Storm of Chaos

by Andy Peloquin

  “Thank you,” Kodyn said, relief washing over him.

  “A warning, young Praamian.” The lecturing tone returned to the woman’s voice, making her sound older than Kodyn’s mother. “Handsome is not a foe to be trifled with. If you will not heed my advice to avoid him, perhaps you will consider bringing along one of your friends, like the young Vothmoti you brought last time. An extra pair of eyes and knives may mean the difference between your success and failure.”

  “I understand,” Kodyn replied.

  “And whatever you do, do not let him get you in his crossbow’s sights. It is said that he does not miss his target, no matter the range.”

  The ominous words sent a little shiver down Kodyn’s spine. Doubtless the assassin’s legend was exaggerated, but anyone that could instill the fear he heard echoing in the woman’s voice was certainly a man to be wary of.

  “Thank you.” Kodyn bowed to the shadowy figure.

  “Thank me by remaining alive,” the Black Widow’s mouthpiece said. “And, if you do manage to find out who hired Handsome, I expect you will repay my information in kind.”

  “Of course.”

  Silence was his only answer. He waited a full minute just to be certain the woman had left—and to give her time to leave via whatever bolt-hole or secret door she had installed in the chamber. A professional courtesy from one thief to another.

  Suddenly, he remembered. Suroth’s purse!

  He reached a hand into the pocket of his Guild-made cloak and drew out the small cloth purse the Arch-Guardian had instructed him to give to the Black Widow days ago. Between the dulling effects of sleep and his irritation at the woman’s reticence, he’d completely forgotten to give it to her.

  Damn it!

  He’d have to set up another meeting once he was done tracking down Handsome. He could deliver Suroth’s gift at the same time as he brought information on who had hired the assassin.

  Slipping the purse into his pocket, he turned and retreated up the hall and into the taproom. Few of the patrons in The Laborer’s Rest paid him heed—the Earaqi were too busy drinking after a hard day out in the fields.

  Outside, the afternoon light bathed the Cultivator’s Tier in a soft red-orange glow, tinged with a hint of the gold that heralded sunset. The first hints of the evening chill hung in the air, and the streets were packed with laborers returning from long days in the southern fields.

  A fierce grin broadened Kodyn’s lips as he slipped into the early evening crowd. Time to go hunting an assassin!

  Chapter Five

  The light of the setting sun washed across Kellas’ still, silent corpse—the reddish-gold hue served to highlight the pallor of the dead Blade’s skin.

  The last of the Keeper’s Priests had departed, their lengthy process of embalming Kellas’ body for entombment hastened by Lady Callista’s furious glares. Now, Kellas lay in state on the sandstone altar, fully armored, his crossed arms clasping the hilt of his two-handed flammard to his chest. He was ready to join the fallen Keeper’s Blades in guarding the Tomb of Hallar for eternity.

  The Chamber of Absolution, set in the highest tower in the Citadel, was the diametric opposite to the towertop sanctuary in the Hall of the Beyond. It was plain, free of any ornamentation that could detract from the solemn purpose of the chamber. The only adornment in the room was the golden sandstone from which the keep had been carved.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows of glass let in the sunlight, offering the fallen Blade one final view of the city he had sworn to protect. Hallar’s stern face, carved into the mountain high above the Palace of Golden Eternity, paid silent farewell to the warrior that died in service of Shalandra.

  Here, the Keeper’s Blades received their final farewell.

  A score of Keeper’s Blades stood solemn vigil around the altar. Their faces were hard and expressionless as the block of sandstone beneath the Dhukari youth’s body. Though Kellas hadn’t been a fully anointed Blade, Lady Callista had declared that he would receive a full burial alongside the other Keeper’s Blades that guarded the Tomb of Hallar. As the sun set behind the western cliff, he would join the other heroes of centuries long past in silent vigil before Shalandra’s most sacred memorial.

  But first, the Blades would pay their respects.

  Byrach, the Archateros that had overseen Kellas’ training, stepped forward and placed a hand on the young Dhukari’s body. “A fine warrior, proud, confident, and skilled. He would have made an excellent Blade.”

  Issa was surprised at the sorrow in Byrach’s eyes. Kellas might have treated her and Etai with typical Dhukari disdain, but he’d evidently made a positive impression on Byrach.

  Lady Callista stepped forward next. As the Proxenos, commander of the Blades, her duty was to speak for the fallen. “Kellas, son of Pentius, Warden of the Southern Marches, let no one here doubt that you served with pride and fought with courage. Go into infinity, Brother, and find rest in the Long Keeper’s arms.” She glanced around the chamber. “Are there any others who would speak for the fallen?”

  Silence hung thick in the chamber. Issa felt a stab of pity—no one else had any words to say for the young man.

  Her surprise doubled when her feet moved, propelling her forward. Words flowed from deep within her and poured from her mouth.

  “I never liked Kellas,” she said, her voice quiet yet firm. “He was arrogant, hot-tempered, and vocal in his dislike of the lower castes. He never let me forget that he believed himself better than me because of his birth and wealth.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “And yet, never once did I doubt that he would make an excellent Blade. As his Archateros said—” She inclined her head to Byrach. “—he was proud and confident. Yet he earned that pride and confidence through his skills with his sword and the ferocious drive of a warrior that burned within him. He always strived to be the best he could be. Our city would have been a safer place for his strength and prowess. For that reason, we are all a little worse off for his death. May he find the peace he deserves.”

  The words dried up as quickly as they had come. She stepped back into her place beside Etai, emotions swirling within her chest. Death had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember—her parents had died shortly after her birth, depriving her of their presence.

  Yet this death seemed somehow…different. Almost as if it were her fault that he had died. He’d been given her assignment, taken her place on the Slave’s Tier. He lay dead on that slab because he’d walked the Way of Chains in her stead. It made no sense, she knew, but such feelings rarely did. What logic knew beyond a doubt, the heart sometimes struggled to accept. Deep down, she held a certainty that the blame for Kellas’ death didn’t rest on her shoulders, but she couldn’t help remembering her battle with the Gatherers in the Artisan’s Tier. She’d failed to capture or kill them all; had one of those that fled the skirmish somehow been responsible for Kellas’ death?

  For now, she could allow herself a brief moment of pity for the Dhukari that had fallen serving the same mission, the same city, and the same god that she served.

  Lady Callista stepped forward again. “Guardian of death, warrior of the fallen, you are relieved of duty. Your brothers and sisters stand watch over you.” She gave the corpse the salute of a Keeper’s Blade: right fist to left shoulder, back ramrod straight, head held high. Steel clanked and rattled as thirty Blades mirrored her gesture, then returned to stand at attention.

  And that was it. No grand fanfare like so many other Dhukari, no endless chanting of Necroseti priests droning a final ritual over the fallen. Upon acceptance into the Keeper’s Blades, Kellas had forsworn all ties to his family. He served the Long Keeper, Lady Callista, and the city of Shalandra. The simple ceremony and his entombment in the ranks of shalanite sarcophagi guarding the Tomb of Hallar was his final reward.

  It felt…fitting. Issa might not have liked him, but he had earned his place in the Keeper’s Blades just as she had. For that alone, she would honor him as
a fallen comrade.

  Byrach and three more Keeper’s Blades moved to collect the bier upon which Kellas’ body would be carried into the Crypts. The rest of the black-armored soldiers filed out of the towertop room and marched in silence down the circular staircase.

  Issa matched Etai’s pace but could find no words to speak. The Mahjuri girl had suffered far more humiliation at Kellas’ hands than she, but it seemed Etai’s feelings matched her own. They would not speak ill of the dead until the dead could no longer hear them.

  Hykos stood waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, with Chirak, Etai’s Archateros trainer, by his side. “Wait,” Hykos said. “Both of you. We are summoned.”

  Issa restrained her curiosity and fell into position beside Hykos, Etai doing likewise beyond Chirak. Hykos would tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know it.

  Her answer came a few moments later as Lady Callista descended the stairs and nodded to the four of them. She needed no words—they fell in step behind the Lady of Blades.

  In silence, Lady Callista marched them through the Citadel of Stone and across the training yard, toward the tunnel that connected the Citadel’s north wing with the Palace of Golden Eternity. Issa had come this way before, and she knew the path that led toward Lady Callista’s private office.

  The Lady of Blades paused outside the door. “Issa, you and Hykos first.”

  Issa shot a curious glance at Etai. The girl gave a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders and stopped beside her Archateros.

  Issa and Hykos entered Lady Callista’s office, a simply-furnished room with a broad oak desk and chair, a pair of plush armchairs, and shelves piled high with parchment, scrolls, and books. The western wall of the office was adorned with racks of blunt and bladed weapons. Once again, Issa couldn’t help noticing the single hanging shelf and the bundle of sky blue cloth on the southern wall. A strange decoration in such a practical room, yet it was not her place to ask.

  Lady Callista unbuckled the sheath of her two-handed flammard and leaned it against the side of one armchair. She turned, perching on the edge of the heavy wooden desk, and fixed Issa and Hykos with a piercing stare. Her gaze seemed to linger on Issa, and once again Issa felt that strange something in Lady Callista’s eyes. Almost as if she had recognized something with Issa and waited to see if Issa recognized it in her.

  Issa’s curiosity burned. There’s something she wants to say, something she wants to ask, but what?

  She didn’t know, but she had questions of her own to ask. Hours earlier, Lady Callista had repeated the same words Issa’s grandfather spoke the day she left to join the Blades. “Strike first, strike true.” A simple sentiment, yet one that Issa would never have dreamed to hear echoed from not only the Lady of Blades’ lips, but the mouth of Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres himself. The Pharus had said they were the words of “a Blade I once knew” while Lady Callista proclaimed them the advice of “a friend and mentor”.

  Once again, the question rang in her mind. How does she know my family?

  Issa suspected her parents had fallen in service to the Keeper’s Blades, a fact reinforced by the way her Saba had reacted to the news that she had been accepted. Yet her father would have been too young to serve as Lady Callista’s mentor. It made no sense, yet the connection was undeniable. What could her Savta and Saba, simple Earaqi laborers, have in common with two of the most powerful people in Shalandra?

  She was determined to find out at the first possible opportunity. Yet one look at Lady Callista’s forbidding expression made it clear that now wasn’t the time.

  Lady Callista broke the silence. “That was kind.” Her eyes fixed on Issa. “Your words for Kellas.”

  Issa swallowed the lump in her throat. “No one should be forgotten, even an arrogant prick like Kellas.” She forced a weak smile. “He might not have been too bad, given time. After the palace—”

  “After you saved his life,” Lady Callista cut in.

  Issa inclined her head. “After that, he actually was getting better. Maybe coming close to death had begun changing him.”

  “We’ll never know.” The Lady of Blades pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “But we will know how he ended up on that cross.”

  She lowered her hands, opening her eyes. “I expect the two of you to assist in the search for his killers. A search that will begin on the Slave’s Tier.”

  Issa’s gut clenched. Of course. The Dhukari and Alqati always found a reason to blame the Mahjuri, Kabili, and Earaqi for their problems. The lower castes were convenient scapegoats that could not fight back.

  Lady Callista met Issa’s eyes. “I know what you are thinking. You believe that I am simply seeking to pin the murder on the lower castes because it is easy.”

  Issa struggled to hide her shock.

  “I read the report of your incident with the Indomitable patrol two nights ago,” Lady Callista told her. “Your feelings on this matter are plain, and understandable, given where you were raised.”

  Again, those words held a depth of meaning Issa didn’t fully comprehend.

  “Yet, in this case, there is no mistake.” Lady Callista’s jaw muscles worked. “Byrach informs me that Kellas was sent to lead a company of Indomitables on patrol through the Slave’s Tier, given that you and Etai both were occupied on the Artisan’s Tier.”

  Those words drove the dagger of guilt a little bit deeper into Issa’s stomach. Had she not been on the Artisan’s Tier protecting Briana, doubtless she would have been relegated to the Slave’s Tier again. She might have been the Gatherers’ victim, yet here she stood while Kellas lay dead on hard stone.

  Fire flashed in the Lady of Blades’ eyes. “The Indomitables never returned from their patrol, nor did Kellas. Yet everyone was so caught up with the attack on the Gatherers, the crowds in the Slave’s Tier, and Councilor Angrak’s procession that their absence escaped notice.” Her fists clenched by her side. “By the time it was discovered, it was too late.”

  “So you think they were attacked on the Slave’s Tier?” Issa asked.

  “That would be the simplest explanation.” Lady Callista inclined her head. “And yet there are no Indomitable corpses, no signs of a struggle. You saw Kellas. There were no wounds, no bruises, nothing to indicate he’d fought for his life. Simply silent, cowardly death by poison.”

  Acid surged in Issa’s gut. “And you want us to find out what happened and where.” A statement, not a question.

  “By any means necessary,” Lady Callista growled, her face as hard as shalanite. “I don’t care what it takes. You will find out what happened and make damned certain the guilty are brought to justice.” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “I want their heads on spikes in Murder Square!”

  The Lady of Blades’ anger surprised Issa. She had believed Lady Callista a stern, controlled officer, yet over the last few days, she had seen the woman’s human side. This fury and hatred, this outrage over the death of one of her loyal servants only amplified that humanity beneath the hard military facade.

  Hykos had remained silent throughout, his usually animated face a solemn mask. Now, he straightened and saluted. “Of course, Proxenos. We will find the truth, no matter what.”

  Lady Callista nodded to Issa and Hykos. “Your regular training will be postponed until this matter is settled. This is to be your only mission. I will make certain all the Elders are informed.”

  “And what of Lady Briana?” Issa asked. The Arch-Guardian’s daughter had barely escaped an attack by the Gatherers with her life, and only because she sought sanctuary with the Secret Keepers. “Surely she must be guarded as well.” She was surprised to feel a sense of genuine worry—not only for Briana, but for Kodyn, Aisha, Evren, and Hailen. They had fought side by side, shared their secrets, and included her in their confidences.

  Oddly enough, a part of her felt more accepted among them than she had among the Keepers’ Blades. The kindness of Hykos and Etai cou
ldn’t outweigh Tannard’s cruel ruthlessness. Only among the ragtag group of foreigners and the outcast Dhukari had she truly felt like just one more member of a pack.

  “Lady Briana is safe in the Temple of Whispers,” Lady Callista replied with a shake of her head. “She is beyond the reach of her enemies. Nothing short of an army could pluck her from the Secret Keepers’ grasp now.” Her face hardened. “Right now, you are needed to deal with this problem. The balance of power and peace in Shalandra hangs on a knife’s edge. The people need to know that the Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades will keep them safe, but how can that be the case if they cannot avenge their own?”

  Though Issa wanted to protest, she had to admit Lady Callista was right. Briana and the others would be safe within the Temple of Whispers. But the streets of the Slave’s Tier could turn into a battleground with just one wrong word, one act of wanton violence. The lower castes already despised the Indomitables—and, by extension, the Keeper’s Blades, who they lumped into the same league.

  So be it. My place is on the streets, where I can help to keep the peace.

  The search for Kellas’ murderers would turn ugly, there was no escaping that. But if she could stop the situation from getting worse, she would be fulfilling her oath to serve the city and its people.

  She straightened and saluted. “Yes, Lady Callista.”

  Lady Callista returned the salute. “Find them,” she growled. “Hunt the bastards down. Do not stop until every Gatherer in Shalandra is dead!”

  Chapter Six

  Worry roiled in Evren’s gut as he hurried up the Path of Sepulture, the main avenue that ran along the western edge of Shalandra, connecting the Slave’s Tier with the Artisan’s Tier. The sight of so many children dead from the horrific disease had shaken him to the core.