Storm of Chaos

by Andy Peloquin

  “For Suroth.” With a nod, Aisha scooped up her dropped weapons and took a defensive position behind Kodyn.

  Kodyn grunted beneath the weight of the portly Turwar, but adamantly struggled until he had the man situated atop his shoulders.

  “This way,” signed Desenne, pointing to a second bridge to the north.

  Kodyn marched after the Secret Keeper as fast as he could manage. Turwar proved a cumbersome burden, but Kodyn felt strangely energized. Whatever Aisha had done had pushed back all trace of fatigue and filled him with renewed vigor. He might not be able to run a hundred-league foot race with the corpulent priest weighing him down, but he could stubborn on until he reached the palace.

  The cries and shouts of battle echoed loud behind him, but he forced himself not to look back. The Secret Keepers had the skill and fortitude to stop the Gatherers. And he and Aisha had their own battle to fight.

  Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his tunic by the time he reached the bridge. His legs burned and his lungs struggled to draw in air, hunched over as he was. Yet he set his jaw and kept moving as fast as he could, matching Desenne’s pace. The knowledge that Aisha guarded his back proved all the comfort he needed.

  Once across the bridge, Desenne led them toward another tunnel cut into the wall of the cavern. This passage was as narrow as the other, and Kodyn had to hunch even more to keep Turwar’s thickset body from scraping the ceiling. A throbbing pain quickly formed in his lower back. He gritted his teeth and marched up the steep incline as fast as he could manage.

  He fixed his eyes on the glowing white gemstones in the wall, refusing to give in to his fatigue. Every step sent fire racing down his back and legs. Sweat streamed down his face, stung his eyes, dripped from his nose. The upward climb seemed eternal—he had no way to mark the distance they’d traveled, and no hope of relief in sight. Only more darkness, the pounding of his heart, and his burning muscles.

  He didn’t know how long he climbed—it could have been half an hour or half a decade—until a voice from behind told him, “Here, let me take a turn.”

  Kodyn contemplated arguing, but truth be told, he was too damned tired for stubborn pride. He gasped in relief as the burden of the chunky priest lifted from his shoulders. The burning pain in his spine dimmed to a manageable ache.

  “Just a few minutes,” he panted, “and I’ll relieve you.”

  Aisha nodded and, grunting beneath the weight of the priest, set off up the hill after the Secret Keeper.

  Kodyn paused, his ears pricked up for any signs of pursuit. He thought he heard shouts and cries echoing from the tunnels behind him. Distant, muffled by stone, yet unmistakable. A sense of urgency hummed within him. The Gatherers might be chasing them, trying to rescue their comrade.

  Nervous tension drove back the ache in his legs and he hurried up the hill after Aisha. He gripped his sword and dagger tightly, his senses attuned to the sounds off the tunnel. He’d be ready if the Gatherers attacked from the rear.

  Half an hour later, Kodyn once more shouldered the burden of the unconscious Turwar. Aisha tried to hide her relief but the look on her face spoke volumes. Gritting his teeth, Kodyn set off after Desenne.

  How much farther? The question echoed in his mind with every burdened step. He tried to calculate how far underground they’d gone to reach the Heartspring, then how much they’d have to climb to reach the Palace of Golden Eternity atop Shalandra’s peak. He gave up the effort; it just made the attempt seem all the more impossible.

  They made slower progress, trading off the burden every fifteen minutes. Exhaustion showed in Aisha’s face—whatever she’d done back there to save him had drained her. He tried to ignore the pain in his legs and kept climbing, letting her rest.

  To his relief, the ground soon leveled out. Had they climbed all the way to the Palace Tier? He could only hope they had. He wasn’t certain he could climb much longer.

  The passage ended at a blank stone wall, but Desenne approached it without hesitation. She held up the green-glowing gemstone and that strange circular spiral pattern of light sprang to life among the Serenii runes.

  Kodyn breathed a sigh of relief. We made it!

  Desenne reached out her hand toward the center of the glowing mandala. Nothing happened. The woman stared down at her hand, and her confusion changed to surprise, then anger.

  “What is it?” Aisha asked.

  “My ring.” Desenne held up her hand. “It must have fallen off in the fight.”

  Kodyn’s gut clenched. The black stone ring had allowed them access to the secret ways—not just in the Temple of Whispers, it seemed, but these Serenii-built tunnels as well. Without it, they were trapped in these stone passages.

  The woman’s face grew grim. “I have to go back,” her fingers said. “I have to get my ring. There’s no other way in.”

  Kodyn’s heart sank. The delay would cost them the better part of three hours. Who knew what would happen in that time, how much more damage the Keeper’s Council could do?

  He turned his attention to the shining wall, searching in vain for any lock he could pick. Futile, he knew; the Serenii used those strange stone rings to open—

  The stones! Hope sprang to life within him, faint, but impossible to ignore. Hailen’s words about resonator stones flashed through his mind.

  He dumped the unconscious Turwar onto the ground and fumbled in his pocket for the purse Suroth had given him.

  “Kodyn?” Curiosity and a hint of puzzlement echoed in Aisha’s voice.

  For answer, Kodyn drew out the purse, tore it open, and fished out the stone. He turned to Desenne and held out his hand. “May I?” His eyes dropped to the green gemstone in her hand.

  Suspicion narrowed her eyes, but she handed him the glowing stone. Kodyn all but leapt past the Secret Keeper and pressed the smooth blue gemstone against the wall.

  A long second passed, and nothing happened. The shred of hope shriveled and died within him.

  Then he heard an almost imperceptible thunk deep within the stone wall. In silence, the wall slid aside, revealing a passageway into a hallway bedecked in gold and silver leaf. The Palace of Golden Eternity.

  Kodyn stared in shocked surprise down at the stone. Keeper’s teeth! It had been a desperate gamble, almost too preposterous to be real, but against all odds it had worked.

  The realization turned from gold to ashes in an instant. Suroth instructed me to give this to the Black Widow. A shiver ran down his spine. Why in the bloody hell would the Arch-Guardian want her to have this?

  Aisha’s grunt pierced his thoughts. Turning, he found the Ghandian had hefted the unconscious priest. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

  “N-Nothing.” He swallowed the dread coiling in his stomach. He’d have time to question Suroth’s actions later—right now, he had to get to Lady Callista and deliver the evidence of the Council’s complicity.

  “Which way to Lady Callista’s office?” he demanded of Desenne.

  The woman pointed down a corridor. “There!” Suspicion filled the gaze she fixed on him, her eyes locked on the stone in his hands. She clearly recognized it and Kodyn could see the questions forming in her mind.

  Yet he didn’t have time at the moment for an interrogation. “Let’s go!” Kodyn shouted.

  After a heartbeat of hesitation, the Secret Keeper seemed to make up her mind. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, she nodded and hurried off down the passage she’d indicated.

  I’d better get ready for some hard questions later, Kodyn thought. The Secret Keepers are going to want to know where I got this.

  All that would come after he delivered their prisoner to Lady Callista. Drawing his weapons, he fell in behind Aisha, who had shouldered the portly Turwar, and hurried after Desenne.

  He soon recognized the halls around them. They were nearing the Throne Room, located in the heart of the palace. Lady Callista’s office was somewhere in the western wing, but he had no idea precisely where. He had to trust that Desenne k
new the way.

  His heart hammered in his chest as they passed one, then another corridor. He tensed in expectation of a challenge, a shout, an order to stop. Yet the halls stood empty of Indomitables and servants. Only the light of the flickering torches and the thick smell of incense accompanied them down the gold-and-silver-bedecked corridors.

  Then they rounded a corner and came face to face with a five-man patrol of Indomitables. Time stood still as the two groups froze. The guards seemed too stunned to speak, five pairs of eyes blazing with instant suspicion.

  Desenne charged without hesitation, and Kodyn leapt around Aisha to join the woman. The black-armored soldiers, surprised by their presence and the suddenness of the attack, had no time to draw swords before the brown-robed priest fell among them. Desenne’s fists and feet flew with terrifying speed and lethal precision. By the time Kodyn joined the fight, three of the five Indomitables were down.

  He hit the fourth man with a flying punch. The Indomitable’s sword hadn’t yet cleared its sheath, his hands too engaged to put up a defense. Kodyn’s blow, backed by the force of his charge and the weight of the dagger in his hand, crashed into the soldier’s jaw. The man fell, senseless. A kick to the next Indomitable’s groin brought the man to his knees with a pitiful groan.

  “Sorry!” Kodyn shouted as he slammed the pommel of his dagger into the man’s temple.

  Even before the last Indomitable sagged, he, Aisha, and Desenne were racing on.

  Shite, shite, shite! They’d just attacked the Pharus’ guards within the Palace of Golden Eternity—torture and death were the kindest fates they could expect if the Indomitables or Keeper’s Blades caught them before they reached Lady Callista.

  Angry shouts of “Assassins!” echoed from behind them, ringing through the hallways. The sound of booted feet on tiled floors soon filled the palace.

  “Hurry!” Aisha hissed in front of him.

  Hope surged within him as the halls grew simpler, gold and silver leaf giving way to plain stone. The décor here lacked the opulence of the rest of the palace. Everything seemed simpler, sparser, more martial.

  Lady Callista’s office has to be somewhere around here!

  Ten Indomitables charged down a side passage toward them, swords drawn and faces hard. Desenne leapt at the Indomitables. “Run!” The fingers of her left hand signed as her right deflected a sword. “Straight down this hall!”

  One of the Indomitables slipped past Desenne and struck out at Aisha, who barreled past the embattled Secret Keeper. Kodyn’s sword barely blocked the blow in time. His kick to the soldier’s groin dropped the man to his knees, and the two of them raced past.

  “Stop!” shouted an angry voice from behind them. “In the name of the Pharus, stop at once!”

  Kodyn paid them little heed—he had to get to Lady Callista now! The situation had gone to hell, and she was their only hope of escaping execution.

  He and Aisha tore down the hall Desenne had indicated, and hope surged within him as he saw a pair of heavily-armored Keeper’s Blades standing before a solid wooden door.

  That has to be her office!

  The two elite warriors straightened at the sight of Kodyn and Aisha. In a heartbeat, they unslung their huge two-handed swords and leveled the flame-shaped blade at the onrushing attackers.

  “Wait!” Kodyn shouted. He pushed around Aisha and the Secret Keeper, holding up his hands. “We need to see Lady Callista at once.”

  “Like hell!” snarled one of the men.

  “We’re not assassins!” Kodyn insisted. “We’ve brought evidence of who’s behind the Gatherer attacks.” He thrust a finger at the bound, gagged, and unconscious priest atop Aisha’s shoulders. “Trust me, she’s going to want to see this.”

  The two men exchanged glances.

  Angry shouts echoed from behind them, accompanied by the thumping of heavy boots.

  “But it has to be now!” Kodyn shouted. “If you don’t, we’re all damned to the frozen hell!”

  Just then, the door to the office burst open and Lady Callista herself appeared. The Lady of Blades carried her huge sword unsheathed, her heavy armor glinting black and dangerous in the lamplight.

  “What is the mean—?” Her words cut off as she took in the sight of Aisha, Kodyn, and the black-and-gold-robed figure over Aisha’s shoulder. Understanding dawned in her eyes. “In, now!” she barked.

  Kodyn and Aisha didn’t need to be told twice. They raced through the door even as the echo of the pursuing Indomitables filled the hall outside.

  Relief flooded Kodyn as the heavy oak door clicked shut behind Lady Callista. The Lady of Blades turned to them. Fatigue, irritation, and simmering anger drew her strong features tight, yet curiosity blazed in the eyes she fixed on the man slung over Aisha’s shoulders.

  Gasping for air, Kodyn leaned on his knees. “Lady Callista…may I present…Turwar of the Necroseti…the man responsible for the Azure Rot plaguing the city.” He recovered his breath enough to straighten, and a fierce snarl twisted his lips. “He’s the proof that the Keeper’s Council is behind it all!”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Issa’s stomach clenched as Evren beckoned her and her companions toward a three-story warehouse near the tier’s northern wall. She recognized it—the building had once belonged to Omurn, one of her Saba’s friends that had recruited laborers to work the fields beside him. Omurn had died before her twelfth nameday and the warehouse should have stood empty.

  Yet one look at the young men and women surging toward the building made it plain. This had to be where Hallar’s Warriors planned to stir up the Earaqi.

  Now what? The question had nagged her all the way from the Defender’s Tier. She’d been so focused on finding the militants that she hadn’t considered what to do to stop them.

  Evren shot her a curious glance, the same query written in his eyes.

  Issa clenched her jaw. “We scout first,” she whispered. “Find out how many of these Hallar’s Warriors there are.”

  Evren nodded his agreement, as did Etai.

  Quickly, Issa split the Indomitables in two groups—half with her, half to accompany Etai. She had command over Evren, but she figured that he had proven himself capable in similar circumstances. Hell, he’d been the one to find the place. She didn’t need to give him orders; he’d figure out where best to go to accomplish their mission.

  “We find out what’s going on, then we regroup here and figure out our next move. Got it?”

  The ten Indomitable trainees nodded assent. With their red headbands and rough-spun tunics, shendyts, and shawls, they’d have no trouble blending in with the youths gathered in the warehouse.

  “Go,” she hissed.

  Issa was the first to emerge from the alley, but instead of creeping, she strode along with the calm confidence of someone who belonged. She had belonged here not long ago—she had spent her life on the Cultivator’s Tier, and the thought of her fellow Earaqi being used to bring violence and chaos to the city set a fire in her belly. Yet she kept her face a stoic mask as she moved with the flow of people toward the warehouse door.

  Just before entering, she ducked to the side and down a narrow alley that ran alongside the eastern side of Omurn’s warehouse. Once, at the age of ten, she’d used the side door to sneak in and steal a handful of the apricots Omurn had gathered—a present for her Savta, who was fond of the fruit but had no coin to afford it.

  Issa bit back a frustrated curse as she found the side door locked and barred from within. She had just turned toward the main street when a voice cut through the shadows of the alley.

  “You!” a man growled. “What are you doing back here?”

  Issa found herself staring at a man with broad shoulders, a bull neck, and hands that could crush melons. She was fairly certain she could take him, even empty-handed, but fighting would just make things worse. Instead, she went with deceit. “I-I was told to come here,” she said, cringing back slightly, as if afraid and uncertain.
r />   The huge man narrowed his eyes at her. “Who told you to come?”

  Issa’s mind raced as she scrambled to find an answer. It took all her self-control not to reach for her weapons or to search the shadows for her companions. She had been caught alone, so she had to pretend she truly was alone.

  “He didn’t give me a name,” Issa replied, again improvising in a hurry. “Just told me to come here and seek out Hallar’s true servants.” It was the first thing she could think of, and vague enough that it could be believable.

  Tense silence thickened the air for a long moment as the man’s beady, dark eyes fixed on her. “Good,” he finally said, nodding his huge head. “Follow me.”

  Issa heaved an inward sigh of relief and fell in behind the man, who led her up the alley toward the main door.

  “Stay here,” the man barked at her. “Everything’s about to begin.”

  Issa ducked her head meekly and entered behind the throng of Earaqi youths. She counted nearly a hundred, each carrying swords, clubs, and other crude weapons.

  Not a very well-armed army, Issa thought. But by their numbers, an army nonetheless.

  Worry set her stomach churning as she spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd: Etai, Nysin, Enyera, Rilith, and two more of her trainees. The rest were likely still outside, watching hidden from the shadows or scouting the perimeter. Twelve of them—thirteen, counting Evren, wherever in the Keeper’s name he is—couldn’t hope to take on this many, armed as they were.

  Her mind raced. What the hell are we going to do? She had to do something to stop the chaos before it started, but that “something” eluded her.

  At that moment, a door on the far side of the crowd opened and a man stepped out. He wore the red cloth headband of an Earaqi, yet something about him seemed off. He wore his long hair and beard in tight braids, and he appeared almost uncomfortable in the rough tunic and knee-length shendyt. Even the way he carried himself belied his appearance. Two strong, hulking guards stood at his back, joined a moment later by the heavy-set brute that had found Issa in the alley.