It was Issa’s turn to blush. She’d been so focused on Hykos she’d forgotten about the Indomitable trainees mere steps away.
“Agreed.” She held out a hand to Hykos. “Get me on my feet and I think I’ll be good to walk. The Keeper’s blessing is already doing its thing.”
The Keeper’s Blessing was the name given to the accelerated healing abilities of the Blades. Those blessed by the Long Keeper could survive wounds that would prove mortal to most. At that moment, Issa felt anything but blessed. The pain coursing through her sides, neck, and shoulder made her want to curl up and sleep for a week. But she’d felt vulnerable and defenseless around Hykos enough for today.
Hykos gripped her hand and helped her upright. “Easy. Don’t want to reopen that wound until it has time to heal properly.”
“Thank you.” Issa’s tone held only a trace of irritation. She stifled a flare of anger; he was just looking out for her. “Now, which way to the Defender’s Tier?”
Hykos led the way—with surprising confidence, it turned out, the sort only earned through familiarity.
“How do you know your way around so well?” Issa asked. “Aren’t these tunnels secret?”
“They are.” Hykos shrugged. “But as I told you before, every Blade learns the hidden ways around Shalandra.”
“So why don’t I know them yet?” she asked.
His teeth shone white in the crimson glow of the lampstones. “It’s something you learn during your years as Katoteros. You’re just getting your advanced studies a few years early."
Issa couldn’t help returning the grin. His easy manner put her at ease—provided he wasn’t staring at her naked flesh, of course. She could be herself, and there was no fear of how he’d react to anything she did or said. He had been the one to discover her slipping back into the Citadel after visiting her grandmother, but instead of turning her over to Tannard for punishment, he’d understood. A part of her actually enjoyed her training with him. She felt comfortable around him. She couldn’t say that about most people.
Yet as she marched in silence beside him, her mind went back to her Saba. The image of him clad in the armor of a Keeper’s Blade and wielding a two-handed flammard had been burned into her mind. Another impossibility, yet today had proven rife with the impossible.
A question formed in her mind. She hesitated. It felt stupid to ask, yet she couldn’t hold it in. “Hykos, have you ever heard of any Keeper’s Blades by the name of Nytano?”
“Nytano?” He repeated the word, his brow furrowing in thought. After a long moment, he shook his head. “No, not that I can recall. Do you know his rank?”
Issa shook her head. She couldn’t be certain of anything right now.
“Maybe ask Lady Callista.” Hykos shrugged. “Or one of the Elders of the Blade. They know the history of the Blades better than anyone.”
Issa’s heart sank. He thinks I’m asking about one of the Blades of legend. He couldn’t know that I’m asking about my grandfather.
It was the only explanation that made sense to her. Few in Shalandra would dare wield one of those legendary Shalandran steel flammards; those swords were reserved for Keeper’s Blades alone. Yet he had carried it with a familiarity that could only come from years of experience. His armor, custom-made for each Blade, had all but confirmed the truth.
Yet the proof of her eyes filled her with more doubt. If he really was a Keeper’s Blade, why isn’t he a Dhukari? Why would he be so angry that I was chosen by the Long Keeper to be a Blade? A barrage of questions assaulted her mind. And why didn’t he tell me anything earlier? What was he doing at Killian’s, given how much he said he hated the smith? And where was that sword all my life?
Too many questions, all unanswerable until she found a way to rescue her grandparents from Killian’s forge. Given the chaos consuming the Artisan’s Tier, her best hope would be to work with Lady Callista to restore order to the city. The defenses around Killian’s forge would hold long enough for Issa to bring aid. They had to.
Hykos’ voice pierced her thoughts. “Did…?” he began, then trailed off.
“What?”
“Never mind.” He shook his head. “It’s not my place to—”
“What is it, Hykos?” Issa growled.
He winced, and she stifled a grimace at the unintentional edge to her tone.
“Lady Callista said you’d gone to find your grandparents.” Hykos spoke in a subdued voice. “I was just wondering…were they…?” He seemed unwilling to say the words aloud.
Issa smiled. “They’re alive.” Relief flooded her. Despite all the questions she had, at least she could rest easy knowing Saba and Savta still lived.
“Good.” Silence hung thick around him for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. “And your parents?”
Issa’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Hykos shot a nervous glance out of the corner of his eyes. “You went to find your grandparents, but what about your parents? Are they safe?”
“They died,” Issa said in a quiet voice.
Hykos’ eyes widened in horror. “Oh, Issa, I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, not now.” Issa gave a dismissive wave. “They died around the time I was born.” Her grandparents had only given her vague answers about her mother and father. “I never knew them. Saba and Savta raised me.”
The pause stretched on for long seconds before he spoke. “I’m sorry.” Sorrow echoed in his voice. “That must have been difficult.”
Issa shrugged, though her dismissal felt contrived. “A little, but my grandparents were the best parents I could ask for.” She forced a smile. “I had a good life, for an Earaqi.”
Ice slithered through her veins as a new truth dawned on her. She had lived a good life for an Earaqi—almost too good. Though food had always been scarce, she’d never gone hungry. Saba and Savta always had a few extra coins for gifts on her nameday or special treats on the festival days of the Ceremony of the Seven Faces. They’d had few luxuries, yet they had never lacked for comfort.
“I’d like to meet them sometime.” Again, Hykos spoke in a soft tone. “Your grandparents. Anyone who raises someone as decent and honorable as you has to be good people.”
Warmth suffused Issa to the core of her being and she smiled, genuine this time.
Behind her, Nysin let out a quiet snort and muttered something just too quiet for her to hear. Issa ignored him. Probably grumbling about his wounds or that we have to walk.
Silence fell again, this time far more companionable, lacking the tension of earlier. She contented herself to walk in silence and instead focused on the sensations in her body. Marching sent blood surging to her legs, speeding up healing and diminishing the agony. Her ribs, however, only grew more painful with every step. But she couldn’t slow, not with her Saba and Savta in trouble and the fate of the city on the line. She had to get to Lady Callista and see what she could do to bring help to Killian and her grandparents.
To her surprise, Hykos stopped at a blank section of wall. “Here,” he told her.
Issa’s brow furrowed. “What’s here?” she wanted to ask, but the words never formed.
Removing his helmet, Hykos pulled off his headband. Blood and sweat soaked the gold-colored cloth, but the silver disc in the center remained untarnished. To Issa’s shock, Hykos pressed the small disc to the stone. A quiet thunk echoed deep within the wall.
Issa’s jaw dropped as a section slid aside, revealing a new hidden passage, one with white gemstones instead of red.
“Come on.” Hykos smiled at her surprise. “We’re almost at the Fortress.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kodyn’s blood turned to ice as the assassins brought down the Indomitables. The soldiers fell with wet gurgles, crimson fountaining from the gaping wounds in their throats. Their bodies hadn’t even hit the floor before the killers moved toward the door.
Anger flared to life like a volcano in Kodyn’s chest. He moved in that instant, racing toward the assassins even
as he reached for his sword. Aisha’s sharp intake of breath sounded behind him, but no warning cry came. His leather armor and soft-soled Hawk boots made hardly a sound on the gold-and-silver-tiled floor. The assassins never saw him coming until it was too late.
A quiet growl sounded in his ear. Confidence filled Kodyn; with Aisha at his side, he had nothing to fear. Five paces from the enemy, Aisha drew her assegai and thrust it forward. The sharp-tipped spear struck only empty air, yet Kodyn’s eyes flew wide as two of the figures nearest the door were hurled backward. They flew from their feet and crashed to the tiled floor a dozen paces away. Bones cracked and flesh thwacked against the hard marble. The two didn’t so much as twitch but lay still, smoke rising from twin holes in their chests.
The assassins turned in stunned surprise toward their fallen comrades. That distraction cost them dearly. Kodyn’s long sword struck the base of one man’s spine. Though the splinted leather turned aside the blade, the blow shattered bone. Even as the man sagged, Kodyn drove his dagger into another’s back, just above the collar of his jerkin. Aisha’s first spear thrust punched a wide hole into an assassin’s side. Blood gushed from the wound—the sharp blade had torn vital organs. When Aisha ripped the blade free and spun for her second attack, the tip opened another assassin’s throat.
Kodyn’s sword wove a wall of blurring steel, bringing down a third killer and severing the hamstrings of a fourth. Yet in those seconds, the assassins recovered from their shocked surprise. Short swords, daggers, and iron-banded cudgels pounded at Kodyn’s guard, slowing his charge, then stopping it altogether.
Nine of the assassins had fallen in the blitz attack, but more than a dozen remained. Their momentum sapped, the element of surprise stolen, Kodyn and Aisha found themselves fighting a defensive battle. Six to one were terrible odds and Kodyn had no choice but to retreat before the onslaught. Every shred of skill went into keeping those stabbing, slicing, crushing weapons away from his flesh. His leather armor turned aside a slashing blow to his side, but the padding did little to diminish the force. One well-placed thrust would pierce his armor and the flesh beneath.
The desperation of the situation slammed home as a club crashed into his left shoulder. His arm went numb to the elbow and only reflex kept his fingers gripped tight around the dagger. One-handed, with only a sword for defense, Kodyn found himself in a frantic battle for his life.
The two of them couldn’t defeat the assassins alone. They needed help. He had only one choice.
“Assassins!” Kodyn’s shout rang off the tiled walls. “Assassins in the palace!”
His call had an immediate effect on the men he faced. They hesitated a heartbeat, their weapons faltering. The chaos in the city had doubtlessly reduced the number of Indomitables patrolling the palace, but there would be soldiers nearby. The alarm had been raised, and at any moment, the black-armored guards would flood the halls.
As if on cue, the sound of pounding boots echoed loud through the corridor. Kodyn’s desperate ploy had worked—or the Indomitables had heard the clash of steel. Either way, help would arrive at any moment.
Combat stilled in a heartbeat. For a single instant, Kodyn, Aisha, and the assassins stood frozen in a tableau of blood and death. Bodies lay silent amid puddles of crimson that stained the gold-and-white marble tiles. Two young warriors faced six times their number, yet no one raised weapons. A breathless lull settled over the scene of battle.
One of the assassins moved first. His eyes darted toward the door, as if weighing up his choices. Kodyn could almost read the man’s mind—was his life worth sacrificing in the name of his mission to murder the Pharus? He’d have asked the same question.
In that instant, Kodyn saw the look in the man’s eyes: determined, focused, yet lacking the wild light of zeal that had etched the Gatherers’ features. This man was no zealot willing to throw away his life in the name of a holy cause. He was a man on a mission, yet level-headed and logical like a soldier rather than a religious fanatic.
The assassins chose life.
Two charged Kodyn, swinging clubs and daggers. Kodyn barely managed to deflect the attack before being knocked aside in the bull-rush. Kodyn’s back slammed into the wall hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He brought up his sword to defend from the next charge, but no more came. The assassins seemed more interested in running than killing the ones that had foiled their attack. Survival above all else, the motto of a professional warrior and killer. They fled, sprinting in both directions down the hall in a desperate attempt to evade the Indomitables that even now raced toward them.
Indomitables! Kodyn sucked in a ragged breath. He and Aisha were intruders in the palace, just like the assassins. They held bloodstained weapons and stood over the bodies of two slain soldiers. The Indomitables would arrest them as assassins without asking questions.
“Aisha!” he hissed. “We need to run!”
“Wait!” Her voice was firm, unyielding as the steel in her hand.
Kodyn growled a curse as she stopped beside the fallen Indomitables. Her left hand went to the pendant at her neck and her right, still gripping the blood-tipped assegai, extended into empty air. Suddenly, her hands twitched and her right arm jerked, as if seized by a spasm. Aisha’s face tightened into a grimace and she shivered, the muscles of her shoulders and neck tensing. Yet it passed in a breathless moment. When Aisha turned her gaze to his, flecks of blue-white danced through the choclat brown of her eyes.
The power of the spirits! Wonder drove away his impatience. He didn’t know why she’d stopped when they needed to flee, but he trusted her. Perhaps she knew she’d need their power to help them fight their way free.
“Let’s go!” Aisha raced off down the corridor, away from the sound of the oncoming Indomitables. The same corridor the two assassins had used to flee Kodyn’s attack mere seconds earlier.
Bloody footprints marked a plain path for them to follow. Kodyn raced down the hall, eyes fixed on the crimson splotches that stood in stark contrast to the white-and-gold tiles. Yet as they ran, the footprints grew fainter until they disappeared altogether.
Damn it!
At that moment, a shout rang out behind them. “Stop!” The sound of clashing steel echoed through the hallways. Kodyn felt a grim satisfaction. Not all the assassins had escaped.
Yet the sound of booted feet from another nearby hallway sent him in a desperate sprint down the passage. The Indomitables, drawn by the battle, might stumble across them and stop them from fleeing. They had to hurry to escape before they were caught and arrested.
Kodyn’s ears pricked up at a new sound from ahead: the crash of a door slamming. It came from near the offices of the Necroseti.
Suddenly, Kodyn realized their destination. “They’re headed to the Terrestra and the secret passage!” That was why they had left the door ajar. They hadn’t just entered the palace planning to kill the Pharus or die in the attempt. The assassins had come prepared to get out alive.
That ruled out the Gatherers for certain. They couldn’t be Ybrazhe, either. The assassins had fought with precision and coordination, their skill almost a match for Kodyn’s own. They’d chosen leather armor for the sake of stealth and short swords, daggers, and clubs because they could be easily concealed. The killers had stood when facing two opponents yet chosen to flee a superior force. That spoke of martial training beyond simply learning to wield their weapons.
His gut clenched. They have to be Hallar’s Warriors, then.
Hallar’s Warriors were young, idealistic Earaqi that sought to rip the rule from Pharus Amhoset Nephelcheres and place it in the hands of the people. First by poisoning the Heartspring with their strange mind-altering poison, and now trying to kill the Pharus in his own palace.
He and Aisha had arrived in time to botch their assassination, but right now they had a perfect opportunity. If he could trail the assassins back to their base, he and Aisha would fulfill the mission they’d intended to complete by capturing Groebus. Only they wou
ldn’t have to bother hauling the hunchback to the Temple of Whispers—they could wipe out the militants once and for all, then have Lady Callista and her Blades snatch up the Necroseti priest. Besides, if they stayed and tried to find the priest, they would likely be caught by the Indomitables that Kodyn had alerted, assuring that they’d be captured and arrested for breaking into the palace.
But the success of their plan hinged on being able to follow the assassins. At that moment, as they burst out of the palace and charged through the thick brush of the Terrestra, that appeared to be easier said than done. The assassins were headed straight for the secret passage, which would give them access to everywhere in Shalandra.
Keeper’s teeth! He couldn’t let the assassins escape! Once inside that tunnel, Kodyn would have no way to track them.
“They’re in the Terrestra!”
The shout drove an icy spike of fear into Kodyn’s spine. The Indomitables in the gardens would find them at any minute. They had literally seconds to find the tunnel and duck into the secret passages before they were surrounded and arrested.
To his horror, the secret entrance had been closed. The assassins had disappeared, and the way was shut.
Damn it! His mind whirled as he tried to recall what Evren had told him about finding the openings.
The words slammed into his thoughts. “Two and center. The mark of the ancients guides your steps.” He’d repeated them a hundred times as he raced down from the Palace of Golden Eternity to help stop the attack on the Temple of Whispers.
Pushing down on the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, he scanned the wall for the Serenii runes that would show him the way. Long seconds passed in fruitless search. The hammering of his heart grew so loud that he thought it would shatter his eardrums.
“Hurry, Kodyn!” Aisha hissed.
There! Kodyn’s heart leapt as he spotted the three Serenii symbols etched into the stone. Without hesitation, he shoved on the outermost marks until they clicked into the stone, then drove his fist into the centermost one.
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