Heirs of Destiny Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  By instinct or sheer luck, he managed to roll out of the way of Engerack’s next kick and came to his feet. Every part of him ached, and he gasped for air. His mind raced as he tried to decide his next move. Trading blows with Engerack wouldn’t end well. No matter how much punishment he could take, Engerack could dish out more. His eyes went to the bloodied Daver huddling at Rhyris’ feet. If he didn’t fight smart, he’d never get out of this match alive.

  Engerack stalked toward him, but Evren didn’t wait for the bigger boy to close the distance. He charged, feigning an intent to wrap his arms around Engerack’s waist. When the seventh-year planted his feet to absorb the impact, Evren slowed his rush and snapped a kick up into the boy’s chin. Engerack staggered backward, and his heels caught on an uneven section of floor. Evren leapt high into the air and drove both feet into Engerack’s chest. The bigger boy toppled backward, arms flailing, and struck the ground with a loud thump.

  Evren landed hard as well, a twinge of pain running down his right arm and already-tender ribs. But he bounced up to his feet and threw himself onto the prone Engerack. The bigger boy was too dazed by the fall to even raise his hands and defend himself as Evren rained blow after blow onto his face. Crimson spurted from the boy’s broken nose and split lips. Shattered teeth sliced into Evren’s knuckles, adding more of Evren’s blood into the mix. He didn’t stop punching but kept whaling on the downed Engerack. If he stopped, if he let up, Engerack could recover enough to win the fight—and Daver would die.

  “Enough!” Two sets of hands seized his pumping arms and dragged him off Engerack. “The fight’s over!”

  When the haze of pain and fury cleared, Evren found Engerack lying still. His chest rose and fell, but his eyes had rolled back into his head. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his hands trembled with the desire to keep hitting something, anything. Pent-up rage over his treatment by the Lecterns, his fellow apprentices, and Swain burned like a wildfire within him. He tore free of the restraining hands and whirled on Dracat and Rhyris. He ached to give them both a taste of the torment they’d inflicted upon him and the other apprentices.

  “It’s over!” Dracat shouted, raising his hands like a shield. Fear flashed in the ninth-year’s eyes. He had just watched his champion get beaten into submission, and nothing but empty air stood between him and the furious victor.

  “Evren, you won.” Rhyris actually took a half-step backward, bumping into the wall. “Take him and go!”

  The sight of Daver’s bloodied back and filthy bonds only added to Evren’s fury. He tore them off Daver’s arms and pulled the gag gently from his mouth. He wasn’t strong enough to carry Daver, so he helped the younger boy stand on wobbling legs.

  He turned to the two ninth-years with a hard glare. “Pray to the Master that the Lecterns never find me.” He thrust a finger at Engerack’s prone form. “I’ll do worse than that if I ever see you again.”

  Silence met his proclamation as he helped Daver limp from the cell. He paused only long enough to reclaim his tunic and shattered knife, then pushed his way through the apprentices gathered in the hallway and left the cells far behind for the last time.

  Chapter Ten

  Rosser’s eyes were wide as he fell in step beside Evren. He’d managed to get a decent view of the end of the fight, and he gave Evren a wide berth. He actually flinched when Evren snapped, “Help me carry him!” and leapt to heed the command with alacrity.

  Evren helped Daver limp up the stairs and through the temple proper, but the smaller boy was almost too weak to walk on his own. Were it not for Rosser’s strong arms, they might not have made it. As it was, they had to half-carry, half-drag the sagging apprentice down the corridors.

  He scanned every hall they passed, both for Lecterns and for Tomaz or Swain. He saw no sign of the Claws, but right now his only concern was getting Daver out before they were discovered. Gritting his teeth, he tried to ignore the pain in his ribs, head, and face as he supported the stumbling apprentice. Thankfully, Rosser carried a lot of Daver’s weight, so they made quick progress through the corridors.

  Evren breathed a sigh of relief as he turned into the corridor that led out into the Gardens of Prudence. The way was clear, no Lecterns or Wardens between him and the dark night. He hustled Daver down the passage as fast as he could manage. Getting Daver over the wall would prove challenging—hell, he wasn’t sure he could get over in his battered state—but one problem at a time.

  He took a single step into the garden when a sound froze him in place. His gut clenched as he saw a tall, thick-shouldered figure lounging in the shallow pool at the northeastern corner of the gardens. It could only be one person: Lectern Uman. The cool water soothed the pain in the Lectern’s injured knee, and he alone bathed at this time of night.

  “Stop!” he hissed at Rosser. The bigger boy complied, his eyes darting to the Lectern.

  Evren’s mind raced. If Uman saw him fleeing, he’d raise the alarm. Even though it would take the Lectern time to hobble back to the temple, it would be less than five minutes before the priests and Wardens flooded the streets and alleys around the Court of Judgement to hunt them down. He and the drooping Daver wouldn’t get far enough away.

  His hand went to the broken dagger bundled in his clothing, but he couldn’t bring himself to draw it. He was a fighter but not a murderer. He couldn’t kill a man in cold blood. Not even after what Lectern Uman had done to him time and again.

  The Lectern had his back turned to them, and he reclined against the edge of the pool, visibly relaxed. If they kept quiet as they hurried, they could get across the gardens and into the hedges without alerting Uman. They might have to wait until the Lectern finished bathing before they scaled the rope ladder, but at least they’d get away unnoticed.

  He pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to Daver and mimed carrying him like a sack of potatoes. Rosser nodded and lifted the smaller apprentice onto his shoulders. Evren froze at Daver’s groan, but the boy bit on his lip to stifle more cries.

  Heart hammering, Evren motioned for Rosser to go ahead. He’d keep an eye on Uman and be ready to act if the Lectern caught them—though, what that action would be, he had no idea. Better to remain quiet and get out of sight unseen.

  Rosser’s heavy breathing sounded terribly loud in Evren’s ears, but he forced himself to keep padding along behind the larger boy. His heart skipped a beat as they crept onto the tiled walkway that skirted the pool and led toward the hedges. This was the critical moment. Either they passed unnoticed or Lectern Uman heard them and—

  “Who goes there?” The Lectern’s rumbling voice sent a shiver down Evren’s spine. Water splashed as the priest sat up and turned toward them.

  He shoved Rosser hard toward the hedges, then leapt backward into Lectern Uman’s field of vision. He had to keep the priest’s attention fixed on him long enough for Rosser to get out of sight with Daver. Then what? He had no idea, but he knew he had to ensure Daver reached safety before he worried about himself.

  “Evren!” Lectern Uman hissed. The light of the flickering torches cast eerie shadows on his face as he fixed Evren with a stern glare. “You have returned to us.”

  Evren’s gut tightened. Even now, he felt his mind retreating as it always did when the Lectern came to him for “prayers”. The cold numbness seeped over him and his muscles turned to stone. He stood in the open, yet he felt as trapped and helpless as he had when locked in his cell waiting for his punishment.

  Lectern Uman stood up from the shallow pool, water dripping from his naked body, down his twisted hip and knee. “I am glad to see you have repented of your folly.” He took a limping step toward Evren, arms outstretched. “While you must face the consequences of your choices, the Master is a god of mercy. He will accept you back into the temple with open arms, as will we all. First repentance, then forgivene—"

  “No.” The word burst from Evren’s lips. “No,” he repeated, a fire burning in his chest. “I will not face your consequences
, nor will I submit to your abuse any longer.”

  Instead of fleeing, he found himself taking a step closer to the Lectern. “For years, I have been slave to this temple, too afraid to act for myself. No more!”

  His voice rose to a shout, and he made no attempt to silence his fury. He stood alone in the garden with the man who had tormented him for years. He would hold his tongue no longer.

  “I am free of you!” Venom dripped from his words. “I am free of your punishments, your rules, your temple. I will not return. You cannot make me.”

  “Come now, Evren,” Lectern Uman said in a soothing tone. He reached for the cane leaning against the raised stone wall surrounding the pool and leaned his weight on it. “You are young, and the ways of the Master are still far above your understand—"

  “No!” Evren shouted. “You claim to be a servant of the god of virtue and nobility, but there is nothing virtuous about any of you! Nothing in this place has anything noble. Not the beatings, the fights, the starvations, and the abuse. This is vile, the work of Kharna himself, not the Master.”

  “Still your tongue!” Lectern Uman snapped. In a moment, his expression transformed from placating to cruel, edged with cold fury. “Your words reveal the wickedness within you. I can see that it will take more than a few hours of hunger and thirst to cleanse the evil in your heart. But it will be done, by the Master’s grace. I will make certain of it personally.”

  The Lectern took a shuffling step toward Evren, and the weighted end of his cane whipped toward Evren’s head. Instinct kicked in, and Evren ducked, shuffled forward, and lashed out. His punch, driven by all the force of his fury and bitterness, collided with the Lectern’s jaw. The blow snapped the man’s head to one side hard enough to daze him. The Lectern stumbled backward, and his good foot caught on the edge of an uneven tile. He stepped onto his twisted leg, which crumbled beneath his weight, and crashed onto his back. His head struck the inner edge of the raised stone wall surrounding the pool and a loud crack echoed in the darkened garden.

  Lectern Uman’s wide eyes stared at Evren in horror, but life slowly faded as blood gushed from his shattered skull.

  A shiver of horror coursed through Evren as he watched the halo of crimson spreading in the water of the pool. He’d beaten many opponents into unconsciousness, but he’d never killed anyone.

  The urge to vomit gripped him, yet a mingled sense of triumph and relief drove it away. He was free. Lectern Uman would never touch him—or any other apprentices—again. He hadn’t intended to kill the man, but Einan was better off for it.

  “I am your victim no longer!” Evren snarled.

  With one last glance at his tormentor, Evren turned and raced toward the hedges. In the dark shadows of the wall, he found Rosser trying in vain to help a wobbling Daver stand and climb the rope ladder.

  “Daver!” Evren called. “You need to do it yourself. You need to climb so we can get out of here.”

  “Evren?” Daver seemed disoriented, weak from blood loss and the beating he’d received. “What are you doing?”

  “I came back for you,” Evren said, taking his friend’s hand. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “What happened to you?” Daver asked, squinting at Evren’s face. “You’re all bloody.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. For now, you have to be strong. You have to climb.”

  Daver stepped onto the first rung of the ladder and collapsed, whimpering. “It hurts, Evren. They…they beat me bad.”

  “I know.” Evren helped his friend stand. “But you have to be strong now, Daver.”

  “You’re the strong one, Evren,” Daver said in a weak whisper. “You always were.”

  “And now it’s your turn.” Evren gripped Daver’s shoulder. “We have to go before we’re discovered. But if you don’t think you can do it, then I’m staying. I won’t leave without you.”

  “I bloody will!” Rosser snapped, then hauled himself up the ladder without waiting.

  “Come on, Daver,” Evren persisted. “You’ve got to do this. It’s the only way we’ll be free.”

  “Free.” Daver spoke the word in a dreamy voice. “We’ll be free.”

  The smaller apprentice gritted his teeth and stepped onto the rope ladder. He whimpered as his tunic pulled tight over the wounds on his back, yet he didn’t stop climbing. Evren’s heart clenched as Daver swayed halfway up the ladder, but after a moment of rest, the boy continued. It seemed an eternity before Daver reached the top and swung up onto the wall.

  Hauling himself up the rope ladder, Evren clambered onto the wall and peered into the alley below. To his relief, he found Tomaz helping Daver to the ground. Swain stood a short distance away, pawing through their now-full sacks. Gold, silver, brass, and bronze glinted in the moonlight, and the sacks sagged with the weight of their burden. Evren caught Swain’s covert movements as the Claws’ leader shoved a small white-gold statuette into his pocket.

  Evren gathered up the ladder and dropped it in a bundle onto the muddy alley, then slithered down the remaining rope ladder. He rushed over to Daver, who leaned against the stone wall, panting with the exertion.

  “You did it!” Evren clasped Daver’s hand.

  “I just…kept thinking…of what you’d do,” Daver gasped. “I was…strong like you.”

  “Tomaz.” Swain’s voice echoed from behind Evren. “Get this loot out of here and back to the Warren.”

  “What about you?” Tomaz asked.

  “I’ll hide out nearby with Rosser and the newbies, keep an ear out for any sign of pursuit. I know a good place to lay low until morning.” Swain spoke quickly. “The moment you get back to the Warren, get the boys out on the street. If the Wardens start hunting us, I want to know.”

  “You sure?” Tomaz asked. “This close to the temple, this turf belongs to—"

  “Of course I’m sure,” Swain snapped. “Don’t question my orders!”

  “Got it, boss.” Tomaz shot a glance at Evren before turning to gather up the sacks of stolen goods. “Good luck! See you in the morning.”

  Evren’s senses immediately went on full alert as he watched the boy disappear down the alley. Swain’s plan could be a smart one—staying out of sight would be the best choice after what he’d done to Lectern Uman—but something about it felt wrong.

  “Need a hand with him?” Swain asked. His tone was just on the wrong side of polite—the leader of the Claws didn’t do polite. “I can have Rosser help you—"

  “I’ve got him.” Evren passed the bundled tunic and hidden knife to his right hand, then used his left to drape Daver’s arm over his shoulder and lift the boy to his feet. “You said you know of a good hiding spot?”

  “Yeah.” Swain nodded. “This way.”

  Evren’s body went cold—not the numb detachment he got when facing Lectern Uman, but the icy calm before a fight. He kept his expression nonchalant, but he tracked Swain and Rosser’s every movement as they led the way down the alley.

  Swain and Rosser navigated the narrow back lanes leading away from the temples and the Court of Judgement. The buildings grew progressively more decrepit as they pushed deeper into the slums that visitors to Vothmot never saw. Here, the constructions were made with rotting wood and crumbling bricks rather than sturdy stone.

  The Claws’ leader turned down a debris-clogged lane and motioned toward one of the few solid-looking buildings in the neighborhood.

  “In here,” he whispered. “We’ll be safe until morning.”

  The door of the single-story house was unlocked, and Rosser led the way into the darkened interior. Moonlight shone through holes in the thatched straw roof, revealing rotted wooden floors, walls of bricks older than the Empty Mountains, and sagging support pillars. The house had a rear door, barred by a heavy beam—one of the few bits of wood that hadn’t yet succumbed to age and termites. A barrel blocked what looked like a boarded-up pet entrance, the sort Lectern Ordari had installed on his door to allow his hound to come and go at wil
l.

  As Evren helped Daver sit against the rear wall, a loud thunk echoed in the house behind him. Ice ran down his spine.

  “You know what, perhaps I misspoke,” Swain said behind him. His voice had lost its hushed urgency and now echoed with a cold, cruel finality. “It’s not we who will be safe in here. If the Lecterns come, Rosser and I will be nowhere in sight.”

  Evren turned and found Rosser standing before the now-barred front door, his arms folded over his chest. Swain had drawn his long hunting knife, and a cruel smile twisted his face.

  “As for you,” the Claws’ leader said, “you and your brother will be dead.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Evren’s mind raced, but his face was calm as he stared at Swain. “Why?” He’d expected the Claws’ leader to double-cross him, but it made more sense to do it while he was still inside the temple. He didn’t understand the reasoning behind the betrayal now that they were free and clear. In fact, it didn’t make much sense at all. He’d proven his value by beating Swain’s rival that morning. A clever leader wouldn’t waste a resource like that without good cause.

  “Because of who you are.” Swain shrugged. “The Lecterns aren’t the sort to let their apprentices run away. They won’t stop hunting until they find you. Or your bodies.”

  Evren’s heart sank. “And let me guess, the heist gives you the perfect excuse for you to kill us. You drop that trinket you pocketed next to our corpses, and suddenly the theft is pinned on us.”

  “I see all those blows to your head haven’t turned you into a total idiot.” Swain grinned. “It’s almost a shame you’re more useful to me dead than alive. Now all I have to do is go to the Wardens tomorrow as a concerned citizen and report the murder I witnessed. When the Wardens find your bodies here, on the Pincers’ turf, it won’t take much thought for them to put two and two together.”