Ascension of Death

by Andy Peloquin

  Ascension of Death

  (Heirs of Destiny Book 5)

  By Andy Peloquin

  Copyright. First Edition

  Andy Peloquin

  ©2019, Andy Peloquin

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

  Any resemblance to persons, places living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  The Renegade Apprentice

  Enjoy More Series by Andy Peloquin

  For more of Kodyn’s origin story, read Queen of Thieves

  To read about Aisha’s trials, try Traitors’ Fate:

  Take a glimpse into Evren and Hailen’s origin, dive into Hero of Darkness

  About the Author

  Glossary

  Gods of Einan

  Ascension of Death Characters

  Military Ranks

  Acknowledgements

  To Ryan, without whom the City of the Dead would never have come to life.

  To Sherry, for her eagle-sharp eyes.

  Shalandra, City of the Dead

  Chapter One

  Death came for Issa.

  The Necroseti guard drove his long, straight dagger at her chest. Issa twisted out of the path of the striking dagger, barely avoiding its biting edge. Her chains clanked and pulled tight, yanking her back toward the man attempting to murder her. His next attack scraped a long, shallow gash along her chest, tearing a hole in her thin under-tunic.

  Fire flared down Issa’s shoulder blade, right breast, and sternum, and a pained growl escaped her lips. She leapt back to the full length of her chain, opening a gap between them. The man rushed her, dagger held low, his thrusts quick and furious.

  Issa’s eyes flew wide as she recognized the attack pattern. Though her enemy wore the silver breastplate of a Necroseti guard, he fought with the savagery of a Mahjuri trained in the Institute of the Seven Faces. Dirty, brutal, and vicious, a flurry of quick swipes of the dagger aimed at her throat, belly, arms, and chest.

  The chains that held Issa bound saved her life. Steel clanged on steel as the dagger struck her manacles, turning aside a savage swipe intended to open her wrists. Before the man could follow up, Issa brought her heavy boot up and snapped it into his stomach. Her kick, driven by muscles strengthened over hours spent running the Blades’ Two Hundred, sent him stumbling backward.

  In the seconds it took the man to recover, Issa dove for the stone she’d spent the last hours sharpening. A former prisoner had worked the stone against the rough wall until it had a half-edge, and she’d continued the labor, a desperate attempt to occupy her mind and keep up her willpower as she sought to escape imprisonment. Her fingers closed around the stone’s smooth surface and she whipped around to face her enemy.

  The man sneered. “That won’t save you.” He tightened his grip on his dagger and stalked toward her. “Surrender, or I’ll make your death truly agonizing.”

  “A Keeper’s Blade never yields!” Issa growled.

  “A foolish choice,” snarled the man. “Tethum will have to send your head to the Lady of Blades.”

  Issa’s jaw clenched. She had no intention of fighting a defensive battle. She retreated to the full length of her chain, her eyes fixed on him. Watching his feet, waiting for him to come within reach.

  Just one more step, you bastard!

  He came toward her, and she attacked.

  Her shackled hands snapped up, and her fingers released their grip on the stone. The rock hurtled toward him, right at his face. He whipped his head to the side and the stone sailed past, clattering against the stone wall behind him. A sneer twisted his lips as he turned back to face Issa. His disdain turned to shocked surprise as Issa drove clenched fists into his throat.

  The man fell back, gasping, his breath coming in horrible wheezing gasps. Even as he staggered, Issa brought her foot around in a kick snapped right at his head. Her heavy boot crashed into his face and slammed him against the wall. His head cracked off stone with bone-crushing force. He dropped, blood gushing from his shattered nose, split lips. More crimson stained the golden sandstone behind him as he slid down the wall and fell in a boneless heap at her feet.

  Issa leapt atop the man as he collapsed, her knee driving into his chest. The thump of his body hitting the floor was drowned out by the clank of her shackles as she wrapped the chain around his neck. One mighty yank, and the man’s neck snapped like a dried twig.

  Silence filled the lamplit cell, broken only by the blood rushing in Issa’s ears. Her heart hammered a staccato beat against her ribs and her breath came quick, frantic.

  Keeper’s teeth! Issa stared down at the body beneath her, mind racing. The man’s words echoed in her thoughts. “Tethum wanted you alive, but he’ll settle for your death!”

  Who in the fiery hell is Tethum, and why does he want me dead? Or alive? She knew no one by that name, but she’d made a few enemies during her short tenure as a Keeper’s Blade. Perhaps he was one of the Indomitables she’d arrested on the Slave’s Tier, or a Necroseti seeking vengeance for the death of High Divinity Tinush—a death that had wrongfully been laid at her feet.

  Issa wouldn’t put it past Madani, Natoris, or any of the surviving members of the Keeper’s Council to order her murder. Yet, if they’d wanted her dead, they simply would have executed her in the Crucible the moment she entered. Madani had insisted on a grand execution after sundown, refused to inter her body in the Keeper’s Crypts. By doing so, he’d ensured she would never join the ranks of the fallen Blades defending the Tomb of Hallar. A final indignity to heap on her after he executed her like a coward.

  More than that, Madani would never send Issa’s head to Lady Callista. It didn’t matter that he had no idea Issa was the Lady of Blades’ secret daughter; t
he Necroseti knew better than to pick a direct fight with the Proxenos of the Keeper’s Blades, commander of the Indomitables, the most powerful military ruler in Shalandra.

  She couldn’t discount the thought that Tethum was a Necroseti working independent of Madani’s orders, taking action against her of his own account. Yet one explanation seemed most likely: someone outside the Keeper’s Temple wanted her dead.

  But if he’s not a Keeper’s Priest, how the hell did he get one of the Necroseti guards to do his dirty work?

  The Necroseti paid their guards more per day than most Earaqi made in a month, and many of the guards were staunch believers and devoted servants of the Keeper’s Priests. To suborn one of them, this mysterious Tethum would either have to offer them a Pharus’ ransom in gold or find some other incentive to convince them. Given everything that had happened in recent weeks—the attacks by the Gatherers, Hallar’s Warriors inciting riots in the city, the Ybrazhe Syndicate stirring up chaos—Issa couldn’t be certain which was more likely.

  Her hands moved even as her mind worked, fumbling on the dead guard’s belt for the keys. A curse escaped her lips. Where the twisted hell is it?

  A glint of steel caught her eye. The key had fallen beside the door, knocked free of the man’s belt in the furious scuffle.

  As she feared, the length of her chain extended barely three feet from the ring anchored into the wall. Gritting her teeth, she leaned against the chain and stretched out her legs as far as she could reach. Her boots scuffed the dirty ground a full two feet short of the key.

  Damn it! Dread sank like a stone in her gut. Councilor Madani intended to execute her at sundown, but she had no idea how long she’d spent trapped in the underground cell. If the guards came to check on her, the discovery of their dead comrade would infinitely worsen her already-bad situation. The guards wouldn’t care that he’d tried to stick a dagger in her; they likely wouldn’t give her a chance to explain, but would instead take out their anger on her in the most violent ways their Necroseti masters permitted.

  The dagger!

  Hope rose in Issa’s chest. She spun and scanned the cell for her attacker’s weapon. It lay a foot from his limp hand, fallen from numb fingers as he collapsed senseless.

  Yes!

  Issa threw herself toward the blade and scooped it up. Her blood still stained the razor-sharp edge, the crimson glistening wet in the lamplight. The blade was long and narrow, more a thick stiletto than a multi-purpose belt knife. A tool intended exclusively for murder.

  And it would set her free.

  Issa fumbled the dagger around to a reverse grip and slid the sharp point into the keyhole of the locking bar holding the shackle locked around her right wrist. She prodded the hole with the knife’s tip, trying desperately to break the hinge or shatter the rivet holding the bar in place. Long seconds passed in a furious battle against the steel chains. The awkward position sent a sharp, aching pain racing through her wrists, and still the shackles refused to open.

  Sweat streamed down Issa’s face, and her frustration mounted with every passing second. Moisture soaked into her palms until the dagger’s leather-wrapped hilt slipped from her grasp.

  Keeper take this! An irritated growl escaped her lips, but she stooped, retrieved the blade, and set to work again. Where are Evren and Kodyn when you need a thief’s help? Either one of them would already be free of the manacles. Yet she was imprisoned in the Hall of the Beyond. Alone. Help wouldn’t be coming.

  The minutes ticked by, and still Issa wrestled with the chains. The locking bar proved infuriatingly resistant to her attempts to open it. As the dagger clattered from her grip for the fifth time, Issa finally had no choice but to accept the truth. There’s no way I’m breaking the lock on these. They were too well-built, and she knew nothing about opening locks.

  She had to find another way out.

  Her eyes once more darted to the key, lying on the ground just out of her reach. She had to find some way to get it.

  But how? She had nothing but the dagger, a stone, and the body of the dead guard. None of those things would make her taller or extend her reach.

  Or will they?

  She whipped around to stare at the guard…at his belt.

  Issa moved without hesitation. Crouching over the dead guard, she worked at the buckle until it opened, then ripped the belt free of the man’s pants with a single yank. She turned toward the key, studying the distance.

  No way I’ll get the key using my hands, but maybe my feet.

  Sitting quickly, Issa wrapped one end of the belt around her boot and cinched it tight. She gave an experimental flick of her foot, and the movement sent the buckle end snaking out.

  This just might work!

  Issa scooted forward until she reached the full length of her chain, arms extended over her head. She had to crane her head painfully to see the key, and a twinge ran down her neck. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to ignore the ache and focus on reaching the key. If she didn’t, if the Necroseti guards came for her before she escaped, she would die.

  Her first attempt sent the belt buckle flicking three feet too far to the left. Growling, Issa bent her knee and brought her leg close to her body, casting out with the belt once more. This time, the buckle snapped out to the right, just half a foot away from the key.

  Come on, come on! Sweat pricked on her forehead and ran down her neck. She hissed as the salt slithered across the cut on her chest. Yet that pain reminded her that she still lived. Against all odds, facing an armed enemy with nothing more than bare, shackled hands, she had somehow survived.

  A face flashed through her mind: cold, cruel, with dark eyes empty of feeling and warmth, and features as hard as Alshuruq’s stony peak. Invictus Tannard had set her to fight Hykos empty-handed, doubtless intending it as one of the cruel, harsh lessons he loved.

  Yet that training, and all of the torments inflicted upon her, had given her the strength to survive this and every other mad battle she’d fought over the last few days. Though she hated Tannard’s callous ruthlessness, a part of her knew the truth: she had only survived this long because of him. Not only to spite him by outliving his persecution, but because they had hardened her.

  I’ll be damned if I ever tell him that. Tannard was a bastard to the core, and she owed him no gratitude for her determination to live.

  The muscles in her neck began to seize, her joints locking up. Issa bit down on the pain, her eyes never leaving the key.

  I can do this!

  She flicked out her leg, and the belt snaked toward the key. Hope surged within her as steel clinked on steel. The buckle landed just beyond the bow of the key. Carefully, Issa drew her leg back, one inch at a time. She scarcely dared to breathe as the belt buckle slid toward the key.

  The buckle caught. Metal rasped on dirty stone as Issa dragged the belt closer to her body. Slowly, painstakingly, until she could finally extend her leg and snag the key with the toe of her boot. Pulling it within reach, she snatched up the key and set about fumbling at her manacles.

  Seconds later, the locks clicked and the shackles fell away. Issa rubbed her wrists, glad to be free of the restraints. Without hesitation, she scooped up the guard’s dagger and leapt through the open door of the cell, slamming the heavy steel grate behind her. By the time the Necroseti guards discovered the dead guard, she’d be long gone.

  She had taken two steps toward the door when something in the next cell over caught her eyes. Black steel armor, heavy full plate mail with spiked shoulders and elbows, lay discarded on the dusty floor. Beside it, a two-handed flammard rested against the stone wall, its black steel blade encased in a sheath of leather-wrapped wood.

  Her armor and sword. The heavy suit of full plate mail and the two-handed flammard of a Keeper’s Blade.

  The guards had stripped off her armor yet hadn’t taken it away. They’d made the mistake of leaving it where she could find it.

  A savage grin twisted her lips as she set to work donning
the armor. Let’s see them capture me now.

  When the company of twenty spearmen had come to arrest her in Killian’s smithy, she had been lost in her grief over her grandfather’s death. She’d surrendered to stop them from attacking Evren, Killian, and her grandmother.

  Yet now, she stood alone. With no one to fight at her side, and no one for the Necroseti guards to threaten. She would battle until her last breath, as long as her family and friends were safe.

  Thoughts of her family brought a surge of emotions to Issa’s chest. The image of her Saba’s bloodstained, lifeless face and cold hands brought a lump to her throat. Yet his final words, and the words of her Savta, echoed in her mind with shattering force.

  “Your parents still live,” they had said. “Mother and father both. You know them as Callista Vinaus, Lady of Blades, and Amhoset Nephelcheres, Pharus of Shalandra.”

  The truth had rocked her to the core, had broken something within her. Yet her arrest and imprisonment had given her time to rebuild herself, recover her inner strength. Now, she would face the truth the way she always had: defiant, with her head held high and her sword ready.

  She drew her flammard from its sheath. The weight of her sword and armor comforted her. She was a Keeper’s Blade, chosen by the god of death. She would fight through an army of Necroseti guards to reach Lady Callista. She had to confront the woman—her commanding officer and her mother—and demand answers. Keeper have mercy on anyone who stands in my way.

  Issa raced down the short tunnel that led from the underground cells into the Crucible, the grand arena where she’d battled seventy-five people to claim the blade she now carried. Once again, she would fight for her life, yet this time she fought with the blessing of the Long Keeper and the tools of an elite warrior.

  Sunlight shone at the end of the tunnel, and Issa squinted against the brightness as she raced into the arena. To her surprise, she found only two hours had elapsed since her imprisonment. Her despair, confusion, and sorrow had made it seem so much longer.

  But those dark emotions had faded from within her, leaving only grim resolve. She stalked across the sands, determined, her face set in a grim smile.