Destiny (Heroes by Necessity Book 3)

by Riley S. Keene

  “Speaking of temperament, there’s one more thing I found out.” The barbarian shifted uncomfortably. “When Ibeyar got back here, he staged a full-on coup. He convinced the people that the Temple of Numara was against them.”

  “Well, we knew that, right?”

  “Mm, yes and no. We knew he had convinced the common folk. But this... he took out the Burgermeister. He replaced them with the old Captain of the Guard, a woman who is basically just a face to spout the rules Ibeyar puts in place.”

  “To get her appointed, he likely threatened the City Council,” Elise said with a wry smile. “Was likely easy, too. If they didn’t dance to his tune, he could ruin their city just like hid did in Gloder. Revolution. Not many ways a Council survives that.”

  Ermolt fell quiet as Arend approached. The bartender made some small talk before he offered them both the chef’s plate for supper that night. The mix of meats and vegetables sounded lovely, and so they both agreed to the meal. With barely a word the man wandered back to the kitchen to place the rare order.

  “So,” Ermolt said as soon as the man was out of earshot. “What do you think you’ll learn out of this meeting tonight?”

  “I don’t really know. The Conscript was vague. Nervous. He said he was afraid the High Priest would walk in, and of Numara herself listening.” She shrugged and finished her mead. “It at least sounds like there could be information there.”

  “Right, but what?”

  “As a Conscript, his loyalty is to the Temple. But if he was afraid of being overheard, it might be that he disagrees with how they’re handling things. Perhaps we’ll get straight answers from him, rather than answers that favor one side or the other.” She paused, lowering her mug to the table with a sigh. “If he were going to regurgitate whatever Numara or Her Priests wanted, he would have said it there.”

  “And you’re sure he’s safe?”

  “Not at all. That’s why I’m having you come with me.” Elise grimaced. “I can’t go armored. They’ll know I’m more than what I gave hints to before. And if I go armed, I give away that I’m expecting trouble.” She shook her head, looking across the tavern’s common room to where Arend was approaching with their meal. It was too quick to have been made after they ordered, so it was likely the staff was expecting they’d eat.

  Normally Elise would have been offended at the insinuation. But after days of eating stale rations, she was glad to fill her belly with real food multiple times in the day.

  The plate was a standard affair, with smoked meats, sausages, more of those delicious fried potatoes, and some sort of green leafed thing that Athala would have recognized. Arend also procured a new mug of mead for Elise, which she took with a smile and a polite word of thanks.

  Elise and Ermolt dug into their meal as if they hadn’t just eaten a few bells before. Like everything served at the Lucky Turnip, it was delicious. Perfectly seasoned, expertly cooked, and beautifully served. How this place wasn’t swarmed with customers was beyond Elise’s comprehension. It had to be fear of the fire. Or the off-putting creaking. Although with time, that had faded to mere background noise.

  “Where are you meeting this Conscript?” Ermolt asked around a mouthful of smoked ham.

  “An alley.” Elise smirked, rolling her eyes. “Not exactly the safest locale.”

  “After sundown, too.”

  “So literally a dark alley.”

  “Hm,” Ermolt grunted. “Glad you aren’t insisting on going alone then. And I look the part of a hired bodyguard quite well.”

  Elise laughed and almost choked on her potatoes. Once she had gotten her throat under control, she grinned up at Ermolt. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it’s a good look for you.”

  Ermolt looked down at his torso, blinking. “Do you think that’s why everyone was staring?”

  “Did those folks blush and stammer?”

  “Frequently.”

  “Then, yes.”

  Ermolt sighed. “Perhaps I should put a shirt on.”

  A bell chimed through the streets. “Too late now,” Elise said with a wide grin. “We’ve got to get moving soon.”

  “Alright,” the barbarian said with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to his meal, obviously not liking the idea of leaving without finishing it. Elise was in agreement.

  Once their bellies were bulging from the glorious meal, Ermolt leaned back in his chair and let loose a most appreciative belch. Elise echoed it. They shared a moment of laughter before Ermolt’s expression turned inquisitive.

  “There’s just... there’s one last thing bothering me.” Elise motioned and so Ermolt continued. “How did he do all this?”

  “Ibeyar?”

  Ermolt nodded. “He started a revolution in Gloder, got Jirda under his thumb, and was still out in Khule and Jalova running errands. Is this man a God?”

  “A good question, but I don’t think it’s the right one to ask.” Elise leaned forward again. She propped her elbows up on the table and rested her chin on her palms. “See, here’s a man who had two cities ripe for the picking. But he went all the way to Khule for his first attempt at a dragon. Why? Even if he needed the spell, like Athala said, what is so different about that one? Why couldn’t he use the spell from Gloder on Numara’s dragon?”

  “He turned away from the Temples. Violently, in Gloder. Maybe he put them too much on the defensive. Maybe he couldn’t get to the dragons safely, especially if what he needed was time with the spell.”

  “You don’t think, that with such a big following, he couldn’t just rush the Temples? Stage a coup there just as easily as he did with the government?”

  Ermolt fell silent and picked at his teeth. “Maybe there’s some reason we’re unaware of. Something magical. Like... the spell in Gloder isn’t compatible?” He frowned. “You think Athala would know?”

  “Perhaps,” Elise said, drawing out the word. The statement didn’t feel entirely true. If Athala had any idea of what Ibeyar was up to, Elise was sure she would share it.

  Wouldn’t she?

  Elise shook her head, clearing the useless fears out of her mind. “At any rate, we should go meet with this Conscript. We can talk more about this with Athala, later tonight. Or tomorrow, if she stays out as late as I think she will.” Elise dug some coins from her pocket, leaving them on the table for Arend and his staff. “Let’s just hope this guy has information worth leaving such lovely mead for.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elise took the lead through the city.

  She was very aware of Ermolt behind her, both trailing and keeping pace as one would expect of a mercenary. The idea that he was so good at this surprised her, but only for a flash of a moment. Before Athala, Ermolt had been a mercenary for hire, doing odd jobs and protecting those who could afford his ridiculous rates.

  In a way, he still was a mercenary.

  They both were.

  Athala hadn’t paid them directly in over a month, but while they traveled under the guise of friends helping another with an impossible task, they were still technically under contract, Elise through the Temple of Ydia and Ermolt through Celnaer Hold.

  They would need to resolve that eventually. If they dissolved the contract, the Temple and Celnaer Hold wouldn’t come looking for money. Elise could take a leave of absence for personal reasons, but she wondered if Ermolt could get the same dispensation.

  But for now, they had a much more pressing issue.

  Elise moved through the darkened streets like she belonged to this city. Her footsteps weren’t the silent strides of her younger self, but the lack of armor did make her a much quieter figure.

  And behind her, even though she was aware of Ermolt’s presence, he was just as quiet, or even quieter, than Elise. If not for the bond they shared from months of traveling so close, she would have thought she were alone.

  In the dark, the buildings were indistinguishable from those in Khule, other than the still-muggy c
ling of heat to the air that wouldn’t have been witnessed in the northern cities. Very few homes burned candles within sight of open windows and the lack of light made it feel much later in the evening.

  They started from the Temple of Numara to locate the alleyway the Conscript had mentioned. It wasn’t hard to find, but as they got closer, Elise became filled with a numbing dread. It dawned on her that she was meeting a Conscript she didn’t know in an alley away from their Temple to discuss something potentially very dangerous, and she did so without any protections other than Ermolt.

  She was suddenly very jealous of Athala’s innate magical abilities.

  “What’s all this?” a voice said from around a corner, and Elise jolted, her hand automatically straying to her hip. Her empty hip. The weight of Merylle’s sword and dagger had become a familiar thing, and she was missing them almost as much as she missed their original owner. From the shadows of that corner, the Conscript leaned forward, allowing his face to be seen in the ambient lights from a home behind Elise. He looked behind Elise at the massive barbarian she knew loomed over her, bristling with weapons. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “None to be had, friend,” Elise said, working hard to keep her tone soft and free of the anxiety that plagued her. “This is my bodyguard, Denmar. He’s safe.”

  Ermolt grunted, a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a tone of disagreement. He shifted, and Elise could imagine him crossing his arms over his chest in defiance of being called ‘safe’.

  “Safe enough, at least.”

  The barbarian grunted again. Elise fought back the urge to laugh. Her Conscript friend wouldn’t understand, and it would just bring a whole new level of awkwardness to this already uncomfortable situation.

  “I see. I didn’t think I was scary enough that you’d need a bodyguard.” His tone was light, but as he stepped out into the alleyway, Elise could see his hand rested on the hilt of his mace. “Especially not one of such a... large stature.”

  Elise waved a hand through the air as if dismissing his comments. “Don’t worry—it’s nothing personal. Denmar has been with me since Feldhok. It’s... well, it’s just that there seems to be some turmoil in this city. Something dangerous, from the looks of it. Without more information, I don’t feel safe enough to be without him. Especially out at night in a city that seems to have turned its back on a very vengeful God of Night.”

  “Alright. First things first though—who are you? You who are so worried about your safety but so curious as to still seek dangerous information?”

  “I’m not important,” Elise said with a shrug. “And I don’t think the information I seek is dangerous. Just that the city itself is.” She smiled her best, disarming smile, but the Conscript just stared at her, his hand resting on his mace. “But introductions are valuable in my line of work, and I am quite fond of my name. I’m Ella Nolte.” Using the family name of her mentor for such purposes made her flinch internally, but the Conscript didn’t seem to notice. “And you are?”

  “Conscript Tilke,” he said. He was still eyeing Ermolt suspiciously. “You were alone at the Temple. I was expecting you to be alone here. Why aren’t you alone, again?”

  Elise chuckled. “He’s a barbarian. As a group, they just aren’t very religious. They’re even less patient.” Ermolt made another grunting noise from behind her. “Denmar here gets bored in places like Temples.” She affected a grimace. “And bored barbarians can be expensive.”

  Tilke shifted uncomfortably, so uncomfortably that Elise looked over her shoulder at Ermolt. The barbarian had a very dangerous, very disturbing grin spreading across his face as he flexed his pectoral muscles.

  Elise sighed.

  “Ignore him. If you allow him to unnerve you, he’ll only do more to make it worse.”

  “Right then,” Tilke said, although it wasn’t a very convincing proclamation. He stood up straighter, drawing his shoulders back as if he were trying to match the barbarian’s massive bulk. “I suppose I should thank you for leaving him out of the Temple, then. As much as things are uncomfortable now, it would be worse if we had to explain broken statues or shattered pews.” The Conscript shook his head.

  Elise let a pregnant silence pass between them. When Tilke didn’t begin explaining, Elise was forced to fight the urge to grind her teeth together. “So what is causing things to be so uncomfortable?”

  “Everything,” he said in a breathless tone. “But I suppose you’ll specifically want to know what’s happening between Jirda and Numara, and not about our internal struggles.”

  “Please,” Elise said. She was curious about the state of the Temple, but that wasn’t the important information to gather tonight. Perhaps in a few days, after she’d done some acts of good will for Tilke, she could get more out of him. “Anything you can tell me is appreciated. Even if it’s just a partial account. I can’t piece together the whole story without any pieces to begin with.”

  Tilke was quiet for a moment. “Right. Let’s walk, then.” He started towards them, but when neither Elise or Ermolt moved, Tilke sighed. “Please. I stand in one place all day. I need to stretch my legs out.”

  “Of course,” Elise said as she moved aside. The barbarian mimicked her, as if they were two parts of the same door. Tilke strode past them without hesitation, heading to the end of the alley and turning left. Away from the Temple.

  Elise shot a glance to Ermolt and he raised a brow to her. The silent question could have been anything—did Elise trust this man? Were they walking into a trap? Could they go get a second supper?—so Elise just motioned for Ermolt to follow her close.

  He became a second shadow, a near-literal wall to her back. It was soothing, as his presence washed away the anxiety of someone coming up from an angle she couldn’t see.

  They hurried to catch up to Tilke, who had noticed their delay but hadn’t stopped himself. When Elise made it to his side, he nodded at her. “Alright. So, a little history. As early as a few years ago, the Temple of Numara was much more impressive. As the God of Night, She was worshiped and loved for keeping away the things that haunt the darkness while we’re vulnerable in sleep. And the constant worship kept the Temple busy no matter the bell.” His tone grew wistful. “There were Conscripts training out front all day, and the altar was always surrounded by followers, sometimes even until last bell. Our coffers were full, and the High Priest was happy.”

  “But not so anymore. What happened?”

  “It began with the earthquakes,” Tilke said as he led them on a meandering walk through the marketplace. “Word spread that something had happened to Hether, to anger Her, though at the time we didn’t know what. We expected refugees from Gloder if disaster had struck, but none came. Traveling merchants were either too afraid to tell us the whole story, or didn’t have enough information to give us the full picture.” He grimaced. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t wholesale destruction. It was chaos. Enough chaos to be alarming.”

  “Revolution,” Ermolt growled.

  “Yes. We know that now, of course,” Tilke added smoothly. “But at the time it was a mystery.” He shook his head. “You would think that something so major would have been on every lip that came into the city, but no one wanted to share. And it wasn’t like we, the collective people of Jirda, could just go check in on Gloder.” The Conscript paused for a moment, turning his eyes to the sky. “Then our own problems started. It was about then that Numara stopped keeping the dark at bay.”

  Another stretch of silence spread between them. Their walk had taken them through an area filled with now-empty market stalls. The moonlight barely illuminated their colorful banners and eye-catching signs. They fluttered in the cool breeze that raced through the streets of Jirda, and the chilled winds raised the hairs along Elise’s arms and neck.

  She was being watched.

  The feeling was all consuming—a feeling of hundreds of eyes and waiting jaws in the darkness. Numara may have been watching them, or she may have sent her minions—
the things that lurked in the darkness—to do so. Or perhaps it was paranoia, plain and simple.

  Either way, Elise tried not to shiver. Her mind tried to rationalize the feeling as being related to the Conscript’s story, but it seemed a flimsy premise.

  Tilke continued his tale after a moment. “We had become used to being safe during our sleeping hours. But hunters started coming to harm in the night. Children were found missing in the morning under mysterious circumstances. People forced to venture out into the streets after sunset were found injured, or even killed in dark alleys, if they ever turned up again at all.” Tilke turned to look at Elise, and she was haunted by the sheer distress she saw there. “All the things we feared—the things She was supposed to protect against—came to pass.”

  “What did you do?” Elise asked in a quiet voice.

  “We did what any would—we prayed harder. The Temple became packed with people at all times of day. People beseeched Numara to protect us. Begged, even.”

  “Ignored,” Ermolt grunted.

  “That’s the right of it. It helped for a while. But when we finally learned what really happened in Gloder, people started to turn from Numara. They believed She stopped protecting us to scare us into loyalty. And when the Prophet came to Jirda, Her followers abandoned Her in droves. Conscripts left Her service. Priests just vanished into the night.”

  “Like, taken, or...?”

  “Left. Either casting off their vestments and leaving town, or... some were isolated and punished. Friends. Neighbors. Even family. They attacked Priests for defending their God. Some died.”

  Elise lowered her head and muttered a silent prayer. She wasn’t exactly sure to whom. Ydia?

  They passed from the market to a more residential area, the colorful banners replaced with somber window boxes of plants or even small dark pennants that fluttered in the darkness at the end of their poles.

  “Eventually Numara’s power waned and the Prophet declared that Numara was an enemy of Jirda. Now no one stays outside the city after dark. People rarely even leave their homes after sunset. Guards patrol the walls at all times of day, and patrol the streets in squads to protect the people from what She can no longer stop. But every day, fewer people worship Her.”