Crucible of Fortune: An Epic Fantasy Young Adult Adventure (Heirs of Destiny Book 2)

by Andy Peloquin

  Her legs finally gave out as she reached the Hall of the Beyond and she collapsed against the enormous sandstone temple. She lay on the dust-covered ground, gasping for air. Her legs, back, and feet ached from the relentless pace but all she could think of was the triumph in Tannard’s eyes as he inflicted whatever new cruel punishment he’d cooked up for her.

  The stony face of Hallar glared down at her from above the palace. Those eyes, as black as shalanite, fixed on her. The scarred lines of his face seemed to shout at her to get up, to keep fighting, as he had every day of his life.

  With a groan, she forced herself to her arms and knees, then her feet. She stumbled on, pulse pounding in her ears. Her slow shuffle became a steady walk, then jog. Faster and faster until she was running despite the pain racing through her body.

  Her grandmother’s words from the last time they’d spoken echoed in Issa’s mind. “Nothing can stop you, nechda. The only one who can stop you is you. You only fail when you stop fighting.”

  She nearly wept as the Citadel of Stone came into view at the western edge of the Keeper’s Tier, and still the sun hadn’t touched the top of the golden sandstone cliff. Issa poured every shred of strength into the final run. She broke into a sprint, her legs pumping and sword clanking as she closed the remaining distance to the open gates.

  I did it!

  She collapsed just over the threshold. Sweat streamed off her face and mingled with the dust of the road. Her stomach heaved, and it took all of her effort to keep the vomit down. Tears of exhaustion and relief streamed from her eyes.

  A shadow fell across the ground beside her. She didn’t need to look up to know it was Tannard—his very presence seemed to suck the last traces of warmth from the evening.

  “Glad you could join us,” he rumbled. His voice held no trace of happiness, anger, or irritation…nothing at all. His words were as emotionless as his stony face. “If you’re done with your little holiday, it’s time for your real training.”

  Issa bit her lip until it bled. Every shred of self-control went into keeping her clenched fists on the ground beside her. Exhaustion saved her from losing the battle with her temper—she was simply too tired to attack the callous bastard.

  “Any day now, Prototopoi.”

  Issa lifted her head, though it took an immense will, and met his dark, cold eyes. “Of course, Invictus.”

  Her muscles protested as she forced herself upright. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs, and the world spun in crazy circles. Yet she stood anyway, swaying slightly, and held Tannard’s gaze.

  “Training yard.” He thrust a finger west, toward the tunnel that cut through the eastern wing of the Citadel and opened onto the open yard at its heart.

  Issa took one agonizing step, then another, and still more. Her numb feet cried out but she kept walking for fear she’d collapse if she stopped.

  In the shadow of a stone archway, away from prying eyes and listening ears, Issa finally did stop. “Wait,” she said in a low voice. “I have to speak to Lady Callista.”

  Tannard shot a disdainful glance over his shoulder. “Of course. While you’re at it, perhaps you’ll share a quiet dinner with the Pharus and dance with Hallar himself, eh?”

  Issa ground her teeth at his mocking tone. “The Lady of Blades commanded me to come to her with information she needed to hear. I have such information, so I need to go see her at once.”

  Tannard stopped, turned on his heel, and stalked toward her. “And I’m just supposed to let you go?” He snorted. “You’re not the first prototopoi to come up with some wild story to get out of training.”

  “You were there when she called me to her office this morning!” All of the pent-up rage within Issa’s chest burst out in a furious shout. “If she didn’t tell you what she wanted me for, that’s not my fault!”

  Tannard moved so fast Issa barely had time to react. His fist flashed out in a blur. She had no strength to raise her arms to block the blow. All she could do was turn with the punch to soften the impact.

  It still felt like being struck by a charging ox. Blackness closed in on her vision and when the world swam back into focus around her, she clung to the wall. Pain raced through her jaw and she could taste blood in her mouth.

  “Beware your tone, Prototopoi!” Tannard had gone from blazing fury to a cold monotone in an instant. “You owe your commanding officers respect.”

  “As do you!” Issa spat blood into the dust. “Which is why you have to let me speak to Lady Callista. I’m simply following her orders to—”

  “Give me the information.” Tannard cut her off with a savage chop of his hand. “I will relay it to her while you are training.”

  Issa clamped her mouth shut, though it sent a fresh wave of pain through her jaw. Tannard’s mailed fist would leave a bruise, she knew, but at that moment it only added to her anger.

  “No.” She met his eyes. “For Lady Callista’s ears alone.”

  “You say it is urgent,” Tannard rumbled. “The only way the Lady of Blades hears it now is if you give it to me to tell her.”

  Issa fixed him with a defiant glare. She wanted to fight, wanted to argue until he gave in, but one look in his eyes told her that she’d have more luck squeezing wine from a diamond. And she was too tired for another battle of wills. All she wanted was to get away from the cruel Invictus before he found some new way to torment her.

  Yet she wouldn’t risk her sensitive information falling into the wrong hands. Lady Callista instructed that I bring it to her and her alone. But if this is the only way to get it to her…

  “Tell her Angrak,” Issa told the Invictus.

  “Angrak?” Disdain cracked Tannard’s stony façade. “That is your urgent message?”

  Issa nodded. “She will know what it means.”

  Tannard held her gaze for a long moment, his expression inscrutable save for his contempt of her. Finally, he shrugged. “So be it. I will deliver your message to the Lady of Blades immediately.”

  Issa felt the tension drain from her shoulders. She hadn’t won the war of wills, but even this small triumph felt as marvelous as her victory in the Crucible.

  “But while I do that, you have your training to complete.” Tannard thrust a finger at the training yard. “It has been too long since you completed the Blade’s Two Hundred.”

  Relief turned to bitter ashes in Issa’s mouth. The Blade’s Two Hundred was a training regimen that far surpassed punishing: two hundred push-ups, pull-ups, squats, sword strokes, and shield thrusts, with a Full Score to finish it off. The last time she’d been set to do it, she’d passed out with the effort. Yet one look in Tannard’s eyes told her that he would offer her no mercy, no escape.

  Despite the exhaustion permeating every fiber of her being, Issa lifted her head and stood straight. “As you say, Invictus.” With a crisp salute, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the training yard. She didn’t dare glance over her shoulder—she wouldn’t give Tannard the satisfaction.

  Etai and Kellas both stood waiting in the training yard, limbering up in anticipation of the workout. Kellas said nothing but he actually managed a civil nod. His usual arrogance hadn’t returned, a welcome change. Since she’d saved his life in the assassination attempt on the Pharus, he’d lost his disdain for her. That was as good as she could hope for with the Dhukari.

  Etai, however, settled into a stretching lunge that turned her face away from the watching Tannard. “Where have you been?” she muttered. “We haven’t seen you since yesterday’s sparring session. Did something happen on your patrol?”

  Issa’s gut clenched as she recalled the encounter with the Indomitable patrol, their arrest of the innocent Mahjuri man, and her argument with Tannard. Yet she shook her head. “No.”

  “Rumor around the Citadel is that you’re on a special assignment for the Pharus.” Etai spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Protecting the daughter of Arch-Guardian Suroth.”

  Issa nodded and dropped into a wide crouch to str
etch her aching legs. “Yes.”

  “Damn!” Etai whistled. “But is it true that Tannard is drumming you out of the Blades? Or that he’s planning to recruit you to his crew of Gatherer-hunters?”

  “Neither.” Issa leaned deeper into the stretch. “I’m just helping the Pharus pay off his debt to the Arch-Guardian.” Everyone in the Citadel of Stone knew that Suroth had died protecting the Pharus.

  She felt a momentary twinge of regret. Etai and Hykos were the closest she had to friends here in the Citadel. The girl deserved better than a lie. Yet Lady Callista had made it clear that she trusted few people, even in her own ranks. Perhaps the time would come when Etai could be brought into her confidences, but for now, she would be careful of who she spoke with.

  All thoughts of Briana, the hunt for the Gatherers, Lady Callista, even Tannard faded from her mind as the Blade’s Two Hundred began. Under the keen eye of Byrach and Chirak, Issa knew she would only survive the workout if she focused every shred of willpower and determination.

  Exhaustion set in before she’d completed the first hundred push-ups. Yet she gritted her teeth and kept pushing though every muscle in her body screamed at her to quit.

  The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that Lady Callista would receive her message. That alone was worth facing the torment of the Blades’ Two Hundred.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By the Watcher, I hope this plan works! It had seemed good back at Briana’s house, but looking at the sheer height of the wall around Suroth’s mansion—now Councilor Angrak’s mansion—he found his optimism waning. I wonder if this is how mother felt when preparing for a job.

  Everyone in the Night Guild knew the tales of Ilanna’s daring exploits—the conquest of the Black Spire, the theft of Lady Auslan’s golden sarcophagus, the way she’d saved the Night Guild from execution—but few knew the feelings that accompanied each of those triumphs. She had lost friends, suffered grave injuries, dealt with hardships and setbacks that would have shattered anyone else. Even now, she still carried many of the scars, physical and emotional.

  Yet, Ria had always emphasized one important thing: grit and determination had gotten Ilanna through every one of those trials alive. He’d need them now if he was going to pull off this job.

  He’d given the entire property a thorough examination and found few weak spots and vulnerabilities. The servant’s entrance through the kitchens was one, and the side door from the stables was another—very likely the way through which the traitorous Samall had brought the Gatherers. But the one he’d never have considered before, the one he had believed so difficult as to be nearly unthinkable, was the wall.

  The exterior wall itself had only two entrances: the front gate and the tradesman’s entrance, both barred from within. Fifty feet high, carved from sheer sandstone, it abutted against the ninety-foot wall that divided the Dhukari level from the Defender’s Tier below. The walls had no need for patrols or watchmen. It would take a very clever or very strong thief to scale that wall, though it could be done with the right equipment and preparation. Kodyn had neither, but he did have years of experience analyzing the mansions of Praamis for weaknesses. This obstacle would prove an impassable challenge for any but the most skilled climbers.

  Or a Hawk.

  As an apprentice of House Hawk, he’d spent the better part of a decade climbing—first on the Perch, a maze of ropes, ladders, and walkways that filled the enormous main room of his underground living quarters; then on the Hawk’s Highway, the pathways that connected every part of his city via the rooftops. He had climbed every manner of rope, ladder, plank bridge, and wall that a metropolis like Praamis had to offer.

  And still he felt daunted by the task ahead of him. He wouldn’t need to climb high—the wall around Suroth’s mansion stood just fifty feet tall—but the traverse would prove incredibly challenging. He had to move horizontally along the wall for close to fifty yards to cross from his hiding place in the alley behind Suroth’s mansion to the rooftop gardens. From there, he could either hang a rope to climb down the exterior of the house or take the staircase that led down to the rooms on the second floor.

  Provided I can manage the traverse, that is.

  His one encounter with Shalandra’s golden sandstone gave him an idea of what to expect. As long as he didn’t rest too much weight on any single hand- or foot-hold, he shouldn’t have to worry about it crumbling beneath him.

  Still, that’s a bloody long distance to cross!

  He cast a glance up at the sky. The sun had set more than an hour earlier, but he wanted to wait until full night. He’d need the cover of darkness to make the ascent and traverse unseen.

  “You sure about this?” Aisha asked in a low voice, barely above a whisper. “This isn’t like the Perch or the Hawk’s Highway.”

  Kodyn sucked in a quiet breath. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He winced at the uncertainty that crept into his voice, so he tried again. “It’s a tough climb, but I’ve done harder.”

  A lie, and they both knew it, yet Aisha let it pass.

  She was kind like that. Aisha knew him better than anyone in the world, better even than his own mother. She had seen him at his best and worst yet never held his weaknesses and failings against him. And instead of feeling threatened by his successes and strengths, she celebrated them with a passion and joy he envied.

  They had come from different backgrounds—her, the daughter of a warrior chieftain in a distant country; he, the son of a thief—yet they had found a sense of commonality that bound them together. A bond of camaraderie that had deepened into…what exactly?

  He didn’t quite know how to put his feelings for Aisha into words. His mother and Ria always spoke about the two of them in hushed tones and with sly smiles, doubtless reading into things far more than Kodyn had allowed himself to. He knew that he loved being around Aisha, loved fighting and training at her side. He’d been thrilled to hear that she would accompany him on his Undertaking, even though he hadn’t known the true reason why.

  Yet the Aisha beside him was somehow different than the one he’d known back in Praamis. Something within her had changed and she hadn’t yet told him what. He didn’t know if it was his fault that she hadn’t let him in on whatever problem consumed her mind. The only way to know would be to ask her straight out.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  Aisha shot him a curious glance. “Angrak’s guard patrol won’t be by for another five minutes, but once they’re passed—”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He turned in the shadows to face her. “I’m not talking about the job. I’m talking about you.”

  “Oh.” The single word was the only answer he got. Silence thickened the air.

  He tried again. “I know something’s going on. You’ve been…different since we left Praamis.”

  “Yes.” Another monosyllabic response, another deflection from Aisha.

  Kodyn let out a slow breath. “Come on, Aisha. Talk to me. I want to help, but—”

  “This isn’t something you can help with.” Her words held more force than he’d expected. He couldn’t tell if they were resentful or frustrated.

  “You said that before. So maybe help is the wrong word. But I at least want to understand what’s going on, even if there’s nothing I can do or say to make it better.”

  Again, silence was his answer. It stretched on for a full minute, until Aisha let out a little sigh.

  “It’s not something that you can understand easily.” Resignation and frustration mingled in her voice. “It’s not even something I really understand fully, so I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

  “If it’s too difficult to put into words, I won’t push you, at least not until you’ve got a better handle on it.” He didn’t know exactly what he was saying; he felt as if he rambled, the words pouring from his mouth. Yet he did know how he felt. He was worried about her and wanted to do anything in his power to help her at least cope with whatever burden she
carried even if he couldn’t bear it himself. “I owe you that much after everything we’ve been through.”

  Again, a sigh from Aisha. “It’s not…” She trailed off with a little huff of breath. Then she groaned. “It’s going to sound insane, Kodyn, but I can—”

  She never finished her sentence. The sound of tromping feet from within the mansion’s grounds cut her off. They pressed deeper into the shadows as the tradesman’s entrance to Suroth’s mansion—Angrak’s mansion, now—creaked open. Light spilled over the alley’s stone floor from a lantern held in the hand of one black-robed guard. The radius of illumination stopped just short of Kodyn and Aisha’s hiding place. It had been one of the weaknesses Kodyn had noticed the last time they’d come for this very reason.

  Can what?! Kodyn’s mind screamed. He was desperate to find out what she’d been about to say. She had come within a breath of letting him in, only to be silenced by the presence of the Necroseti’s guards. His hope faded with the sound of their retreating boots.

  “Go,” Aisha whispered to him. Her jaw had set, her expression grown once more guarded. “We’ll have time to talk when this is over.”

  Kodyn wanted to respond—he ached to press, to dig deeper and find out what truth she’d been concealing from him all this time—but he forced himself to nod. “See you in a bit.”

  Her hand on his arm, so warm and strong, stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to meet her choclat-colored eyes.

  “Be careful.” Genuine, earnest warmth filled her voice.

  He shot her a confident grin. “Always.”

  Her soft snort told him precisely what she thought of his statement as he set about climbing the wall.

  The vertical ascent proved easier than he’d anticipated. The sandstone had been smoothed out by competent artisans, but decades or even centuries had worn away at the surface. His strong fingers and toes dug into the cracks and grooves in the stone, his muscles propelling him upward at a steady pace.