Heirs of Destiny Box Set
Page 1
Heirs of Destiny
(Defenders of Legend Omnibus 3)
By Andy Peloquin
Sign up for my VIP Reader List
and get a prequel short story for free!
Contents
Heirs of Destiny (Defenders of Legend Omnibus 3)
Shalandra, City of the Dead
Trial of Stone (Book 1)
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-Three
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
Crucible of Fortune (Heirs of Destiny Book 2)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Crucible of Fortune (Book 2)
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
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Storm of Chaos (Book 3)
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
Secrets of Blood (Book 4)
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
Ascension of Death (Book 5)
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-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Epilogue
Afterword from the Author
The Renegade Apprentice
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
More Books by Andy Peloquin
Join my VIP Reading List
About the Author
Glossary
Gods of Einan
Trial of Stone Characters
Crucible of Fortune Characters
Storm of Chaos Characters
Secrets of Blood Characters
Ascension of Death Characters
Military Ranks
Shalandra, City of the Dead
Trial of Stone
(Book 1)
By Andy Peloquin
Chapter One
Five years and a day, Issa thought. Five years and a day training in Killian’s forge for this moment, and this is who I’m up against?
Her eyes locked on the hulking brute that stood a few yards to her right. His stance, low guard with his right foot shuffled slightly back and to one side, marked him as a student of the Academy of the Silver Sword. Broader in the shoulder than a draftsman’s ox, with hands that looked too large for his two-handed blade, he would be a fearsome foe for any contender. The ornate turquoise band of an Alqati around his copper-skinned forehead marked him as a member of Shalandra’s military caste—with all the training that included.
Yet despite the fear coiling in Issa’s gut, she forced herself to stand tall and face her challenger without hesitation. Nervous sweat rolled down the big man’s face—he felt as unnerved as she, as daunted by what lay ahead. He, too, knew that his hopes of surviving the trial of steel hinged on his courage, skill, and the strength of his arms.
She could almost read the unspoken question in his eyes: Am I prepared for this?
Issa had done everything in her power to assuage those doubts. She’d trained for years in preparation of Hallar’s Calling, the yearly tournament that selected only those blessed by the Long Keeper to join the Blades. Five years evading Savta and Saba’s questions or lying to them, all in the hope that she could lift her family out of the squalor they were cursed to as Earaqi. She hadn’t been chosen, hadn’t been summoned to the Hall of the Beyond for the trial of the Crucible. That hadn’t stopped her, just as this new obstacle wouldn’t stop her.
No meathead is going to get in my way. She clenched her jaw, determined. I will claim one of those blades.
The clarion call of a trumpet snapped Issa’s attention away from her immediate foe.
The time has come.
Her gaze roamed over the five thousand spectators sitting in breathless silence on the stone benches that surrounded the Crucible, the arena testing grounds where she and her fellow hopefuls would face the Long Keeper’s challenge in the hope of being chosen to serve. High golden sandstone walls separated her from the people—from high-ranking Dhukari to those Mahjuri and Earaqi fortunate enough to receive the invitation to witness the spectacle—but their faces revealed the same eager excitement that thrummed through her. They had come to see battle and death, and by the Long Keeper, they would have it!
As the trumpet sounded again, five thousand pairs of eyes turned away from the Crucible and toward the Royal Stands. Amhoset Nephelcheres, Pharus of Shalandra, Servant of the Long Keeper, Word of Justice and Death, sat on a throne carved from the same golden sandstone of the arena. He was a regal figure, tall with broad shoulders and a strong head to bear the ornate golden headdress of his office. A mountain of plush, velvet-covered pillows softened his seat, and servants wearing golden Dhukari headbands held fans of ostrich feathers and gold-inlaid wood to shield him from the bright midday sun.
Yet Issa’s eyes traveled to the figure sitting beside him. Callista Vinaus, Lady of Blades, sat in a similar throne, yet hers lacked any trace of ostentation and comfort. She didn’t so much sit as perch, her posture at once relaxed and wary. Her two-handed Shalandran steel sword of office rested against the side of her chair, and she wore the black, ridged plate mail of a Keeper’s Blade.
Though the woman’s hard face lacked the Pharus’ classical beauty, even from this distance, Issa could see that it had a beauty of its own—the strength and determination that earned her the highest-ranking military office in Shalandra. Like all Keeper’s Blades, she wore a helmet—shaped like a snarling mountain lion—rather than a headband, but the stripe of gold on the helmet’s forehead marked her as Dhukari.
Issa’s gut tightened. If she emerged victorious, she would serve the Lady of Blades directly. It was the highest calling in Shalandra outside of the Necroseti priesthood, and the only way to give her grandparents a better life. Savta and Saba would finally be able to stop their toiling and enjoy their golden years in the comfort of the Keeper’s Tier, the level of the city reserved for the Dhukari. Issa fought for them this day.
Tinush, the eldest member of the Keeper’s Council and High Divinity of the Necroseti, stood and strode toward the edge of the Keeper’s Stands—the box reserved for the highest-ranking of the Long Keeper’s clerics. His shin-length shendyt was made of linen spun with gold thread, a match for the white-and-gold stole draped over his aging shoulders. Like all of the high-ranking Necroseti, he wore a bejeweled white hedjet, a tall, almost conical-looking crown that sat atop his golden headband. Thick bands of kohl ringed his eyes and he’d painted on seven large black dots to denote his rank.
“Uncover yourselves.” Tinush’s voice rang out loud across the Crucible with a strength that belied his age. “Remove all trappings of rank and caste, for today you stand bare before the Long Keeper’s judgement.”
Issa and the others in the Crucible reached up and removed their headbands, the markings of their caste. Issa’s simple red cloth band marked her as Earaqi, the laborer caste. Most of those surrounding her wore the bright blue of Alqati, white of the Zadii, and brown of the Intaji. A few wore the gold bands that marked them as members of the Dhukari, Shalandra’s ruling caste. Only one other person in the arena, a willowy boy two or three years younger than her, wore the red. Two young girls standing off to the side tried to hide the black headbands that marked them as Mahjuri, the wretched caste. None of the enslaved Kabili would fight bare-headed today.
“The Long Keeper cares not for titles, wealth, or fame,” Tinush continued, his voice echoing with strength across the arena. “The god of death cares only for one thing: your courage. Courage alone will mark you as deserving to join the Blades, the Long Keeper’s warriors on Einan. Steel your hearts, for only the worthy will come through victorious.”
Issa felt the familiar tightness in her gut, the thrill of anticipated battle trembling in her hands. She didn’t know if she was worthy—no one did until they faced the test of the Crucible—but she had done everything she could to be ready for this moment. Killian had insisted she wait another year. She hadn’t listened, and now it was too late to go back.
She didn’t want to go back. More than anything else, she wanted the horn to sound the beginning of the trial. The moment she heard that sound, her life would change.
“Always know your surroundings.” Killian’s words echoed in her mind. “Even the slightest bump or dip in the ground, the smallest twig can be turned into a weapon against your enemy.”
Between hammering heartbeats, Issa drank in every detail of the Crucible. Solid stone walls thirty feet high ran in a circle two hundred feet in diameter. A ring of sand-covered ground surrounded the outer edge of the Pit, with eight wooden plank bridges spanning the deep, ten
-foot wide ditch that separated them from the Keeper’s Steps at the middle. Wooden platforms built like uneven stepping stones rose thirty feet into the air in the heart of the area. Upon the highest platform stood the stone sheaths that held the five two-handed flame swords of the Blades.
Her fists clenched to still the tremor, to calm her nerves. She would claim one of those weapons today. She had to.
The clangor of the horn shattered the breathless silence, accompanied by the sudden roar of the crowd. The signal had been given. The trial of steel had begun.
As Issa expected, the huge ox-sized brute to her right charged straight at her. Sixty-five young men and women faced the Crucible today; no more than five would claim the blades and emerge victorious. But the swords would not fall to the quickest or cleverest. The Blades were warriors, training in the art of battle and conquest. They sought those that could outfight their enemies as well as outrace them.
Issa sized up her bull-rushing opponent. He moved with the grace of a practiced combatant, his sword held steady even as his huge feet pounded toward her. The Academy of the Silver Sword taught their fighters to use size and strength as well as skill. With that huge two-handed sword, a well-forged steel simulacrum of the flame blades he sought to claim, he could cut her in half. Casualties among the tested were high.
But Issa had no intention of being one. Even as the huge boy rushed her, she stepped back into a stance taught at the Academy of the Striking Serpents. She wielded two short blades to his larger one and the pose—right-handed sword held low, left-handed sword poised for a high strike—gave her the speed to combat his strength.
The boy slowed as he came within striking range and swung a testing blow. Issa batted the soft strike aside and chopped at him with her right-handed sword. When her opponent blocked low, she aimed high. She didn’t give him time to regain his balance but pushed him hard.
“Always make your enemy underestimate you,” Killian had pounded into her daily for their five years of lessons. “Make them see you as nothing but an Earaqi girl until you’re ready to spring your trap.”
Not for the first time, Issa gave silent thanks that Killian insisted on teaching her all the sword styles practiced in the six Academies of Shalandra reserved for the upper castes. She, like all low-caste Shalandrans unable to afford costly private education, attended the Institute of the Seven Faces, the school available to the general public. Her low-caste studies had prepared her to fight like a brawler, but Killian had hammered those tendencies out of her with the same ruthlessness that he hammered the steel in his smithy.
When the huge boy transitioned into the high guard pose favored by Silver Sword students, Issa smiled. She’d trained to defeat this stance and its powerful chopping attacks for more than a year now.