggling to her feet, doubled over in pain—Aisha, and Kodyn, they had a chance of putting Tethum down long enough to stick an iron dagger or the Im’tasi blade in him. A demon in human form couldn’t hope to turn aside four attacks.

  Five, Evren determined. His hand dropped to the dagger tucked into the hidden sheath at the back of his belt. When the time came, he’d be ready. They had just one chance to take the demon down. If he got past them, if he reached the Serenii mechanism, he would unleash the Final Destruction.

  “Sorry,” Kodyn said after a long moment. “Seems like you don’t have any takers. Better luck next time, eh, old sport?”

  A low, animal growl echoed from beneath Tethum’s mask. “Resist all you want, but you cannot stop me. Once I have what I came for, once I have unleashed the power of the Serenii and turned this city to ash, I will dance in your blood, feast on your corpses.” His black eyes turned to the Pharus. “Even you, Bright One.” He sneered the words. “Once, I might have left you alive, your face scarred and twisted so you would hide behind a mask. But now, with my Stumbler army, I have no need to replace you. I can tear out your spine and suck the marrow from your bones with the rest of the pitiful humans.”

  “Take your best shot,” Lady Callista snarled. “You stand alone, no army at your back.”

  Tethum gave a disdainful snort. “I need no army to deal with you.” He unslung the sword from his back—a Shalandran steel flammard stolen from a slain Keeper’s Blade. “This is simply a diversion, an indulgence. For far too long, I have hidden in the shadows, forced to work in secret. Now is the hour of my triumph—the ascension of death, and the end of Shalandra!”

  The Iron Warlord attacked. Evren’s mind boggled at the demon’s breathtaking speed. One second he was standing in the stairway, the next he was in front of Lady Callista, his sword moving in a whistling blur of black steel. The Lady of Blades managed to interpose her khopesh, barely. Tethum’s flammard crashed against her hooked sword with staggering force. Before Lady Callista could recover, the Iron Warlord slammed a fist into her chest, denting her armor and knocking the air from her lungs.

  Evren tightened his grip on the dagger. He wanted to help, but he had to bide his time. A knife would do little good against the demon and that massive sword—not until the precise moment.

  Evren glanced back at Hailen and Briana. “Whatever you’re going to do to get that thing running, now’s the time!”

  “We’ve done all we can,” Hailen hissed. He pressed his bloodstained finger to one of the glowing ruby gemstones on the Serenii machine, leaving a wet trail of crimson. “But we’ve done all we can do. We’re just missing—”

  A cry of pain snapped Evren’s attention back to the battle. Lady Callista was staggering back, blood flowing from a long wound down the side of her face. Tethum moved in a flurry of steel and death, swinging the huge sword one-handed, so fast Lady Callista reeled beneath the fury. His blows struck at the Lady of Blades from all sides, battering at her armor, helmet, and blade. Anyone else would have crumbled beneath the assault, bones crushed and flesh turned to pulp.

  But Lady Callista was not anyone else. She was Proxenos of the Keeper’s Blades, mightiest warrior of Shalandra, chosen by the Blade of Hallar. Solid Shalandran steel armor and skill honed over decades of war hardened her body, shielded her from the onslaught. She caught Tethum’s blows on her sword, turning them aside, deflecting rather than blocking. Face set in a grim mask, eyes blazing with fury, she held her ground, a solid wall of iron and courage between the demon and her Pharus.

  Evren shot a glance at Kodyn and Aisha. The two looked a heartbeat away from leaping at the demon. The Pharus, too, looked as if he ached to attack—crouched on the balls of his feet, hand gripping the dagger in his belt—but dared not for fear of being torn to shreds by the whipping blades. Common sense, not cowardice, stopped them.

  Lady Callista growled in triumph as she struck a powerful blow to Tethum. Her hooked khopesh carved a gouge into his robed chest, slicing flesh and shattering bone. Tethum staggered backward with a low growl of pain. The Lady of Blades made to charge, but stopped, horror twisting her face, as the demon’s flesh and bone re-knit before her eyes.

  Tethum was a full-blooded demon. An Abiarazi, a creature that could crush skulls and tear out throats with bare hands. Even with the iron dagger in her hand—a dagger she had yet to get within striking distance of the Iron Warlord—he would be nearly impossible to kill. She, however, was fully mortal.

  Her steel khopesh shattered beneath a powerful blow of Tethum’s flammard. The Iron Warlord followed it up with a blurring strike that Lady Callista only barely managed to block with the severed stump of her sword. For the first time, Lady Callista gave ground, desperate to evade the whirring sword and defend herself with only the fragile iron dagger and the stump of her khopesh. But the Iron Warlord didn’t give her a chance. He grasped the flammard in two hands and swung it once around his head, bringing it spinning around to crash into Lady Callista’s arm. Black armor parted beneath the Shalandran steel blade. Lady Callista stumbled to the side, crying out in pain.

  Tethum was on her in an instant. His sword hand clamped on to her left wrist, crushing the hilt of his flammard against her arm and rendering the iron dagger in her hand useless. The fingers of his left hand wrapped around her throat and he squeezed. Lady Callista struggled in his grip, yet she fought a hand of iron.

  A chill ran down Evren’s spine. The Pharus couldn’t get past the huge, armored figure of Lady Callista between him and the demon. The stone table barred Kodyn and Aisha’s path to the Iron Warlord. In the seconds it would take them to vault or race around the obstacle, Tethum would snap Lady Callista’s neck. Evren was the only one within striking range.

  His fingers closed around the hilt of the hidden dagger. Now or never. He had no illusions that he could bring down the Iron Warlord when the Lady of Blades had fell, but he couldn’t let Lady Callista die.

  Yet even as his muscles tensed, a voice stopped him cold.

  “Wait!” Issa’s voice, rasping and hoars
e, echoed through the room. Pain twisted her face but, gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stand. “Don’t harm her, and you will have you what you want.”

  “Yes, so I will.” Tethum’s eyes left the woman writhing in his grip, drifting toward the young Blade. “And you, daughter of the Pharus and Lady of Blades, will give it to me.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Tethum’s words froze Aisha in surprise. Daughter of the Pharus and Lady of Blades?

  It seemed impossible; Briana had told her both Shalandra’s ruler and Lady Callista were childless. The Keeper’s Council had sought to usurp Pharus Amhoset’s power in the absence of an heir.

  But they had an heir. Issa. The sword and scepter aligned. Hallar’s blood risen once more.

  Yet the truth sent horror thrumming through Aisha. Issa, the daughter of the two most powerful people in Shalandra. Two lines of the Prophecy of Final Destruction fulfilled in her. Issa’s blood, just like Hailen’s blood, would be one of the keys to activating and unleashing the power of the Serenii.

  And she had just offered herself up to the Iron Warlord. Aisha understood the action—Issa had just discovered the truth of her mother and father, and she would do anything not to lose them—but the threat of the Iron Warlord was too great to ignore. If he got his hands on the Serenii mechanism, who knew what he could do with it? They still had no idea what the power could do or how it could save the city—how it could be turned against Shalandra, as Tethum clearly intended.

  Did Issa have a plan, or was she just acting out of a desire to protect the parents? Had that choice just condemned the city to death?

  Suddenly, a blue-white figure drifted through the stone walls and floated toward her. The pressure mounted in Aisha’s mind, the buzzing growing so loud it blocked out all sounds around her. In that moment, the world faded into a blur. Nothing remained but Aisha and the spirit of Hallar.

  My father seeks power. Hallar’s voice reverberated through her mind with such force it brought tears of pain to Aisha’s eyes. He has craved it since the day he was brought to this world. For that power, he was willing to destroy everything. I had to stop him, for the good of my city. For Einan.